Chapter 27
Caspar was in pain. Not as much pain as Malek seemed to be in, but the walk back to the apartment was brutal.
No one seemed to pay them any attention, though, which was a shock considering how much blood William and Caspar had on them and how deflated Malek looked.
Caspar also walked with a limp, which he was sure was going to get him some stares.
But the most attention the four of them received was from an older woman who crossed the street going the opposite direction.
She muttered about “the rudeness of today’s youth” as she walked around them, but didn’t say anything else.
Caspar would take the rudeness any day, especially if it meant he survived.
They had all shuffled into his apartment and locked the door by the time Caspar remembered he’d left his romance novels in the back lot.
“Oh no!” he cried. “My books! Penny Heinz!”
“Oh my God.” Malek groaned. He wandered through the apartment to the balcony window, double-checked the lock, and slid the blinds shut with only one hand. “I can get you the entire Library of Alexandria in two minutes.”
“Really? You can do that?”
“I can do something. But right now, we’re calling Katja. Are you…” Malek narrowed his eyes at William in the kitchen. He hovered over the sink, trying to clean out his wound. It took Caspar a moment to register that William wasn’t running the water from the pipes, but was producing it himself.
“Huh. Guess you just needed the right kind of stress to get you to manifest,” Caspar said. “Is this a compliment, then, to us? We were so special that you decided to conveniently display your powers and save us?”
“Shut up,” William said. “But maybe. Could have something to do with the fact that I was also punched out.”
“You okay, though?” Malek asked again.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think my wound cauterized itself or something. I’m good.”
“That’s great,” Malek said, “but your blood is noxious now. It’s probably what helped to erode the gargoyle, but it’s also highly delicious to fairies and lamias. We’re going to need to mask your smell really, really quickly, or we’re going to have another rampage on our hands.”
“I have deodorant with patchouli,” Natasha said. She dug through her bag and produced the roll-on bar for William quickly. “Patchouli is the repellant you need. So use all of it, even if you smell like a hippie or a new age store. Don’t skimp.”
William nodded, seeming to understand. When Malek shot Natasha a how did you know? look, she shrugged. “I read a lot. Not just about ghouls, but about all supernaturals. It’s good for the museum. Or, like, right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, William was out of deodorant and Katja was at their door with a massive first aid kit.
Her eyes bulged out when she saw the extent of everyone’s injuries, but soon calmed.
She tended to William first, stitching up his smaller wound from the pavement and getting him a change of clothing before destroying the other set so it didn’t attract unwanted creatures.
She also gave him some anti-nausea medication to counteract the chemicals in the deodorant.
“I don’t have enough patchouli for you for very long,” she warned as she gave him a bag with several leaves inside. “But I think Malek has a witch friend who can provide some for you for future use. Maybe even a window box to keep and grow your own.”
“Sure. Thank you.” William seemed far more elated by what had happened than everyone else, and told Katja about the fight scene with grand sweeping gestures. He had to make up most of it, since he’d been passed out for the bulk, but he made sure to give all the credit to Natasha.
“It wasn’t all me,” Natasha said. “A team effort.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Katja said, smiling at Natasha. “I appreciate modesty, but only in modest amounts.”
After Katja was done with William, she gave Natasha a cursory skim that seemed to involve a lot more flirtation than healing. When Katja picked up the brass knuckles, she let out a low breath.
“Nice. Maybe next time, you’ll teach me how to fight.”
After some more compliments, Katja turned her attention to Malek’s blue and purple hand. She tsk-tsked under her breath as she wrapped the injury, lecturing him about how many bones there were in the hand and how easy they all were to break.
“It’s why boxers wear gloves,” she added. “Too easy to break their hands otherwise. I learned that from Sully. You should pay attention to humans more, you know. They’re well versed in protecting their weaknesses since they can’t rely on supernatural powers.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Malek endured the speech until she handed him pain pills. After swallowing one dry, he seemed utterly content.
“You’re stronger now, Malek,” Katja added, “because of the mic and guitar and the ring, so after a good night’s rest, I anticipate you’ll probably be fine.
Who knows what will happen when you finally get the crown, too?
You may be able to heal in mere seconds.
Repurpose and recharge those white blood cells and tissue like it’s nothing. ”
“And me?” Caspar asked. “Will I have the same healing properties when I’m full djinn?”
“Well, I don’t know for sure. I’ve not worked on many in-between djinns before, if ever.
” Katja brought her first aid kit over to the table where Caspar sat while Malek and the others busied themselves in the kitchen making tea or wrapping up wounds.
Caspar flipped his hands over to show her some of his minor cuts and abrasions.
The wound across his forehead didn’t even hurt anymore.
He almost forgot it was there until Katja dabbed some gauze across it.
“But I suppose the same properties of being a djinn still apply to you, even if it’ll take until you’re out from under Malek’s power to truly manifest them. Tell me, though. What have you decided?”
“I’ve elected not to decide at this moment. I actually like indecision.”
“Mmhm. Probably for the best.” As Katja bandaged him up and gave him some pain pills, she also explained more about djinn composition.
They were magical creatures, but their magic was limited, since they needed to be in a relationship with someone to use it.
The magic had to benefit whoever wore or kept the djinn’s trinkets.
“So Malek will heal himself faster than average, since it means he can be at full strength for you. And you, when and if you become a djinn, will be able to heal faster if you’re attached to someone.
The magic you use, the give and take of what’s already available in this world, must be used for the sake of someone else. ”
“And if you’re a djinn, does that mean you can’t be with someone else?” Caspar asked. “Like, uh, um—”
“A relationship?” Katja grinned. She cast a glance at Malek, who was on the phone again. “He tell you about Abe yet?”
“Bits and pieces. Not much. They were both djinns, but—”
“Ex-djinns. That distinction is important because it’s extremely isolating to be an ex-djinn.
Even if you’re not serving someone, you still feel the need.
Most ex-djinns don’t last long because they need someone to give their life meaning and purpose, like their family and patriarch does.
The only people who really survive being ex-djinns are those in relationships.
Like your parents, Abe, and Malek. And others, I’m sure. ”
“They didn’t exactly have a happy ending, though. Being a djinn seems like the only way you can.”
“Seems that way. But the djinn is only as good as the patriarch, and the patriarch is only as good as whoever they’re serving. It’s a long and drawn out power struggle, but so is everything in the underground world.”
“And djinns,” Caspar said, “if they find a good patriarch, and if the djinn has a good relationship with the person who gets wishes, then love is still possible, right? A good life is still possible?”
“That’s a lot of ifs,” Katja said. She folded away some of her first aid kit and considered the question for a while. “I suppose that’s true, though. If you can make all those forces align, then the union will be perfect.”
“But…? I’m sensing there’s something else here.”
“Unions are hardly ever perfect. Being a couple is a messy affair. Being in a family is a messy affair.”
“So what’s the point?” Caspar asked. “Should we just give up and die alone?”
“Whoa now,” Katja said. She placed a hand over Caspar’s in a comforting gesture.
“I’m not saying that. I’m only saying that our idea of love being flawless and imperfect should change.
If you start to put too many ‘ifs’ in front of a situation, it will never happen.
So you should love who is around to be loved, and somehow, if you both want it, it will work. ”
“I guess. You make it sound so simple.”
“And you’re the one that reads romance novels,” she teased. “But it is simple. Love is a choice at the end of the day. And all djinns are big on free will and choice. So why wouldn’t you be able to fall in love with one—or be in love as a djinn?”
Caspar nodded, understanding a little better. The pain pills were beginning to kick in, and he felt looser than before. “Thanks, Katja. I appreciate this.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. After the breakup I had, I like to believe there’s still love out there. Speaking of which, I found some more romance novels for you. Malek mentioned them when we were on the phone. Said they were super important.”
When Katja pulled out the sequel to The Sheikh’s Adventure Bride, it didn’t matter what the rest of the books were. Caspar had what he wanted. “Thank you. I could hug you, but, you know.”
“You’re hurt. I get it. No hug needed.” While Caspar read the blurbs on the new novels he’d just received, Katja lingered at the table. She seemed to assess him carefully before asking, “What about your past?”
“What about it?”