Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) (10 page)

"Recai! There you are!" Darya exclaimed as she approached the low stool he had deposited himself on.

The entire party was aflame discussing the interloper, but no one asked him directly, no one would cross the line to say, "Are you the one? Have you returned?" Darya was full of excitement wanting to introduce the mysterious man to her benefactor. She was sure the Recai Osman she had spent the evening with was the son of Baris and Pinar. His death had rocked the city, but here before her was his flesh-and-blood ghost.

She had heard the story of Recai's parents and felt a kinship with him, even as a child. She remembered little about the time when her own father had been alive. In pictures and memories he always wore a bright smile. Darya's mother died in childbirth, and when she was only four months old her father married a Jewish woman against his family's wishes. They shunned him and left him to negotiate life without their loving support. Despite the difficulty, he loved his new wife very much and even had a child by her, a prized son.

The only family member who ever held the boy was Mahmet, the devoted brother and loving uncle. He was also the only one who had known, without a doubt, his brother's son had not been conceived within their marriage. When Darya's father died she was seven and her younger brother only four. Mahmet took her into his home to raise as his own, leaving the Jews out in the desert where they belonged.

He was an imposing figure at well over 180 centimeters, perhaps 185 or even 190. Mahmet managed to make Darya feel small and fragile, something she enjoyed only in his protective shadow. In addition to his height were the extra four-and-a-half or five stones hanging impressively from his frame, creating the impression he was larger than life, as big as a god or an ogre.

"Recai."

Darya said his name again, pulling his attention from the increasing number of onlookers following his movements. His eyes snapped to her and he stood abruptly. Her hand reached out and her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Come, come on, my uncle would like to meet the man who rescued me from the foyer!"

Darya was spinning from the excitement of the evening and her three glasses of champagne. All of her planning, all of her years of being unnoticed and ignored were paying off. Tonight she was beautiful and important. She spoke freely and men and women alike listened. Tonight she could exist in the world.

"Your uncle?"

"Yes! Mayor Yilmaz."

"Darya… Yilmaz?" he demanded.

"Yes…it's not a very common name."

Darya was unsure what to make of Recai's reaction. Her uncle was an influential man, the ruler of this small kingdom. If Recai was actually the son of Baris and Pinar, a meeting between him and her uncle should be something he sought, not something he avoided! But Recai didn't look right; his coloring and stance made Darya uneasy.

"Recai?"

"I don't know if it's a wise idea," Recai said, his face tight and hard as he spoke.

"I…. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not! I…kahretsin!" He swore as he dragged a hand down his face, feeling the deep lines created by so many years in the sun.

"I'm sorry Darya, I…"

"It's all right."

She reached out again, placing her hand on his face, earning the disapproving glance of more than one of the party's patrons. She allowed her thumb to stroke his cheek along the faded scar.

"Thank you. I should go."

He stepped back, breaking the spell of her touch.

"Why?"

"I'm not… I wasn't invited."

"You were by me. And apparently an unescorted woman is in danger even at an event such as this."

Her eyes shone, but their light was lost in the black hole surrounding Recai.

"You never know what form danger may come in. Darya, this wasn't a good idea, I didn't think and…"

"You are Recai Osman?"

"I told you that."

"Yes, that's not a very common name in Elih, either."

"Not anymore."

"Your parents. They were Baris and Pinar Osman?" Darya ventured, finally asking the question on everyone's lips.

Sabiha Kaya was running late. She had been at her women's prayer group at Sister Aisha's house and lost track of time. The other women lived closer or had drivers who would come and get them when they were out after curfew, but Sabiha had nothing like that. All she had was her brother, Fahri, who was working late at some event downtown tonight.

Aisha had asked her to stay until Fahri got off duty and could come pick her up, or until her own father returned from his evening shift at work, but Sabiha knew Fahri would be far more angered by the inconvenience than the idea of his little sister walking home at night. No matter what dogma he may have spewed since he joined the RTK, Fahri was still the selfish bastard he had been since they were kids and Sabiha couldn't stand to miss class at the university again tomorrow due to whatever bruises her brother's discipline left on her face.

Above her the clouds gathered, pulling together reinforcements and awaiting their moment. The air came together with a violent crash. Thunder boomed in the atmosphere as miles beyond the city, the winds began to blow.

Aisha lived in a residential part of the city, about a twenty-five minute walk from the apartment complex Sabiha lived in. It was late enough that the roads would be mostly empty and dark—most people would be hurrying to their next location, not spending time scrutinizing one unescorted woman.

The small two-bedroom apartment she and her brother shared was above a halal market and next to the only movie theater in the city. It was loud. She never managed to get the smell of roasting flesh and popcorn out of the walls, but it was all Fahri could afford after paying for her tuition at the small women's college. She wanted to work, but her brother wouldn't have it, wanting her to finish her degree, get married, and get out of his hair as quickly as possible.

These days it was impossible to find husbands for girls without a degree. Men of stature wanted wives who brought prestige to the union, even if they never intended to allow them to work. Having an educated wife had become a status symbol, but few men were interested in a liberated one. Fahri was determined to find Sabiha a solid match that would reflect well on him and maybe even elevate his own position, while she was happy to study her faith and feed her mind.

Darkness wrapped itself around her, a shadow hiding her within the city. A black hijab and denim overcoat concealed her skin from even the prying eyes of the honey-colored moon.

"I…" Recai began, his mouth dry.

Before he had the opportunity to continue, his words were interrupted by a piercing ring. The sound of an alarm jarred the crowd, refocusing their minds on the danger that lived outside the boundaries of their homes. Elih might be a city, but it was still the desert. Descendants of Bedouins, Caucasians, and Arabs inhabited a city filled with ancient memories of the destruction sand could bring.

"Sand…" Darya whispered and grabbed hold of Recai's arm.

"What?" he shook his head, not understanding the impending danger. The alarm's shriek disoriented and confused him. There had been no sirens like this when he'd last been in the city.

"Come on. I live a few blocks from here; we can go there and not have to sit out the storm surrounded by the stench of all these people."

"A sandstorm?"

"Yes!"

She tugged his arm, pulling him toward the door. Recai responded to her desire to escape the hotel before the security gates came down, trapping everyone inside until the storm passed. Around them party-goers searched for their spouses or escorts, frantically debating if they could get to the safety of home or if they would be confined here. Voices rang out, calling above the alarm, hoping to be heard through the din of voices.

Taking his hand, Darya wove them through the scurrying crowd. Over the din the concierge announced: "A flash kum firtinasi is approaching the city. All attendees must remain calm and within the ballroom."

The staff frantically cleared plates and glasses, preparing themselves to spend the night in the back room of the hotel out of sight of the party-goers, who would be trapped within the hall.

A young woman and a slow-moving old man slid out the back door, praying to be faster than the encroaching sandstorm.

The hotel's warning siren accelerated, alerting people that the security gates would be closing over all windows and doors. Darya kicked off her heels and ducked through the crowd, rushing toward the entryway with Recai in tow. He moved without thought, allowing her to guide his body while his mind reeled.

Breaking through the clamor of bodies, Darya and Recai slipped out the entrance as the gates began to close. Outside, she turned toward him, the exhilaration of their escape animating her face.

"We made it!" she laughed, still holding his hand. The night heat was stifling and charged with electricity.

"My car…" Recai said, leading her down the street to where he had parked. Darya's elation was infectious, as she chattered excitedly.

"I wouldn't have been able to survive a night in there. Those people! Who would think the richest of them would be so stupid?"

"Darya!" Recai reprimanded with a smile as they approached the vehicle.

"Sycophants, all of them. Happy to follow my uncle so long as they're above the law. Who are the laws for, if not for those who think they're above them?"

Recai glanced above them and watched as the stars began to blot out one by one, the dense atmosphere moving in.

"Get in," he commanded as he opened the door for her.

"A please would be nice," she flirted, missing the tension in his voice.

To Darya this was simply another adventure, another diversion from her day-to-day life. Sandstorms weren't regular, but they weren't uncommon—nothing to become hysterical over. Recai slid in the driver's side and fired to life what sounded like an enormous engine. They were moving almost immediately after she settled in her seat.

Speeding down the street, Recai kept both hands on the wheel.

"When did they start sounding alarms?"

"Two years ago. A number of people were caught in a sudden storm and died. My uncle implemented the warning system all over the city. I live up here on the corner," Darya pointed out.

The danger crept in on her as sirens in every section of the city blared. The winds picked up outside, a tell-tale sign that the storm would be on top of them soon. Rain evaporated in the heat above the city, leaving only the driving pressure and freeing the wind to rip through the world without restraint.