Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) (16 page)

That night, Recai sat in his car: both hands on the steering wheel, thumbs tap-tap-tapping.

The dark had come suddenly—even the light refused to linger in this city. The streets were quiet, lending a false sense of peace. But Recai knew a man was out there with a snake wrapped around his soul. Seeing his own face in the newspaper had shocked him. He'd never imagined anyone would care what had happened in a small alley over one woman.

There had been a time when the city was safe for a woman to walk alone. He remembered skipping through the streets hand in hand with his mother, smiling and laughing. She had a way of making everyone feel at ease and could make friends with every man and woman she encountered.

"Never assume you know what's in a man's heart because of what he may look like. God shows his face in all his creations, no matter how different they may be from you."

His mother had been wise.

As the waiting began to grate on Recai's nerves and unwanted memories of his parents demanded attention, Fahri Kaya stepped out of his apartment building and headed down the street. Recai fumbled his way out of the car, his nerves frayed. He walked quickly after Fahri, following him from a safe distance.

Fahri wore his RTK uniform, a baton hung from one hip and a gun was holstered on the other. His stride was long and focused and he did not waste time looking around him—a soldier on a mission. He did not appear to be in the mood for a jovial conversation with a stranger after dark.

Swearing under his breath, Recai turned at the next block and ran, hoping to head Fahri off by approaching him from the front instead of startling him from behind. Recai jogged easily, switching automatically to the training he'd received in the Egirdir Commando.

Soon he reached the corner and peered around it, hoping to see Fahri approaching. Instead, the man had already turned and was heading away from him.

"Kahretsin!" he swore to himself, walking swiftly behind Fahri. If he surprised the officer he would have to fight him, and that was the last thing Recai wanted. He needed information from Fahri.

Recai crept forward, his steps silent upon the concrete. Fahri stepped beyond the range of the light cast by one of the few street lamps. Recai pounced. He used his advantage to overtake the officer. Pulling Fahri's arms behind his back, Recai pushed him to the ground before he could make a sound.

"Keep quiet," Recai growled, putting a knee in Fahri's back and securing a hold on the man's wrists.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Fahri yelled into the night, flailing beneath Recai's weight. Fahri struggled, not knowing that the man accosting him was only ensuring things did not become dangerous for either of them. As the RTK itself purported to believe: Sometimes, in order to keep the peace, violence was necessary.

Recai ground his knee into the struggling man's spine and at the same time he twisted Fahri's right arm clockwise and straight up, straining the flexibility of Fahri's shoulders. In this position Fahri was completely immobilized with little effort; the man's own body would cause him pain with any movement.

"Fuck you!" Fahri swore as he tried to pull himself up on his knees. Instead he only managed to push his face further into the concrete sidewalk and give Recai the chance to place his other knee strategically between his legs.

"Stop moving. I'm not going to hurt you."

Recai removed the RTK-issued baton and threw it skittering across the pavement into the night.

"What do you want?" Fahri asked, his voice strained but strong.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Then let me go."

"I just want to ask you a question."

"Let me go, we'll get a glass of tea," Fahri sneered.

"I'm not going to let you go, but I'm not going to hurt you." Recai's voice was soft and low, forcing Fahri to strain to hear him. "I want to know how Sabiha is."

At the mention of his sister's name Fahri pitched violently, forcing Recai to rock forward so his knee cap pushed directly into his captive's spine. Fahri grunted in pain, but no one in this city would come out to help him. People barely ventured out after dark at all, let alone to investigate one of the many screams in the night.

"You leave my sister alone!"

"I just want to know if she's all right."

"Why, so you can finish what you started? Are you going to wait for her to get better and then beat her again?!"

"I didn't hurt her," Recai insisted.

"Like hell you didn't!"

"I wasn't the one who hurt her."

"Right. That's why you have me pinned to the ground in the night."

Fahri stopped struggling and laid his head down on the pavement in defeat. He knew the man above him was stronger and had the advantage.
Allah, if it pleases you, don't let me die here in the street.

"How is Sabiha?"

Fahri gritted his teeth and remained silent. He would not give in to what he assumed was some kind of voyeuristic perversion. His sister's attack had awoken something in him. His usual disdain for anything he considered weakness was being overwhelmed by an overriding need to protect her. This, he was beginning to suspect, was his real role as the man in her life—not to marry her off, but to care for her.

This realization came at the expense of his sense of self. His life was one of which he was no longer proud. The RTK were charged with upholding the moral law of Islam, but more often than not they were the very ones breaking that code. He didn't know if his sister's attacker was RTK, but the possibility that he could be hung around his neck like a noose. It wouldn't be the first time they had been behind something like this. These thoughts ran through his mind even as he lay beneath his attacker.

"Please, is she all right? I only want to make sure she is safe," Recai pleaded.

"Why do you care?"

"I… I saw what was happening to her. I stopped it, but I didn't… I don't remember if she was still… Please, is she alright?"

Fahri took a deep breath. As afraid and confused as he felt—and as angry as that made him—he wanted to believe the man. There were so many lies in the world. So much evil.

"The nurse at the hospital said she is still a virgin; she is still pure. But even if she wasn't, she'd be safe. I . . . wouldn't have turned her out for something she had no control over."

Recai exhaled a breath he didn't mean to hold and uttered a prayer without thinking, his faith running deeper than he realized.

"Al-hamdu lillahi rabbil ‘alamin."

  Recai's hold on Fahri loosened and the man's shoulders burned as the tension in them relaxed. Standing, Recai dropped back under a shadow. The lamp behind him glared out every feature save his outline. They were alone, but in Elih nothing is ever really private. They spoke of things the RTK would consider treason, the stakes too high to ignore.

"You're in a lot of trouble," Fahri said, standing up and cracking his back. "You shouldn't be out here doing this."

"Doing what?" Recai whispered

"Whatever the hell it is you're doing," Fahri exclaimed in frustration.

"Your sister is safe because of me."

"And I'm in your debt. Let me repay it by telling you there are people who do not like that you are out here, people who do not like for someone else to be regarded as doing the work of Allah."

"And who exactly has been doing that work these days?"

"Are you not listening to me? Allah's work is only for the RTK here. There is no room for men like you."

"Only men like you," Recai spat.

"Only men like me…. Yes, I guess that's true. I'm one of them, even now that their cruelties have been aimed at my family; I'm still one of them."

Fahri stepped back and gazed up at the sky. There were a million stars shining above, but none of them could lead him home.

"I've not been a good man," Fahri confessed. "Or a good brother, but I'd never do this . . . at least I hope I wouldn't. I don't know anymore. I thought I was following the right path. But Sabiha never did anything to anyone, she barely spoke to anyone but me and her few friends at school. How many others have had something like this happen?"

"The RTK did this to Sabiha?" Recai ventured.

"I don't know," Fahri sighed, his own suspicions difficult to articulate. "I doubt it was a direct order, but it's hard to believe no one knew about this. The city is too tightly controlled, and there have been others."

Fahri turned to the street, instinctively checking for listeners-in.

"Who are you?" Fahri turned back, only to find the man gone. Fahri looked around but he was alone, no one there save the stars.

"I seek refuge in Allah, from the outcast Satan," he whispered.

Do it
, Darya typed. She had just given final word on the order which would bring down Ali Kalkan's investigation. She'd been monitoring his emails for some time now, knowing that if anyone would notice her activities it would be the man in charge of the Osman Corporation's finances. That's what it's always about, it all comes down to who has control of the money.

The sudden interest in the Osman Corporation's accounting department had caused an unexpected halt in her uncle's incoming funds. She had always assumed her alias, "Dayar Yildirim," would allow her to conduct business without anyone knowing her gender or relation to the Yilmaz family, but interest in Osman Corp. meant interest in its Board of Directors, which could lead to someone finding out about her. Since Darya had discovered the origins of her uncle's wealth, she was confident Kalkan would do the same.

I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Darya sipped her spiced tea and once again read her half-brother's email. Who would have guessed that Ali Kalkan, the man who could bring down her entire network of finances and power, would be so exposed? All it took was one call to the bank manager in Nigeria to make sure she knew the instant he began to question the transactions she had made from the Osman's accounts into her own.

Yes, this was the beginning of something exciting. Today she would re-route all of the lines of power directly to her, reducing her uncle to nothing but a figurehead, a mouthpiece. One day, when the city was ready, she would remove him from power completely and reveal herself as the King Whisperer she really was.

Smiling, she set down her cup and reached for her
hijab
. No matter how high the temperature climbed, today she wanted to go out. There was a pair of Jimmy Choos with her name on them.