Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (12 page)

Her hand felt nice in his: little and
feminine. In spite of his resolve to remain coolheaded, the
widening of her eyes as she studied the French restaurant’s pretty
front charmed him.

“This is fancy!” she exclaimed.

She didn’t seem to be complaining. “The
concierge at the Plaza recommended it.”

The helpful man hadn’t forgotten Joseph’s
hundred-dollar bill supply. His suggestion certainly delivered on
atmosphere. Formerly an elegant townhome, La Vérité gleamed with
gilded chairs and candles and pristine white tablecloths. The
diners were as glamorous as the decor: quick-witted, well dressed
humans sipping wine and forging alliances over fine china.

The maître d’ led Arcadius and Elyse to the
third floor.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Our own private
room.”

Arcadius couldn’t miss the war between her
pleasure and her fear of giving into it. “I thought it would be
nice to hear each other without raising our voices.”

Elyse had handed off her coat downstairs.
Arcadius gritted his teeth as he pulled out a chair for her. The
red dress she wore hugged her body like a lascivious second skin,
drawing his admiring gaze to every asset she possessed. Her slender
shoulders were bare and creamy, her cleavage more than hinted at
from his angle above her. The dress was lined. She hadn’t worn a
bra under it. He couldn’t see her nipples but it was close. When
Arcadius tore his attention from her alluring curves and hollows,
the waiter who held out
his
chair suppressed a knowing
grin.

Arcadius tried not to glower. If he’d been in
the man’s position, he probably would have done the same.

Recalling their clash of wills over shoveling
the walk, Arcadius didn’t order Elyse’s meal. If nothing else, her
dress reminded him this city had its own customs.

His attempt to put her at ease wasn’t
successful. As the server left, she was fidgeting.

“I should tell you something,” she
confessed.

“Yes?”

“It’s about your apartment and the reason my
cousin implied it was cursed.”

“Ah.” He relaxed back in his chair.
Discussing this topic suited him.

Elyse bit her lip guiltily. The effect this
had on her painted mouth was rather distracting. “My husband was
killed down there. Not in your actual apartment but in the
cellar.”

“I see,” he said, already aware of this.

This wasn’t the reaction she expected. Her
tempting lips fell open. “His murder was kind of violent. Lots of
folks wouldn’t want to rent a place where that happened. You know,
if they were superstitious.”

“Oh,” he said, understanding now. A funny
little warmth expanded in his chest. “It’s honest of you to tell
me, but it won’t bother us.”

“You’re sure?” She leaned forward across the
table. “It’s not like I spent your rent money. I only put it in the
bank this morning.”

“I’m sure, though I’m sorry for your loss.
Did the police catch your husband’s killer?”

Elyse shook her head. “The police think it
must have been someone hopped up on drugs, looking for stuff to
steal to support their habit. I’m not sure I believe it. David
always set the alarm, and the cops didn’t find signs of a break
in.” She shrugged and looked unsure. “I guess David might have
forgotten. He could have surprised the intruder.”

She shuddered, her gaze focused on the
past.

“Are you the one who found him?” he
asked.

Tears glimmered on her lower lids. “It was
bad,” she said hoarsely. “Really bloody and really bad.”

Unable to help himself, he drew her hand to
his mouth to kiss its tense knuckles. He patted it before setting
it down again. “Images like that stay with you, but eventually they
fade.”

“You’ve seen dead bodies?” Her green eyes
were big.

“Many,” he said solemnly. “Once upon a time,
I served in the army.”

He hoped he wouldn’t ask which army. He
didn’t have a lie prepared.

Elyse drew a long breath and blew it out.
“Sorry. This isn’t ideal dinner conversation.”

The waiter returned with their wine. Arcadius
waited until her glass was filled. “Our pasts cannot be erased.
Sometimes we have to share them to get to know someone. Tell me
about your father. From what you said, those are happier
memories.”

~

Being easy to talk to wasn’t a quality Elyse
expected to find in a man as handsome as Arcadius. As it turned
out, he was as good at listening as telling tales. Over a selection
of delectable food and wine, Elyse shared stories of her father:
trips they’d taken together, crazy purchases he’d shipped home
while she was stuck in school. Once, he’d sent a life-size Egyptian
faience hippo, thinking she’d like keeping it in her room.

“I was eight,” she said. “And I adored it.
Unfortunately, it was so big I had to climb over its back to get in
or out my bedroom door. When my dad came home and saw how much
space it took up, he agreed maybe we should let the auction house
sell it.”

“Your father didn’t take you everywhere,”
Arcadius observed.

“No,” Elyse agreed. “I had school, and some
of the places he went were too dangerous for a child.” She smiled,
turning her half full wine glass in a circle. “Dad was a charmer,
really amazing with people—probably because he was genuinely
interested in them. I never worried about him. No matter where he
went or how different the culture, he made friends.”

“That is indeed a gift.”

Elyse laughed. “One I sometimes wish I
had.”

“Perhaps you have more of it than you
think.”

Though she wasn’t convinced, his words warmed
her. This evening had been a gift. Talking about her dad brought
back the feeling of being loved by him. “I’ve talked your ears
off,” she said guiltily.

Arcadius pressed his palms over them to
check, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I believe they’re still
there.”

“You promised me a story.”

The lines around his beautiful mouth
deepened. They weren’t dimples, but wonderful signs of humor and
having lived. When he didn’t smile, he was still gorgeous—in a
foreboding way. When he did, boy, was he edible. He ran one finger
around his wine glass’s rim, and she swore she felt it touch
her.

“I
would
keep my promise,” he said,
his voice dropping intimately, “but I fear we’re keeping our waiter
from his beauty rest.”

He turned his wrist to display the face of
his gold Rolex. For a second, she couldn’t read the hands. He’d
rolled up his cuffs and his forearm was sexy. Dark hair, olive
skin, strong muscles and tendons . . . When her eyes agreed to
focus, she was shocked by the time.

“Oh, my gosh,” she exclaimed. “I really did
talk your ears off. I had no idea it was that late!”

“I encouraged you,” he said smoothly, “though
I think I should call our driver to pick us up.”

The restaurant was nearly empty when Elyse
and Arcadius descended the stairs from their dining room. The staff
who were cleaning up wished them goodnight. They seemed to mean it,
and Elyse suspected Arcadius had tipped well. Outside, the street
was quiet, the cold air refreshing on her face. She was surprised
to discover she wasn’t drunk. The glow she was experiencing came
from the nice night she’d spent. Disconcerted by that realization,
she sat without speaking for the ride home.

I’m getting over David
, she
thought.

Did this mean something was wrong with her?
Two months was no time at all. She bit the side of her thumb,
sneaking a look at Arcadius. Even sitting down, he was tall. He
watched the city’s skyscrapers and late-night traffic roll by
outside. His sharp-as-a-statue profile was almost too perfect to be
real.

Would he be a good choice to get back in the
saddle with? Leaving aside his claim of enjoying her company, the
chance he was interested in her in any long-term manner seemed
miniscule. A man like Arcadius enjoyed conquests, not commitments.
He’d bed a woman a couple times and be on to the next
challenge.

Could Elyse stand that, or would it hurt her
feelings?

She wasn’t sure, only that he attracted her
immensely.

I’ll leave the next move to him
, she
thought,
and decide how to cross that bridge if I come to
it.

Arcadius seemed unlikely to complain. He
struck her as the sort of man who’d want to hold the reins
himself.

ELYSE’S mood had turned thoughtful since
leaving the restaurant. Arcadius suspected she was deciding whether
to sleep with him. Her having to think about it annoyed him. Yes,
she’d been widowed not long ago. Arcadius knew her husband had been
no prize, but Elyse loved the man she thought he’d been. He
couldn’t expect her to fall into his arms just because females
usually did. The fact that he’d put actual effort into seducing her
was beside the point. Feeling insulted gained him nothing. Patience
was the weapon that would win his desire.

That he did desire her was obvious.

How had this happened? She was supposed to be
a strategic target, a means to a crucial end. Instead, he craved
her irrationally. To touch her skin. To kiss her neck. To slide his
hands up her firm slim legs. Right that moment, he longed to draw
her across the seat to him, to simply hug her against his side.
That was no sexual fantasy, or not one he recognized.

He rubbed two fingers across his lips,
wondering what was wrong with him. The limo ride was smooth, the
lights turning green for them as if by magic. They were coming up
on the meeting of two four-lane streets. Arcadius recognized a
storefront on the right, so they must have passed this way earlier.
He was glad the city was becoming decipherable. Something ought to
go right for him.

The thought had barely finished when an out
of place streak of motion caught his eye. All alone, with no other
cars to block it, a white van sped down the intersecting street.
The red light faced it. It should have been slowing down.

The limo driver noticed the same thing.

“Shit,” he said, spinning his own wheel to
get out of the way of the vehicle. “You two hold on back
there.”

The white van gunned its engine and veered
toward their adjusted course.

Arcadius had seen soldiers spurred to
extraordinary feats by surges of adrenaline. The phenomenon was
rare but not unheard of. Until that moment, his experience had been
secondhand.

Many thoughts flashed through his head at
once. He knew the other driver meant to hit them, and hit them
hard. Elyse was on the oncoming side. No matter how sturdy the limo
was the collision would crumple it. More importantly, it would
crumple her. She was a breakable human being. Chances were she
would die.

The idea of allowing that to happen filled
him with agony. Despite it being too soon for his former powers to
activate in his new body, his magic flared within him like an
exploding sun. Every cell burst its bonds as he returned to the
smoke and fire from which the Creator had fashioned him.

Startled, he took an eye-blink inventory. He
was bigger, perhaps eight feet tall but still manlike. Two arms
extended from his developed torso, two legs, two feet made of black
vapor. He was his inner nature: a nightmare creature from an exotic
tale. Elyse hadn’t noticed yet. She was leaning toward her
window.

“What is that idiot doing?” she murmured.

She wasn’t afraid of the purposefully
accelerating van. She didn’t scream until she turned and saw the
unfamiliar being he had become.

The shriek she let out was blood
curdling.

Arcadius didn’t have the luxury of minding.
Though he wasn’t solid anymore, he had an ability to move matter
similar to a strong magnetic field. Seizing Elyse in his smoky
arms, he barreled so quickly out his side of the limo that the door
ripped off its hinges.

He and Elyse escaped disaster by
milliseconds. The van hit the limousine with a squeal of rubber
tires and a resounding crunch of metal. A third car honked and
slammed on its brakes, narrowly missing the others. The van and the
limo spun across the road as if dancing with each other. As the
spin completed, the limo tumbled onto its roof, wheels whirring
like an upended beetle’s legs. Big white pillows exploded in front
of both drivers.

Airbags
, Arcadius thought, the word
popping into his mind in spite of the situation’s stress.

He didn’t get a chance to see more details.
By this time, he’d whisked Elyse a couple hundred feet into the
night sky. He remembered to stop before it was too late. Humans
didn’t do as well as djinn at high altitudes. He was lucky the
office building next to them was dark. If anyone had been working
late, they’d have had quite the water cooler tale.

“Wha-” Elyse gasped, her teeth chattering,
her hands instinctively trying to clutch his non-shoulders. She
gaped in terror at the street grown tiny under them.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

He forgot how different his voice would be.
Her head jerked around at the fiery hiss. His eyes were more fire
within the smoke, blue gray like his normal ones. Though somewhat
larger, his features were basically the same.

“
No
,” she said, recognizing him.

Probably they were fortunate her overloaded
system chose then for her to pass out.

Sirens wailed in the distance, reminding him
he’d better hightail it out of there. Being seen in his current
shape wasn’t a good idea. This was the city that never slept, where
every other phone—as he’d learned today—had a miniature camera.
Arcadius zoomed off, flying his burden homeward as swiftly as he
dared. Some detached corner of his mind observed that nighttime
Manhattan twinkled beautifully from above, the snow like whipped
icing where it clung. Elyse was secure in his arms, if limp. The
biggest danger was that she’d freeze before he got her to the
brownstone.