Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

“I am getting to that, ingrate. Patience is a virtue—learn it.”

I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I might not have your answers, but I may know someone who does,” he continued, surprisingly solution-oriented despite his obvious anxiety and pain. His face looked strained, his smoke billowing wildly. A dead giveaway that he was struggling.

I gulped. “Who?” Please be someone easy to find, please be someone easy to find, please be someone easy to find… I crossed every extremity.

“The oldest djinn in the known world. The Storyteller. She may be able to help.”

Santana took a step forward. “And where’s she?”

“In the country now called the United Arab Emirates, the last I heard,” Kadar replied. “She’ll have far more information than, say, a stolen book.”

My jaw hit the deck. “How did you know about the book?”

Kadar leered. “I’m a djinn, you idiotic spawn of a clurichaun. Even inside Raffe’s dense skull, I can do things, see things… and I can sense that book you’ve got tucked away a mile off. It holds a djinn ruby, if I’m not mistaken; the kind used to signify ancient djinn literature.”

“My bad. I didn’t know you could ‘sense’ this stuff.” What else can you sense? I fought the paranoia, those thoughts rising again like scum in a stew pan. The gremlins had been so quiet. I didn’t want to wake them now. My bickering with Santana had woken one beast today, and that was enough for me.

“Hmm… very well, I’ll resist stripping off the skin of your forearm and frying it for breakfast. Tempting, but you may need your flesh intact.” Kadar flashed sharp teeth. “And I wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite.”

Santana grimaced. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“More’s the pity. We could have shared breakfast in bed.” Kadar’s eyes glinted.

An idea came to me, through the horror of becoming human bacon. “I’d like my flesh intact, if it’s all the same to you, but you and Raffe might have to be the ones who find this Storyteller.”

“And why’s that?” Kadar purred. “Feeling lazy, are we?”

“I just don’t want to wind up in a conflict of interests,” I explained. “I’m expecting Erebus to contact me. If I vanish, he’ll track me down, and that’ll open a can of worms. But you and Raffe can do this, and you’ll have a better shot at finding the Storyteller, since you know who you’re looking for.”

Kadar tapped his nails against his lip. “It would cut out the middleman.”

“As long as you’re not cutting the middleman.” I smirked.

“Very amusing.” He chuckled darkly. “It does seem like the better path to success. And, as there are many djinn in the UAE, I can see firsthand if our assumptions are true.”

I took a breath. “So, that’s settled, then?”

“It appears so,” Kadar replied.

“Then I only have one more favor to ask.” I chanced a look at Santana. “Please—and this includes Raffe, too—don’t tell anyone what I’ve said regarding Erebus. It honestly is the only way to keep people safe. Everyone who doesn’t already know, anyway.”

Kadar inclined his head. “I will not say anything, knowing Erebus as I do. You shouldn’t either, Santana. Your silence may be the difference between life and death.”

She hesitated, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fine. If it freaks Kadar out, then… maybe you’re right about the silence stuff, Finch.”

I didn’t get the chance to make a dig about her being wrong, though it teetered on the tip of my tongue. At that moment, Levi woke up. Well, Zalaam did. The ruby-red eyes gave it away.

“You must do this… Kadar,” he rasped, those telltale eyes unfocused. “Go to… the homeland. Find… the Storyteller. She may be our only… hope to remedy… this. Finch’s problem… is of lesser… importance.”

Pfft. To you, maybe.

“Though… they may be… intertwined.” He coughed violently, his scarlet skin phasing in and out like a Rorschach test on steroids. “You must… stop this before… the djinn lose… control.”

Santana strode up to Kadar and grasped his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t think Raffe will like that,” Kadar replied. I got the feeling Kadar wasn’t crazy about the idea, either.

She shot him a cold glare. “Tough.”

Zalaam wheezed a laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t… mess with this… bruja if I were you, my son.”

I had to smile. Nope, neither would I.

Fourteen

Raffe

A couple hours later, Krieger discharged me from the infirmary and Kadar retreated. The doctor gave me a pouch of magical herbs to help me cope with the stress of my sleepless djinn. A pungent blend of Lullaby Weeds, to smell or ingest depending on the severity of Kadar’s potential outbursts—sniffing them would put us to sleep while taking them would knock us out for days. My father needed more attention, and I didn’t mind resorting to self-care if it meant Krieger could focus on him.

“I’m sorry about last night.” I sat on the edge of my bed, glad to be back in my own room. Home had a way of easing pain in a way the infirmary never could. I could’ve sworn they designed medical facilities specifically to freak people out, with brutal strip-lighting and muted colors.

Santana flicked through channels on the TV as Slinky twisted across the floor and up onto the bed beside me. “It wasn’t your fault, mi amor.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.” I rubbed my hands down my thighs, attempting to release the tension in my muscles. Slinky rested his head on my leg, staring up expectantly until I ruffled his feathers. “You told Finch your heart broke. I can’t ignore something like that.”

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” She kept her back to me, forgetting that I could see her profile in the wall mirror. Her face contorted in a mask of anguish as she bit her bottom lip to hide her pain. I’d seen her do the same thing countless times before when she had to deal with something she didn’t want to confront.

“I won’t let it happen again.” I had no idea if I