The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(20)
Elena sent her love to Jean-Paul, then reeled herself back in. She opened her eyes and immediately checked to see if Jamra had awoken. But, no, he’d rolled onto his side with his face squashed against the bed so that his derby sat askew on his head like a dandy gangster, albeit a drunken one with the giggles.
She tapped her fingers against her knees, thinking over her situation. She could leave. Run. Try to return to Jean-Paul before Jamra figured out where she’d gone. But she could never return to Chateau Renard more quickly than the jinni could move within the ether. And then what would he do in retaliation? She was no better prepared to defend herself and her home from the jinni than she’d been that morning.
Besides, she’d begun to wonder if the farther they got from Jean-Paul, the weaker Jamra’s hold over him might become. It was a possibility. Some spells worked by proximity. Then again, it was also possible Jamra might prove a man of his word, despite his despicable nature, and release his hold on Jean-Paul if she continued to put up a front of cooperation. Not likely, but also not out of the question. From what she’d learned, jinn felt a deep sense of indebtedness to those who helped them. In either case, it meant she had little choice but to stay put.
It also meant she would have to decide if she would take him to Sidra’s true location or not. At first, after he’d so rudely swept her off her feet and abducted her, she’d vowed to veer him off course, claiming she had only a vague notion of where to go. She’d meant to lead him to the coast or the southern border where the mountain peaks rose up as jagged as wolf’s teeth. Let him sort out which village out of a hundred Sidra was in. Oh, but she knew exactly where to find the jinni. There was no mistaking those acres and acres of flower fields.
For now, there was little more Elena could do until her incantation ran its course and her spell-drunk abductor regained consciousness. Until then, she curled up on her pillow on the floor and hoped for once Jamra’s boast about his magic was true. She would still sleep uneasily, but it was reassuring to know they were hidden from the prying eyes of any villagers prone to prowling alleys at night. Cats excepted, of course.
CHAPTER NINE
Sidra placed a chunk of bakhoor in the incense burner and gently blew fire on it until the resin lit. She sat back against the sofa with her stomach full but her mind aloft in the clouds. The scent spell cloaking her presence in the village wouldn’t be enough, despite what she’d told the girl. Not against Jamra. He’d nearly figured out the location once before, which was why she and Hariq had gone to extremes to try to be free of him. Of course, had she known then the cost, she would have given up.
That sort of thinking didn’t serve one’s future. Or the present. Still, the old one could have been clearer about the danger they’d faced at the time. Even now he wasn’t as helpful as he could be. He’d seen something in the cave. A vision. She’d wanted to know what it was that made him puff out the pipe smoke the way he had, one ring linked to another linked to another, as they drifted up through the illusion of comfort he’d created above their heads. But it did not do to know too much about one’s unlived days. For events to unfold in the manner intended, it was usually best to face life’s twists and turns bereft of the knowledge of prophecy.
But facing Jamra without at least some foreshadowing of the outcome was a fool’s errand. He was sly, beastly, eager to do harm to her and many others. Was that what the old one was hiding? She suspected the vision had been about Jamra, but there was no pushing Rajul Hakim when he was being stubborn. Trust the will of the All Seeing, he would say.
Regardless, the confrontation with Jamra was imminent. She and Yvette were going to need something more powerful to protect themselves than a wisp of scent and smoke. Sidra reached in her robe for the brass talisman she’d had the girl steal for her.
“What’s it for?” Yvette asked as she fluffed up her pillow. The cashmere blanket had already been laid out for the girl to sleep under. She’d complained that the night air was cold. Fairies and witches were too much like mortals with their physical needs. Wanting things of comfort—food, drink, a soft blanket—was fine and good when one was in the mood, but it was weakness for a body to need them.
“It’s a talisman,” she said. “For luck or prosperity.” Sidra rubbed her finger over the familiar engraving—a grid with nine squares inside a circle, each with a different symbol inscribed. The star in the upper right named her as one of the jinn whom the wearer asked for help. The old one was on the left in the shape of an eye. And Hariq on the bottom right corner with the wingtip of a bird. There was a fourth symbol, a moon, but the owner, an old jinni woman from across the sea, had long ago been sent to the afterlife. Struck down by a marid she’d once been married to.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re expecting more trouble than you let on?”
“We’re fine.”
The wind rattled a loose tile on the roof. The girl looked at the ceiling as if expecting to hear the footfall of an invasion. When it didn’t happen, she snuggled deeper under her blanket. Oh, but the bees kept buzzing around in her thoughts as she tapped her fingers atop the covers.
“What happened?” Yvette had been staring at her husband’s clothes. “What went wrong? Did he beat you? Steal from you? Fall in love with another woman?”
“No.”