He waited until she fell asleep to visit Duvalli. For one
thing, he couldn’t bear to leave her when she was awake. Their time together
was coming to an end and he wanted to savor each second. Each kiss. Each
caress. It was going to have to last him a long, long time in a world devoid of
her brightness.
The other reason he waited was he didn’t want to have to
explain why he was going once more to visit his greatest enemy. He certainly
didn’t want to share the painful decision he’d come to.
Aimalee wouldn’t understand.
But Keeshan knew, to the depth of his soul, he knew. This
was something he had to do.
The realization had dawned as he’d watched her eat dinner,
oohing and aahing over her favorite foods and explaining each one and her
passion for it, before forcing a bite into his mouth. He didn’t have the heart
to tell her he couldn’t taste a thing.
Watching her laugh, hearing her talk about her life at home,
her world, made him realize keeping her here was wrong. As much as he wanted to
have her by his side forever, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
He had to send her home.
She was his Circe. His love. She deserved a long, full life.
A real life. Not this half-life in a gilded cage.
He had to send her home.
And Duvalli would know how to do that.
At least Keeshan prayed he would.
He was determined to find a way to free her.
And to hell with the consequences.
The mist lasted longer than usual and when Keeshan stepped
through into the cold stone chamber, Duvalli was just seating himself on his
throne, making Keeshan wonder what he had been doing. With annoyance he noticed
that the curtain to the alcove where his sister stood was swinging slightly.
He frowned.
“Gads, Sir Keeshan.” Duvalli rolled his eyes. “I pine for
the days of old when I saw you but once a century.” He inspected his
fingernails. Who knew a two thousand year old Djinn could have such
extraordinarily fascinating fingernails? “To what do I owe the pleasure of your
company? Again?”
“How is Lisette?”
Duvalli frowned. “She’s fine,” he spat.
Keeshan strode over to the alcove and yanked the curtain
back so he could see for himself. His sister stood there, still as always,
though her arms now hung down by her sides. Her lips were bee-stung and her
stony features dewy. Her gown was slightly mussed.
“Never say I interrupted something.” The thought send acid
churning in his gut.
“Close the curtain. You’re embarrassing her.”
Keeshan stilled. That Duvalli had a care for Lisette’s
embarrassment meant the bastard might have a shred of feeling for her. His gaze
flicked back to his sister. This was not the expression of a woman in torment.
In fact, she almost looked like a woman in love.
That thought didn’t sit well either.
He dropped the curtain and spun on Duvalli. “Do you use an
incantation on her?”
Duvalli boggled with outrage. “What?”
“You heard me. Do you use magic to lure her into your bed?”
The Dark Djinn snorted. “You don’t understand anything, do
you?”
Intrigued by the thread of desperation in Duvalli’s tone,
Keeshan strolled closer to the dais and bent down to scratch one of the
slobbery hellhounds behind his ear. The beast groaned in canine bliss and then,
when Keeshan stopped, nudged his hand with a wet snout. “What do you mean?”
“I told you she turns to stone when my emotions are roused.”
“Your anger. Your rage.”
“Idiot.” They glared at each other and then Duvalli glanced
away. “I was never angry at her.”
“Then what emotions…” Keeshan’s throat closed up as
realization dawned. Undoubtedly, it closed up to hold back the guffaw squirming
to burst forth.
“Yes,” Duvalli snarled. “You think you have been in torment
for hundreds of years? Try being trapped in a chamber with a beautiful, willing
woman. And every time, just when things are beginning to get interesting, just
when she is perfectly primed…”
“She turns to stone.” Keeshan grinned, suddenly immensely
gratified.
“You needn’t smirk.”
“You’ve never, ever…” Unsure what words to use in the
reference of one’s sister, Keeshan made a flourishing gesture.
“
Known
your sister? No.”
“Never once? In all this time?” His chuckle blossomed into a
laugh. It threatened to burst into a howl. The lightness on his soul was
delicious.
Duvalli shifted his weight to the edge of the throne, like
the predator he was, and growled, “Was there a reason you came to see me? Or is
this simply a social visit?”
“Yes. Indeed.” It was a struggle to keep his tone casual. “I
have found her. I have found Circe.”
The Dark Djinn bolted upright. His mouth dropped open and he
gaped at Keeshan. He quickly recovered himself though his skin was pale and a
muscle ticked in his cheek. “Where is she?”
Keeshan smiled grimly and crossed his arms. “What makes you
think I have any intention of telling you? You have tormented me and my sister
for millennia. Over a crime I did not commit. I owe you nothing.”
The Dark Djinn’s cheeks mottled. His tattoos began to glow.
“You owe me a sister.”
Keeshan gestured toward the alcove. “Not anymore.”
“You must tell me!” A thick fist slammed into the arm of the
stone throne. A hairline crack tracked its way across the surface. The hissing
scritch of its passage echoed in the cold silence.
“I will not. Not until you tell me how she died.”
“Oh.” Duvalli sneered. “Wouldn’t your little mirror tell you
that?”
“It would not.”
“I have to wonder why, since it is so forthcoming with
everything else.”
“Perhaps you are meant to tell me. To confess your sins as
well.”
“My sins? I have no complicity in this.”
“Don’t you? She loved me. I loved her. You are the one who
separated us. Deny it if you will. You are the one who broke Circe’s heart.” He
glowered at his nemesis and hissed, “You are the one who removed the love from
her life. You are the reason she took her own life.”
Duvalli stilled. “What? Took her own life? Where did you get
an idea like that?”
“Why else would you blame me for her death? She was healthy,
happy, whole the last time I saw her. What, other than grief over your actions,
could have killed her?”
“You don’t know? You haven’t guessed? In all this time? All
these centuries? It never once occurred to you how your love could have killed
her?”
Keeshan’s gut roiled, his heart pounded, his vision took on
a reddish hue. “No. Tell me.”
The Dark Djinn sat back in his chair then and again affected
his typical nonchalance, but Keeshan could see it cost him. “You gave her a
child, Sir Knight. You gave her a child and she did not survive the birthing of
it.”
A dark cloud threatened Keeshan’s consciousness, his sanity.
Tiny little stars began to dance around his head. He fought through the miasma,
fought through the overwhelming grief and regret swamping him. There was
something…something more.
“And the child? Did it survive?”
Duvalli sighed, glanced away. “No. They both perished.”
Unable to hold himself up, Keeshan collapsed onto the stone
stairs of the dais. He held his head in his hands and wept. Wept for his lover,
his child, for all the lost years he could have had with her. For all the lost
years he never would have with her.
With Circe. With Aimalee. They had missed so many lifetimes
together. So many children together. So many possibilities, dashed.
And all because of the rage of one powerful man.
It had to end. It needed to end. He had to set Aimalee free.
And if she came back to him in her next lifetime and her next…if she came to
him a thousand times more, he would release her if he could.
He would find a way.
She deserved better.
She deserved a man who could love her and give her the
children she craved—had craved for centuries. Not Carter, but a good man.
Keeshan would help her find him. Together they would search. Through eternity
if need be.
“Well?” The Dark Djinn’s voice was uncharacteristically
tight. “I told you. Now you must tell me. Where is Circe?”
Keeshan glared at Duvalli. “One more thing. I want you to
tell me how to send Aimalee home.”
Was it his imagination or did the Dark Djinn pale, just ever
so slightly? “Her time is not up.”
“I don’t care.”
“You cannot send her home,” he sputtered.
“I think I can. I think I shall. And you will help me.”
A barked laugh ricocheted through the room. “I will not.”
“Ah, but you will. I know something you do not.”
Duvalli snorted dismissively. “Even if you could send her
home, you won’t. The price for breaking the rules is severe. Another century between
visitors.” He proffered a nasty smile. “Can you go that long without a woman,
Keeshan? I’ve seen how twitchy you get around year ninety-nine.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will. Around year ninety-nine. You are little more than
a hound in heat, Sir Keeshan.”
“I disagree. A hound does not love.”
“Never say,” Duvalli said through a snort, “that you love
this…consort.”
“I do. I love her.”
“Like you loved my sister?”
“Yes.”
“Faithless cur.”
“Hardly faithless,” Keeshan said. “I have loved Circe
devotedly for two thousand years.”
“Fucking other women. Every woman that came within your
auspices. Again and again and again.”
Keeshan stood, reinvigorated. “Tell me, Duvalli. Did you
never wonder about them? The women the Great Djinn sent to the lamp? Did you
never wonder how or why he chose them?”
Duvalli stilled. His nostrils flared as a cold,
uncomfortable realization began filtering through his thick skull. “No.”
“Yes. Oh yes. They were all Circe. One incarnation after
another. And in each incarnation, each of her many lives, she came to me. She
loved me.” He wandered across to the table and poured himself a drink. “How
does it feel, knowing that even as you punished me, you were punishing her?”
“No. It cannot be true. It cannot.”
“It is true. Mirror. Show me Circe.”
Duvalli stared in growing horror as woman after woman, life
after life flickered across the surface of his mirror. Each one had Circe’s
eyes, her smile, her soul. “No. It cannot be true.”
“But it is.” Keeshan watched the parade of faces,
remembering each one, reliving with delight this long, arduous journey. No
wonder he’d had to try so hard to resist them. No wonder when he succumbed,
he’d fallen so hard. Circle was his true soul mate. She always had been and she
ever would be.
He would love her forever. With all his heart.
He would go to hell and back to protect her from being a
party to Duvalli’s dark revenge. Whatever it took.
The litany ended with Aimalee’s angelic features and
Keeshan’s heart melted just a tad. She was so beautiful. So brave. So…everything.
His everything.
He stroked the mirror even as her image faded.
He glanced at Duvalli, who somehow seemed diminished. Even
his two hounds were unaccountably meek, their long snouts buried in their paws.
“Duvalli. Break the enchantment.”
The Dark Djinn growled an epithet.
“Break the enchantment. Send her home.”
“I cannot. It’s not within my power.”
Keeshan’s fingers curled into fists. He took a step forward.
Duvalli cringed. “No. It’s not. You are the one with the
power, Sir Keeshan. It’s always been you.” He looked away and muttered,
“Idiot.”
“What do you mean, I have the power?”
Duvalli shrugged and angled his entire body toward the wall.
“One of the Great Djinn’s jests, I suppose. Like sending you Circle again and
again.” He frowned as he drifted off into thought, chewing on that bitter bone.
“Duvalli! Tell me how to set her free.”
“It’s so simple. I cannot believe you never thought of it.”
“Tell me!”
“Simply draw the incantation backward. Over her heart.” He
shrugged. “Simple.”
His pulse flared. “It had better work.”
Duvalli sighed. “I assure you. It will work. But I warn you.
If you do this, she will not remember you. All the time she has spent with you
will be lost, a vague memory of a long-forgotten dream.”
“I don’t care.” A lie. He did care. He cared a lot. But
freeing Aimalee was more important than anything. He only wished he could free
his sister too. Only wished he could break the spell for all of them.
But now that he knew the truth, his course was clear. His
course was set. He would live forever in the lamp. And when she came to him
again in a hundred years—or in two hundred, as Duvalli threatened—he would send
her back. And send her back again.
Because he loved her.
And he always would.
When Keeshan returned to the lamp, Aimalee was sitting on
the throne in the mirror room with a big bowl of white fluffs on her lap.
“There you are. Where have you been?” she grumbled when he bent to kiss her.
She tasted delicious. Like butter and salt and something earthy.
“What are you eating?”
“Popcorn. Want some?” She held up the bowl and he hesitantly
took one of the crunchy balls and placed it on his tongue.
She laughed. “Not like that. Like this.” She took a handful
and smooshed them all into her mouth, crunching heartily. “Im sk blod.”
“Scoot over.” He seated himself in the overlarge chair and
pulled her into his lap, taking a handful of the treats. But he didn’t shove it
into his mouth, he simply held it in his hand. “What are you watching?” He had
to wait for her response while she chewed and swallowed. Then she took a sip
from a red can perched on the arm of the chair.
“I think I’m figuring everything out.”
He stilled. “Really?”
“Yep.” She nodded. The silky tufts of her hair brushed the
bottom of his chin. “I figured out the banquet hall. Finally, a decent drink.”
She tipped up the can and took another sip. Then belched. “If I ask for
specific things, they just appear.”
“It is a magic lamp.”
“Yes. But you have to
know
how to ask, don’t you?”
Funny. He’d been here forever and hadn’t quite realized
that. She’d figured that out in less than a week.
“And the mirror. I figured out how to make it show me
everything.”
“It is a
magic
mirror.”
“Everything!”
She belched again and collapsed into his arms with a sigh.
“Keeshan, I think I could stay here with you forever.”
He couldn’t respond. He simply could not. If he tried, he
would probably dissolve into a mortifying puddle of tears. He would love for
her to stay here with him forever. But she couldn’t. He couldn’t let her. He
had to give her back her life.
“So what are you watching?” He kissed the top of her head.
She snorted. “Carter.”
The sinuous trail of jealousy snaking through his gut was
unpleasant. “Why?”
“Do you know what that bastard did?” Her tone was virulent.
Ah, then. Perhaps there was no need for jealousy.
“What did that bastard do?”
“He stole my dissertation!”
“That bastard!”
She tipped her head to the side and nibbled her lip. “He
tried
to. Turns out he was too stupid to steal it.”
“Too stupid to steal it? How is that?”
Ah. This was bliss. Sitting here with her in his arms.
Knowing he had to send her home…but not now. Not yet.
“He took it to the IHA Conference and presented it to two
hundred peers.”
“Is that bad?”
She snorted. “He couldn’t answer any of their questions. I
mean, not even the easy ones.” She peeped at him over her shoulder. Her outrage
was adorable. So he kissed her. “You should have seen him sweating and
stuttering and making things up. What a dweeb. I don’t know what I ever saw in
him.”
“Neither do I.”
She punched him on the shoulder. “Stop it. Anyway, after
that debacle his education was called into question and he had to go before the
National Archeological Board and defend his credentials. And you know what?”
“What?” He loved it when her eyes shined like that.
“He kind of forgot to graduate.”
“No.”
She nodded gleefully and crammed some more popcorn into her
mouth. “And he kind of forgot to tell anyone he never graduated.”
“No.”
“Yup. And get this, they kind of fired his ass.”
“And this pleases you?”
“It delights me. Maybe we’ll get a director who actually
cares about the artifacts…” She trailed off. “Oh.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, though he knew damn well what was
wrong.
“It’s just…”
“Yes?”
“When I go back…I won’t be here anymore. With you.”
He cleared his throat. “You have to go back sometime.”
“But not soon.” She nestled in deeper, nuzzling him like a
kitten. When he didn’t respond, her body tensed up. “Not soon, right?”
He kissed her nape. “Not now.”
She took his cheeks in her hands and forced him to look at
her. Her lips taut, she whispered, “It’s soon, isn’t it?”
He nodded. Just the hint of a nod. He couldn’t lie. He
couldn’t keep it from her.
“Ah, no.” A whisper, a plea. She kissed him so gently his
soul start to weep. “No.”
“Aimalee—”
“No!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and wove her
fingers into his hair and forced his mouth back to hers. To silence. “No. No
talking.”
She kissed him for a long while and he allowed it, soaked it
in. He memorized every movement, every taste, every heartbeat. He would need
this, this memory, in the long dark days ahead. He let her consume him, gave
himself to her bit by bit, kiss by kiss, touch by touch. If he gave enough of
himself, maybe it would be like being with her when she left.
When he sat in this chair and watched her through the
mirror. When he watched her living her life and loving another man. Having
children and watching them grow. And then one day passing from this world to
the next. He would watch her until then.
And then he would wait. Wait until she came to him again.
Not remembering him again. Not loving him again.
Yes. He let her kiss him and he gave himself to her. And
when the passion began to grow, he ignored it. Until she would not let him
ignore it anymore.
“Keeshan?”
“Yes, Aimalee.” He could barely think with her touching him
like that.
“Take me to the fantasy room.”
“You don’t want to go there.”
“I do.”
“It will bring your fantasy to life. Your deepest, darkest
sexual fantasy. It will come to life. It’s not often pretty.”
“Take me there.”
So he did. Dreading the revelation, dreading what he might
discover but too besotted to refuse her a single thing, he lifted her in his
arms and carried her to the seventh and final room in the lamp. They approached
the door, prepared as they were, filled with intentions as they were, and the
locked door opened unto them.
Keeshan stepped inside.
And stared.
It was Aimalee’s bedroom.
Gently he set her on the bed and gazed down into her shining
eyes. “What exactly is your fantasy?”
She laughed, a tiny sniffle. “It’s nothing much. Not
really.”
“Tell me.” He sat beside her.
“I want to be loved.”
“You are loved.” He kissed her.
“No, silly. I want to be
loved
…by a man I love.
That’s all.”
He chuckled and levered over her, pressing her down onto the
pillow. “We don’t need a fantasy room for that.” But then he stilled. “Do we?”
He loved her. No doubt about that…but she’d never said it.
Perhaps his sudden uncertainty washed across his
expression—it certainly washed across his soul—for she cupped his cheek and
smiled. “No. We don’t. But it’s my fantasy. I want to make love with the man I
love in my own bed.”
“Am I,” he swallowed, “the man you love?”
“Absolutely you are.” She kissed him. “Keeshan, I love you.
With all my heart.” She blinked back a sudden swell of tears. “I don’t want to
leave you. I am scared to death to leave you.”
He kissed away the dampness. “We will be together again.”
“It won’t be the same.” She kissed the corner of his eyes,
one after the other. And he realized there were tears on his cheeks as well.
“Just love me, Keeshan. Love me.”
“Ah Aimalee,” he said. “I do.”
But then he showed her. With his mouth, his lips and his
body. He showed her. He brought her to the edge again and again until she
screamed, begged and growled for mercy. And then when she was ready, when her
body was weeping and wet, when she trembled and twitched and demanded to be
filled, he did.
He slid inside her body, into her warmth, into the tight,
slick cavern of her soul. He slipped in deeply and reveled in the delicate
flutters, the desperate clutching of her cunt. He kissed her as he withdrew and
then kissed her when he thrust once more, capturing her cries in his mouth,
swallowing them and consuming them, as if swallowing and consuming a part of
her would fill him up when he was alone once more.
When his body started to tighten, when hers began to shake,
when the passion and the rhythm deepened and fled, when both their hearts began
to skidder and thud in tandem, he let go of the leash. And he took her. Deep
and hard and straight to the core. He took her.
The explosion was beyond anything he’d ever known. And he
could tell from the wonder in her eyes she felt it too. Together they flew on
wings of absolute, bone-deep ecstasy. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt
that the only magic involved was the magic the two of them made. Together.
And then when she was sleeping, when he knew that a moment
could never be more perfect than the moment they had just shared, when he knew
his strength would not last for long, he let his hand slide up her side, over her
perfect breast to rest on her chest, on the beating of her heart. And he traced
the familiar symbol. Backward.
In a flash, she was gone.
He was left alone in the thin facsimile, this mockery of her
room.
He buried his face in her pillow still infused with her
scent and he wept.