“It was just a suggestion.” I sigh. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“Maybe put it up to your eyes when they’re glowing purple,” Gideon says. “I volunteer to get them going right now so we can test it out.” He runs his hand up my inner thigh with a wink. I chuckle and tuck myself into his side.
“Do you really think this ancient thing has biometric scanning that will only work when I’m horny?” I flip the book around dramatically, eying it from every angle. “Oddly enough, I don’t see any cameras.”
“Smartass. You’re still thinking like a human. All I’m saying is magic is wild and intuitive.” Gideon strokes a piece of my hair between his fingers. “I think you have to convince the book it’s safe to open for you.”
Wonderful. My imposter syndrome is so bad even the book doesn’t think I belong.
“I feel like you’re telling me to befriend an inanimate object when I’m just now learning to do that with real people,” I complain.
“You’ll get it in no time with that attitude.”
Gideon bumps his shoulder into mine, sending me rocking into Callum. My demon returns the gesture, and the guys keep it up until I’m jostling back and forth between them like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. Their teasing releases some of my tension, and soon I’m giggling so hard I can barely breathe.
“Look, don’t stress about it now,” Callum reassures me. “We’ll figure out how to get it open. I promise.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
SHEENA
Callum is right about one thing: we’re going to get this damn book open. He just won’t like my plan to make it happen.
As I sneak through the courtyard, it’s so dark I can barely see my shoes. The stone cobblestones are uneven beneath my feet, and I hear the decorative fountain gurgling and splashing to my right. I use the sound of rushing water to orient myself, irritated that I’m having to echo locate like a goddamn bat. Not everyone has perfect night vision. If they can afford a fountain, they should be able to invest in some outdoor lighting.
Two more reports of hunter attacks came in at dinner. So Gideon and Callum were pulled into a super secret meeting with their fathers, and Ciprian left town abruptly to deal with some sort of situation in Nevada. Their absence is why I find myself hustling across the courtyard alone, clutching the tiny purple and gold book to my chest like some kind of thief in the night.
They won’t want me to talk to the fae, especially alone, but every time Gideon and Callum are around him, the entireconversation devolves into veiled threats and passive aggressive dick measuring. I know neither of them trust Idris, and given my background, I can appreciate their suspicion. But like it or not, he has been the only one able to tell me anything concrete about my heritage.
The entrance to the fae wing looms in front of me. I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and step up to the threshold. A heinously bright LED floodlight switches on, and I stumble back as it sears my retinas.
“Shit,” I hiss, my heart pounding.
I blink through the spots dancing in front of my eyes and grip the door’s old-fashioned knocker firmly. It’s cool under my fingers, a copper pentagram coated in a thick patina courtesy of time and the elements.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lift the knocker and bring it down against the wood several times. The sound is surprisingly underwhelming. If the fae is more than ten feet away, there’s no way he will hear it. Just as I’m starting to think of a backup plan, the door swings open and reveals Idris. Dressed in sweatpants and a plain green t-shirt, I’ve never seen him look so casual.
“Oh good, you’re home,” I sputter.
“Little djinn.” Idris tilts his head slightly to the side. If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t say so. “Please, come in.”
He steps to the side to let me pass and closes the door behind me.
“Is everything alright?” Idris asks.
Is that concern flickering in his cool blue eyes?
“Yes, sorry. It’s just—I have this book.” I brandish the little tome as if that explains everything and immediately start rambling. “It won’t open. I’ve tried pulling hard and opening my eyes really wide. I also told it I was a djinn and that it was safeto open. Nothing happened, so I was wondering if you had any ideas.” I trail off, feeling like a complete idiot.
I’m relieved he doesn’t comment on my word vomit. Instead, Idris leads me to a sitting room that’s still in the middle of a major construction overhaul. A thin layer of sawdust blankets every surface. There’s a protective sheet spread across the couch, but it doesn’t help much.
Idris brushes some of the dust away. “I’m sorry everything is in such disarray. Please sit if you don’t mind the mess,” he says, gesturing to the couch.
I plop down with no hesitation, waving my hands around. “This is nothing.” I smile. “The last ten places I lived were smaller than this room, plus a little dust never hurt anyone.”
Idris cocks his head to the side, studying me like I’m some kind of oddity at the county fair.
