The Binding Stone (The Djinn Series) (5 page)

“I’m
sorry,” he says, and when I look, I grimace at the gentleness in his eyes. “You
should know that pencils don’t use lead anymore. It’s graphite now. But you
don’t have to go to school if you don’t want to. And I promise to keep all lead
far away from you.” I find his smile painfully pleasant. And I can’t seem to
pull away when he folds me into his arms. I feel...safe.

He
decides to tell others that I am a girl he met at the library. Apparently I am
home-schooled. That’s fine with me. I would find attending high school quite
tedious even without the threat of lead. At least this way, I don’t have to
pretend to pay attention to the teachers.

The
first person he tests this on is his mother. Thus far he has avoided telling
her about me, and although I have seen no sign of magic in her aura, I am
pleased he has chosen to heed my advice. Now it is time to compromise. Or so he
tells me. This way she can meet me without knowing what I am. I find this
acceptable and am the picture of manners when we are officially introduced the
following Saturday afternoon.

What
jumps out at me the moment she answers the door is that she’s gone to the
trouble of putting on some makeup and fixing her hair. Normally her sandy waves
are twisted up in a clip, her face drawn. The resemblance to Jered is
remarkable, everything except for her startling gray eyes, so different from
the deep dark pools that seem to bind me whenever I look at her son. I
immediately feel a rush of affection for this woman who cares enough to change
her appearance just for me. Then I chastise myself for such a ridiculous
reaction.

“Hello,
Mrs. Archer,” I say with my best smile attached. “Thank you for letting me come
over.”

“Nice
to meet you, Leela. Please call me Corrie.” Her eyes rake me over from head to
toe, searching for clues to my real identity. I can almost see the checklist in
her head: drug addict, sex maniac, psychotic stalker. Since none of those comes
close to the truth, she moves aside to let me by.

Jered
steps into view, and I smile. I see Corrie reacts much the same way. In fact,
I’ve noticed how she rarely takes her eyes off her son. It’s as though she’s
afraid he might disappear. 

“So
you’re home-schooled?” Corrie asks, while I help her chop vegetables in the
kitchen. It’s a small room with chipped wood cabinets and a linoleum floor
peeling up in the corners. But it is warm and comfortable, filled with the
afternoon sunlight spilling in the sliding glass door. Family photos are spread
across the refrigerator.

The
photos are solely of Jered growing up. His father is missing from each and
every one. This does not surprise me. Jered has already told me how his father
ran off with another woman when he was young. That he rarely sees him despite
the fact that he lives somewhere nearby. Although Jered has never met them, his
father has another family now. I saw the obvious yearning in his eyes when he
spoke of how he would love to know the siblings he has always wished for.

“That’s
right, home-schooled,” I say, stealing a glance at Jered, who comes up behind
me to snatch a piece of carrot from my cutting board. The warmth of his body so
close to mine makes it hard to focus on what his mother is saying.

“Well,
I’m glad you decided to come over for dinner. It’s sweet of you to help, but it
isn’t necessary. If you two want to go watch TV or something...”

“That’s
okay, Mom. Leela loves to help out. Don’t you, Leela?” Jered’s hands rest on my
shoulders.

“It’s
what I live for,” I say, setting down my knife and wiping my hands. “I’m just
happy that you’ve invited me, Corrie.”

When
I turn to speak to her, I find myself standing a breath away from Jered. I
freeze, watching as he swallows, then leans in toward me, drawn like a moth to
a flame. Corrie clears her throat.

“Jered,
would you mind getting down the good dishes?” she asks, redirecting him to the
farthest side of the room. I smile, but her eyes are sharp as daggers.

“So
you’re a social worker?” I ask, trying to change the subject back to her.

“That’s
right. I work with at-risk youth. It isn’t a pretty job, but it’s gratifying.
You don’t want to hear about me, though. Tell me something about yourself,
Leela.” She sets down the bowl of filling she’s been mixing, and crosses her
arms. I shift a little, uncomfortable.

“Not
much to tell.” I avert my eyes.

“That’s
a pretty necklace,” she says. I cup my opal protectively. I feel exposed.

“Thank
you,” I say. My voice is a whisper.

“Is
it an heirloom?” She reaches for my hand, and I take a step back with an
audible gasp, hitting the counter, and knocking the knife to the floor so that
it stabs the square of linoleum between our feet. She stops and retracts her
hand, mouth slightly ajar.

“It’s
from her mother,” Jered says, stepping in between us and retrieving the knife.
“She died when Leela was young.”

“Oh.
I’m so sorry,” Corrie says, and a shadow passes over her face. I believe she
is. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t also wary.

When
dinner comes, the room is filled with the clanking of forks on plates. Corrie sits
between us at the table, and I have trouble looking at Jered. I’m afraid I’ve
ruined everything. Afraid he’ll be ashamed of me now because of my behavior.

“Pass
the parmesan, Leela,” Jered says. I reach for the container at the same time as
Corrie. My heart pounds, but I cannot stop it. I’ve been given a command. I
must deliver Jered the stupid green can filled with powdered cheese.

Tears
well in my eyes as I wrench the thing from Corrie’s outstretched hand and hand
it to Jered. His face is all it takes to push me over the edge. I watch as
shock is replaced by outrage, which is replaced with dawning recognition.

After
a hasty apology and exit, I reappear invisible in the kitchen. Plates clatter
with such vehemence, I’m sure Corrie is going to break something.

“Give
her a chance, Mom. She didn’t mean anything,” Jered says.

“I
don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her any more. I’m sorry, but
something isn’t right. Do you even know anything about her? Have you met her
family?”

Jered
sucks in his lip, and Corrie takes his hesitation as an answer.

“I
can’t know for sure, but I think she might have been abused, Jered.”

“And
you want me to avoid her because of that?” Jered’s face flushes; his eyes
flash.

Corrie
drops some silverware in the dishwasher and flips a towel over her shoulder,
pausing to consider her son. She finally releases her breath and says, “I don’t
know what it is, Jered. But I know you. You’re a good person, and the last
thing you need is to get sucked into someone else’s drama. She’ll use you. I’ve
seen this pattern before, over and over with the kids at work.”

“You
sure have it all figured out, Mom. Is this how you size up your patients? Say
hello and decide what’s best for them? Leela’s a good person. I’m not going to
stop seeing her.”

“You’re
seventeen. You’re still a minor. And I say you are. I don’t want to see you get
hurt.”

Jered
stares hard at Corrie, but Corrie stares right back. Finally he storms up to
his room, where I appear before him, head down, hair falling in my face.
Will
this be the point where he starts punishing me?
I wonder. I think of things
I might say to stop it from happening. Offering to change his mother’s memories
perhaps. But the words catch in my throat.

“Leela,”
he says, and his voice is painfully soft. “Are you okay?”

I
lift my chin. “I couldn’t help it,” I say. Never once has an attempt to defend
myself worked with a Master. But for some reason I am compelled to try.

“It
was my fault. Not yours. I’m sorry, Leela.”

Jered
continues on, telling me that I should stay hidden from now on. That he’ll pretend he broke up with me. But my heart is caught on
those first words, and I almost allow myself to hope that everything might be
okay this time around.

Djinn Tracker

appear in the passenger seat of Jered’s old compact after school. I’ve taken
the liberty of moving Gabe to the back seat. I ignore his protests and note the
twinkle in my master’s eye in response to my sudden arrival. I push aside the
squeezing in my chest. What is wrong with me?

“Where
are we going today?” I ask.

“Downtown
Chicago.” I like that response. Finally somewhere interesting. Thus far, he’s
only dragged me through his sleepy suburb, asking me to fix people in the
hospital, rescue cats from trees, and other humdrum tasks. He explains that
every small act of kindness can change the world. I do not argue, just revel in
his excitement and innocence.

I
slide next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel him tense, but I
also hear his pulse speed up. I smile.

“You
should put on your seatbelt,” he says.

“I
will not be hurt,” I say, playing with the corner of his jacket.

“I
could get a ticket.”

“I
won’t let the police pull you over.” He frowns at me but doesn’t argue anymore.
I enjoy the feel of him, the musky scent that lingers in the air around him. I
sit quietly the rest of the way downtown, silently moving traffic aside without
his knowledge. At least, if he does know, he doesn’t comment.

“The
lake is beautiful,” I say, watching it whiz by. “I’ve never lived near water.”

“You
like water?” he asks.

“Yes.
It soothes me.” I watch the line of deep blue sail by, finding the rhythm of
the car’s vibrations combined with the cadence of Jered’s heartbeat lull me
into a trance-like state. It is possibly the most peaceful I’ve felt since
putting on the cursed necklace.

“Here
we are,” he says far too soon, pulling up to a rundown building. Shingles on
the roof are missing, and graffiti decorates the moss-covered bricks. The
entire neighborhood reeks of neglect, with brown, patched lawns and cracked
sidewalks. My body vibrates with the thrum of the bass from some distant car’s
speakers.

I
frown. “What is this place?”

“Good
question,” Gabe says, shutting the door behind him and shoving his hands in his
pockets, protecting his wallet.

“Soup
kitchen,” Jered says. He looks positively ecstatic at the thought. “It’s still
a month or so until the holidays, and people don’t usually notice that others
are hungry until that time of year.”

“You
want me to feed them?” I ask, indicating two vagrants, now shuffling about the
outside of the building, layered in tattered clothes and jackets.

“Just
put a fully cooked gourmet meal in the kitchen, enough for anyone who might
stop by for the rest of the day. And leave some extra food in the cupboards.”
He smiles at me, eyes so full of hope and possibility. I bite back my own
thoughts and fulfill his command.

“Anything
else?” I ask.

“Leave
clean clothes and blankets for all those staying at the shelter. And
toiletries. And maybe some cash.”

“They’ll
just use it to buy drugs and shit.” We both glare at Gabe, and he clamps his
mouth shut.

“Just
enough to buy them a hot meal somewhere else too. They can make their own
decision what to do with it,” Jered says. “Or, can you make it so it, like,
disappears if they try to buy something harmful with it like booze or drugs?
You know, just in case.”

I
wonder why he hasn’t asked me for enough money so that his mother would no
longer have to work. I don’t want to ask it in front of Gabe, though, so I nod
and do as he commands.

“Can
we go now?” Gabe asks.

“Yes.
Let’s go home,” Jered says. I wave an arm, and we are in his room.

“My
car–” he starts, whipping around.

“Is
in the garage. I don’t know why you won’t let me give you something better.” I
can at least say this.

“I
didn’t mean for you to bring us here. I meant I’d drive us back,” Jered says.