The Djinni & The Dropout

39. Together Again

"You don't have to say anything else if it's too uncomfortable. I can book a plane ticket for her whenever. You just say the word."

My eyes started to itch. "Really?"

He made that familiar clucking noise. "Anything you need, Naya, ask and you will have it."

The way Zayn beamed at me, as if he would find a way to drag the moon down from the sky were I to wish it, left me blinking away unsurfaced tears. The reverend had always boasted about how he wanted the best for me and how he would do anything to make it so. But even with all his talk, that man never looked at me like Zayn did now – like he really meant every word he said.

I suddenly didn't want Zayn thinking that my relationship with my mom was in any way like what I had with the reverend.

"The reason why it's been so long since we've seen each other is because the reverend did everything in his power to keep her away from me and me from her. Even after I had gone to college, he had ways of keeping tabs on her to make sure she never violated the terms of the divorce. These were documents that she had been practically forced to sign . . . . I love my mom, but I barely know her. And I want to change that."

Zayn hugged me hard. "Consider it done."

+++

{Uriel}

A round of explosive flames expelled from Uriel's flared nostrils. The fiery jet dissolved only after the target had been charred down to nothing but a weak, broken pole.

Uriel wanted to keep going until the target became a black stain on the earth, but he had to hold back on calling on his fire unless it was an emergency. So he drew a few placating breaths and did not move until his body temperature came down to a reasonable degree.

The djinni left the sparring den for the showers. He took his time washing off the sweat and the trace particles of ash from his hair. Thinking of Naya was a bad idea, but he did it anyway. Then he cursed himself because now he had to deal with an erection. Afterwards, he watched the evidence of his shame and relief mix with the shower water and empty down the drain.

Once Uriel was dry and fully clothed, he felt a little better, but he still had nothing to do for the rest of the day. The games on his device had lost their appeal shortly after he had beaten them all. He had watched every YouTube cooking tutorial he could find and now that he had relocated out of Atlanta, he couldn't even look forward to culinary classes.

Despite the limitations, cooking still provided a distraction from Naya. So Uriel found himself making his way to the estate's kitchen, which closely resembled the ones found in a typical five star restaurant.

By now, Zayn's hired chefs were used to Uriel making himself at home and on some occasions, brushing elbows with them. They enjoyed sharing their culinary secrets and tips. They had even encouraged him to help with the preparations for Zayn's upcoming charity gala.

Uriel was almost to the kitchen when he heard the high tolling of the doorbell.

That's odd.

Zayn's guests rarely ever arrived at the front door of his estate unless he was hosting some sort of party. Typically, he received individuals at the antique emporium or one of his other low-key business locations.

Then Uriel speculated that perhaps this wasn't a guest, but someone who wasn't invited. Like an intruder.

Not taking any more time to think, Uriel dodged the kitchen altogether and sprinted until he reached the entrance foyer. He intercepted the butler, insisting on answering the door himself.

When the butler had cleared the area, Uriel whispered to his fire to be on alert, and then wrenched the door open to confront a collector, an ifrit, or whoever else had come to do them harm.

Standing on the other side of the door was not at all who the djinni expected.

Uriel had to blink a couple of times because he believed for a moment that the visitor was Naya. But after a second look he realized that this woman's skin was much darker than Naya's, and her shiny black hair was looser in texture. She was covered in ornaments. From the musical gold shingles dangling from her ears to the dozens of gemmed rings she wore. Peeking out from her expertly draped shawl Uriel could spot beaded necklaces and vibrant bangles.

The stranger wore a bright, but slightly nervous smile. "How are you, dear?" The soft hint of a West Indian accent made the last word sound like dare.

The visitor vigorously shook Uriel's hand before craning her neck beside his to get a look inside the mansion. Uriel got a whiff of sandalwood and coconut oil before she pulled back and asked, "Is this the current residence of Naomi Burton? Or did I get myself lost again?"

Uriel's throat went dry. "You didn't get lost. Are you Naomi's . . . ?"

The woman finished his sentence for him. "Ma? That's me!" She gave an enthusiastic nod. "My name is Nadine. And who might you be?"