“It's like they were being enslaved. I mean, that's what it is, right? If you discard the fact they aren't human. Isn't this slavery?”
I shrug, but the sadness on her face annoys me. Whether she realizes it or not, she's pitying me. If anyone has earned being pitied, it's all the jinn before me. Their chance at ever finding happiness has already ended. They were forced to turn over their child to the genie bond. They served and then were forgotten.
Relatively speaking, I'm just getting started.
“I guess they don't know any different,” I say, because I have to reply with something.
“That doesn't make it right, Dim.” She frowns.
I frown too. I would like to ask her more questions, not just to see what she knows, but also to see what I don't. I might give myself away, though. It's a long shot she would connect the dots that show I'm Karl's jinn, but Syd is smart. I can't risk it.
So I don't speak. Instead, I dwell on how many ways this could have gone better. Then I realize Syd is sitting on my couch.
The resentment fades a little.
“If he does have a jinn, there's not much you can do about it, Syd.”
She seems thoughtful, then nods.
“That's true.” She sighs, pushing off from the couch, and plucks up her purse. “I should get going.”
I bolt to my feet. “Wait a sec, you could—Want some wine?”
She gives me a sad little half-smile. “No wine, Dim.”
“But, I thought you didn't care about the apple?” Panic takes my chest hostage. “I thought you said it was just because of the classes?”
Her gaze me crawls up and down. “The metaphorical bullshit was wrong. I was wrong to do that to you. But this … We let it get out of hand. It was supposed to be one night.”
“I missed you,” I say, throat tight. “I thought of you every time I had to leave.”
“I know,” she says, and I can tell by her tone that she believes me. Still, somehow, it's not enough. “But in reality, I'm going back to school in the fall. Between that and Uncle Larry, and your schedule … and then I might have to transfer out. It's not going to work, Dim.”
I want to argue that it could work. We would find time. Other couples do the long-distant thing. I would figure out how to handle the situation. I always do.
But there are other issues, ones she doesn't even know about yet. Like that our future will never improve. This drudgery is all we will ever have.
Every single aspect of my existence in Syd's life is going to cause her pain.
Still, I have to know her intentions. I need to hear it from her, or I will never believe it.
I can barely get the words out. “Syd … are you ever coming back?”
She glances over her shoulder at me. “No. I'm sorry.”
I want to cross the room and pull her close. Kiss her mouth until her body sinks against mine. Undress her as we head to the bedroom, even if all we do is just lie together.
There are so many things I want to say and do, but it would be selfish of me to act on any of them.
So I let her go.
***
I wake in the middle of the night because a semi-truck is idling outside my bedroom window. Except it's not outside. It's in my brain.
I roll over to the edge of my mattress and hang my head off the side. Like that will help.
The hum revs up. I sit, disoriented. My eyes burn, but from inside my skull. I might have a fever. I can't really tell anything, because the hum is hindering my ability to rationalize.
I don't realize I'm even standing or walking until I stumble into the living room chair. Not a clue where I'm going. But through the humming trapped in my skull, I recall what happened the first—and last—time I tried to spare someone's life. It didn't end well.
Stomach acid is already burning my throat. While standing beside the fridge, I down a bottle of water. I vomit in the sink so quickly the water is still cold coming back up. My arms brace against the counter, and I lay my head on them and close my eyes.
The hum intensifies. So I straighten, and the hum deepens again. Even breathing makes it worse.
My sight blurs as I stumble back into the living room.
Then I'm loading up my jacket, slipping on my shoes. My stomach clenches in dry heaves.
“I'm doing it,” I whisper, though the words scrape at my brain.
I'm in the Accord, heading down the road, before the hum clears enough for me to remember I don't want to kill Mark. Then the hum revs. Just for a moment. A warning.
I cringe, swerving between lanes. “Okay, got it. Kill Mark.”
The hum backs off because it knows I'm going to do it. It knew I would all along, so it has been biding its time. Bastard.
The previous plan returns to me. I can't break in because of the neighbors. Befriending him backfired. My only remaining option is to knock, kick, kill.
I just have to be sure the little metal-head isn't there. If the hum starts badgering again, I will shoot him, regardless of witnesses. But for the moment, I have a weak grip on sanity. I have to use that to my advantage. To his daughter's advantage.
I call him. He answers on the third ring.