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—
ALLIANCES
—
Connor volunteered to share their decision with Iksander. Georgie was tempted to let him, but passing this particular buck felt cowardly. So she’d have to walk across the street to find the sultan. Just because she’d learned the Hamiltons were her parents in another reality shouldn’t make her unable to face them.
Georgie’s life was her life. Her friends were her friends. Sad though it was, her mother evidently died in both timelines. Georgie couldn’t wish anything she’d experienced undone.
She was who she was supposed to be.
On the other hand, she might be feeling a little guilty for some of her past actions. An evil empress had raised her. She’d had all day to think about what that meant. She couldn’t deny the possibility she’d let Luna rub off on her.
Maybe it was time to bury one hatchet.
Before she faced down her demons, she grabbed a bushel of apples and tucked a folder beneath her arm. Not up to dealing with Marianne, she took the long route around Hamilton Salvage to its back bay.
The evening was crisp and clear. Mother Nature being the best ventilation, the big workshop doors were propped open. The sound of whirring saws was music to Georgie’s ears, the scent of fresh-cut wood her favorite perfume. As she walked into the well-lit space, the first person she spotted was Jerry’s former boss. The extent to which that relieved her was embarrassing. Tobias was quiet and hard to read, but he’d never given her any grief. She’d far rather talk to him than his wife Francine.
“Hello,” he said, gray eyebrows up as he pulled off his sawdust-flecked safety goggles. Thankfully, he didn’t look suspicious, just surprised. “Is there something Hamilton Salvage can do for Black Cat?”
She didn’t expect his wry inflection, and nervousness flooded her. “I had an idea that might benefit us both. And apples.” She thrust out the peace offering. “The orchard at Ravenwings is having a bumper crop. I thought maybe you’d like some.”
“I am a fan of pie,” Tobias conceded. “And Francine makes a mean one.”
As he took the bushel from her, the folder fell from beneath her arm, spilling out a fan of pages.
“My proposal,” she said, kneeling to pick it up.
“All right,” Tobias said. “Come into the shipping room where it’s quiet and we’ll talk.”
She didn’t expect to find Iksander there. Seated on a plastic chair in his humble work clothes, he was reading a tall stack of newspapers. Probably it was superficial of her to think so, but his incredibly athletic build made perusing the New York Times seem an odd pursuit for him. Whatever he sought, he wasn’t finding it. His high brow was furrowed, his mouth pursed unhappily.
Her boots scraped the concrete as she came to a halt. The sultan looked up and gaped. He’d asked her to keep his business private. Should she pretend they didn’t know each other?
“Have you two met?” Tobias asked, his attention shifting between them.
“Briefly,” Iksander answered. “We discussed the possibility of me doing odd jobs for her.”
“Ah.” Tobias nodded and spoke to her again. “Alexander is a good worker, if my word is worth anything to you. Hopefully, you won’t want him full time right off. We could use his help while Francine’s recovering.”
This was a delicate way of alluding to her poaching Jerry. Georgie supposed she couldn’t begrudge him the dig. “I, uh, noticed Francine’s been walking around on crutches.” She scratched her temple. “I hope she gets better soon.”
Tobias smiled faintly. “I’ll be sure to pass on your well wishes.” Seeming casual, he leaned on an invoice-stacked counter. “What’s your proposal?”
“We want to arrange a tourist shuttle to bring people out to shop from surrounding B&Bs and hotels. A Thanksgiving thing. And pre-Christmas. Show off our small town charm. So far Stuckey’s Diner and the train museum are on board. We thought we’d offer special activities for kids. Give discounts. Decorate. Print up brochures for the hotels to stock. I think we can pull it together quickly if we’re organized.”
She handed him the mock up of her proposed brochure.
Tobias looked it over. Connor had snapped the photographs. Ironically, he excelled at the cover job Luna had invented. “You put Hamilton in here already.”
“You’re a draw for the area. I’d be a fool not to notice the cross traffic.”
“Hm,” he said. “I think we’d be interested. I’ll have to run it past my wife. And Marianne. On account of the extra work involved.”
Georgie’s stomach sank in dismay. “I’m not really planning to do this by committee, if that’s what you’re thinking. I mean, I care what they want, within reason, but if I have to worry about pleasing everybody, I can imagine this turning into, um, sort of a nightmare for everyone.”
Clusterfuck was the actual word that came to mind.
“Oh can you?” Tobias said with more wry amusement. “Well, I guess I can imagine that myself. How about I appoint Mike our liaison—neutral party and all that.”
“That would work,” she said, maybe sounding too relieved.
Tobias coughed out a laugh. “I guess that guardian of yours taught you a thing or two about taking charge.”
That comment brought Iksander’s head back out his newspapers.
“I . . . guess she did,” Georgie agreed slowly. That was a strange thing to realize: that the evil empress’s influence might not have been all bad.
Even stranger was the idea that if Luna hadn’t interfered, the man in front of her would have adopted her. Would she and Tobias have gotten along? Maybe respected each other? Without a doubt, they had things in common. She was pretty sure he’d have made someone a good father.
Her expression must have been peculiar. Tobias cocked his head. “Is there something else?”
She shook herself. “No. You can keep the folder if you want.”
Iksander set down a final section of the Times and stood up from his chair. “Tobias, I have matters to discuss with Georgie, if you’re able to spare me.”
“Sure,” Tobias said. “Why don’t we call it a night?”
Iksander bowed, the spare grace of the act suiting him. How anyone wouldn’t guess he was royalty mystified her. Then again, Luna was an empress. Georgie hadn’t picked up on that.
To be honest, she’d neglected to notice a lot of important things.
~
FROM A PRACTICAL STANDPOINT, Georgie’s arrival was convenient. From a personal one, Iksander could have used advance warning. With what he’d eavesdropped on too fresh in his mind, admiring Georgie’s behavior—or her person—seemed ill advised. One glance at the multiple-buckled black leather pants she wore set his blood on fire, teasing him with the freedoms women in this realm enjoyed. Her long-sleeved top was equally tantalizing. Its red fabric was sheer as smoke, the matching bra she wore underneath mocking the concept of modesty.
Watching her offer Tobias an olive branch meant he could like the person in the outrageous clothes. Georgie was trying to respect a relationship she didn’t even remember.
Aware he was at least half erect, he growled to himself as they left Hamilton Salvage together.
Georgie’s ears were sharper than he thought. She glanced at him, startled. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Certainly not. I’m grateful for the chance to pick up a few odd jobs.”
“Oh.” She seemed to realize he didn’t want to discuss their actual business out in the open. “Right.”
Considering both their distraction, crossing Black Bear’s main street unscathed was a miracle.
“It’s up this way,” she said, pointing to her apartment’s stairs.
Though he knew this, he went along with her pretense. He followed her up the steps silently, his view of her rear in the formfitting trousers no aid to his mental acuity.
Connor opened the door while Georgie was digging out her key.
“Hey,” he said with a radiant smile. “You found him.”
Iksander attempted to ignore the easy way Connor bussed Georgie’s cheek.
“Back,” the angel ordered, blocking Titus the cat’s escape with his leg. “You’ve been outside tonight already.”
The cat meowed in complaint, but Connor shoved the door closed.
Iksander glanced around. The pair had cleaned up. He didn’t see as many boxes sitting around. He saw the infamous couch, though he tried to conceal that it meant anything to him.
“So,” Georgie said just as he cleared his throat. “What exactly would you like me to do?”
He pushed all inappropriate answers from his mind. “I need a few supplies before we begin. Do you have a mirror and perhaps a lipstick? I’ll want to write on the glass.”
“I’ve got a selection of mirrors,” she said. “Do you prefer big or little?”
“I’ll show him what we have,” Connor volunteered.
“Great.” Georgie headed toward wherever she stored her cosmetics. She looked back at Iksander. “Do you care if the lipstick is natural?”
“No, but whichever you use most is preferable.”
“How about some sea salt for a protective circle?”
“Sure,” he said, wanting her to be comfortable. Sea salt was more appropriate for summoning demons, but as long as she didn’t pour it on him, he didn’t care.
Connor returned as she disappeared. “This is Georgie’s favorite mirror.” He held up an antique tray from a vanity set. Apart from being backed in silver and not gold, it was similar to what palace women used. “The glass is specked, but it still reflects. And Georgie uses it all the time.”
“That’s perfect,” Iksander said.
Connor beamed. Iksander found his willingness to please disconcerting. The angel didn’t seem to view Iksander as a threat . . . of any sort.
“I’ll roll back the rug in the living room,” the male volunteered. “Salt is easier to sweep away than vacuum.”
Iksander supposed it was, though he never worried about such things. He watched, bemused, as Georgie came back and the pair efficiently set up a spell space. For her final task, Georgie drew a plain circle then appeared to contemplate adding more detail.
“No stars,” he cautioned.
“Right,” she said, startled by his guess. “Sorry. I forgot about your Solomon seal issues. That would be like I was trying to trap you.” Her eyes unfocused with a thought. “I don’t suppose . . .”
“No,” he said very firmly. “Trying that on Luna isn’t a good idea. Human magic might be more powerful in principle than djinn’s, but only if the human has equal experience and will. Luna possesses an expertise superior to anyone’s I’ve ever encountered.”
“Okay,” Georgie said. “I’m not eager to go mano a mano with her.”
“That is wise,” Iksander said seriously. “The empress is extremely dangerous.”
“How about candles?” she asked. “I always think they create a nice atmosphere. Not that you need atmosphere. You probably do magic all the time.”
“Candles are pleasant. And you and I will work as a team. If you like them, they’ll be helpful.”
His mention of them working as a team seemed to make her as nervous as his warnings about Luna. She really did think of herself as an amateur.
At last, she had everything arranged. Careful not to disturb the barrier of salt, she stepped into the spelling space. She looked at him questioningly. “Should it be just you and me in here?”
“Just you and me. As I said before, I’m concerned if Connor uses magic, he’ll alert his other half.”
“I’ll get the lights,” Connor said. “And hold onto the cat.”
This seemed a sensible course of action.
Iksander drew and released a breath. Now that they’d come to it, he was nervous too. He approached Georgie’s circle and swung in. Her energy passed over him like the skin of a soap bubble, subtle but palpable.
“Good,” he said. “I can tell you’ve charged the protection.”
Georgie seemed shyly pleased by this—and maybe a bit surprised.
“You have power,” he assured her. “You’ve no cause to doubt that.”
He hoped she had enough confidence. He didn’t know what he’d try if this attempt didn’t work.
~
GEORGIE’S SKIN BUZZED as she and the sultan sat cross-legged on the bare floorboards. She was nervous but excited—which might not have been appropriate. She couldn’t help it. She was going to help a real djinni do magic. Hopefully anyway. God, she hoped she didn’t muck this up.
She’d have felt better if Connor were part of this.
Iksander uncapped the lipstick she’d brought for him. His wavy hair was tied back but some of the front was loose. The golden strands fell forward as he drew what looked like a pair of overlapping suns on the tray mirror.
“What’s that a symbol for?” she asked curiously.
“They’re suns,” he said then realized she must know that. “A friend of mine used this sign in a tattoo. He marked the friends I’m looking for with it. I don’t have anything else that belonged to them, so this will help me focus on finding them. This too.”
‘This too’ was a clear, sparkly stone he dug out of his pocket. The size of a walnut, it was brilliantly faceted. He set it gently where the suns he’d drawn overlapped. The soft light from the candles threw rainbows off its surface.
“Holy smokes,” Georgie breathed. “Is that a real diamond?”
“Diamonds this quality and size are common in my dimension.”
“I guess you sprinkle little ones on your cereal.”
“Nonsense,” the sultan said. “That wouldn’t taste good at all.”
He dropped his somberness enough for a smile to ghost across his mouth. That made her glad she’d tried the joke. Calmer then, she rolled her shoulders and exhaled.
“Take my hands, please,” the sultan said.
For a second, she hesitated. It seemed weird to hold another man’s hands with Connor watching—like she was flirting in front of him. That was stupid, though. She and Iksander were just sharing energy. Physical contact would facilitate a connection.
She gritted her teeth and placed her hands in his.
Her wariness might have been justified. The instant he closed his grip, both her vision and her physical sensations flicked away from her surroundings. The perceptions that replaced them were Technicolor.
Georgie stood in a kitchen that, while not her own, was eerily familiar. Iksander was there too, sitting a distance behind her on what wasn’t quite her couch. She was excited to have a handsome man in her apartment, though she was nervous too. Her pulse pattered in her body, her cheeks heating with a blush. When she heard Iksander zip up the UVA hoodie she’d loaned him, the soft flesh between her legs grew wet.
Wow, she thought. Get a grip on yourself.
She snapped back to the present with a soft gasp.
“Something wrong?” Iksander asked.
She shook her head, reluctant to explain. She knew what had happened. She’d seen the other reality, the one Luna allegedly erased. Not so allegedly, she guessed. Until now, she hadn’t realized—not viscerally, anyway—that Iksander’s claim was true. The woman Georgie knew as Alma had traveled back in time to mess with her life. Someone she’d lived with for years actually commanded that sort of power. Connor had never implied he could do it, and he was an angel.
Were they crazy to think they could thwart the empress in anything?
“I’m okay,” she said, determined not to succumb to doubt. “Just having butterflies. You go ahead and chant or whatever you’re going to do.”
The sultan snorted as if she’d amused him. “I hope you’re not disappointed. My style of magic isn’t elaborate. Why don’t you close your eyes and relax?” He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs, silently soothing her. “That’s it. You’re doing perfectly.”
A hum of power sprang to life in her finger bones, the magical connection between them strengthening. She’d never partnered like this with Connor. He always let her do charms by herself. Working with Iksander felt oddly natural—sensual, to be honest. Her arms grew warmer, her shoulders, the buzz rolling full length down her body.
Maybe he felt it too. When he spoke, his voice was lower.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to pull some energy from you. Not a lot. Just enough to activate my power more.”
Whatever he was doing gave her a small head rush. She tensed automatically. Should she trust the djinni to do this? Connor did. He sat calmly on the couch with the cat cradled on his chest. Then again, Connor trusted more easily than she did.
Najat would want me to, Georgie thought. She forgave Iksander, and his people were hers too.
“It’s okay,” he said, seeming to sense her apprehension. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”
She rubbed his knuckles the way he was rubbing hers.
No half measures, she thought. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing all the way.
Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember whether Jerry or Alma had taught her that.
~
IKSANDER’S ENERGY INCREASED the instant she dropped her guards. He almost felt like his normal self, in the original body his Creator had fashioned. Naturally, his magic wouldn’t switch on that easily. He had more, though, enough to power his spell. Before it slipped away, he concentrated and leaned over the mirror tray.
“O Lord,” he prayed. “How wonderful is Thy all-seeing eye! If it does not offend Thee, show me the friends I seek. Thank You always for sharing Your gifts with me.”
He repeated the words, rolling them together like waves lapping at a shore. The vintage mirror began to cloud, not from his breath but a vision approaching. He released his prayer and relaxed utterly. The glass cleared, the symbol he’d drawn in Georgie’s lipstick melting and reforming.
Between one blink and another, a long flat rooftop appeared. Though it was night, light rayed out from a magic portal located on its end. The interdimensional door flared brighter. A person burst through the glare, followed shortly by a second. Iksander identified Joseph the Magician and his master Arcadius. His friends staggered and then stood, their breath puffing white in the frigid air. They were all right. Alive and well and only just arrived. Iksander hadn’t received their coded message because they hadn’t sent it yet. As he watched the distant figures, Joseph pointed toward the broad building’s edge. Iksander’s gaze tracked the same direction. He saw a skyline so iconic anyone who’d viewed human television would recognize where they were.
This is correct, he nearly heard Joseph say. We have reached Manhattan.
I arrived too, Iksander wanted to call, but of course they wouldn’t hear.
The images winked out, leaving the mirror a mirror again. Relieved he’d seen as much as he had, Iksander closed his eyes and gave thanks.
“Was that all right?” Georgie asked when he opened them. “Did you see what you needed to?”
“I did. My friends are safe, simply tardier than expected. I’m sure we’ll link up soon and coordinate a plan to help our people.”
“Good.” Her hands squeezed his, which seemed to make her aware she was still holding on. “Um, is it okay to let go now?”
“Perfectly okay,” he said, releasing his grip as well.
Georgie stood up and swayed. “Whew. That took it out of me.”
Connor jumped up from the couch to steady her.
“I’m all right,” she assured him. “That was a little like giving blood.”
Free now, the cat jumped excitedly on her circle and scattered salt everywhere.
“Sheesh,” Georgie laughed. “Anything that makes a mess entertains him.”
“It’s the noise,” Connor said, watching Titus bat more away. “And the sliding. No feline could resist it.”
They reminded Iksander of parents, exasperated but amused by a child they loved. His consciousness of being a third wheel returned.
“I will leave you now,” he said. “Thank you for help.”
“Maybe you should stay,” Georgie said, surprising him. “If Luna knows you’re here, you’ll be safer inside Connor’s wards.”
“Yes,” the angel agreed, after a pause so small Iksander might have imagined it. “You have information now. I’m sure you want to protect it.”
“We have extra air mattresses we keep for dressing beds in the shop. They aren’t fancy, but they’re better than the cot at Hamilton Salvage.”
Georgie knew about that, did she?
“You’re a sultan,” she added. “That’s like a foreign dignitary. I feel like we should make you a little comfortable.”
Iksander’s eyes widened. “The other you said something similar to me.”
“So Alma . . . Luna didn’t totally steal my manners. Say you’ll stay. Titus likes you. He’ll enjoy having someone new to curl up with.”
He knew this wasn’t about the cat, though what her invitation meant exactly he couldn’t say.
“I . . . gratefully accept your offer,” he replied.
~
AS CONNOR AND GEORGIE readied a spot for their guest to sleep, Connor felt off balance. Normally, he enjoyed helping people. Tonight, he couldn’t shake uneasiness.
Georgie and the sultan had a true connection.
They’d worked the spell together as if they’d done it many times. Georgie’s suspiciousness toward Najat’s spouse had nearly disappeared. Connor should have been happy for her. Forgiveness lightened burdens few benefitted from carrying. Despite knowing what he ought to feel, Iksander’s mention of similarities between Connor’s Georgie and the Georgie in the other timeline disturbed him.
The corners of his mouth turned down as he found clean sheets in a partially unpacked box. If Luna hadn’t turned back time, it seemed plausible Georgie and Iksander would have formed a relationship. Was that supposed to happen? The empress wasn’t a good person by anyone’s standards. She’d created the reality in which Connor and Georgie fell in love. Connor recalled the night he first met Georgie as what she called a marsh light. Her mother’s ghost had just left, claiming Georgie didn’t belong at Ravenwings, that she wasn’t safe there and ought to leave.
Did this mean Georgie and Connor’s bond was wrong?
Were the things the empress stole from Georgie better than her current reality?
“There you are,” Georgie said, sticking her head in their bedroom door. “The mattress is inflated. We’re ready for the sheets.”
“Coming,” he said, moving to carry them to her.
She must have seen the remnants of his thoughts in his face, because she rubbed his arm. “What’s the matter? Do you not want Iksander to stay with us?”
Connor shook his head. “He is safer here.”
She reached up to stroke his cheek. “You don’t look happy.”
Connor swallowed. “Georgie, what if you and I aren’t really meant to be?”
“Oh sweetheart.” She touched him with both hands now. “We chose to be. And we’re lucky to be. You’re the one who taught me how important choosing is. Whatever Luna changed or tried to change, she couldn’t take that away.”
His mood lightened a fraction. “That is true.”
“And I’m still me, still the same soul no matter what the outer trappings of my life.”
“The djinni’s observations do seem to support that.”
She smiled. “So maybe Luna did me a favor without intending to.”
“Absolutely without intending to,” he said ruefully. “Georgie, if you need my apology for working with her—”
“I don’t.”
“But—”
“I don’t,” she repeated. “I’ve had a chance to think about this. I love the being you are, the same way that you love me.”
His love for her swelled, the joy that was his natural state expanding. “I do love you, Georgie. With everything I am. I’m so grateful for who you are.”
“Then we’re agreed. We’re two lucky, lucky beings.”
When she grinned at him, everything seemed right again.
~
GEORGIE’S PREDICTION about the cat proved correct. Titus did indeed find Iksander’s bed worth investigating. The creature sniffed his face, demanded his due of petting, then crawled underneath the covers to curl up behind his knees. Though Titus was a comfort, his presence didn’t send the sultan to dreamland. He was too aware of his unusual circumstances.
Back home, if the tragedy hadn’t happened, right about this time, his personal servants would be setting out his carafe of water—magically chilled to keep his preferred temperature. Specks of dust would be spelled from his chandeliers, impurities removed from his hot bathing pool. Tailors would ensure his robes for the following day were immaculate. Soothing music or incense might drift through the corridors. A book could be read to him or a masseur summoned. Truly, when events of the world allowed, a city ruler’s life was blissful.
Iksander pursed his mouth wryly.
If his retainers could see him now, wearing borrowed clothes in a borrowed bed, sharing warmth with an animal, practically sleeping on the floor . . .
Not to put too fine a point on it, he was a charity case—indebted for everything to the kindness of others. He’d known, intellectually, that a portion of his citizens lived that way. Now he was experiencing it, if less harshly than many did.
This has been a cakewalk, he told himself. Pray you don’t forget it if you get home.
That thought sent his breath gusting.
He still didn’t know how he’d manage a return. He didn’t even know if he could contact Arcadius and Joseph without Luna finding out. Maybe doing nothing was the best plan. Keep the empress busy toying with him and trust his friends to work out a solution. Joseph was amazingly clever, and Arcadius never quit a mission. Iksander hated the idea of simply waiting, but maybe he’d have to.
He sighed again and turned onto his back, taking care not to squish Titus in the process.
Though he’d lain awake during his previous stay with Georgie, tonight was different. Tonight, she and the angel occupied her bedroom. He couldn’t go in and sit beside her, nor was she likely to come out. Chances were, her extraordinary expression of forgiveness wouldn’t be repeated.
Too much had altered this time around.
The click of a door opening jolted him up on the air mattress.
“It’s just me,” Connor whispered. “I heard you tossing and turning. I thought perhaps you weren’t warm enough.”
Not comfortable letting him approach unseen, Iksander switched on the porcelain shepherdess lamp Georgie had set on the floor near him. True to his words, the angel carried a blanket. For the life of him, Iksander didn’t know what to make of Connor. Could he be as caring as he seemed? Including to Iksander?
“I am not cold,” he said, the stiffness in his manner automatic but maybe not polite. He hesitated and then went on. “My head is too full of thoughts to sleep.”
“Ah,” Connor said.
Still holding the blanket, he hunkered beside the makeshift bed. He wore pajama bottoms but not tops. He had a hero’s chest, broad of shoulder and well muscled. Ordering himself not to imagine Georgie stroking those pectorals, Iksander dragged his gaze to his face. Connor’s young-old eyes mesmerized him. As he stared into his sky blue irises, Iksander understood what people meant by ageless.
“Are you really an angel?” he blurted.
“That is my understanding of my origins,” Connor said.
“And you were in heaven. And knew the Creator.”
“I was in a place of infinite peace and joy. Nothing I experienced was separate from Him.”
“Why would you leave that if you didn’t have to?”
Connor smiled, his expression so beautiful tears stung Iksander’s eyes. “I left because heaven is here too.”
Iksander shook his head. “My people, if they can think in their current state, would disagree.”
“I have been contemplating what I’ve learned of your people. Djinn are beings whose magic can shift reality. Has it never occurred to you that the angels you believe turned their backs might have been following your cues?”
His suggestion stole Iksander’s breath with shock. “You blame your betrayal on us?”
“I am not trying to. I am only one angel, and no longer perfectly connected to my kind, but as Georgie recently reminded me, a respect for created beings’ free will is ingrained in my nature. If my fellows are like me, it may be that in cutting ties to you, they were respecting your choices.”
“Why in the Qaf would we choose to be cast off?”
“Because you felt guilty for disobeying God’s command. Because you believed He would forsake you.”
“He did forsake us!” Iksander huffed. “He put humans in our place.”
“Perhaps,” the angel said. “The Divine’s true essence is a challenge for any being to wrap its head around. I do not claim to comprehend it. I have moved away from my source. My theory is simply something to think about.”
“Oh very comforting! My people should blame ourselves for our most horrific experience.”
“Is your life horrific?” Connor asked. “Do you hate what you are?”
Iksander’s mouth fished open. He didn’t know how to express his many objections to this question. Most difficult was that Connor seemed to be asking it innocently.
“I do not hate what I am,” Iksander said once he’d found his voice. “I simply find the angel’s abandonment of my kind unfair.”
Connor rose. He began to leave but stopped and rubbed his mouth.
“Before I was given this physical form,” he said, “my body was only light. I roamed around as I wished, watching life unfold around me. Now and then a being would see me—a dog or a butterfly. Apart from infants, Georgie was the only human I encountered who could perceive me with her eyes. The ifrits at Ravenwings never did, though I often was close to them. I was there. I sent them my interest and my love, the same as I do to all. They never realized I was present, not until I received this shell.”
Iksander’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying we weren’t abandoned, that angels are still djinn’s friends.”
“I’m saying they could be. The actual truth might be beyond all of us.” He set the blanket he’d brought with him on a chair. “This is here if you want it. I’ll leave you to rest.”
Iksander stared after him, unable to speak again. He wondered if Connor weren’t the oddest of all the oddities he’d encountered in this realm.