Page 100 of Bewitched By the Djinn
He’ll merge her image with an ifrit and control them with the ring, including his own children. Then he will be in charge of all the realm, and the ifrit.
Not if we have anything to say about it.Bennet’s thought is a growl.
I rise to my feet slowly, my pulse steady.What do we do now?
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
We get the hell out of here,Bennet says.
Sure. No problem. I’ll just conjure a key.
Except... I glance at the thick iron bars and rusted lock on the cell door, then down at my hands.
Maybe I can.
The magic in me is different now. Like Bennet said, it’s more. Before, it was like a compass needle, pulling toward lost things. Now it’s a wildfire just waiting for oxygen. It coils beneath my skin, humming with energy. But I don’t know how to shape it, how to aim it. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.
Bennet reads my thoughts.I could come to you.
No. You are surrounded by guards. I’m alone in this cell, probably because they figured there is no need to guard the stupid weak mortal. I can escape, find you, then we can take out your guards together.
You can do it. I can feel it.Bennet’s voice in my mind is a caress full of pride and love.
I close my eyes and push my way through it. The bond pulses bright between us, aiding my magic like he’s showing me how to use it.
I’ve always found things. That’s my thing. A missing necklace. A misplaced letter. The path through the dark. The broken piece in the water heater.
I have to find a way out.
I place my palm flat against the cold metal of the door, exhale slowly, and let the magic rise. I picture it weaving into the iron, searching the bars and hinges and age-worn bolts. Like fingers brushing over braille, trying to read its secrets.
No, not the door. Thelock.
I reach for the lock, not with force, but with focus. The magic inside me recognizes the shape of the lock, understands it on some level I never could before. The shape of it takes form in my mind, and the shape of aflaw. Deep inside the mechanism, the metal of the pins thins due to too many cycles of pressure. A tiny crack, nearly invisible.
I scan the cell. The floor is layered in grime and splinters, the corners thick with dust.
My eyes are pulled to a bit of debris near the far wall: a jagged length of rusted wire, no longer than a needle, half-buried in old straw. I scramble over, pry it loose with numb fingers. It’s brittle and bent, but just rigid enough.
Back at the door, I slide the wire into the keyhole, guiding it by instinct, tuned to the lock’s breaking point. I wiggle the metal, press just right, and?—
Click.Then, with a sharp metallic snap, the bolt gives way.
My breath catches. “Holy shit.”
You did it.Pride blooms through the bond.
I blink at the door, then down at my hands.
No time to waste. I ease the cell door open, heart pounding, and slip into the corridor beyond. The dungeon air is heavy and damp, thick with stone and silence.
I press onward, the lure of Bennet like a current in my blood.Hold on. I’m coming.
Blood roars in my ears, my hands shaking as I slip from shadow to shadow, ducking into alcoves and behind crumbling tapestries.
The bond is a compass, tugging at my chest like a magnet pointing north.Bennet.He’s up higher. A floor or two. It’s like there’s a thread wrapped around my ribs, leading me inexorably forward.
