Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

with the imaginary bottle. Aren’t Genies kept in bottles?

Adam frowns. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” I say, too quickly. I feel guilty for making light of things. This kid has lost someone he loved, and that’s something I understand. I take a steadying breath and think of Mom.

Now it’s his turn to lean forward. He searches my face. “I saw your teeth,” he begins, voice hesitant. “Back in the shop.”

“Thanks.” I smile sweetly. “I try to keep them clean and shiny.”

“You know what I mean. Are you...?” The sentence trails off. Maybe vampires are too crazy for him to contemplate, even considering what he is and what he knows of the world.

I decide to go easy on him. “I am,” I say. I glance around the café quickly, checking that nobody at a nearby table is looking our way, and show him my fangs again. They’re currently in their THE SPIRIT JAR 83 “dormant” state, retracted as far as they will go—but they’re still wicked sharp.

I sit back and give him a cheeky wink.

“Woah,” he says, his golden eyes shining. “That’s so cool.”

I stare at him for a moment that stretches on and on. I don’t understand this boy. He is unlike anyone I have ever met before. He smells human, but he is most certainly not human—at least, not all of him. His mother was a ... a Djinn. Whatever next? I am beginning to learn that the strangeness of my life only scratches the surface of the otherness of all the things that make up this world. It’s exhilarating and scary all at the same time.

I think I like it. I think I like him.

No, not in that way. He is good-looking—handsome, even, in a very clean cut sort of way. He smells delicious, it’s true. But he’s not—

I shake my head and focus on what Adam is saying. He’s been talking for a while, and I’m forced to play catch-up; this could be important and here I am comparing him with my Maker. And if I’m going to be honest, I’m also comparing him to a guy I met just two short months ago. I don’t want to think about Jason Murdoch now.

I don’t want to think about Jace ever again.

Adam gives me a strange look. “Have you even heard a word I’ve said?”

I shrug. Well, I was half listening. “Sure. Dead girlfriend; evil magician; spirit thing; magic book. That about sum it up?”

He doesn’t smile, and I can hardly blame him. I could stand to take a lesson or two in sensitivity. Humor makes for an uncomfortable shield.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Adam asks, his hazel eyes like two stones.

A magician called Bilal had killed Hasna as part of a ritual to release a particularly nasty sort of Djinn that he wanted to control. Apparently, spilling the blood of an innocent can create a portal through which Afarit can escape from their plane of existence and into ours.

Only things hadn’t gone to plan for Bilal and the Afarit was too strong for him. It killed the magician and stole his body before escaping the scene of the crime—leaving Adam cradling the lifeless body of the beautiful teenage girl he loved.

“Well, are you?” Adam repeats, his voice trembling with too many emotions to name. “Hasna’s funeral is two days from now, but Bilal—actually, the Afarit impersonating Bilal—took her soul away in a glass jar. Will you help me to set her free?”

“I already said I would, didn’t I?” I toss my hair, impatient to get moving. “Is it possible that we can ... bring her back somehow?” I have no idea how Djinn magic works, but if a teenage boy can teleport and the bad guys can summon spirits with the blood of humans, who knows?

He shakes his head. “No, she’s gone. We can’t just put her soul back in her body. It doesn’t work like that. When you’re dead, you’re dead.”

I’m tempted to remind him that my existence contradicts his rather black-and-white view of mortality, but decide to cut him some slack. “Okay, so what do we need?”

“This.” He opens his denim jacket and shows me the dagger in its leather sheath strapped around his ribs. Nifty. He gets up and heads over to the napkin stand.

I follow, pulling on my jacket with a satisfying rattle of zips. Adam grabs a fistful of salt packets and tucks them into his pocket. He hands me some more.

“Here,” he says, “we’ll need these.”

I raise my eyebrows. “We’re going to eat him? Really, Adam, you should’ve warned me.” I flash him a grin and give him another glimpse of fang. “I would’ve brought floss for after.”

He scowls. “Very funny. No, this is how you trap an Afarit—I’ll show you. We summon it with the book and then kill it with the knife Bilal used to murder Hasna.”

I’m still wondering what the salt is for when he heads out of the café, not even bothering to see if I follow.

I do.

* * *

We are in a rain-slicked alley behind the theater. Plastic bags flutter like multicolored ghosts, and the wet ground shines black under the single streetlight.

Adam is frowning at the bright light. “That’s not going to help.”

“You mean you don’t want to be able to see what you’re doing?”

His eyes meet mine. “I can see in the dark well enough.”

“Oh goody,” I say. “Me too.”

I climb the lamppost in seconds and hang on single-handed at the top. My legs are wrapped around the heavy iron, but it’s pretty slippery and not easy to maintain my grip. I have to be fast. I make a fist with my right hand, pull the leather sleeve of my jacket down with my teeth to give me a little protection, and punch out the light. There is a sad buzzing sound and then silence.

I slide down the metal pole and grin at Adam. My cheeks are flushed, and I have to remember that we are here to do something serious. He has already turned away and is crouched on the ground.

He looks up at me. “I think it was here. Where she died, I mean.”

I hunker down next to him and touch his shoulder. The mood is deadly serious now, and even I know when to quit messing around. I close my eyes and reach out with my senses, trying to catch a scent— her scent.

I shake my head. “Too much rain.” I gesture helplessly at the soaked ground. “Sorry, I can’t smell anything that isn’t wet weeds and dog shit.”

“It has to be the exact spot.” His voice is shaking, and I don’t know what to say. “I think it was here. How could I forget something like that?”

Adam moves his hand a few inches to the right. “Or maybe here?”

I watch his fingers tremble and bite my lip. I hate this. I hate what I am, but if it can help him, I might as well try.

“Do you have something of hers with you? Something that will still hold her essence? What about the knife?”

He shakes his head. “I cleaned it pretty thoroughly.”

I swallow. Poor guy. That can’t have been easy for him. “Anything else?”

His eyes widen as he fastens onto my gaze. There is hope in the golden depths now, which is better than the misery they held before. “I have her charm bracelet! The clasp broke when we came outside, and I put it in my pocket. I was going to get it fixed for her.”

He bows his head and takes a deep breath. Regains control.

I nod, trying to keep him focused. “Okay, good. Give it to me.”

Of course, the bracelet is silver. I should’ve known. I almost laugh but manage to keep my mouth shut. I tug down the sleeve of my too-big jacket once more and cover my hand. “Put it here.”

Adam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. I wonder if he knows that the silver will burn me. I wonder if he noticed the scars on my arms while we were inside the coffee shop.

Swallowing, I carefully—very carefully—raise the charm bracelet to my face. I’m not too keen on getting a bunch of silver burns on my nose. I take a cautious breath and then another. I try to separate the faint smell coming