Harley Merlin 12 Bella Forrest (100 best novels of all time txt) 📖

of the djinn. Not a safe place for a magical who wasn’t in my unique situation. Djinn were known tricksters and manipulators, eager to get their hands on powerful magicals. But the decision had been made, and with the djinn weakened and preoccupied, she would likely be fine. That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.

“What do you think he’d do if I opened one?” Santana grinned.

I laughed nervously. “Make Slinky into a feather boa?”

“Pfft, he could try.” Santana nodded down the hallway. “Shall we? Time’s a-wasting.”

“After you, my love.” I made to move, but her face stopped me. Her eyes had gone wide and were swimming with bittersweet happiness. A moment later, she started walking, her head down. I followed, wanting to pull her back and wrap my arms around her so she’d know I still loved every fiber of her being. But I didn’t. I couldn’t… until I found a way to live a normal life with her. At least I could offer her small affections, though, instead of being a jerk and pushing her away.

I found Finch’s key easily and entered his private domain. I hadn’t been here often. People always said not to judge a book by its cover, but you could gain a lot of information about a person by looking at their room. Finch’s gave off an air of a mother’s-basement-dwelling geek, with a hint of cinema aficionado: posters of old movies like Captain Blood, Spartacus, and From Here to Eternity and shelves neatly stacked with his beloved figurines and framed first-edition comic books. His covers were ruffled, his pajamas a pool on the floor.

Santana lingered on the threshold. “He’s an odd one, isn’t he?”

I reached under his pillow and found the book. “How so?”

“You wouldn’t think he was a nerd, then you step in here and—bam!—you get smacked with a torrent of geek.” She crossed the room to a framed photo on the desk. It had all of us in it, smiling at the camera. I couldn’t remember when it was taken. Santana picked it up and smoothed her thumb across my image, a sad smile tugging her lips.

“People like what they like,” I replied, stowing the book in my bag. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

“You mean, like your photography, and your newfound love of swimming alone?” Santana set the photo back down.

I shrugged. “The swimming cools and calms me down, like playing with Slinky calms you down.” I slung the straps of my backpack onto both shoulders. “We should go. O’Halloran will be wondering where we are.”

He’d agreed to let us use the mirrors to get to the Dubai Coven. We’d told him, given the problems with me and my father, we wanted to visit the UAE to find a solution from one of the oldest djinn in existence, and O’Halloran had wholeheartedly supported our decision.

Santana took one last look at the photo. “Come on then, slowpoke. Wouldn’t want to keep the boss man waiting.”

After locking up and replacing the key, leaving Finch’s treasure untouched, we arrived at the Assembly Hall ten minutes later. O’Halloran paced the mirror platform, Diarmuid emulating him in miniature steps, though they both stopped at the sight of us. A wash of relief drifted across O’Halloran’s strong features.

“Janey Mac, man! What time de ye call this?” Diarmuid grumbled. His usual cantankerous self. “Yez are takin’ the pish, lads.”

“Sorry, we had trouble packing. It’s going to be hot over there,” Santana replied.

“Aye, an’ what? Are ye a Mexican or a Mexi-can’t? Ye should be used te hot.” Diarmuid folded his miniature arms across his miniature chest.

Santana glared at him. “Yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve dealt with 104-degree temps.”

“Enough, Diarmuid. They’re not that late.” O’Halloran moved to the mirror and pressed his palm to the pane. A courtesy, to send us on our way, even though we were perfectly capable of using it ourselves. The mirror shimmered liquidly as it opened to show Dubai.

“And yer soft as a cowpat, O’Halloran,” Diarmuid mumbled.

O’Halloran stepped back. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Raffe. It’s been a long time since anyone’s visited the Middle Eastern covens from the SDC, but they’ve always been warm and welcoming folks, so I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

“Thanks, O’Halloran.” I tucked my thumbs under my backpack straps and stepped onto the platform with Santana.

“Let me know when you find something,” O’Halloran instructed.

I smiled at him. “Of course, sir.”

“And if you need help, you know who to call.” He seemed agitated.

“Aye, bloody someone else.” Diarmuid scuffed his shoes on the floor.

O’Halloran rolled his eyes. “You call me if you need me.”

“We will.”

I went through first, Santana behind me. When we crossed the threshold to the Dubai Coven, my jaw hit the floor. A dome of curved metal arched over our heads, like the belly of a spaceship. However, the walls were made entirely of glass, giving the most incredible view over the night landscape of Dubai. Or, rather, the skyscape. By the looks of it, we towered over the city.

Ordinarily, me and heights didn’t get along, but the neighboring skyscrapers were so vast that they made the scale of this building seem less terrifying. The huge towers surrounding us were lit up, sparkling in the darkness. In the distance, boats glowed on the sea, and the famous manmade fronds of the Palm Islands cast a bright haze outward. To the other side lay a dark, empty desert, with a few building projects under construction.

“Whoa.” Santana clung to my arm. “This place is giving me vertigo.”

“Good evening to you.” A man walked from the reception desk with a tray containing two glasses of bright green liquid. Impeccably dressed in a stone-gray, silk kandura, his black hair neatly slicked, he had a regality about him. It’d been a long time since I’d seen anyone in a kandura, though it was a distant part of my heritage. While it was cool in this building, I wouldn’t mind an outfit like that if we went outside in the