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“Let’s regroup and think this through.” Riker’s command was calm but insistent, pulling us into a tight circle amid the ruins of a former sunglasses kiosk.
“Fine. But if anyone has a plan that doesn’t involve becoming barbecue, I’m all ears.” I eyed the others, waiting for someone to break the silence that had fallen over us.
“Stop it, Tessa,” Niko growled softly. “This isn’t helping.”
“Sorry, force of habit.” I gave him a sheepish grin. “Humor is my defense mechanism against impending doom.”
“Understood.” He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But let’s save the jokes for when we’re not standing in the ashes of our plans.”
“Okay, team. We need something unexpected, something they won’t see coming.” Riker looked at each of us, his expression serious but not without hope.
“Like what? A supernatural Trojan horse?” I suggested, half-joking but secretly hoping someone would run with it.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Niko mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“Wait, seriously?” I blinked, surprised my off-the-wall comment had sparked anything resembling a strategy.
“Think about it,” Niko continued. “We make them believe they’ve caught another one of us, then boom—we hit them from the inside.”
“Deception and surprise,” Riker nodded approvingly. “I like it.”
“So who’s playing the damsel in distress?” I asked, already dreading the answer.
Three pairs of eyes turned to me, and I groaned. “Of course, it’s me. Because nothing says ‘helpless’ like purple hair and an anchor tattoo.”
“Let’s gear up,” Riker said, ending the discussion. “It’s time to turn the tables on these djinni bastards.”
“Or die trying,” I added, with a wink and a bravado I didn’t quite feel. But hey, if we were going down, at least we’d do it with style.
The damp, cool air of the tunnel prickled against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat we’d just endured. As we slunk through the shadows, the only sounds were our soft footfalls and the distant drip of water from unseen pipes. I was about to suggest a quick game of ‘I Spy’ to lighten the mood when a shape stumbled into the dim light from a side passage.
“Guys, look sharp,” I whispered, ready for trouble. But it wasn’t an enemy that lurched toward us—it was Cairo, looking like he’d been through a blender set on ‘puree.’ His face was ashen, the rich olive tone washed out to a ghostly pallor, and his eyes—usually so full of fire—were dull with exhaustion or pain, or both.
“Whoa, easy there,” I said, darting forward as Cairo’s knees buckled. My arms wrapped around his middle in a move more suited to a bar brawl than a rescue, but it did the trick. He clutched at me, his fingers digging in as if he expected to be whisked away at any moment.
“Thanks, Tessa,” he rasped, the British accent thicker than usual, probably due to whatever had him looking like a leftover from a zombie apocalypse cosplay.
“Anytime, Genie-Boy,” I said, straining under his weight. “But you’re seriously messing with my stylish ‘hunter of the night’ vibe here.”
His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile, before he sobered.
The sudden heat from Cairo’s touch was the last thing I expected. It seared through my skin, spreading across my chest and down my arms. I gasped, my head spinning with a sudden dizziness that felt like I’d just chugged a bottle of tequila—in one go.
“Whoa, Tessa!” Riker’s voice was a distant boom as his large hands steadied me, preventing my crash-landing onto the cold, hard floor of the tunnel. “You okay?”
“Feel like... I’m roasting on an open flame here,” I managed to say between shallow breaths. The room—or tunnel—swayed, and for a moment, I saw everything in double.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Riker murmured, his tone more serious than I’d heard in a while. His presence was a mountain behind me, solid and unwavering. My vision slowly cleared, but the burning sensation lingered, leaving a trail of discomfort I couldn’t shake off.
Cairo’s grip on me loosened as if he suddenly realized he was the source of my impromptu fever. His face crumpled further, if that were possible, and when he spoke, his voice was a desolate whisper carried on the stale air of the underground.
“Zayn has moved Poppy,” he said, eyes haunted by a torment that seemed to scorch him from the inside out. “She’s not here... she’s somewhere else.”
“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath. Our whole lead-up to this mission was based on a bluff, an illusion crafted by a djinni king who probably laughed at our naivety.
I shook off the remnants of magical heat exhaustion. “We’ve got a genie with a broken heart, a missing English rose, and somewhere out there, a fire-loving king playing hide-and-seek with us. Time to switch up the game plan.”
Riker nodded, his jaw set in determination. “We’re going to find her, Cairo. We’ll bring Poppy back.”
