Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian Read Online Free

Chelsea. Those chairs and couches
were classic Modern. The backsplash and all the bathrooms boasted
sleek subway-style glass tile. Heck, the countertops were Brazilian
granite! Add to that the top-of-the-line security system David had
installed and, basement or not, the listing should have been
snapped up in two minutes.
    Maybe David had gotten too attached to his
creation.
    “So I rented it,” she said, hefting the half
full pot onto the gas burner.
    She’d stowed the brick of bills her tenants
paid her in her favorite mother-of-pearl keepsake box. Having so
much cash on hand made her nervous. She’d gotten more than she
thought she could for the place, more than comparable units in this
neighborhood—which her naysaying cousin Cara could stick in her
pipe and smoke. Cara always was harder on David than he
deserved.
    Of course, if Elyse bragged, she’d risk
revealing that she’d rented the place to a pair of weirdoes . . .
without getting references.
    Not weirdoes , she corrected. Just
eccentrics with excellent poker faces.
    She honestly thought they hadn’t liked the
apartment. Clearly, they could afford swankier. Still, she was glad
they were taking it. Maybe she’d finally stop obsessing about
David’s death, about her happiness dying along with him. Her new
tenants would obscure that shadow. They might be odd, but they were
very alive people. She’d sensed that the moment she opened the door
to them.
    They’d made her think of foreign dignitaries,
standing on the stoop in their long wool coats and their funny
hats. Okay, only the tall one had worn a hat. The shorter one had a
bright red scarf flung around his neck. Their skin tone suggested
they came from a sunny clime, their faces bronzed by the kind of
color winter can’t erase. Both their hair was dark and their eyes
were astonishing. The taller man’s were blue gray, the shorter
one’s honey gold. Their irises had seemed to glow against their
contrasting skin and lashes. Both men’s enunciation was remarkably
precise.
    When the tall man spoke, his deep voice had
poured down her nerves as warmly as mulled cider.
    Dad would have liked them , she
thought. He’d had a fondness for quirky people—for people period,
in fact. It was the biggest reason he’d loved his job.
    She pulled a box of spaghetti out of the
cabinet.
    “You noticed them,” she realized aloud.
    She’d barely looked at other men once she
married David. Her soul mate had been everything to her—the
sweetest, handsomest, most supportive person she’d ever met. That
he’d chosen her was a miracle. She knew how ordinary she was to the
male species. Neither of her new tenants had looked at her the way
men do when they find women attractive.
    This, of course, made it that much stranger
for her to have checked them out.
    Cara liked to say God forgot to give Elyse
the man-hunting gene. Probably He’d given hers to Cara. Elyse never
could keep track of her cousin’s harem of boyfriends.
    The water would take a while to boil, so
Elyse started on meat sauce. Garlic hit the olive oil in her
skillet. She had some seasoned Italian sausage that didn’t need
thawing. Maybe she’d go whole hog and pour a nice glass of
wine.
    The sizzle in the pan didn’t keep her from
hearing a polite knock.
    She turned down the burners and stared at the
door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Did her new tenants have a
complaint?
    Though she was accustomed to handling
renters, her pulse sped up. For half a second she considered
checking her hair in the hallway mirror. Lately, she hadn’t spent
the time she should have on it with her flatiron. It probably
looked god-awful.
    Calm down , she thought, forcing
herself to move toward the entrance without primping. That she’d
noticed the strangers was irrelevant.
    She wiped sweaty palms on her old black jeans
before she turned the knob. The slightly shorter man from the new
apartment was outside, the one the other had called Joseph. Once
again, she was struck by