Chapter 3 - For Sale
Summer, 2003
Across town a dark haired girl lay sobbing on a makeshift bed of old blankets. The candles in the room had been extinguished, though she hadn't bothered to undress. Her tan capri pants, stolen from a tourist only last week, were the tiniest bit too tight. Her shirt, scavenged from a hotel lost and found, was just a little more revealing than she would have chosen. Still, they were her best clothes that she was crumpling horribly as she curled into a ball and cried. When she finally picked herself up, and dusted off her trousers, she made her way to the nearest payphone.
"That's the price, have it with you or don't come at all."
"Where this time, Jamila?" the gravelly voice asked resignedly.
"The Grill at the Semiramis in twenty minutes. You can buy me dinner, too." She knew she was pushing it, but for once she had an item worth the old man's time, and she knew it. She'd washed her face as best she could, horrified that she'd been crying over someone she'd just met. But the way he kissed!
"Twenty minutes," the man echoed, bringing her mind back to the present. Jamila hung up the telephone gratefully and straightened her shirt as best she could. She was only a block away, now, so she set out for the hotel and made her way warily up the stairs. Nadir was no fool. If he had any inkling what she was carrying, she wouldn't put it passed him to set someone in her path to take it from her.
The hostess looked at her appraisingly as she gave Nadir's name and awaited a table. She always hated this part, knowing that without that name, she'd never have been allowed to eat here at all. She certainly wouldn't have been able to afford it. The little money she'd made recently by stealing artifacts from unopened pyramids had saved her from a less savory means of making a living, so she was luckier than most. Still, she often caught herself dreaming of approaching the American Embassy and pleading for help. But hadn't she tried that already? "If your mother was Egyptian, there's nothing we can do, my dear." Then a trip back to the orphanage and a good lashing for running away.
No, she wouldn't try that again any time soon. In two years, she'd be an adult. THEN she'd go to the Embassy and see if they could track down her father. Or that's what she'd been planning. She ran her fingers over the bulge in her satchel as she sat waiting at a table near the railing. Now she wouldn't have to find her father. Now she could get out of this horrible sandpit all on her own. The money she'd get for this prize would ensure her future, something she'd never even hoped she could have.
She looked dispassionately at the other diners, her eyes stopping on a table full of red-heads who looked to be finishing their dessert. Before her eyes the whole world seemed to go purple, and one of them looked up at her. The older one, with the ear ring. Bill. The name passed through her hazy mind, and she barely saw his face at all. There was an empty chair. She looked away. Of all the bad timing!
Bill narrowed his eyes at the sight of the unkempt girl sitting alone only a few tables away. He straightened abruptly and came toward her. "Pardon me," he said quietly.
Taking a deep breath, Jamila turned to look at him. "Oh, hello," she replied, feigning surprise. Bill wasn't fooled. He took a seat.
"Give me a chance to buy it." Bill spoke quickly. He'd been in Egypt for several years now, and although he'd never met this particular girl, he knew she wouldn't be here unless she had something to sell. And he could tell by the sudden look of interest on her face that she was an opportunist.
"I was promised 500,000 Egyptian pounds, can you do better?" She glanced worriedly around the room. If Nadir showed up while they were negotiating, it would be bad.
"I can. Come sit with us."
A spasm of fear crossed her face and she shook her head violently. "I can't. George – "she trailed off uncertainly looking back toward their table.
"What happened?" The faint blush in her olive complexion was enough to make Bill very suspicious again.
"N-nothing," she stammered as the torchlight along the railing seemed to turn purple. She blinked several times and it went away, allowing her to focus on Bill again. "Meet me here," she said, scribbling an address on the napkin and thrusting it toward him. She hurried out, asking the hostess to give Nadir her apologies.
She ran down the stairs, two at a time, expecting at every corner to see George's mischievous grin. When she rounded the last corner, she did in fact run into a grinning face. But it wasn't George.
"Nadir is going to be most displeased to find that you aren't waiting for him upstairs, Jamila," the man said quietly. Jamila found her eyes straying to the dagger he wore at his side. It wasn't visible at the moment, but she knew him well enough to know he was there.
"I – I thought of another item I wanted to bring, and I'd like to go back and get it."
The man laughed, keeping a firm grip on her elbow as he steered her back up the stairs. "He's only interested in the gem, my gem." He led her roughly, and she bit her cheek to keep from whimpering.
Several floors above, a very impatient Nadir looked up as a red haired boy stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. George's world had gone purple again and something was calling him toward the stairwell. Not entirely sure why, he raced down the stairs, wand drawn. If he was going to get a warning about underage magic, he might as well make the most of it. Fred shrugged at his startled family, then followed.
Understanding came suddenly as George barreled into a burly man, who took several steps backward before drawing a long knife and taking another step forward. Fred, just a step behind, pried the man's fingers from Jamila's arm, and drew his wand beside his brother, pulling her behind them.
"Those aren't going to help you much, boys," the man sneered. George hexed him and turned to Jamila as the man fell. Fred, both aghast at his brother's indifference, and impressed with his reflexes, levitated the stunned man before he could roll down the staircase, and moved him into a corner of the lower landing.
"Are you alright?" George asked her again. She nodded mutely, her eyes travelling swiftly from his wand to his face. She felt her breath catch in her throat.
"Mikal doesn't work alone," she whispered finally. Footsteps thundered on the stairs above them and they exchanged another glance as Fred looked on.
"Fred? George?" Bill's shout rang through the stairwell, and all three breathed a sigh of relief. Bill and Charlie appeared a moment later, hastily putting their wands away. After a pointed look from Charlie, the twins did the same. Which was good, since the next person to join them on the landing was Molly Weasley, and she didn't look happy.
George was still staring unabashedly at Jamila, who returned his gaze with unwavering attention, seemingly oblivious to the eyes of his family. After a few moments of silence, George swallowed hard and looked away, blinking the purple out of his eyes.
Bill was kneeling before the unconscious man on the lower landing. "Mikal. That means Lakim is around here somewhere. You were selling it to Nadir?" he asked incredulously, looking up at Jamila. She nodded, her eyes still on George. "Then you have it with you?"
Finally she pulled her gaze downward to look at him. "Yes." It wasn't like her to trust a potential buyer so quickly. Indeed, she had never had a potential buyer she could trust at all, which was why she scheduled these exchanges in crowded restaurants, and always had an escape plan. A plan which, she admitted to herself now, had gone out the window in her hurry to escape George. She felt his eyes on her again and had to force her gaze to remain on his brother.
"I think I need to talk to her alone," Bill said as Ron and Ginny joined them, followed by Percy, who looked very put out at having his meal interrupted. Then Bill made a nearly fatal mistake. He turned to her and said, "Why don't you come to my room and we can discuss the price of that artifact."
Before he'd even finished, George had drawn his wand and joined him on the lower landing, anger flashing in his normally playful eyes. All the Weasley's looked on, open mouthed, and Fred backed slowly away from the dark haired girl, unconsciously trying to avoid a similar wrath.
"You and George, of course," Bill amended hastily, still looking up at the girl. She nodded slowly, the only one not surprised by George's reaction, though Bill was quickly beginning to suspect the nature of her artifact, and it was worth every pound she'd demanded.
"Alright."
Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth but closed it again as her husband's hand closed around her wrist and pulled her around. "Let's finish our lovely dessert, shall we? I'm sure the waitress is wondering why we left without paying for our meal." He kept his voice light as they trooped back upstairs.
Fred stood indecisively, looking down at Bill and George as his twin put his wand away again. "Go on, Fred. It'll be fine." Bill threw a glance toward their retreating family. After a beat of silence, and another worried glance at George, Fred ran back up the stairs.
Summer, 2003
Across town a dark haired girl lay sobbing on a makeshift bed of old blankets. The candles in the room had been extinguished, though she hadn't bothered to undress. Her tan capri pants, stolen from a tourist only last week, were the tiniest bit too tight. Her shirt, scavenged from a hotel lost and found, was just a little more revealing than she would have chosen. Still, they were her best clothes that she was crumpling horribly as she curled into a ball and cried. When she finally picked herself up, and dusted off her trousers, she made her way to the nearest payphone.
"That's the price, have it with you or don't come at all."
"Where this time, Jamila?" the gravelly voice asked resignedly.
"The Grill at the Semiramis in twenty minutes. You can buy me dinner, too." She knew she was pushing it, but for once she had an item worth the old man's time, and she knew it. She'd washed her face as best she could, horrified that she'd been crying over someone she'd just met. But the way he kissed!
"Twenty minutes," the man echoed, bringing her mind back to the present. Jamila hung up the telephone gratefully and straightened her shirt as best she could. She was only a block away, now, so she set out for the hotel and made her way warily up the stairs. Nadir was no fool. If he had any inkling what she was carrying, she wouldn't put it passed him to set someone in her path to take it from her.
The hostess looked at her appraisingly as she gave Nadir's name and awaited a table. She always hated this part, knowing that without that name, she'd never have been allowed to eat here at all. She certainly wouldn't have been able to afford it. The little money she'd made recently by stealing artifacts from unopened pyramids had saved her from a less savory means of making a living, so she was luckier than most. Still, she often caught herself dreaming of approaching the American Embassy and pleading for help. But hadn't she tried that already? "If your mother was Egyptian, there's nothing we can do, my dear." Then a trip back to the orphanage and a good lashing for running away.
No, she wouldn't try that again any time soon. In two years, she'd be an adult. THEN she'd go to the Embassy and see if they could track down her father. Or that's what she'd been planning. She ran her fingers over the bulge in her satchel as she sat waiting at a table near the railing. Now she wouldn't have to find her father. Now she could get out of this horrible sandpit all on her own. The money she'd get for this prize would ensure her future, something she'd never even hoped she could have.
She looked dispassionately at the other diners, her eyes stopping on a table full of red-heads who looked to be finishing their dessert. Before her eyes the whole world seemed to go purple, and one of them looked up at her. The older one, with the ear ring. Bill. The name passed through her hazy mind, and she barely saw his face at all. There was an empty chair. She looked away. Of all the bad timing!
Bill narrowed his eyes at the sight of the unkempt girl sitting alone only a few tables away. He straightened abruptly and came toward her. "Pardon me," he said quietly.
Taking a deep breath, Jamila turned to look at him. "Oh, hello," she replied, feigning surprise. Bill wasn't fooled. He took a seat.
"Give me a chance to buy it." Bill spoke quickly. He'd been in Egypt for several years now, and although he'd never met this particular girl, he knew she wouldn't be here unless she had something to sell. And he could tell by the sudden look of interest on her face that she was an opportunist.
"I was promised 500,000 Egyptian pounds, can you do better?" She glanced worriedly around the room. If Nadir showed up while they were negotiating, it would be bad.
"I can. Come sit with us."
A spasm of fear crossed her face and she shook her head violently. "I can't. George – "she trailed off uncertainly looking back toward their table.
"What happened?" The faint blush in her olive complexion was enough to make Bill very suspicious again.
"N-nothing," she stammered as the torchlight along the railing seemed to turn purple. She blinked several times and it went away, allowing her to focus on Bill again. "Meet me here," she said, scribbling an address on the napkin and thrusting it toward him. She hurried out, asking the hostess to give Nadir her apologies.
She ran down the stairs, two at a time, expecting at every corner to see George's mischievous grin. When she rounded the last corner, she did in fact run into a grinning face. But it wasn't George.
"Nadir is going to be most displeased to find that you aren't waiting for him upstairs, Jamila," the man said quietly. Jamila found her eyes straying to the dagger he wore at his side. It wasn't visible at the moment, but she knew him well enough to know he was there.
"I – I thought of another item I wanted to bring, and I'd like to go back and get it."
The man laughed, keeping a firm grip on her elbow as he steered her back up the stairs. "He's only interested in the gem, my gem." He led her roughly, and she bit her cheek to keep from whimpering.
Several floors above, a very impatient Nadir looked up as a red haired boy stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. George's world had gone purple again and something was calling him toward the stairwell. Not entirely sure why, he raced down the stairs, wand drawn. If he was going to get a warning about underage magic, he might as well make the most of it. Fred shrugged at his startled family, then followed.
Understanding came suddenly as George barreled into a burly man, who took several steps backward before drawing a long knife and taking another step forward. Fred, just a step behind, pried the man's fingers from Jamila's arm, and drew his wand beside his brother, pulling her behind them.
"Those aren't going to help you much, boys," the man sneered. George hexed him and turned to Jamila as the man fell. Fred, both aghast at his brother's indifference, and impressed with his reflexes, levitated the stunned man before he could roll down the staircase, and moved him into a corner of the lower landing.
"Are you alright?" George asked her again. She nodded mutely, her eyes travelling swiftly from his wand to his face. She felt her breath catch in her throat.
"Mikal doesn't work alone," she whispered finally. Footsteps thundered on the stairs above them and they exchanged another glance as Fred looked on.
"Fred? George?" Bill's shout rang through the stairwell, and all three breathed a sigh of relief. Bill and Charlie appeared a moment later, hastily putting their wands away. After a pointed look from Charlie, the twins did the same. Which was good, since the next person to join them on the landing was Molly Weasley, and she didn't look happy.
George was still staring unabashedly at Jamila, who returned his gaze with unwavering attention, seemingly oblivious to the eyes of his family. After a few moments of silence, George swallowed hard and looked away, blinking the purple out of his eyes.
Bill was kneeling before the unconscious man on the lower landing. "Mikal. That means Lakim is around here somewhere. You were selling it to Nadir?" he asked incredulously, looking up at Jamila. She nodded, her eyes still on George. "Then you have it with you?"
Finally she pulled her gaze downward to look at him. "Yes." It wasn't like her to trust a potential buyer so quickly. Indeed, she had never had a potential buyer she could trust at all, which was why she scheduled these exchanges in crowded restaurants, and always had an escape plan. A plan which, she admitted to herself now, had gone out the window in her hurry to escape George. She felt his eyes on her again and had to force her gaze to remain on his brother.
"I think I need to talk to her alone," Bill said as Ron and Ginny joined them, followed by Percy, who looked very put out at having his meal interrupted. Then Bill made a nearly fatal mistake. He turned to her and said, "Why don't you come to my room and we can discuss the price of that artifact."
Before he'd even finished, George had drawn his wand and joined him on the lower landing, anger flashing in his normally playful eyes. All the Weasley's looked on, open mouthed, and Fred backed slowly away from the dark haired girl, unconsciously trying to avoid a similar wrath.
"You and George, of course," Bill amended hastily, still looking up at the girl. She nodded slowly, the only one not surprised by George's reaction, though Bill was quickly beginning to suspect the nature of her artifact, and it was worth every pound she'd demanded.
"Alright."
Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth but closed it again as her husband's hand closed around her wrist and pulled her around. "Let's finish our lovely dessert, shall we? I'm sure the waitress is wondering why we left without paying for our meal." He kept his voice light as they trooped back upstairs.
Fred stood indecisively, looking down at Bill and George as his twin put his wand away again. "Go on, Fred. It'll be fine." Bill threw a glance toward their retreating family. After a beat of silence, and another worried glance at George, Fred ran back up the stairs.