Angel Thief by Jenny Schwartz Page A

She hunched in her corner. It seemed she knew her father and could feel shame for his behaviour.
    As the son of a demon, Filip could sympathise.
    “No one’s responsible for anyone else’s behaviour,” Sara said. “What Vince did doesn’t excuse or justify you kidnapping Jay.”
    “He put us on an unseaworthy vessel to save money. Money. Do you know how much he rakes in from drugs? My family died so he could squat on more gold.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jay whispered.
    Sara crouched beside her. “Your father’s choices are his responsibility. You can feel sad, but not guilty. The sins of fathers are not visited on their children.”
    Jay was too deep in misery to recognise the misquotation. “Dad’s good to me. I spend his money. I went to school on it. I buy clothes with it. It’s paying for my uni degree. I’ve lived my whole life on drug money.”
    “So walk away,” Khan said.
    Sara hugged Jay and glared at Khan. Simple solutions were never simple, not when emotions were involved.
    The girl’s shoulders shook. “Mum feels bad too. She says Dad wasn’t so bad at first, not when Grandma was alive. Mum knew him when they were kids. Now she just drinks and drinks. She won’t divorce him even though he has mistresses and—Dad gives her money, like that makes everything right. He gives her drug money and she buys alcohol.”
    “Everyone has different methods of going away,” Khan said darkly. “In Afghanistan there is too much heroin. Too many drug users. Too much pain that they want to forget.”
    “Revenge is your drug.” Sara looked at him clear eyed. “You wrap it around your grief. You tell Jay to walk away, but you’re the one who’s brought her into this mess. Let her go.”
    “Make him.” Jay clutched Sara’s hand. “You’re an angel, make him let me go.”
    Filip checked himself, but too late. Khan had seen his instinctive response to Sara getting involved. So much for his inscrutable djinn nature. With Sara, all his emotions came bubbling to the surface.
    “Close your eyes,” Filip told Sara and Jay. He brought his hand up and now it held a gun. While he breathed, no one would hurt Sara.
    Khan met his gaze. Neither referred to the message on the wall.
    Did Jay need an antidote or was it a clever bluff?
    “I don’t want him to die.” Jay burst into tears. “I don’t want anyone to die.” She pushed away from Sara. “If you’re not my guardian angel, why are you here? Are you his?” She pointed at Khan. “Why aren’t you saving him then?”
    “I’m not a guardian angel.” Sara knelt back, resting on her heels. She watched Jay sadly, wanting to comfort the girl but respecting her anger and confusion. “I’m an archivist. I came to your father’s library to borrow a book. There’s a young boy dying of a bone infection and I believe Theorem Illuminati , one of your father’s ancient manuscripts, has a cure. It’s something to do with lime.”
    Khan’s head jerked, just a fraction, but Filip was observing closely.
    Sara continued. “I got tangled in your father’s affairs. When I heard you’d been kidnapped, I wanted to help. I don’t want tragedy to compound tragedy. Khan lost his family not just to greed and shipwreck but to the war that drove them from their home. Pain and violence has to end somewhere.”
    “Dad hurts people.” Jay drew a shuddering breath. She tugged down the sleeve of her sweater and wiped her eyes with it. “I want to be a doctor. I’m in my first year at uni. All I want to do is help people.”
    Filip’s finger relaxed on the trigger, mirroring the relaxing tension in Khan’s stance.
    The man looked broodingly at Jay, then straight at Filip, across the gun.
    “There is no poison,” he said. “No need for an antidote.” The silent challenge echoed between them: So shoot me .

Chapter Seven
    “It takes more courage to live than to die,” Sara said.
    Khan turned from Filip, his gun and the promise of death, and addressed Sara.