Harley Merlin 12 Read online

  “Our American guests, I presume?” She rose slowly.

  Santana gazed around in wonder, taking it all in. “I’m Mexican, actually.”

  “My apologies,” she replied, her English once again putting mine to shame. “I am Nayla Al Kaabi, the director of this coven. You are very welcome here, as your objective aligns with ours.”

  “Mr. Al Gaz told us the sickness has reached here.” I struggled to say something that made me look like I knew what I was doing. Her presence radiated power and imposing strength, the same way her coven did. The last thing I wanted to do was look like an idiot in front of her.

  “Yes, it has, which is cause for great concern.” Nayla beckoned us closer. “It is heartening to have more minds on the problem. Perhaps we will help each other.”

  I swallowed and passed over a stone bridge to the central island. “My father is currently suffering, and we’re eager for a cure.”

  “Your father? Leonidas Levi, if I am not mistaken?” She rested her hand on her desk.

  “That’s right.”

  She pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. “You do not seem to be suffering, though if your father is experiencing the complications of this djinn sickness, I would expect it to affect you.”

  “You know about me?” I looked to Santana, who gave me a worried glance.

  “Of course.” She smiled serenely. “I am well-versed in the Levi family’s unusual relationship with the djinn. Perhaps I didn’t phrase it correctly—how are you still standing while your father is in the infirmary, in the grip of this pestilence?”

  I folded my arms to look more casual. “My djinn is very young and isn’t connected to the wider djinn network. I think that’s why I’m not having the same problems as my father. His djinn is much older than mine.”

  “Ah yes, so very few people understand the intricacies of djinn lineage,” Nayla said thoughtfully. “There are many categories of djinn, and their variances are so much more complex than outsiders realize. Even magicals struggle to distinguish between types of djinn, though they walk through a world with countless kinds of magicals and have little trouble understanding that concept.”

  “There are different types of djinn?” Santana found her voice.

  Nayla smiled sympathetically. “There are. This one, for example.” She took an old, dusty brass lamp from a concealed pocket in her abaya and whispered into it. “Anst elie. Tadhar. Hanak haja lek.”

  Listen to me. Appear. You are needed. My Arabic wasn’t as rusty as I thought. As soon as she spoke, the symbols etched into the lamp began to glow, casting the shapes onto the wall like a candle carousel. Black smoke poured from the spout, and limbs and a body extended until they were almost solid. I hadn’t seen a djinn without a human host before, but it didn’t look too different from Kadar’s red-fleshed form when he took the reins. Aside from the fact that it stood over seven feet with shoulders three times broader than Nayla’s and ruby-red eyes that burned with flames.

  “This is Al-Abdhi. His name means ‘everlasting,’ though you may refer to him as simply ‘Abdhi.’ He has been in the service of the Dubai Coven for centuries,” Nayla explained.

  “I’d prefer ‘indestructible,’ but it’s a mouthful.” The djinn chuckled, his voice high-pitched. Not what I’d expected from someone so terrifying.

  “Everlasting, indestructible—they are almost synonyms,” Nayla retorted with a hint of a smile.

  “Fine and majestic are almost synonyms, but I know which I’d rather be called.” He gave her a nudge in the arm, his demeanor taking me aback.

  Santana eyed him. “Does looking scary come as part of the deal, but you make up for it by acting like a pussycat?”

  “I find no reason to be threatening unless I am threatened,” Abdhi replied. “Do you intend to threaten me?”

  Santana shook her head. “No.”

  “Then I have no reason to put on the fire and brimstone. It’s exhausting, in truth. I find it so much easier to be peaceful and enjoy my existence. Perhaps because I’ve been here so long—youngsters are all fire and brimstone.” He grinned, flashing sharpened teeth. “Hot-tempered and always ready for a fight. Usually, it ends with them being knocked down and humiliated, though it never deters them from acting out when the next opportunity presents itself.” He sighed. “It is the gift of age to see the futility of violence and learn the art of calm. These days, I’m a connoisseur of tranquility.”

  Santana mustered a curious smile. “If it’s not a rude question, how come you speak English? If you’ve been here so long, shouldn’t you speak Arabic?”

  “Are you Arabic?” he replied.

  “No.”

  “Then what use would it be for me to speak Arabic?” He had a bit of sass to him, as well as being a connoisseur of tranquility. “I adapt to those in my care. I don’t find the English tongue nearly so musical or satisfying, but we have to understand one another. Otherwise, I’d be playing an endless, infuriating game of charades with you, and that’s something neither of us wants.”

  I frowned. “Those in your care? What do you mean?”

  Nayla looked up at Abdhi. “I am assigning him to you. He will take you where you wish.”

  “To the oldest djinn in the world?” I needed clarification. I hadn’t mentioned the Storyteller to O’Halloran, so I doubted the message had been passed on.

  “The Storyteller, yes. Let’s not beat around the bush,” Abdhi replied. “It is my firm hope that she will be able to resolve this issue, and I am pleasantly surprised that you newcomers have just suggested it. I enjoy it when the West takes an intellectual interest in the East.”

  Santana pointed at him. “How come you’re not all pale and sickly?”

  “Why, thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Abdhi snickered. “Alas, I have also been suffering this recent malady, though I am not quite full djinn, so I am less affected. My lamp gives me a steady flow of additional energy, dulling the effects of this sickness somewhat.”

  Nayla made a noise of agreement. “Yes, that is what I meant to tell you. Thank you for the reminder, Abdhi. He is a genie rather than a full-blooded djinn. It means his power is less than an ordinary djinn’s.”

  “Being shoehorned into a lamp will do that to a creature,” Abdhi said with a dramatic sigh. “The binding of a djinn to a physical vessel restricts their abilities. In this instance, it has served me well, though I cannot sleep. And I feel so ugly these days. I am not the beauty I ought to be.”

  “I think you look pretty good, considering.” Santana flashed him a grin. I could tell immediately that they would get along like a house on fire. Or, a djinn on fire.

  “You flatter me.” Abdhi wafted his hand at her. “But you don’t need to lavish compliments on me—I have already vowed to lead you to the Storyteller, so I’m a safe bet. If I do this, I might have a good night’s sleep at last.”

  “Where do we find her? The Storyteller, I mean?” I returned to the task before he got carried away. However, Nayla was the one who answered.

  “Only a djinn can find the Storyteller. Abdhi knows where to take you, fear not, but he can’t announce the location aloud. It is, by all accounts, of utmost secrecy, and I would not wish to break djinn legislation.”

  Abdhi nodded. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, though I wish you’d come in daylight. I hate traveling in the dark. Weird, I know, considering my kind are tied to Darkness, but we all have our quirks.”

  “Yeah, we might’ve forgotten about the time difference,” Santana said apologetically.

  “At least you won’t be dealing with jet lag. I might have changed my mind if I had to haul two zombies around.” Abdhi’s wisps of smoke rolled over his body, as if amused.

  I was glad we had found a path to the Storyteller, but I had my doubts about this assigned djinn. I had enough trouble with the one inside my body. Abdhi sounded like either a lot of fun or one hell of a headache. Nevertheless, he could take us to the one person who might be
able to help Kadar, and my future with Santana. That was more than worth the headache.

  Nineteen

  Raffe

  After we’d said a polite farewell to Nayla, who had a handshake of steel to match her fierce exterior, she’d plucked an emerald from the indoor stream in her office. I hadn’t noticed the emeralds at first glance, which made me wonder if they had been concealed somehow. Regardless, she gave the gem to Abdhi so we could travel quickly through a djinn portal to where we needed to go. Given that the Arabian Peninsula was the djinn’s homeland, it made sense they’d have easy access to the emeralds that allowed the djinn to form their unique portals. I supposed Nayla controlled the emeralds so the djinn in her employ couldn’t just flit off whenever they pleased.

  Abdhi gripped the gem in his palm and beckoned us close. “Santana, if you’d care to take Raffe’s hand?”

  She smiled and put her hand in mine while Abdhi seized my wrist. His fingers burned against my skin, though it would’ve been worse for Santana. He closed his eyes, and the emerald enveloped us in a blinding flash of green light. My stomach lurched as my body started to disintegrate and twist up through Abdhi’s portal. Beside me, Santana flowed from solid to wispy matter and spiraled up into nothingness.

  The portal spat us out in the heart of the Arabian desert. The bitter cold hit me, and harsh grit stung my face like a thousand tiny hornets as the icy winds swept the sand off the dunes. A clear night stretched above, with no light pollution to mar its majesty. There were more stars than sky, and I could almost see the blend of shadow and light that made up the Milky Way.

  “I bet you wish you’d brought your jackets now.” Abdhi’s black smoke rippled, creating two solid legs. He wasn’t the sort of genie from human stories. No harem pants here, only a golden loincloth to hide his dignity, if he even had dignity to hide. Djinn in their natural form were brand new to me, and I didn’t know how things worked without a human host.

  Santana swung her backpack to the ground and pulled out a thick sweater. “I came prepared.”

  “Oh, I like you. You can stay.” Abdhi flashed his sharpened teeth in a grin. Apparently, Santana was a djinn magnet. Even Zalaam showed her a healthy respect.

  “So, is the Storyteller nearby?” I took a sweater from my own bag and slipped it on. It took the edge off the biting cold, while Kadar warmed the rest of me. After all these years, he’d gotten used to sharing a bit of heat when the weather turned cold. He sensed me shivering and went into radiator autopilot.

  Abdhi started to walk. “We have a long trek ahead of us, so brace your quads. You’ll need them in these dunes.”

  “You can’t just portal us to the Storyteller?” I glanced at the undulating desert, some of the dunes towering hundreds of feet. With Kadar and me weakened, I didn’t fancy my chances of surviving a long journey.

  "Where’s the fun in that?" Abdhi replied jovially. "And no, I can’t. The Storyteller never stays in one position and has fortifications preventing other djinn from popping in unannounced. But I have her location, so get those legs moving.”

  “I’m here, Raffe. You’ll be fine.” Santana looped her arm through mine and set off, tugging me along.

  We’d barely walked ten minutes before I ran into my first bout of trouble. The sand might as well have been a quagmire of mud. Every step made my thighs burn and my lungs strain, my feet slipping as we ascended a vast dune. My body craned forward until I was almost horizontal to try to keep going, my balance totally out of whack. Kadar’s illness made physical exertion that much harder for me, too. Santana helped me along as best she could while fighting the sand herself. Abdhi had no issues. His didn’t make a single imprint in the tumbling grains.

  “Abdhi, could you tell us about other kinds of djinn? Director Al Kaabi would have told us more, I think, but we got off track. Actually, I guess we got on track, but still, I’d like to know more,” Santana said. A distraction tactic if ever I’d seen one. I breathed an internal sigh of relief. If we had something else to focus on, the trek might not feel so dire.

  He glanced back, smiling. “I’d be delighted. In my heyday, I was a Marid: a giant being of immense power. Though, if you’d seen me then, your heads wouldn’t even reach my knees and I could have squished you underfoot. Now, my power has been diminished, and I am not nearly as large as I was. A shame, for I was truly magnificent.”

  “You were bigger than this?” Santana gaped.

  “Oh yes, though, like the regal elephant, it made us a target for hunters, to be forced into servitude as a genie. Then again, that may have something to do with our propensity for wish-granting, rather than our mighty size.” He waved a dramatic hand. “The greed of mortals.”

  “You grant wishes?” An idea formed in my head.

  “Yes, but don’t think about wishing to be delivered to the Storyteller. That is beyond my capabilities, now that my power has been reduced by decades in that lamp.” He flashed me a knowing look.

  Santana paused for breath. “Don’t you want to break free? Ultimate cosmic power, itty-bitty living space and all that?”

  “Once upon a time, I would’ve given anything to free myself. In Nayla’s care, I don’t mind so much,” he replied. “Besides, if this coven hadn’t trapped me in a lamp, it would’ve been another. We were constantly on the wrong side of things, sought by magicals and creatures working on behalf of Children of Chaos. One Child’s minions, in particular.”

  “What do you mean?” I prompted. Despite sharing a body with a djinn, it occurred to me how little I knew about them. I guessed that was partially due to Kadar’s comparative youth, meaning he lacked access to djinn history, but it felt wrong that I didn’t know more.

  Abdhi’s smoke rolled across him in excitable waves. “We try to anticipate creatures called Sylphs. They intervene in the fates of mortals more than most, so Erebus tasks us with getting ahead of them, to make other deals to mortals’ benefit—and to Erebus’s—but we always get shooed away by the Sylphs’ fiery missiles. If you ever see a shooting star, that is a Marid getting a stern telling off at the business end of their artillery.”

  Santana tilted her head in curiosity. “Sylphs?”

  “You’ve never heard of them?” he replied, as if she were a moron.

  “I thought they were floaty Air fairies,” Santana responded in kind.

  “A common misconception. There are many varieties of Sylph, similar to magicals and djinn. Certain types are mistaken for angels. But they are all creatures of the Light, as we are creatures of Darkness. The result of a Child of Chaos meddling in matters they shouldn’t.”

  “You mean Lux?” I chimed in.

  “Yes, that old wench.” He smirked coldly. I sensed a divide between the beings of Light and Dark. “We get tarred with the brush of evil because of our maker, and they flutter about in the fairy-like glow of Light, and everyone thinks the sun shines out of their backsides. Not entirely true, in case you're wondering. They have a nefarious streak in them, just like their maker.”

  I hadn’t realized the Children of Chaos had creatures of their own making. I’d obviously known the djinn were bound to Erebus, but the fact that they were actually made by him was news to me. Lux had these Sylphs; Erebus had djinn. Plus, Gaia had the four Elements at her beck and call. I had to wonder what the other Children happened to create during their lengthy spell as watchers of Earth. And what Abdhi meant about Lux’s nefarious streak.

  “What kind of djinn is Kadar?” I asked, curious. Remembering Finch’s book, I paused to take it out of my backpack and flipped to the section on djinn varieties.

  “He is likely a Qareen,” Abdhi replied, after a moment of thought, “the most common type of djinn. They are companions to mortals, like shadows who follow you through life. Many people are in possession of a Qareen and don’t know it. In your case, yours is actually entwined with you, thanks to your family curse, so you had no choice but to know of him.”

  Santana pressed on up the dune. “Do I have a Qareen?”r />
  “Not that I sense. Don’t be disheartened—not everyone has one, and those with immense power of their own are often avoided by the Qareen. You should take it as a compliment to your prowess as a Santeria.” His flaming eyes sparked with humor. “Very few magicals have them, for that reason. They are more inclined to follow Mediocres and the magicless.”

  “This is fascinating,” Santana declared, looking happier. “What other types are there?” I kept pace with her as Abdhi talked, his voice acting like an energy drink that kept me trudging forward.

  “There are Ifrits,” I said, following Abdhi’s words and finding the corresponding ones in the book.

  Abdhi nodded. “Oh yes. If you ever come across one, I’d urge you to run in the opposite direction, though they’ll likely catch you anyway.” He chuckled to himself—a djinn inside joke we didn’t get.

  “Why, because they’re winged?” I scanned through the brief notes about the Ifrits.

  “Exactly so, and they move very fast because of it.” Abdhi pointed to the dunes in the distance. “In fact, a few linger in this very desert, though you’re safe from them while you are with me.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I have existed for centuries. Even with my limitations, they have the sense to fear me.” His flaming eyes burned brighter, emphasizing his point. “Ifrits are civilized, for the most part, frequenting ruins and living in tribal societies with kings and titles and that sort of thing. But they shapeshift at will and cause sudden sandstorms. Tricksy as individuals, but fairly inert when they are in their civilized groups—they don’t want to enrage their overlords by doing something that might get them in trouble. Getting on my bad side would qualify.”

  I looked toward the dunes, half expecting to see a sandstorm rising in the distance. Fortunately, we only had natural wind to deal with, and the spiky grains of sand flying in our faces.