by Raine Hughes
Jasmine yanked the sheet up. “What is it thou hath been doing?” Her demand in English was only slightly accented, but precise. It had been some time since she had spoken the language.
His body went ramrod straight and his eyes jerked up to meet hers. “My apologies. I had no right to be staring. It’s just that I’ve never seen…”
He faltered as she quirked one eyebrow to show she did not like where his explanation was leading.
“I put you into my bed several hours ago, after I found you near frozen to death in the snow outside my door.” He fixed her with what she recognized as a reprimanding glare, his words enforcing the admonishment. “You should have more sense than to be outdoors dressed like you were. I assume you have something more suitable in your vehicle?”
What was he talking about?
“You do have other clothes in your car, don’t you?”
He paused, obviously expecting her to say something but she had no idea how to answer. Her keen hearing picked up his next mumbled words.
“The cold has obviously affected her thinking.”
If she was not experienced with ignoring mortal rudeness she would have reacted with suitable indignation then whirled herself out of the picture. With loss of her urn, that was not a choice at present. He no doubt thought his words were beyond her hearing.
For some reason, he focused on the ceiling. She followed his lead but could see nothing to look at.
Louder he said, “I’ll find something you can put on, some warm underwear to go under your, ah, other clothing. I take it you must be an exotic dancer.”
She ignored that statement as well and focused on her clothes scattered about the room. Jasmine bestowed a frown on him and he retrieved them. With great deliberation he placed the green chiffon harem pants on the chair. He added the vivid red top trimmed with gold tassels and folded over top of that, the black jacket that was liberally studded with beads and emeralds. He gave her a pointed look as he added her little leather sandals. The pile did look pitifully insignificant, especially since she had landed in a cold, snowy climate. No wonder he thought her daft.
The thought fled as she realized the veil that normally flowed around her neck and shoulders was missing, probably torn away by the monster that had flung her through the air. Nevertheless she cast a quick look about the gloomy room, hoping to see it but her perusal only showed its absence.
“It’s not much but it’s home,” he said, shuffling backwards towards the doorway. His voice held no hint of apology for his simple dwellings. “By the way, I’m Noah D’Ark.”
“Thee may call me Djinni.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Has thee got a full name?”
“Full name?” she repeated and felt a moment of shame at her inattention to detail. Mortals were big on names. “I am the Djinni Princess Jasmine.” She bowed from her sitting position, but continued to clutch the bedding to her neck. She hardly looked the part of a royal princess at the moment, but there was nothing she could do about it. “I am here to serve thee, Master Noah.” Her speech was no doubt archaic since she had been locked away for so long. She would have to listen to him longer to speak similarly.
He eyed her with that one quirked eyebrow for a long moment then laughed, a hearty, totally amused sound that rumbled up out of his chest and reverberated off the confining walls. With that he turned on his heel and walked out with a purposeful stride, adding to the typical incredulous response. She next heard him thump up a stairway and stride across the floor overhead.
Jasmine shrugged off his disbelief for now and intently peered at her surroundings. While the wallpaper held an unusual design, it did nothing to brighten the small room. A curtain across the doorway, similar to one that hung over a window, blocked out much of the light from the next room. A single overhead light bulb did little to keep the space from appearing utterly dismal.
Raised in a never-ending landscape of open spaces and bright sunlight, Jasmine felt the beginnings of claustrophobia that she never felt in her translucent glass urn. Thankfully, her feelings of being shut in were interrupted by his return.
“Here’s some spare one-piece long-johns I had stored upstairs. I’m afraid it’s mine, a pair I shrank in the laundry on my first attempts at using the washing machine after my wife left; had the water too hot.” He colored slightly as she regarded him and he made show of dropping the bundle onto the chair with the rest of her clothing. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more suitable. The main thing is that you’ll be warm. When you’re dressed, come out into the kitchen, I have stew cooking on the stove.”
He disappeared before Jasmine could speak. She swung her feet off the bed and stood. Goosebumps stood at attention on her arms and bristled on her legs. She eyed the warm bed once more then turned and lifted the white bundle, barely able to see what it was in the dimly lit room. The use of her magic did nothing to remedy the situation. She was shivering too much to control her movements so that the curtain only jiggled and flapped.
She stumbled to the window and flung the curtain back. It not only moved easily, it came right off the wooden rod and went sailing into a corner of the room. There was only an obliterating whiteness beyond the window but at least she had light and the walls no longer pressed in on her. The breathless panic in her chest eased.
Jasmine returned to the clothing Master Noah had given her and grimaced at the shapeless one-piece garment with the button-up fold in the back. Recalling the word underwear she surmised that it must go on before she donned her own clothing.
“I can make clothes more suitable,” Jasmine said aloud, simultaneously folding her arms and giving a nod of her head. Nothing happened, which was nothing new even under the best of circumstances. With a sigh she studied the long-johns closer. Maybe if she had it in her hands she could use her powers to don it. With folded arms and a nod, the garment assembled itself on her, in a fashion. Jasmine surveyed the sleeves, one up to her elbow while the other was down at her wrist, the leggings just as uneven. She was left to manually settle things properly and do up the buttons in front, not an easy task since she had never had any garments that needed buttoning. She did not know how she would have fastened buttons on her backside had they not already been done up!
She had to warm up if she was to be of any use at all. Jasmine bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, urging the blood in her veins to quicken. Her own filmy garments magically slid into place as they should once she ceased shivering and could initiate her actions properly.
Jasmine looked into the mirror and gave a moan of dismay at the outfit she now wore—her bright fabrics alternating with scratchy white material showing at her middle. It peeked out at her ankles and at her wrists, too. A second nod of her head at least tidied the disarray of her hair.
Only then did she realize that her precious birthstone, the rich and especially beautiful emerald, was missing from the setting in the middle of her necklace of rubies and lesser emeralds. “No, no, no! What else can I lose?” She fingered the empty setting in despair and sent prayers to both Allah and the mortal God of her great grandmother, hoping one of her ancestors’ godheads would aid her in finding the gem along with her urn. Carefully removing the necklace, she pocketed it. She would not wear it again until the valuable stone was found.
Jasmine tried to conjure up a crimson head scarf to shelter her neck and shoulders. What she got was a minute rectangle of material that she could at least wrap around her neck in lieu of her necklace; it did not yield much for warmth, otherwise.
After a last look she turned to present herself into a room issuing cooking odors, refusing to think of how common she looked. But then, it suited her situation. She was without her magic urn, a fact that would be looked upon with great disapproval by her peers. And, she was without her precious emerald. Once more she had brought shame and danger down onto her head with her insatiable curiosity. It was no wonder her father had flung her out into the universe, not only to earn her right to remain a royal Djinn
i, but to experience all the things she longed to know about mortals since her great grandmother had been a Christian mortal.
None of that mattered now. She had a new master to serve, her third, and somehow she must do it successfully or lose her right to be a royal Djinni princess. Lifting her head high, she marched determinedly into the room where Master Noah awaited.
* * *
“There you are.” Noah took a moment to look his guest over thoroughly as she entered the kitchen. She remained enticing and exotic in her bright outfit even with his peekaboo long-johns. He stared, transfixed by the image she presented, reminding him of a waif, a lost being, even though she somehow looked delectable at the same time.
Noah forced himself to pull his gaze away and pointed down the hallway. “Toilet and wash facilities are down there.”
He watched her move fluidly, her hips swaying as she headed for the bathroom, pale Jersey-tan hair swinging back and forth, the strands shiny in the overhead lights. Her sandaled feet were whisper light. Belatedly he realized he was still pointing with the spoon and returned his attention to the bubbling meat and vegetables.
When she returned, she took the place he indicated. Her tongue whisked over her full lips, as if the sight of food reminded her of how famished she was. At his go-ahead, she dug into the simple stew and thick slices of his mom’s homemade bread, thawed from a ready supply in his deep freezer and warmed on the back of the stove.
Noah looked on in amusement at the amount of food one wispy lady could eat. Whatever and whoever she was, she had a good appetite. She frequently scratched herself, switching from an arm, along her neckline, her middle both front and back, and her ankles, the woolen underwear undoubtedly irritating her delicate skin. The fact that she had to be wearing it irritated him even more, reminding him of her irresponsibility in being out in such weather dressed as she’d been. He idly wondered what her connection to Mystery Lake was.
She smiled with her generous mouth and luscious lips as she finished the last bite. “This is the most delicious food I have ever tasted, much thanks to thee. In future I will prepare the food thee… you wish to eat, Master. You need only to command me.”
Noah raised a brow this time, wondering if she could cook or not. He didn’t know whether to believe anything she said, not after announcing that she was a Djinni, which he knew was only a mythical being. In trying to maintain a role, she was sticking with the archaic speech but at least she’d dropped the worst of it. He could go along with everything but being referred to as thee or thou.
She had a slight but unusual accent and with her language not always grammatically correct, he suspected English might not be her natural tongue. But he did like the musical quality of her voice. Her complexion certainly wasn’t dark like those he was familiar with from the Middle East but then he already knew there was fair-haired influence and Christianity dating back at least a century, maybe several more. Besides, if she chose to appear different, she could, if was a Djinni.
Of course she isn’t! The Djinni and flying carpets and magic bottles are a figment of someone’s very fertile imagination, born in Arabia or Turkey or some such place, back in the Stone Age. Well, maybe not that far back, he silently conceded. Suffice to say, he knew there was no such thing as a Djinni! He wouldn’t suffer any further doubts on that.
For the short time she would be staying, he could indulge her fantasy, but he refused to call her Djinni or Princess. He wondered if Jasmine was at least her real name. He redirected his gaze to the window. “Once this snow stops, I’ll locate your vehicle and you can be on your way to your destination.”
“Oh, but I am at my destination. Wherever I land, I must obey the one who releases me from my urn.”
“I didn’t release you from anything! I just picked you up out of the snow. You were already out of your bottle.” Oh, great, now he was going along with the charade!
“Urn.”
Noah blinked at the single, unsettling word. He had to escape! He leaped to his feet and headed for the door. “I have to feed the livestock.”
“I enjoy animals very much. Shall I accompany thee?”
Her throaty request startled him and sent an unnamed yearning coursing through his body. Keeping his back to her, Noah struggled to formulate a reasonable answer.
“It’s very cold. I’ll have to, ah, locate a snowsuit for you. Mine is in the porch.” He gestured at another door and realized he was babbling but he couldn’t seem to stop. “There’s a snowsuit somewhere upstairs packed in a box. I’ll look later. Right now the, ah, the animals are hungry.” It sounded more like he was making excuses. He was. Let her think whatever she wanted. He hurried into the porch where he pulled on his snowsuit and escaped outdoors.
Noah shivered. It wasn’t the cold that sent goosebumps across the back of his neck. It was her stare, her dark molten-brown eyes watching his every move. He’d felt her gaze on his back, too. With her straight posture that didn’t look stiff at all, he still thought she might be an exotic dancer, but she could even be an escaped lunatic. Enticing or crazy—he didn’t know which thought shook him more.
* * *
Through the window, Jasmine watched her savior, Master Noah, trudge through the deep snow. He was a strange one. Most masters would be making their demands by now. Thankfully he was not issuing commands, yet. She was not certain that she could have accommodated him, although now that she was warm, she should not have any more difficulty than usual. As her father had so adamantly pointed out before flinging her urn out into space, she made more than her fair share of bungles.
She shook off the dismal reality and returned her thoughts to the present.
What livestock did he have? Suddenly, she had to know, even if it meant going out into that swirling snowstorm. It moved and settled and drifted like sand. It was also a freezing cold element, something she normally only saw at the highest elevations of her mountain home, and definitely not something she had viewed up close very often.
Jasmine found the stairs that ran upward from beside the bathroom and mounted them. It was cold up here, obviously a place primarily used for storage since boxes were stacked against two walls. Folding her arms, she nodded at the first box and the lid immediately lifted, the contents rising to hover in an orderly fashion over the cardboard container. There was nothing that resembled what Noah had been wearing as he went out into the snowstorm. Another nod sent them back. Focusing on the next box, she was dismayed when it popped open and flung clothing all about the room. She concentrated hard and succeeded in getting everything back in without incident. Thus she went from box to box until she located a garment something like Noah’s.
Not quite quick as a nod—more like four or five—she was dressed in the bulky one-piece garment, instantly feeling warmer. She made her way down the stairs, the bulky material hindering her movement. She entered the little room that was the porch Noah had spoken of, to find it as cold as the upstairs.
Jasmine paused just before opening the door to the outside. Sandals obviously would not do. She looked about the small room and spotted what appeared to be oversized socks made of some sort of felt material. They were thick and held their shape. They were warm on her hand and she decided that the pair of them would be suitable for footwear in the snow. A nod reduced them to her smaller foot size and out she went into the cold.
It was laborious going. Sand held one up to a degree, but this cold, fluffy stuff allowed her to sink down to the ground underneath. Extracting each leg to move forward took a lot of effort. Next time she would try using her powers to transfer herself from place to place but she did not want to take a chance now. Who knew where she might end up?
By the time she got to the barn, she was winded. Inside, Jasmine paused to catch her breath. The air smelled of sweet grass with a lingering overtone of cow, which was understandable because one stood with uplifted head to stare at her.
“Ah, baqara,” Jasmine crooned then repeated the greeting in English. “Hello, cow.�
� She approached slowly so as not to alarm the cud-chewing animal, pleased to see that the cow was not in the least bothered by her presence. A sudden commotion from above drew her attention only an instant before a huge blob of pale green something came down on top of her. Although it was springy, Jasmine fell back with a shriek.
* * *
“What the heck?” Noah peered down through the trapdoor to the ground floor. He was startled to see the woman he’d left in the house. She was sitting half under the pile of feed he’d thrown down to the cow. She was spitting hay out of her mouth while plucking at the prickly stems that had gotten into the hood around her face.
He groaned. How had she found that snowsuit and gotten out to the barn so fast? Obviously, she was going to cause him trouble while she was here. The quicker he found her vehicle the better, for more reasons than one!
He descended the wall ladder and dropped down beside her. “Didn’t know you were down here,” he said, refraining from apology. She shouldn’t have been there.
She valiantly tried to scramble to her feet. Belatedly Noah offered her a hand up. Hers was icy cold, adding to his irritation with her for coming out without mittens. He wasn’t going to hold her hands and immediately dropped it. She could warm them herself—back in the house.
“Much thanks to thee… you,” Jasmine said, still spitting alfalfa leaves from her mouth. “I am acquainting with thy baqara, your cow. What is her name?” She reached out and patted the animal that had resumed eating after the surprise they’d both received.
“Jersey,” Noah said, which was the breed of the bovine, not a name since he hadn’t given her one. When Jasmine continued to stroke the cow, crooning her name, he dryly added, “real imaginative.” She didn’t blink as she met his gaze. It appeared that the comment went over her head and now the cow had an official name. At once he felt sorry for the way he’d delivered the comment. She was probably unfamiliar with the bovine breed, possibly had no farm background whatsoever.
