The Egyptologist (Jinn Series Book 5)

by Ayse Hafiza

  She was a mess. She was someone’s wife, a mother of two, someone's daughter and someone's neighbor. She wasn't a meaningless prostitute. She was someone. Now, I resolved to bury this someone in an unmarked grave and no one but me would know what happened. I was so sad for her, and having seen the result of his depravity I was scared for myself. I washed her lifeless body as best I could, and washed his seed from her legs. Regardless of Hadiji’s sins in life, I would give her the best and most respectful funeral I could.

  He was out of the house, and he would want me to get rid of her body while he was away. With me as his tool, his depravity would know no boundaries. I was scared for myself, and for the people of the town. I was afraid for my soul. I had never tested my sense of depravity before, and I somehow knew that’s what Bradford wanted to understand.

  I buried her washed body in an unmarked grave, with a bed sheet as a shroud so that she would not be in the shameless state that he had left her in. I prayed over her rigor mortised dead body, asking forgiveness for her. I did this with all the sincerity that I could muster.

  Hadiji had a horrible ending, and I feared mine would soon come.

  As I stood next to her unmarked grave, I could feel Amy’s eyes on me. She must have been following me. I realized this was the order of the council. I was not permitted by Bradford to have any communication with any other Jinn, and if I tried to disobey him I would instantly be punished. This command included Amy. It was heartbreaking—I wish I could have asked her to help me get away. She had seen Bradford's work, and she knew he was a psychopath; she would worry for me.

  I wanted to burn Bradford's apartment with him in it. I wanted to destroy him. He had ruined my life. Amy watched me filling in the grave, and I knew she could sense the rage growing inside of me, the new personality which I was developing from spending time with him, the abyss in my soul that I was being dragged into by his sinister mastery of me.

  When Bradford came back that evening, he was impressed to see the apartment cleaned as if Hadiji hadn't been in the house a few hours earlier.

  As he looked out the window, but couldn't see all my family standing in the trees, watching him. I knew Amy was gathering an army. A plan would be hatched to save me from this man. It would be a plan which meant that either I would live, or Bradford would live. There wasn't enough room on the face of this earth for both of us.

  As Bradford drank his whiskey, he asked if Hadiji had any family. I mentioned the military man's photo, the little girl in the bed and the baby in the cot. I did not volunteer this information easily. As his slave, I had an incantation on me which meant I could not lie to him now. Although, by mentioning the children, I hoped that it was a sign for him to reflect on his actions. With a slight glimmer of hope, I wished he understood that he should not have treated her as he did. Later, I discovered I was a poor judge of his character. With an unhealthy interest, he asked the age of the girl in the bed with her. When I told him that I thought she was five, he seemed less interested. Maybe his tastes weren't so depraved.

  "Ornais, when I tell you, then bring her to me," Bradford said. "I don't want to be greedy!" He said these words as if he was doing the world a favor.

  That night as he went to bed, I knew that Bradford must die soon. I wouldn't sacrifice the life of Hadiji's daughter to this wicked man. I wouldn't sacrifice my sanity or afterlife to his blood lust.

  Chapter Four The Murder of a Murderer

  Bradford would have a price to pay for his blood lust, a price to pay for the death of Hadiji. She may have been a woman of ill repute, but that did not mean she deserved such a horrible death. It must have terrified her to be with a demonic man like Bradford and have a Jinni responsible for her capture. She was in hell with him that night.

  Life is precious, I was outraged beyond my ability to contain myself when I thought of how Bradford was so comfortable extinguishing it.

  As time passed, my family and community were all present. They gathered to watch me come and go from his apartment. They came as close as they could to Bradford and I. They watched me run his errands—stealing things for him, whatever he desired, more people for him to rape and murder. Each life extinguished eroding a piece of me.

  They watched on in silence, trying to figure out how to help me escape. They did not want to leave me with him, but the magic he used was old magic. My family could see that as I spent time with Bradford, he was challenging me. He was so sick and twisted in his ways that I was losing my respect for life. Losing respect for my own life.

  My community finally asked for help from a group of malevolent jinn, who were more used to dealing with people like Bradford. These Jinn were not the sort that we kept company with. They were interested because I was being humiliated and had been captured by a human, which was something our kind had not seen for many years. I think these malevolent Jinn relished in my misfortune. Humiliation, my last torture, upon all the layers of torture I was exposed to by spending time with Bradford.

  There was little chance of hope. I would be bound to Bradford for the rest of my life. Escape was only possible if he or I died. The Jinn had their meetings in Bradford’s garden while he was away in the Valley of the Kings. They spoke loudly. Therefore, they weren't directly communicating with me, just speaking loud enough so I could eavesdrop and hear their conversation. As I listened to them speak, I learned their plans. It was in this way that I could not be compelled by Bradford to share what I knew, as it had not been said to me directly. I could keep his forthcoming death a secret.

  So that was it. It was decided. The plan was simple. It was to kill Bradford.

  How would they kill him? They hatched a plan which would unfold in the Valley of the Kings. After all, that was our home. We knew every hiding place and secret passageway. It doesn't matter how much time Bradford had spent there, he would never know it like we did. We had bait: Amy, who had seen me burying Hadiji, would shape shift into Hadiji’s form and call Bradford, lure him deeper into the tombs, bring him to a room with ancient magic, deep inside the tombs. Once he entered this area, it would neutralize his threat. In that space, the malevolent Jinn would frighten him. We fully expected that he would make a mistake, which would somehow make him vulnerable to us. Then they would kill him. The thought of him being dead was glorious to my ears. Once he died, I would be free. Theoretically, I should be able to walk out of his apartment, and that would be the sign that the spell he had over me would be lifted.

  There were too many things in my mind which could have gone wrong. I didn't know if Bradford would be the type of man who could make a mistake. From the time we had spent together, I had observed he was incredibly careful.

  The malevolent Jinn seemed confident. They had history with hostile humans. I wasn't comfortable with this plan, though, not at all. Specifically, I didn't like the involvement of Amy or any from my community.

  If everything went to plan, I knew I would be able to walk out the door in a day or two, so I waited for salvation. I prayed, hoping that I was not forsaken.

  Chapter Five New Beginnings

  It was early on Friday morning. I was fraught with worry. Then finally I felt his presence disappear.

  As every moment passed, and his grip faded, my hope increased, and a renewed sense of getting my life back flooded me with praise for my creator. I was hopeful, seeing a light out of the tunnel of despair which I had lived in as his slave.

  Amy came to me. I could feel her presence as she waited in the garden for him to finally pass. Once all sign of him was gone, she rushed into the red room and grabbed hold of me. My body was weak; he purposefully kept me weak and unfed, only feeding me to commit crimes for him.

  I collapsed into her arms. She held me like a baby, stroking my head and telling me it would be all right. Others from our community came and carried me back to the Valley. The sight of it was a blessing to my eyes. For so long, I never thought I would see my home again.

  We set his apartment on fire when we left. We didn't w
ant anyone else to stumble upon his belongings. Bradford had indeed been a dangerous man, a man with disregard for life, who took his own desires as his God, a greedy consumer who took all that he could take. I hoped he’d burn in hell.

  Glad to smell the sweet scent of freedom and back in the bosom of my family, my scars started to heal. The deepest of them were the mental scars. I felt strength in my community’s presence. I didn't know if I could be the same person I had been before. Bradford was a wicked man, and my innocence was profoundly impacted by seeing such violence. I sat with the leader of our community, who acted as my therapist as I discussed my time with Bradford. Slowly at first I relayed the story, and it felt like a different existence and not my past.

  All the Jinn were scared when they heard about my experiences. We all vowed not to ever again get too close to such a human like this, and from that time forward, individuals would never do reconnaissance missions alone.

  I hoped time would let me heal.

  I started to feel comfortable in my skin as time passed. I picked up the habits of my old life. I was glad to be with my people, and happy to be distracted. I did ask what happened to Bradford, and the elders told me that the malevolent Jinn had taken care of him. I knew that meant he likely had an extreme and twisted end to his life. He was a horrible man and deserved whatever end he met.

  Slowly, with baby steps, I reintegrated myself, gaining confidence with each passing day. Like helping a survivor of a great tragedy, our kind would sit with me to hear me tell of my time with Bradford, once I was comfortable speaking about it. Initially it had been hard, but eventually, I liked to talk about it—it was a kind of therapy, and each time I discussed it I felt that part of me was beginning to heal, like the Ornias of the past was a different person. I felt the experience had made me stronger, although it had nearly killed me at the same time.

  It took almost ten years to feel that Bradford was my past. One night, as I was alone in the Valley looking at the stars reflecting on their beauty, I saw a bright light flash in front of my eyes. Jinn move like this, so I realized I was not alone.

  I waited to be addressed and thought nothing of it until I heard his voice.

  “Ornias” he called out.

  My blood curdled with the sound of his voice. I hadn't heard that voice for a long time, but I knew it instantly.

  Bradford revealed himself. He stood in front of me. His existence was not of the human form I had seen him in last.

  “How is this possible?” I asked him, realizing that somehow he had changed his human form and become a Jinni.

  “Hahaha!” His devilish laugh pierced every bone in my body. “Did you think you killed me?”

  “Yes,” I said, unable to deny the truth.

  He tutted and looked me squarely in the eyes. “What did you think I was doing in Egypt? Here in the Valley of the Kings?” Bradford motioned to the desolate terrain around us.

  I didn't know how to answer that question.

  “Ornias, I wasn't fascinated in Ancient Egypt, and I wasn't interested in commanding you. You were just a rabbit that fell into my trap,” Bradford said. “You still don’t understand, do you? All I ever wanted was to be like you,” Bradford said.

  My hair stood on end. That was his plan all along? To trade his human existence and become a Jinni? Become one of us?

  “Be as fast as you, be as timeless as you, be as strong as you,” Bradford confessed.

  “Why didn't the other Jinn kill you?” I asked him.

  “Because I was just like them. They saw the potential in me. It was what you never saw. They saw my violence, my ability to create mayhem, and they loved me for it,” Bradford explained. “As soon as we were alone together, they deceived your community and asked me to join them. I gave up my worldly existence—it was the offer I was looking for and in the process, I became their student. That’s where I have been, I was a good student, and they have taught me well. I have mastered my art.”

  I was sick in my stomach, sick to my very core. This despicable man was now one of our kind, one of our extreme kind. He would be unstoppable.

  “Well, it’s lovely to catch up,” Bradford said.

  His tone made me realize this wasn't a social call. He had a task for me. I wasn't under his compulsion, but he would never leave me alone if I didn't do what he asked. In his Jinni form, he would be a million times more dangerous than he could be in his human form.

  “What do you want?” I asked him. The thought of doing yet another thing for this demon made me sick.

  “It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you,” Bradford promised, his tone of voice suggesting it was a concession to me. “From now on I’ll do my own dirty work, just because it will give me pleasure and I know it doesn't have that effect on you.”

  That was true. Bradford’s dirty work gave me no joy. I was glad he realized that.

  “What do you want?” I said, reasserting myself.

  “Hadiji’s daughter, she must be around fifteen now. I want to see if her quim is tighter than her mother’s.” Bradford laughed, a sick and devilish laugh.

  Diseased in his heart, diseased to his core—I could see why the malevolent Jinn liked him.

  “Just show her to me and I’ll do the rest,” Bradford said. “For old times’ sake.”

  I did not understand the nostalgia that Bradford had. This little girl who was robbed of her mother—the thought of robbing her of her future and putting her in the hands of Bradford made me sick.

  “No! I won't do it,” I said, holding my ground with him. I was under no compulsion. I could refuse him.

  “Oh! Don’t be like that, Ornais!” Bradford said, as if I was spoiling his fun. He could see I wasn't amused. “I’ll give you a choice. It’s a shit choice, but it’s still a choice: Hadiji’s fifteen-year-old daughter’s quim, or Amy’s quim. You decide.”

  He was stronger than me. I would be powerless in a fight. And I couldn't risk having him around Amy—that was not an option, and he knew it.

  We stood in the branches of a tree, which overlooked the school playground, and I hesitantly pointed out Hadiji’s daughter. She had grown into a beautiful little girl with long brown plaits in her hair. She looked like a picture of innocence, playing jump rope with her friends. Resembling her mother, she had an oval face, stunning green eyes, and the cutest lace-trimmed long socks which went perfectly with her school skirt. She didn't look like a child of tragedy. She had been well looked after since her mother's death.

  My job was done, and it was the last time I saw him. I left him salivating as he watched her play with her friends, rubbing himself inappropriately in the tree.

  When I returned to the Valley of the Kings it was night time. I felt again the same weight on my conscience that I had the day I’d been rescued from Bradford. As I thought of the horrible things I’d just allowed him to do to that poor little girl, I felt the helplessness of what it means to be a Jinni whose choices and power was limited, that such evil could have such a pull in the world. I thought of what he was doing right now to Hadiji’s poor daughter and how it was all my fault…how I had no choice, just as with her mother.

  It was all too much for me. Alone, with the monuments of the Ancients, the testament to our kind and our superior ways over humans, memory of the hope we once provided, I looked at the stars and cried.

  Confessions of a Witch

  The following is the first few pages from the short story Confessions of a Witch, published in 2017. It is available for Kindle e-readers from Amazon. It is also offered as part of a compilation of Jinn Series stories in paperback format.

  Chapter One - Ade goes to Africa

  The Chief Inspector delegated the task to me. It became my job because I was the only officer at a high enough rank with the correct skills. Specialist Crime and Operations could at times be a gruesome business. That was the CI’s official justification for giving me a high-profile case which had caused a furor in the media. A tacit nod to my cultural background.<
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  In my opinion, political correctness had gone mad. I wished the Metropolitan police wouldn't skirt around the issue, and they’d just say, ‘Hey, Ade you're African. You'll get the culture more than us, can you take the case?’. Political correctness served to create awkwardness consistently the elephant in the room. Senior managers would go to the ends of the earth not to acknowledge my culture.

  As news of this case broke in the media, I knew it would end up on my desk. I also knew my colleagues would be whispering in the hallway, unspoken questions, wondering how familiar I was with witchcraft subcultures in Nigeria. Benign questions that would then have led along the lines of how long it had been since my family had assimilated into life in the UK? All jarring to the ear, and so my colleagues could ascertain whether I had secret affiliations to sick psychopaths who behead little boys, parcelled their bodies into suitcases and floated the grisly remains in the River Thames.

  With the uncomfortable meeting over, I knew I would go home to tell Halina my devoted and understanding wife, and Kesha my five-year-old daughter that the Directors wanted me on a plane to Abuja later in the week. Halina and I had discussed it before, she knew this was a high-profile case, with the media relentlessly camped outside the Metropolitan Police Office in London. The ritual slaughter of a child in the center of a modern cosmopolitan city was not a small matter. We had a duty to investigate, What happened? Where was the boy from? Who murdered him?