by Sara King
The djinni scoffed. “What will it be? Rabbits?” He gestured at the endless field of snow beneath their hideaway. “Good luck, mon Dhi’b. I’ll be dining on lamb and pineapple on the dunes of the Fourth Lands.” He disappeared, leaving Kaashifah alone in the cave.
The thought of going without a meal tonight and fighting the Third Lander over an empty stomach after her duel with Thunderbird left her guts twisting upon themselves. Kaashifah bit her lip looking down at her hands. “Wait,” she managed, her voice barely more than a rasp.
At first, she thought the djinni had retreated to the Fourth Realm, as he had threatened, but after a moment, he solidified in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest, feet planted beneath him, an infuriating brow raised in question.
“Name your terms,” she managed, barely able to force the words from her throat. Still staring at her hands, she whispered, “I will consider it.”
The djinni cleared his throat. Then she felt the rush of Fourthlander magic fill the rocky crevice as his eyes began to glow that neon purple and he said, “I, Yad al-‘Aqrab, sand-singer of the Scorpion clan, firstborn son of Bakr al-Shihab, eleventh djinni Lord of the Fourth Lands, hereby offer a bargain to you, Kaashifah the Fury, Justicar of the First Realm, Warrior-Priestess of Horus, Angel of Vengeance, and Maiden of the Sword: Touch my body, to your satisfaction, and I will use the powers of the Fourth Lands to bring you a meal fit for a king. Do you accept?”
Somehow, the idea of touching him was so much more degrading than having him paw at her like a randy beast. She hesitated for long minutes, allowing the silence of the mountainside to penetrate their cave, only the wail of the wind outside to witness her decline. Her fall to a man.
“What part of your body?” she whispered.
The djinni shrugged. “That would be up to you. Do you accept?”
She could choose which part. That seemed reasonable—if the djinni’s nightly bribe could be considered reasonable. After all, what difference was there between having him touch her, and her touching him, in the grand scheme of corruption? Either way, she would have to spend a few years in confinement, undergoing ritual ablutions and the cleansing with incense, before she was ever going to be allowed in a temple again. “I accept,” she muttered.
The djinni’s eyes widened and his body stiffened with the words, “As agreed, so decreed, the bargain has been made.” She felt the knot tighten around her soul, and then ‘Aqrab collapsed to his hands and knees, panting. Between breaths, he managed, “I’ve never…made so…many…weaves of Law…as I have…in these last weeks.” When he looked up at her, his face stretched in a smile. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” Kaashifah gritted. “I’m handing your hide over to the dragons at the very first opportunity.”
The djinni’s face darkened perceptibly before he masked it. Gesturing at the rocky floor of the natural hollow, he asked, “Where would you have me, little wolf?”
“On a pike,” Kaashifah snapped. “I will kill you for this, ‘Aqrab.”
He peered at her. “Well,” he said, shrugging after a moment, “at least I’ll have enjoyed my final days.” Cocking his head, that infernal grin on his face, he added, “A stark contrast to the previous three millennia, I might add.”
Kaashifah narrowed her eyes. “The cave is not large enough for you to lie down. I’ll have to widen it.”
“Oh?” ‘Aqrab asked, his violet eyes amused. “You’d rather I lie down for this, then? Should I take off my sirwal, as well?”
Her face flushed in a wave of fire. “I will not touch you naked.”
The djinni thoughtfully touched his chin. “Now there’s an idea…”
Crying out in disgust, Kaashifah pushed her mind into the ground beneath her, found the closest ley-line, and dragged it forth, supplementing what was left of her own reserves as she pushed the rock around them out and away, giving them more than a simple overhang in which to perform the djinni’s repulsive act.
…Yet, beneath the repulsion there was a nagging exhilaration in the back of her mind, an excitement to once again be able to feel that body, exposed for her, to trace its perfect lines…
Kaashifah squashed that thought with a vengeance. Yes, it was going to take some serious cleansing to be pure enough to step within the temples once more. Her sisters would probably make her meditate in solitude for a few years before they would even allow themselves to gaze upon her again.
With that frustration niggling at her mind, she finished the expansion of the cave and gestured impatiently to the floor. “Lie down, djinni, so that I may satisfy you.”
A slow grin began to spread across the djinni as he lowered himself to a seated position on the floor. “Very well, mon Dhi’b, I suppose if you wish to satisfy me in the process, I will not object.”
Kaashifah frowned. “That was the bargain. You want me to satisfy you.”
‘Aqrab chuckled at her. “No. I said until you were satisfied, mon Dhi’b.”
Her mouth fell open in horror that she had become so complacent she had missed such a monumental change to his wording. “You gave me an impossible task!”
‘Aqrab studied her a moment. Then, all-too-carefully, he said in a soft voice, “Judging by what I saw a week ago, I would disagree.”
Kaashifah’s heart was pounding, now, and she wanted to be anywhere but in the cave with the djinni, but as ‘Aqrab had proven to her so depressingly one week before, not even a void-walk would allow her to escape him. Biting her lip in combined hunger and despair, she turned away from him to look back out over the slopes, once again wondering if she could somehow rummage up enough food from the mountainside to sate the Third Lander’s wanton appetites.
“I will close my eyes again, if that would help.”
Kaashifah let her breath out in a spasm of anguish. She nodded, still facing out over the snowswept landscape, unable to bring herself to turn back to him.
She heard him settle back onto the cavern floor. “Ready when you are, mon Dhi’b.”
Kaashifah took a moment to brace herself, then turned.
What she saw took her breath away. The djinni had stretched out upon the floor, his big arms up, hands tucked beneath his head, displaying the muscles of his chest and shoulders to their fullest effect. He’d even lit a fire on the stone nearby, to better illuminate his glorious body with the flickering orange light.
Lord of War, Kaashifah thought, fighting down an instinctive thrill at the work of art before her, forgive me for what I am about to do. Then, every inch an inner battle, she brought herself to kneel beside ‘Aqrab. Before she could reach out to touch him, however, her fists balled of their own accord. The djinni, true to his word, had closed his eyes, allowing her access to his body, unmolested, but still she couldn’t bring herself to touch him.
“Take as long as you need, mon Dhi’b,” ‘Aqrab said gently, after several minutes of her inner struggle.
“Just—” Kaashifah had to fight down the urge to yell at him for interrupting her, “—don’t talk, djinni.”
“As you wish,” he said softly.
With every ounce of willpower she had, Kaashifah forced her hand open and pushed it out, until it hovered over the djinni’s abdomen. It took an inner battle to lower her fingers to his muscled stomach and hold it there, soaking in the djinni’s unearthly heat. She waited, gritting her teeth as she felt the rise and fall of his breath beneath her, fighting the urge to curl her fingers back into a fist. “How long must I do this?” she growled. But she knew. And the djinni knew she knew. Silence reigned in the cave, leaving her only the pounding of her own heart to accompany her ragged breaths.
She needed to find satisfaction. She needed to enjoy it. The thought made her guts twist, as it was an unspeakable abomination to enjoy the touch of a man, and Kaashifah almost drew back and ended their games right there, but a tiny voice in the back of her head urged her onward. The same voice that had once painted the flesh of a man on a papyrus canvas…
&nb
sp; At first, she couldn’t move her hand from his abdomen. She continued to feel him breathe beneath her, soft and easy. Then, very hesitantly, she began sliding her fingers up his belly, but she quickly found she could not distance her mind from the fact that there was a living, breathing man lying beneath her fingertips. Her movements were stiff, jerky, and her fingers shook.
“This isn’t going to work,” she whimpered.
“Imagine I’m a statue,” the djinni said, eyes still closed and perfectly still.
Kaashifah swallowed as she stared down at his body. With some effort, she was able to forcibly replace it with lifeless stone in her mind. Gingerly, she allowed herself to admire the ebony curves, the beautiful obsidian lines. Like lava-glass recently released from its volcano, the djinni’s body was hot and solid as she followed the lines of his stomach and abdomen with her touch, and only his slight intakes of breath betrayed the fact she was touching a man and not a stone.
Still, she was able to disregard it as she drew her fingers up his chest, across the wide expanse of his shoulders, up the tender hollow of his neck.
She traced her fingers back downwards and the djinni gasped as she touched a nipple. Kaashifah bit her lip, then, knowing that she would be condemned to a thousand hours of penance for that one act—but still unable to fight her curiosity—she reached out and flicked the djinni’s darker lobe of flesh with her fingernail. The djinni shuddered, his arms tensing under his head. Leaning over to reach the left half of his body, she repeated her gesture on the other side.
The djinni’s sharp intake of breath made her give a nervous giggle. She slid her fingers down, once more lingering upon the ribbed surface of his stomach, drawing another sharp breath from her victim. She watched him tense as she traced a finger around his navel, heard him suck in a lungful of air between his teeth when she followed the triangular lines leading beneath his sirwal.
Then, suddenly, it occurred to her.
“You’re ticklish, aren’t you?” she cried.
“I don’t,” the djinni gritted, as she drew her fingers quickly down his ribs, “have to answer that.”
“You word-twisting hypocrite!” she laughed, diving in with both hands and tickling his exposed ribcage.
The djinni shrieked like a little girl and lunged upwards—
—and a booming otherworldly voice bellowed through him, “You have touched my body to your satisfaction, fulfilling your side of the bargain.” And the djinni’s face fell, his pleasure fading. Obviously disappointed, his violet eyes dropped and he said, “I’ll get your meal, mon Dhi’b.”
Feeling exhilarated at the possible applications of her newfound knowledge, Kaashifah waited until the djinni’s back was turned, then reached in and ran her fingers all-too-quickly along his ribs.
The djinni squealed and dropped the sack of lamb he’d made her, spilling steaming, roasted meat across the floor. Then Kaashifah realized she’d touched him again, this time of her own accord, her side of the bargain already complete, and her face began to redden.
The djinni seemed to recognize that fact, too, because when he turned, he was gaping at her as if she’d grown the scales of a serpent. They stared at each other in open-mouthed shock for long moments before the djinni slowly, all-too-carefully stepped over the sack of lamb, toward her. “That,” he said, his voice a deep, dangerous note, “was completely uncalled for, mon Dhi’b.”
Feeling a thrill, Kaashifah took a step back. Her heart was beginning to pound again, slamming like a hammer in her chest, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Prove it.”
The djinni lunged for her, and Kaashifah instinctively shrieked and ran—only to find herself cornered in the back of the cave. Then, before she could divert her path, ‘Aqrab was atop her, bringing them both rolling to the ground, his hands seeking out the tender areas of her ribs and stomach.
Kaashifah screamed and flailed, slapping at him in shrieking, babbling glee. Then, harnessing the wolf, she twisted around and turned the tables, seeking out his sensitive parts, tickling him until he begged for mercy.
The tables turned until the winds howled outside and the meat the djinni had conjured grew cold. By the night’s end, Kaashifah found herself in a tangled heap, lying splayed in the djinni’s arms, panting as he held her in a bear-hug, his final, desperate tactic to prevent her from tickling his big bare feet. Beneath her, the djinni was likewise gasping, trying to catch his breath. She felt him lift her with the rise and fall of his chest, felt his warm body throughout her length, and only worried about it in passing before she relaxed into his arms, enjoying the heat. At her back, the djinni gingerly eased his grip, until it was more of a way of resting his arms than pinning her to his chest.
“You’re warm,” she whispered.
Somewhere near her ear, the djinni rumbled gently, “You’re heavy.”
Kaashifah grinned, despite herself. “It’s the wolf. I’ll be rid of it soon.”
Beneath her, the djinni’s breath caught. “Then you won’t be…trading me…to the serpents?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” she managed, resting her head upon his shoulder as she stared up at the ceiling. “I might…” she hesitated, swallowing down dread, “…make a wish.”
At her back, the djinni stopped breathing. “If this is a ploy to lull me into complacency, little wolf, you’re doing an excellent job.”
“I could say the same of you,” she laughed, snuggling closer. This was so much more comfortable than sleeping in the cold, on the floor.
Enjoy it, the winds seemed to whisper. Take your mate, sister.
Kaashifah, who had closed her eyes while sprawled upon the djinni’s chest, lurched out of the djinni’s arms in a sudden wash of horror, her back afire. “No,” she blurted, twisting to face him.
The djinni jerked, giving her a startled look. “No what? What did I say?”
Kaashifah swallowed hard. She must have heard wrong. A Fury only beget with men by their Lord’s command, out of duty, the sheer necessary act of reproducing their numbers. They never took a mate. That was the folly of the fallen.
To reproduce, a man was chosen from a thousand worthy supplicants, one who had the best physical and mental attributes, and was taken to a temple to be bathed and cleansed while the Fury prepared herself to fulfill their Lord’s command. When she reached the peak of her yearly cycle, his body was disguised in a swath of fabric, his face hidden by a mask. Often, the Fury was ritually bound by her sisters, to keep her from murdering the human in her loathing of the act that followed.
Then, once he had fulfilled his duties of procreation, the male was whisked away, taken to some very distant corner of the world, for if he were to stay near the temple, he would often be found the next morning, dead by her sisters’ hands.
Then the Fury had almost ten years to carry the child, before the man’s taint could be fully expelled from her system. And even then, the Fury’s trials could have been in vain. Half the time, her children were killed at birth.
“You are looking at me as if I just shat on myself,” the djinni commented. He sniffed at his armpits. “Do I smell?”
Yet, if all of her sisters were dead… Kaashifah’s heart began a liquid thunder in her ears. No. That is not possible. Her Lord was not commanding her to lie with this djinni. Djinn were top-tier. They had a chance of overpowering the Fury blood. Half would be djinn. Which, by sheer numbers alone, only a quarter would she be allowed to keep.
‘Aqrab was frowning, now. “You’re as pale as a sheet, mon Dhi’b.”
Yet what more beautiful body could she ask? What more brilliant mind than the twisting labyrinth of a djinni? What more perfect pairing for a strong Fury child?
Take your mate, sister, the winds teased her.
“No!” she snapped, scrabbling backwards away from him, panic rising in her chest. Surely it was not her Time. Surely there were others who could take that mantle, others who were not already so tainted… “I’m not having your child.”
The djinn
i was giving her an odd look. Tentatively, ‘Aqrab cleared his throat and said, “There is…uh…much more…involved…with making a child, mon Dhi’b, so if you think that I’ve somehow impregnated you by lying with you, you’ve been given…misleading…information.” He started to sit up.
“Stay down,” she babbled.
But he sat up anyway and eased closer to her, gently reaching out to touch her hand. “Mon Dhi’b,” he said softly. “You’re still safe. It requires the joining of bodies—”
“I know what it takes!” she cried, jerking away from him.
‘Aqrab dropped his arm and heaved a huge sigh. Looking over her shoulder, he frowned. “My. The wind’s picked up.”
Beyond the mouth of the cave, the mountainside had become a shrieking swirl of snow and air. Kaashifah swallowed hard and almost broke into a sob. The winds had said mate, not consort. Had she fallen that low? Had she met with that disgrace? Was she no longer a Fury, but a breeder?
‘Aqrab must have seen the anguish in her face, because he very carefully sidled closer and reached out to wrap a big arm around her shoulders, despite her wishes. “I’m sorry, mon Dhi’b,” he whispered, into her hair. “I thought you were ready.”
Take your mate, the winds chanted outside. Take him, sister.
Fighting the urge to fling off the hot arms he settled around her, Kaashifah whispered, “Tell me something, ‘Aqrab.”
The djinni moved above her and she felt him looking down at her. “What?”
Eyes fixed on his chest because she could not meet his gaze, she whispered “How many of my sisters do you think survive?”
The djinni tensed above her. “Honestly, mon Dhi’b?” After a pause, he ventured, “My wager is that you’re one of the last.”
The last Fury. Of course she would be expected to fulfill that role. And not once, but dozens of times. Very quickly, Kaashifah’s world was crumbling around her. If she were expected to produce more of her kind, she should find a human male, someone whose blood could not overpower that of a Fury. And yet, when she tentatively lifted her head to look into the djinni’s violet eyes, she could no more imagine herself allowing another man to touch her than she could removing her own intestines.
