Djinn and Tonic

by Jasinda Wilder

  Nothing helps. I nearly dial her number a thousand times, but the farewell I saw in her eyes stops me every time. Maybe I misinterpreted things, maybe she’d just been physically attracted to me and decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who didn’t have the same powers, or maybe she wasn’t even attracted to me at all. The more time passes, the more tangled and distorted my memories become, making me doubt what I saw, making me doubt what I felt for her in the first place.

  Finally, at the start of the second week, I show up at the precinct, intending to beg the captain to let me go back to work. I don’t even get past the front desk. Archer is there as I walk through the front doors, telling me in no uncertain terms to get lost.

  I’ve got another week before I can go back to work; I’ll be bat-shit crazy by then, no doubt. So I run, go to the practice range, and bench more weight than is safe…

  And Leila teases me in my dreams, peeling that orange dress over her head, lips centimeters from mine but never meeting, secrets abounding in her dark eyes, breasts swaying and moments from being bared to me.

  Every gust of wind smells of her, shampoo and cherry lip balm and jasmine. Every gust of wind makes me turn around and look for her. I hear her voice, echoing just around the corner.

  She’s in the wind, slipping through my fingers.

  * * *

  I honestly can’t explain how, today, I happen to be standing outside this particular door. It’s crazy, but here I am, at the end of my rope, about to knock on the door of a virtual stranger.

  I lift my hand and rap on the door, hear a gruff voice say, “Just a minute, hold your horses then, I’m comin’.”

  Sean Byrne opens the door, iron-gray hair ruffled, a red cardigan hanging off his shoulders despite the late July heat. “Detective Hale, yeah?” Sean says.

  “Yes, Mr. Byrne. It’s Detective Hale.” I feel stupid, standing here bothering an old man I met once.

  But I’ve got no one else to talk to, nowhere else to turn, and for some reason, Sean Byrne seems like a possible answer. He’s Jack Byrne’s grandfather, and he’s old Irish. In the course of investigating Miriam, I spent an interesting afternoon talking to Sean, who claims to have what he calls the “Second Sight”, which, as far as I can tell, is some kind of ability to see the future. When old Sean Byrne made that claim then, I’d dismissed him out of hand as crazy, just another old coot suffering from dementia or something. But now, after what I’ve experienced regarding both Miriam and Leila, I’m having second thoughts.

  And honestly, what do I have to lose? If he claims to be able to see the future, maybe he won’t be as quick to dismiss my craziness as I was his.

  “Well boy-o, come on in. No sense air-conditionin’ the outdoors, yeah?” Sean pulls me inside and closes the door, waving for me to follow him through a formal living room to a bright kitchen painted a powder blue.

  Sean waves me toward a stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. “So,” he says. “What is it you want, then? Why’re you here, Detective? Hmmm? It’s not for work, I know that much. You’ve settled the investigation into Miriam, she’s told me as much.”

  “I…I’m honestly not sure, Mr. Byrne.”

  “Och, call me Sean. So, you’re here, but you don’t know why. Well, start at the beginning and mebbe we can figure it out.” Sean goes to a cupboard above the stainless steel refrigerator and grabs a bottle of Johnnie Walker. “Care for a whiskey? You look like you could use one, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  “Sure. I’m off duty.” I accept the tumbler of amber liquid, but I sip at it sparingly.

  Sean nods, peering at me with piercing eyes. “Listen, son, I don’t know why you’re here exactly, but I’d best make one thing clear to you right now: I can’t see the future on command. It doesn’t work that way.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that. I mean, if you could see the future, that might help, but…like I said, I’m not sure why I’m here. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, and I wasn’t sure who to talk to…and for some reason, you came to mind. I hope I’m not bothering you. It’s totally out of the blue, I know.”

  Sean waves a hand. “No way, lad. I’m a bored old man. You’ll be the most interesting thing to happen all week.” Sean grabs my hand and squeezes it, a grandfatherly gesture that somehow makes me feel immediately calmer. “Just start at the beginning, yeah?”

  I draw a breath and begin my story, hesitantly at first. I tell Sean about the case with Miriam and how it turned out, how I met Leila, and then I explain my reservations and doubts and questions, though the oddness of doing so to a complete stranger isn’t lost on me. Through it all Sean merely nods now and then, giving away nothing of what he thinks.

  When I finish telling Sean about my latest encounter with Leila, he’s silent and thoughtful for a long moment.

  “Look, I’ve got no Sight on this, lad. I’m sorry.” Sean shrugs apologetically. “But I can tell you this, and it don’t take no visions, only the wisdom of age and the experience with heartbreak: the girl loves you. You love her back, and that’s a fact. But if she’s got secrets, it’s for a reason. But in my experience, I can tell you that secrets will out, in time. Don’t force ’em from her, lad. That’s the surest way to make sure she bolts, and then you won’t never get her back. Take that from one who knows.” Sean’s eyes cloud, staring beyond me and into the past.

  I sigh; I know Sean’s right, but I’d come to the same conclusion already, and I’m still wondering what I’m doing here. Just as I’m about to thank Sean and make my exit, the side door to the kitchen opens.

  Jack Byrne strolls in, keys in one hand, cell phone in the other. “Hey, Gramps. I’m home,” he calls out, not looking up from his phone.

  He stops in the entryway, the screen door not quite closed, distracted in that peculiar way people have when typing a text message. He sends the message and looks up, freezing when he sees me sitting at the table.

  “Did I miss something?” Jack asked. “Is everything okay? It can’t be Miriam, I just talked with her a second ago…”

  “Relax, boy-o,” Sean says, waving a hand in a ‘calm down’ motion. “He’s here on personal business, not as a copper.”

  “Gramps, no one calls them ‘coppers’ anymore,” Jack says, shaking his head. “And I’m pretty sure that’s rude.”

  I laugh. “No, it’s fine. It’s funny actually. But your grandfather is right, Jack. I’m not here as part of an investigation. Sorry if I startled you.”

  Jack pulls out a chair between the two men and sits down, leaning back on the chair’s hind legs. “What possible personal business could you have with Gramps?” he asks, his voice openly suspicious.

  Before I can respond, Sean reaches out and grabs his grandson’s hand, fixing him with a hard, piercing gaze. “Why don’t you ask him that yourself, son? Take a look.”

  Jack shifts in his chair and lets the front legs touch back down. “He wants a Sight? Is that why he’s here? How does he even know about that?” Jack sounds exasperated. “You can’t go telling everyone you see that you have the Second Sight, Gramps, I’ve told you this. Not everyone will understand.”

  Gramps huffs scornfully. “Jackie, son, I’m almost ninety years old. I’ve had the Second Sight since I was knee-high to a grasshopper, and I believe I know who to tell and who not to. You forget who you’re talkin’ to sometimes, boy-o. Try not to.” Sean’s voice is hard as iron, and Jack looks chagrined.

  “Sorry, Gramps.”

  “Eh, don’t mention it, son. Now, do as I say. Look, and See.”

  Jack sighs, nodding. He reaches out and takes my hand in his, which has me shifting uncomfortably, but Jack squeezes hard, not letting me draw away.

  “It’s necessary, boy,” Gramps tells me. “Just let it be.”

  I’m not sure what to expect, especially after the unbelievable things I’ve experienced with both Miriam and Leila. What happens when someone has a Sight? Flashes of light? Mental probing? Levitation? And
what is the Second Sight, anyway?

  Jack is silent for several awkward minutes, eyes closed, hand clamped down like a vise on mine. The silence drags on so long that I’m about to jerk myself free, but then Jack’s eyes flick open and I’m pinned in place by the odd and unnatural light there. His brown irises seem to flicker and flare with a distant flame, and I feel a wave of heat wash over me, traveling up from my hand to my arm, then blazing through my whole body, setting every hair on my body on end. My heart palpitates wildly, each second drawing out and lengthening into lifetimes.

  Jack’s eyes stare away into the middle distance, seeing something not physically present, and I note idly how much like his grandfather Jack looks. When he speaks, Jack’s voice is preternaturally deep and echoes off the walls with impossible volume, reverberating in my chest.

  “She’s about to run,” Jack says, still gazing into nothingness over my shoulder. “You can’t let her go. The window of opportunity is short, and you have to seize it or all will be lost. You are called to greater things than you know, but Leila’s secrets will change you. You can only achieve your destiny if she is with you. Your mind is closed to the truth, Detective. You must open it, and not fear what you do not understand.” Jack’s words are oddly formal and out of character, and the inherent accuracy of them chills me to the marrow of my bones. There is no way Jack Byrne could possibly know what’s going on, as he hadn’t been home when I told my story to Sean. There’s just no way. I shake my head, pushing backward in my chair, scraping it on the floor tiles.

  “How can you…” I stand up too fast, knocking the chair over. “You can’t…”

  Sean rises as well, takes me by the shoulders, shaking me. “You came looking for this, boy-o. Don’t panic on me, now. He had a Sight, and a true one. Can’t get much clearer than that, lad, let me tell you. Sometimes these Sights only cloud the issue, but you got lucky.”

  Jack seems exhausted, slumping forward on the table. He glances up at me. “Well? Don’t just stand here, dumbass! Go! Find her, before it’s too late.”

  I head toward the door, but Sean stops me. “You don’t want to believe, at first,” he says. “You want to think it’s your imagination, or a coincidence. You’ll want to run off and do things your own way, and I’d advise you against that. The only answers you’ll find, looking into it your way, will be answers you won’t like. Just remember, when the moment comes, what you heard here. You’ll be faced with a choice, and it won’t be an easy one. When that moment comes, trust your heart and your instincts, not your mind.”

  I feel the words hammer into me, driving down deep and resonating; I know Sean is right.

  The moment I’m out of this house, away from Sean and Jack, I know my mind will start to play tricks on me. I’ll replay our conversations mentally, over and over again, and I’ll look for flaws and try to convince myself it’s all impossible.

  And I’m right: as soon as I feel the freeway humming under my tires, the doubts begin. I fight them, but they seep in anyway. All the lies and evasions Leila has fed me are rearing up into insurmountable obstacles, and her strange, frightening powers are laced throughout it all, painting everything with broad strokes of implausibility.

  The dreams, recurring and tempting, those too are part of the picture. Is she feeding me the dreams, somehow? Sending me dreams of herself for some nefarious purpose? Is she using me, twisting and brainwashing me for her own purposes? She seems so genuine when I’m with her, yet so conflicted by desire and fear.

  But what if all that is a game?

  By the time I’m back at my apartment, my head is spinning with a million questions, a million doubts and a million theories, and through it all I keep seeing her as she had been in the vortex, her black hair haloed around her, her eyes white and her hands bold, dress pressed to her lush body by the raging winds turning the edges of her form invisible.

  I lie in my bed, still fully clothed, every muscle tense, refusing to allow myself to move, forcing all thoughts from my mind. Eventually sleep claims me, but even in sleep I can’t escape Leila, because the dreams are waiting.

  Chapter 12: The Calculus of a Moment

  Leila

  I’m tempted to not answer the door when I hear the knock. It can’t be anything good. Right now, with the way I’m feeling, I’d like nothing more than to just disappear, leaving behind Carson and Hassan and my father and everything, but I know that won’t solve a thing.

  I open the door. The woman standing in front of me is about my height but a little heavier and a little curvier, thick black hair pulled up into a loose, sloppy knot. She radiates power, but not ifrit power…I nearly stumble backward when I realize she’s a djinni, and an immensely powerful one at that. My hackles rise, my defenses slamming into place. Djinn are the natural, polar opposite of my people. The two races are mortal enemies, even though we are much the same; ours is an age-old feud, rooted in the beginnings of time itself.

  The woman is examining me, looking into me, assessing me. “You’re Leila,” she says, pushing past me into my apartment uninvited.

  “Yes. Who are you, and what are you doing here?” I’m coiling my power, ready to hurl it at her if she makes a move I don’t like.

  “Don’t do that,” she warns. “I know our kinds don’t usually get along, but I’m not here for a fight. I wouldn’t have knocked on your door if I was.”

  “What do you want?” My nerves are on edge, and my powers automatically ignite, causing winds to skirl around us, fluttering our clothes and hair.

  The sense of raw power I’m getting from her is nerve-wracking, and she’s not even holding her powers at the ready, as I am. I force myself to relax, letting the winds abate. She’s not posing a threat, and I’ve done enough damage to my apartment as it is. I just spent a bunch of money I didn’t really have to spend on getting the kitchen fixed.

  When the energy subsides within me and the winds die down, the woman visibly loosens. “That’s better. Now, how about a drink?”

  “A drink? It’s ten in the morning.” Despite my protestations, I’m pulling a pair of Michelob Lights from the fridge and opening them.

  The woman takes hers and drains a quarter of it immediately. She sits down on my couch, crossing thick, muscular legs. I notice for the first time how scantily she’s dressed: she’s wearing a pair of black nylons, an embarrassingly low-cut shirt and a skirt that barely deserves the name. She’s wearing an apron with a pad of paper and straws peeking out from the pocket. She stinks of cigarettes and alcohol. I assume that she’s a waitress, probably at a nightclub or one of the casinos, more likely. If she’s dressed like that at ten in the morning, she’s probably coming off of a midnight shift.

  “Thanks,” she says. “My name is Nadira Nasri. As you seem to have guessed, I’m a djinni.”

  It’s odd to be drinking beer this early in the morning, but this whole thing is strange, and the beer helps calm my nerves. “What do you want, Nadira? And how do you know me?” I sit down on the loveseat kitty corner to her.

  “That’s complicated. Here’s the short version: you’re in love with Carson Hale, right?” I nod and try to contain my shock; no sense in denying it when it’s stated so baldly. She continues: “Carson was part of an investigation recently into a rather unusual death at the MGM. Do you know anything about this?”

  I nod again. “Yeah, I know a little about it. It had something to do with a girl named Miriam, I think. She was a djinni, I’m pretty sure. A fire elemental, I know that much, at least. The whole case really threw him for a loop.”

  Nadira takes a long drink, uncrossing her legs and leans forward. “You’re correct: Miriam is a djinni, a fire elemental. And what’s more, she was raised not knowing what she was. Anyway, Miriam is dating a guy named Jack, and Jack has what’s called the Second Sight. It’s the ability to see the future, but more like prophecy than clairvoyance. Don’t worry if you’ve never heard of it; what’s relevant to you is that Carson met with Jack and his grandpa, and your name
came up. I know this doesn’t make any sense, so just listen. Jack had a Sight about the two of you—you and Carson—but he didn’t tell Carson everything he saw in that vision. Okay? It wouldn’t’ve made any sense to him, because Carson doesn’t know a damn thing about our world and Jack knew that.”

  My head is spinning. Carson talked to Miriam’s boyfriend? Second Sight? “What the hell are you talking about?” I’m up and pacing, and I can’t quite keep the winds from leaking out to gust around me like a cape trailing behind me.

  Nadira stays seated, watching me pace. “Like I said, I know this sounds crazy. You don’t know Miriam, or Jack, or me. But you’re involved with us. Or at least, you will be.” I pass by her, and Nadira latches on to my wrist and pulls me to a stop, her eyes intense. “The point is that a war is brewing. Djinn and ifrits have feuded for millennia. You know this. And although we’ve had a sort of tenuous peace for the last few hundred years, that’s going to come to an end, and soon. People like your betrothed—” she puts an emphasis on that word, making it sound almost like a curseword, “are causing trouble. Hassan is out of control, making public scenes, drawing attention to himself, and thus to all of us. For thousands of years, our kind have attempted to blend in, stay hidden, keep our powers contained and out of human sight. But lately, the ifrits, led by the likes of Hassan al-Jabiri, have been making problems for everyone. I know you may not have anything to do with this, but if you’re not careful, you’ll get drawn in to what’s coming. You don’t want to be on the wrong side when open war comes.”

  She’s right about the treaty between the djinn and ifrits, and about Hassan; I can’t deny that. Hassan and his ilk use their powers far too publicly, and I’ve always worried it would cause problems. The djinn have always been more prone to staying hidden. They’re the careful ones. If things like good and evil exist, then the djinn are more innately good than my people. Hassan and my father are prime examples of this.