Words That Bind

by Ash Krafton

  Tam didn’t waste any time. Sahir had a session scheduled that same afternoon and she decided he was as good a place to start as any. It wasn’t difficult to close this case; she had barely begun to work with him so it would be a fairly smooth process.

  When she explained she needed to transfer his care, he took the news surprisingly well. Part of her expected a reaction of genie-sized proportions, but wasn’t disappointed when the fireworks failed to go off. She always knew he was no Burns.

  He nodded as if the whole matter was of little importance, agreeing to each of her recommendations without hesitation, even when she purposefully made several conflicting suggestions.

  She knew it. Sahir wasn’t even listening.

  Today, the swarthy man wore what she presumed were his preferred garments: loose tan pants, a long vest of white linen, black slippers, black head wrap. The style was similar to Burns’ outfit but without the frill and embellishment. Simple, efficient, direct.

  As were his words. When she finished explaining the transfer process, she asked him if he had any thoughts or questions.

  “You are not ordinary,” Sahir said.

  Odd thing for a man to say when he’s dressed like one of the Arabian nights. She folded her hands. “Okay. We can talk about me.”

  “You study human emotions, yet you do not experience them.”

  “Of course, I do. Who doesn’t?”

  “People with tethers on their souls.” His smile held no humor. It was a grim pronouncement. “Yes, Ms. Kerish. I know many things about you, including the fact that someone has put a magical seal around your spirit. An unbreakable band around your will.”

  She remained expressionless. For the first time in her life, she had to put substantial effort into it, even though Burns was nowhere in sight. “I don’t know where you’d get such an idea.”

  “I am an insightful being. You cannot feel emotion? How tragic. Such simple gifts of humanity, the essence of being real, of being connected to people around you. What must it feel like to be on the other side of the window, looking in, all the time?”

  He stood and clasped his hand behind his back, walking slowly to the window. “I can try to discover the source of this magical affliction. If you were willing.”

  She felt her alert go up, the same as it would when she picked up on a vocal cue from one of her clients. He had accumulated an air of authority about himself, as if he had stepped into a new role, one with which he was more than comfortable. She understood the authority that accompanied experience and expertise—but, in a man like Sahir, who possibly had dark underpinnings to his control issues, it could be dangerous ground to tread.

  Still. She was not the person she once had been. She’d seen too much in the world around her and had learned too much about her own secret self. She wasn’t sure she believed she’d ever truly be safe again.

  And Burnsie—what she’d done to him couldn’t be fixed by playing it safe. She couldn’t simply make a wish for all the bad to go away.

  “What do I have to do?” She expected it to hurt. She deserved to hurt.

  “A brief moment of pain.” Sahir pulled a knife from his belt.

  The light caught upon the blade, flashing. She stared at it. Her fingers instinctively reached for the pin on her personal alarm.

  She didn’t pull it. Her gaze flicked up to his face. No malice, no lunge, no threat.

  “A drop of blood.” He placed the blade on her desk, the wooden handle closest to her. “I don’t have a pin. I’m sorry, this is all I have—”

  She pursed her lips, regarding the knife where it lay in front of her. What would it be like to truly own her own soul, her own emotions free to arise? Would this be the last time someone would pull a knife, and she’d simply look at it, waiting for the next move?

  Would she scream? Would adrenaline shoot through her with numbing force? Would she faint? Would she run? All those what-ifs and would-shes. Was she ready for them?

  One thing she did know—Burns was ready. He was ready to be free at last. After thousands of years, he didn’t deserve to wait any longer. If she had the power to do something, then she had the duty to do it, too.

  She hefted the knife, turning it, admiring the curve of steel. Splaying her fingers to bare her palm, she shrugged. “From here?”

  “No, no,” he said, worry lifting his brows. “Nothing so severe. I do not wish you to harm yourself. Just a drop from a finger. A sting, nothing more.”

  She held the knife out to him. “Okay. You do it.”

  He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a copper coin. Sahir placed the coin on the desk and reached for her hand.

  Holding her hand, he nicked the side of her thumb. She sucked a breath at the sudden pain, but it faded rapidly.

  He held her finger over the coin, milking the skin with smooth strokes until a plump drop appeared on the tiny wound. The crimson drop swelled, hanging from her skin for several seconds before it fell, splashing onto the coin.

  “Now, watch.” Sahir stepped away. A fog began to seep out of the metal disk, growing larger until it covered the desk top. “Watch, and witness the origin of your spellbinding.”

  The fog grew thicker, denser, and colors shifted through it. The colors condensed into images. She realized it was showing her a vision. She sat back, eyes huge, watching a scene play out before her.

  A desert, a dark sky edged on the horizon by the stirrings of early dawn. The moon, visible between white pillars of weathered stone. Moonlight gave the stone an eerie luminescence.

  One by one, robed men dropped into view, their forms manifesting and taking shape. The seneschal, first to arrive, waited and counted the priests as they faded into view: one, two, then a third.

  She didn’t just see the men. She knew the seneschal, even as she had no idea what a seneschal even was. She understood him. This vision gave her an impossible insight, a psychic link to them, revealing his intentions and his fears.

  Oh, yes. His fear. These men feared for their lives, and the lives of countless others.

  She held her breath.

  A fourth priest arrived, urgency written into every line of his face. He wiped his brow with a sleeve.

  “We mustn’t delay,” he whispered. The solemnity of their surroundings kept his voice low; distress added strain. “The watchers spotted riders on the hills.”

  “God willing.” The seneschal clasped his gnarled hands in a semblance of prayer. “We will succeed. The Messenger said this is the only way.”

  “Where is she?” Another priest, his voice tighter than a lute string, spread his hands.

  The seneschal reached out with a reassuring touch. “She will not fail.”

  He had barely finished speaking when another person, slender and veiled, appeared in their midst. Swaying in place, she reached out her hands to regain her balance.

  Tam gasped. Not a woman. She was a mere child, no older than fifteen.

  The girl was not a priest nor any type of student. She had been chosen for no other reason than her ability to swiftly achieve an altered state of consciousness through meditation. Her serenity was enviable.

  Her fate, however, was not.

  The priests flanked her, careful not to touch her or each other. The seneschal nodded and took his place directly behind her. “It is time.”

  It had taken a great deal of magic to travel to this place. The journey to the City of Pillars was not an easy one; no caravan, no horse, no weary feet could make such a journey. Only by leaving one’s body behind could one find themselves before the City of Pillars, for it was the gateway to another plane.

  Four priests, chosen for their skill and loyalty to the dead king, bore their precious cargo across sand and space. God had shown them the way.

  As He had in the past, He sent His angel to guide them in this most difficult of tasks. As He had in the past, He asked for great sacrifice from His beloved Man. And, as He would nearly a thousand years later, He called upo
n a virgin to be the vessel of His work.

  The girl raised her head, looking all around as if she searched for something. When she looked out in Tam’s direction, she nodded and locked her gaze.

  “See me,” she said. “See as me.”

  Sahir’s voice came from behind the obstructing cloud. “Channel her, Ms. Kerish. You must.”

  Without hesitation, she leaned forward and reached out a hand, plunging it into the cool mist of the foggy vision. The fog engulfed her, rushing out to her like wind—

  And she stood within the squadron of priests. Her feet bare upon the gritty stone, the smell of the sand—familiar. She’d been here before.

  She stood within the square of priests like a pillar, yet unlike one in her youth and innocence. But her faith—that was unshakable.

  She shared this girl’s memories as clearly as if she’d lived through them herself.

  She’d withstood the difficult preparations, learning to transcend to the necessary altered mindset. Standing among the robed elders, their skin weathered like old parchment and their eyes watering with earnest and fear, she faced the City of Pillars with a calm sense of acceptance.

  Tam listened to the chanting men and watched the great stone gate waver and fade, revealing endless barren sands beyond.

  The Empty Quarter.

  Winds swept their robes, hissed stinging sand upon their cheeks, and brought a rush of noise. The men chanted prayers for protection, their voices tight with undertones of urgency.

  Surrounded by the priests, Tam peered out with the maid’s eyes from behind their robed shoulders, fearless and fascinated, to watch the dancing whirlwinds diving at the entrance. The twisting sand columns were beautiful—and fierce. They warned the humans not to trespass into the Empty Quarter.

  The men had no such plans for themselves. But something else would.

  The gateway solidified into a shining portal, solid and real. The seneschal stood behind her right shoulder and leaned forward to speak next to her ear. He took care not to touch her. Tam still shared an empathic link with the old man. His instinct was to hug her, to hide her. “It is time.”

  The two priests in front parted, revealing her to the portal. The whirlwinds increased in number, seeming to fight to be in front and buzzing with the voices of a sinister sandstorm. The seneschal had forewarned those vortexes were living beings, guardians who would permit no trespass.

  Instinct told her those guardians were more than living—they were sentient. The moaning winds of their twisting turbines sounded like human voices. They knew what waited outside the portal.

  And they wanted it.

  Steeling her courage and pressing her lips into a thin line, Tam lifted her fist, cramped and sweated from gripping the small object for the duration of the journey. Uncurling her fingers, she rubbed the small item before holding it between thumb and finger: an iron and copper ring, dented and unadorned.

  The whirlwinds howled, moans melting into shrieks of rage.

  “In the Name of God, God of our kings, God of our fathers, God of our children yet unborn!” The words, practiced to perfection, felt good to be finally spoken aloud. Tam raised her voice over the mad sounds of wind and sand, those angry earthen screams. “Armed with our faith, we stand before the Void, seeking protection for this talisman. Almighty God, Will this talisman to be hidden from those who mean harm, until such a day its power can be safely released. In the Name of God, I do so!”

  Tam reached back and, with every ounce of strength she possessed, she threw the ring. Its swift passage through the portal and into the Empty Quarter cut a path amongst the whirlwinds, who shrieked and scattered. The ring hovered, not falling, for no gravity existed in The Void; the ring hovered and it glowed.

  The men chanted on, their voices thick with desperation.

  The glow engulfed the ring, expanding and blossoming like a thundercloud, impossibly bright, before shrinking down to a tight pearl-sized sphere.

  Even the whirlwinds quieted, their twisting tails of sand dancing in place, watching the transformation. The girl stepped forward in curiosity, nearly touching the threshold. It was beautiful, so beautiful...

  The glowing pearl shot back through the portal, rising high above the group, illuminating them in sharp brightness. The priests ducked their heads and hid behind their billowing sleeves.

  Tam simply closed her eyes. This was her promise to God. Her sacrifice.

  The light plummeted and collided with her.

  The shock rolled her out of the experience, pushing her back into her own body. Migraine washed through her head, the pain pushing a wave of nausea downwards through her. The force of the blow pushed the air out of her lungs and she had to fight to get it back. In front of her, the vision continued.

  The light melted upon the girl’s forehead, penetrating her, disappearing into her body. The maiden smiled wanly and stumbled back as if pushed, dropping into the seneschal’s arms. Cradling her, he looked down into her serene face.

  Her eyes were empty and white. Pupiless. Sightless.

  “God help us,” the seneschal said, his voice hollow. “We succeeded.”

  The fog thinned and dissipated, revealing a solemn-looking Sahir sitting across from her. His hands were clasped in front of his chin, hiding his mouth.

  “I did not expect to see so tragic a sight,” he said at last. “This is old magic that binds you.”

  She gripped the edge of the desk until her fingers cramped, her knuckles pale, her hands like ice. “Old? How old? They looked like they belonged in some Biblical epic.”

  “Indeed. Your spellbinding began generations before your birth. And it is worse than I feared.”

  Burns had told her she was spellbound. Did he know any of this? If he didn’t, maybe this was the missing piece of his eternal puzzle. But—worse? What if Sahir couldn’t fix it?

  “How so, Mr. Sahir?”

  “Have you ever felt restrained by unseen unexplainable means? An unseen hand upon your shoulder, forbidding you to do something? Say something?”

  “My word.” She shook her head and let the truth spill. “I cannot go back on my word.”

  “Ah. Of course.” He nodded his head in sympathy. “Words are binding, are they not? It is why your confidentiality contract is so solid. I detected magic when you gave me your word. I felt the oath ratified by magic.”

  Part of her accepted his words, the same part that accepted Burns for all he’d shown her.

  Another part, wholly objected, raised concern. Something here is not right. It nagged her, tugged her toward it so that she could analyze it, just as it pushed her away. Dangerous. “Then why the need for my signature?”

  He spread his hands. “Because it can be undone.”

  “It can?” The words came out too fast.

  He nodded slowly, his eyes holding her captive. “I am not ordinary, either. You won’t be surprised if I tell you I am in possession of ancient secrets and archaic sacred ways.”

  “No, considering what just happened, I don’t think I would be.”

  “Oh, but this was a parlor trick. A simple conjuring of the past. Anyone can see the hidden with the right tools. But you—you are not like anyone one else in this city. You are aware of things beyond the common day realm of existence. You also know that there is something holding you back from flowing with the tide of humanity. Something restricting your human experience. You are bound, Ms. Kerish. Magic binds you, tight around your human core, refusing access to the most human part of your soul.”

  So. That was it. The same thing that made her keep her word was the same thing that kept her from being complete. That ring the girl threw—that was Solomon’s ring. She knew it with dread certainty. “What is it? Can it be undone?”

  “I can release you from this binding. I can separate your soul from this seal. You would become completely your own person, capable of all human emotions and frailties and faults. You would not be bound to loyalty or steadfastness. You could break a promise
if you wanted to. Your will would be your own. As it should be.”

  He still hadn’t said the word talisman. Well, she wouldn’t be the first one to offer up that information. “What happens to the—seal?”

  “It is destroyed. It exists only as long as it is tethered to a living being. Once the tie is severed, it ceases to exist.” He shrugged. “Surely, such a thing should not go on to ensnare another.”

  He crossed his legs. “My people are a tribe with a single sacred duty—to protect humankind from the wrath of demons. This ifrit with whom you consort is an unrestrained evil. Do you not realize this?”

  “Mr. Sahir, I don’t even know what an ifrit is.”

  “I feel the spell upon you. I am not a djinn—I am but a poor student of the lost arts. Yet, you are cursed. It is a lock, a great seal upon your soul, a wall between empty human existence and a fulfilling spirit. You have no emotion because this ifrit is consuming it all. It feeds upon you.”

  Her voice was level, smooth as cold stone, even as a war unleashed itself inside her mind. Burns—no. He couldn’t be using her. “How do you know this?”

  “It is my duty to know. I know the trace magic leaves. I see it upon you. You are bound.” He stood to leave, a ribbon of light swirling about him, enveloping him in a rosy glow. When it faded, his tribal clothing was replaced with khakis and a polo shirt. He paused at the door to level a grave look at her. “And if you don’t take steps to remedy it, you will be lost.”

  She sat back, staggered by the pronouncement.

  She believed him.

  Chapter 26

  Client by client, she closed her case files, transferring them to other therapists throughout the county. Dolly would take most of them, but until Tam got someone in to take her place, she had no choice but to send them to other offices.

  It was a painful process. Her entire professional career, the business she’d devoted her life to building—it was over. For how long, she didn’t know. Perhaps for a few years. May as well be forever.