Words That Bind

by Ash Krafton

  “Perhaps I can.” Tam rocked sideways, trying to stimulate the circulation in her arm. It was pinned beneath her and her hand was going numb, shooting needles up her forearm as it did so. “But you have to tell me, first.”

  “I offered to help you once.” Sahir put his foot on her, stilling her. “Remember?”

  She struggled to breath under his weight. “You offered to break a spell that had been placed on me.”

  “Yes.” He drew out the single syllable, trailing the ending like a hiss.

  “I never said I had a spell on me.”

  “Are we really going to play this game?” He shoved his foot against her shoulder, forcing her onto her back. He stared down at her like a giant. “That child is still bleeding out there. No one will help her because I cloaked her presence. They won’t see or hear her until I unveil her. How many pints of blood are in a twenty-year-old girl? How many ounces per minute does one bleed from a slashed wrist? Multiplied by two, carry the one—”

  He strutted around in front of her, flourishing his hands. “Ah. I never was any good at math. But I am good at magic. Magic is in my blood, just as hopelessness is in that girl’s blood out there.”

  Another wave of nausea washed over her, sending a spasm through her stomach. “What do you want?”

  “I want the talisman, Ms. Kerish. I want to control that damnable ifrit of yours. And I want you to hand that control over to me.”

  She pressed her lips together, swallowing a gush of salty saliva. If she threw up now, she could choke. Tam drew a shuddering breath. “I can’t.”

  “You won’t. Because you are too selfish to worry about a useless girl’s life. What do you value more? An innocent life? Or a power you’ll never hope to harness?”

  “I can’t give you the talisman, Sahir.”

  “Because—” He rolled his wrist as if trying to coax the words out of her mouth. He was in no hurry. He didn’t care if Beth died.

  Subterfuge was futile. She couldn’t play games while Beth bled her life out. No choice but to tell him. “Promise something first.”

  “You’re in no position to bargain.”

  “No, I’m not.” She rolled onto her side, and the tide of nausea subsided. She took a slow, deep breath, hoping the stench of the grime under her face didn’t give her a new reason to vomit. “But you want this talisman more than I care about another suicidal kid’s life. What’s one more kid next to the power of an unaligned genie?”

  “Unaligned?” Sahir couldn’t disguise his reaction. He nearly leapt upon her. Crouching, he peered into her face. His pupils big and dark, Sahir chortled. “I had no idea—not at all—you know this is true?”

  She closed her eyes but she could still feel his nearness. He crowded her, violating her personal space. His smell—stale tobacco and over-ripe fruit—did little to ease the cramping in her stomach. “He is mine. I know all there is to know about him.”

  “Including his name?”

  She nodded, her head pounding, and cracked her eyes.

  Naked greed molested his expression. He licked his lips, tongue darting and poking. “What is your condition?”

  “Save the girl. Uncloak her. Untie her, let her get help. Undo the damage you’ve done to her. A coward uses children as bait. You’re better than that.”

  He stiffened at the insult and drew back. “I am not adverse to using any means necessary to get what I want. Neither a child nor you will stand in the way of my sacred duty.”

  She closed her eyes, uninterested in what sounded like the beginning of a self-important rant. The swimming in her head was getting worse, a throbbing that fell slightly out of time with her pulse. “I have one more condition.”

  “I grow tired of these conditions.”

  “My djinn has living family,” she bargained.

  He groaned like a glutton who had finally gorged himself to capacity.

  “The power.” His voice was strained. “What is this condition?”

  “You’ll give up your innate and learned powers before seizing the talisman. You cannot have all power. Give up your magic before you become master of the most devastating of all djinn.”

  Would he do it? He was a power-hungry sociopath with control issues. A long shot. But she had to hope his greed would make him reckless.

  The seconds ticked by. With each second, Beth’s time ran out.

  “I agree.” He reached down and grasped her knotted wrists, yanking her to her feet. “You will wish for the transference of ownership. The girl will be rescued, wounds undone, confusion but no fear or physical hurt. And if you deceive me, you will die.”

  The sudden movement was too much for her. The nausea surged, bringing her stomach with it. She leaned, violently sick, her stomach heaving.

  Sahir grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. He pulled a curved blade from his wide black sash and held it two inches from her nose. The blade was stained with blood.

  Beth’s blood.

  “You will meet my conditions first.” She twisted her head and gasped for breath, the odor of her sickness stinging her nostrils. “I want proof of her safety and proof of your surrender of power.”

  “I can kill you now.” He lifted the blade and dragged it across her cheek. The blood had congealed and become sticky, making the knife tug its way across her skin.

  “And my djinn will be free to the sands of time.”

  Sahir stared at her, his greed warring with his hate.

  “Give me your word.” He said it so casually.

  A vise tightened in her chest. Her word. Whatever she said next would bind her. No going back. A lifetime of this curse loomed over her, the spectre of forces beyond her ken. “I will release him.”

  Sahir released her hair and flipped the knife between his fingers, not speaking. An ambulance sounded in the distance, growing closer. He waved his empty hand, her cell phone appearing, unbroken.

  The phone beeped with an incoming text message. Her earpiece, still tangled in her hair next to her ear, sounded:

  Incoming message from Bethany Peters. Say “read it” or “ignore”.

  “Read it.” Her voice trembled.

  What happened? The mechanical voice of the earpiece rattled off Beth’s message. I am at Penn’s Landing, can you come get me, I’m scared.

  “Now.” Sahir tossed the cell phone aside, its case shattering and skittering across the cement. He sheathed his knife and planted his hands on his hips.

  Lowering his head, he exhaled, and murmured a string of words, the sound a bitter melody. His chanting increased in speed and intensity, his hands glowing a sickly green. With a final shout, the glowing orb above his shoulder sputtered and winked out of sight.

  He bent, his hands on his knees, laboring for breath. He looked—lesser, somehow, now that he lacked the fortification his magic had given him.

  “Summon him now,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Or our contract is breeched. My power will return, and I will crush her heart in my fist.”

  She swallowed and hung her head. This would hurt Burns more than it hurt her. But if an innocent life could be saved—

  No alternative. He’d have to accept it.

  “Burns.” Her voice was a tiny sound, a mere whisper.

  It was enough.

  Mist filled the corner of the room, a rosy smoke that unfurled itself from an unseen source. Tam closed her eyes, inhaling his scent, savoring the flavor her tongue, stifling the sob that threatened to choke her.

  A fierce wind rose, sweeping around the room, lifting debris and old dried leaves in a clattering swirl around them. The djinn’s voice rode upon the sound, a gale-forced growl, a host of impossible voices from another dimension. And all of them were enraged.

  She could resist no longer, wanting to see him in any shape, any form, just one last time.

  Thrice the size of a human, he filled the room. He was entirely blue with flame, his skin glowing with the force of the sun. Lightning flashed in the smoke that obscured his body from
the waist down.

  “Al-Sahir.” Arms crossed, he glared at the magician. “It will be my pleasure to destroy you.”

  Chapter 33

  “At last. The tribe of al-Sahir comes face to face with the last djinn of Solomon.” Sahir stood dwarfed by Burns’ looming size, standing cock-sure and confident. “In cuffs, like you belong.”

  Burns’ gaze darted over Tam before settling its scalding intensity on the magician. “What have you done to my master, you puny wretch? I shall enjoy rending you. I’ve developed quite a taste for the flesh of your kind.”

  Sahir clucked his tongue. “That would be unwise. We’ve come to an arrangement, she and I.”

  Burns laughed, a contemptuous boom of thunder. She winced against the pressure of the sound and turned her head, trying to shield herself from the painful sound. “Unlikely.”

  “No? She bargained. Her little friend’s life…for you.” Sahir grinned. “Oh, you don’t like that idea? That she would betray you?”

  “She would not.”

  “Ah.” Sahir trailed a finger through the blood on her cheek. “But she has given me her word.”

  The room started to shake, the wind picking up again. Burns’ breathing became a roar, the sounds of a very large animal. The sound reverberated through her, the rumble of his internal beast.

  Sahir eyed him and paced back, pushing her in front of him. “She promised to give me the Talisman. You know that she is bound by her word.”

  “She would never give herself to you,” Burns spat. The words had barely left Burns’ lips before the realization passed over his visage: he said too much.

  Tam bit her tongue. That impulse would cost them both.

  “She is the ring.” Sahir grabbed her soiled chin and drilled at her with his scrutiny. “So. I knew there was more to that vision than what I witnessed. At last I see. The talisman. Her soul is the talisman.”

  “The woman is mine.” Burns expanded his form, swelling with heat and fury, crowding Sahir. Spreading his hands, he readied twin balls of flame.

  “The slave cannot own his master.” Sahir smiled, a cruel slice across his mouth. “But I can.”

  He drew a blade from his belt, a slithering curve of steel. “This is the ancient blade of my forefathers, all magician, all al-Sahiri, back to the days of Solomon himself. My Ancient Father was a slave in his court, stolen from his tribe and dragged to the usurper king’s land. They didn’t know they’d stolen al-Sahir, wise man of his tribe, man of unimaginable power.”

  His chanting, so loud and so close to her ear, clunked through her aching head. She drooped, her neck too weak to support the weight of her head.

  “He knew of Solomon’s ring. He had the vision to see the king’s invisible servants. It angered him, the Hebrew-god worshipper daring to tame such power. Yet, the Old Father did nothing. Watched. And learned to respect him, because despite everything, Solomon was beyond wise and a true master of magic.”

  “You blame Solomon for your fates,” Burns said, barely more word than growl. The ground beneath him had singed, the litter incinerated by his ferocious heat. “It was not he. It was—”

  “The Great Darkness. Asmodeus.” The magician smiled, his teeth shining white, face bathed in the glow of Burns’ illumination. “Yes. It was he who granted us our gifts, he who taught Old Father the methods and the ways of undoing all Homadiel had the audacity to create. Asmodeus told Old Father of the ring and he told him of you.”

  “The halfwit spoke, and the brainless believed.” True anger flitted across Burns’ face, anger and the terrible strain of resisting the impulse to lash out. It took everything she had to keep from calling out to him.

  Sahir edged him along, wearing a look of malicious delight.

  “Old Father watched and swore, one day he would wield that ring. When the old king died, surrounded by wives and idols and mountains of wealth, he saw what no one else could.” Sahir raised his hand and pointed at Burns, looking at Tam. “That one, weeping.”

  “Hold your tongue, mortal.” Burns’ skin began to lose definition, flames coating him like oil on water.

  “Why, djinn? Are you shamed?”

  “Tears are not shameful things. I wept out of grief, for the loss of the greatest man I had ever known.”

  “You wept for yourself! You wept and tore your clothes because you were still bound to him. You begged Solomon to make his last request and free you, but he died. Your howls filled the death chamber like a mighty wind. All the men cowered, believing it was the sound of their God who took Solomon into His keeping.”

  Sahir laughed, a throaty sound of victory. “You witnessed the death of the world’s mightiest king, the wisest man, God’s own beloved, and all you could think of was yourself. Have you changed?”

  Burns crossed his arms and stared him down.

  “No.” Sahir’s mouth twisted with a snarl. “You haven’t. Because even now, your first concern is that I will be your new master.”

  He raised the knife to Tam’s throat, pressing the tip behind her jawbone.

  She bit her lips shut against the sting.

  The magician twisted her arm higher, driving a sharp pain into her shoulder. She lifted on her toes to keep from falling onto the blade.

  Sahir chuckled, a low, mean sound. “Stubborn creature, to just stand there while your woman has a knife shoved into her neck.”

  Burns voice was cold, like stone scraping against stone. “If you become my master, you will be the unhappiest man alive.”

  “I won’t care. I do not do it for myself. I do it for my family. I will restore our tribe and we will reclaim the desert. This miserable land and every other miserable land will finally witness what God truly decreed for us before Solomon interfered. All I have to do is take the talisman.”

  Sahir dragged the tip of the knife back along her throat, slicing a line that burned. Hot slickness coated her skin, the blood cooling on her throat as it seeped. Burns’ eyes erupted into cold blue flame, a flame that bled out to consume him in an inferno of rage. He lost his human form.

  The flames twisted into a vague person shape. It was the form she’d seen in her dream, Burns’ true form reflected in the pool. Blue flickering eyes hovered over a sharp mouth, daggered teeth. The human shape lasted only a few moments before it stretched into something longer, something lower to the ground. Claws of fire scraped the cement, leaving deep scratches. A whip of flame suggested a tail, lashing and dripping liquid fire.

  “Tiger,” Sahir whispered, his voice deep and full of mad desire. “I knew Solomon had saved the best for last.”

  “Burnsie!” She screamed his name, unable to wait a moment longer. “My last wish!”

  “Too late, princess,” hissed Sahir. “Your soul belongs to me now.”

  “My soul was never mine to give. Burnsie! Take me home.”

  “You are bound here. You cannot leave.” Sahir sounded bored.

  Perhaps he was. He had to know his plan was fool-proof. She desperately hoped he was as over-confident as he was evil.

  “He is right.” The flame tiger growled and contracted back into Burns’ human-shaped flame. “I cannot take you to Light Street.”

  This was the moment. This was destiny; every dream of the candlewick woman, standing over her own body, led to this. Every dream, every secret, every single moment.

  Somehow, she’d always known. Her conviction did not protect her from fear. Terror swallowed her from the legs up.

  “No.” She shook her head, boring her gaze into his of hard blue flame. The words fell effortlessly from her tongue. “To the Rub al Khali.”

  Suddenly, Burns solidified. All his fire and his thunder and his lightning condensed, converging until it was simply him, bare except for his trousers.

  Burns’ cuffs snapped open. The shackles fell to the ground, smoldering steel that burned twin circles into the dirt. He raised his hand, his mouth slack.

  Then he looked at her. His face was stricken, his eyes wide and filled with
agony. “That’s—you can’t. That’s the—”

  “Forbidden wish.” Throbbing pain in her head, her throat, her arm, everywhere, made her voice ragged. “I know.”

  His skin shimmered with cobalt heat before tamping down completely. He looked no more than flesh and bone, a mere human who stood on the edge of a great and terrible suffering. His eyes softened.

  Her heart squeezed, clamping down on her breath, and the edges of her vision whited out. Oh, how she’d wounded him. He knew what she did. He understood the sacrifice.

  “No!” Sahir seemed to finally realize what happened. “No! It is mine! You are mine!”

  He jerked his hand, intending to dive the knife into her.

  Burns gestured with a lazy flick of his finger, freezing him and pushing him back against the wall. “You. I will deal with you in time.”

  Slowly, he closed the distance between them and tugged at the plastic strip around her wrists. The cord softened and stretched beneath his hot touch, and it slipped off, falling to the ground. Gently, he lifted each of her hands, inspecting them. His brow furrowed when he saw where the cord had cut into the skin. He pressed a tender kiss to the inside of each wrist, soothing them.

  With a brush of his fingers, he wiped away blood on her neck, causing a warm glow to trail across her skin. His warmth. What she would have given for just one more moment with him, to warm herself at the hearth of his heart…

  “Any last requests?” He brushed her bangs back out of her eyes, caressing her cheek. Tears hung on his lashes, lit by the flames in his eyes.

  He looked as if he’d been told to murder his mother. His anguish was painful for her to witness. All this was her doing. She wanted to crumple into his arms, to beg him to find a way to take it back. But she couldn’t.

  She had never been able to take back a single word she’d ever said.

  And even if she were able, she knew she couldn’t. She’d saved Beth, freed Burns. That was the greater good.

  Chewing her lip, she tried to put on a brave face. All her life, she would have given anything for a twitch of emotion and now—

  She’d finally found the man who could make her feel. All she had was sorrow and regret and the burden of knowing that she did this terrible thing to him. “Will it hurt?”