by Marie Hall
“It means you are experiencing great emotion,” he said gently.
“How come you don’t pulse?”
Jinni stared up at the ceiling, but she knew he wasn’t looking at it, he was looking beyond it. Seeing something she couldn’t. “Because the longer you stay in this form, the more deadened you become.”
The bitterness in his voice made her ache.
The euphoria of earlier began to fade slowly away. Paz glided to a corner window, pressing her nose against the glass. Or at least attempting to, the moment she touched it, she felt a subtle shift in pressure and then her face was sinking through. Like pushing her head through a gentle fall of water.
Jinni’s head poked out a moment later. She sighed bitterly.
“When I was little I used to love pressing my nose against the glass. Feeling the cold shiver up my nose and settle in my cheeks. It made me feel alive. Mom, hated it though, said I was staining her clean glass.”
Crazy, the things she remembered now. Things that’d seemed so insignificant and meaningless before now mattered so much.
He tipped his head.
Again that feeling of needing to get away, of wishing she could go, slowly crept back into her conscious mind. Outside the manicured lawn glinted with the first silvery drops of dew, a gentle breeze stirred through her. The parking lot was vast and completely empty. Streetlamps, with their orangey glow distracted from the surreal beauty of the full golden moon. Stars, too many to count, filled the black sky like a shower of silver glitter.
But gazing at the beauty of the still night couldn’t detract from the knowledge that behind them a warm and inviting golden tunnel waited for her. A tunnel that she knew would bring her a measure of peace.
“I want to go.”
“Where?”
“Away. Out of this hospital,” she glanced at him, at the proud lines of his jaw and sharp slash of cheekbone, and wished again she’d met him before, “I hate it here.”
“Where would you go if you could?”
She glanced up at the sky. The sky her brother had been so obsessed with growing up. Richard had always wanted to find life on different stars. He’d spun magical tales of aliens and monsters. She’d never wanted to see the creatures, but Paz had fallen in love with the murky blue unknown of the universe.
“The stars,” she whispered, “I want to dance on a star.”
Chapter 9
Jinni didn’t have much magic left to him, and what he did, came with a price. But it was a price he’d be willing to pay, if only to see her smile again.
“Do you want to see where I was born?”
Brown, soulful eyes studied him. Then she nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“I can show you. But first, you need to take my hand.”
She slipped her hand into his, but it fell through. “Paz, I am not strong enough to hold you. You have to focus, like I taught you. Concentrate all your energy, and then hang on to me. Can you do that?”
She nibbled on her lower lip and not for the first time he wished he was more of a man than what he was. That he hadn’t spent so many decades lamenting his fate; that he’d at least fought to remain corporeal. If he’d known in the future he’d meet her, he’d have fought tooth and nail to overcome the misery of the last decades. But he hadn’t known, so he’d let himself slowly die inside, a little every day, and now he was a shell of a man who couldn’t even grasp her hand.
“I’ll try.”
She closed her eyes and his body hummed, willing her to do it this time.
Her energy pulsed again, a bright blue glow that made his soul flare in response. Her face looked lit from within as her radiance sparkled and shimmered over her form. There was a snap, a quick rolling spark shifted down her arm and then she released a strong breath and opened flustered eyes.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
If ghosts could sweat, she’d look haggard and worn. As it was her hair had lost some of its shine, her face appeared slightly puffy from energy drain-off.
Paz shook herself and pulled her head back inside the window. Misery clung to her. Jinni shook his head.
“Do not give up.”
“I’m not trying to. This is hard. I was able to lift the sheets up before, I don’t know why I can’t even do this now.”
“I’m immortal, in a sense. It took much longer for me to experience energy drain off. But your humanity accelerates it. It is okay.” He clasped his hands together, mainly because he desperately wanted to hold her arms, comfort and sooth her, but knew he’d never be able to latch onto her. “I know it is hard, Paz. But you are blocking yourself. You believe you cannot do this. So you cannot. Now close your eyes.”
She growled low in her throat, a delicious heated purr that sent shivers straight through him, but did as he asked. She huffed hair out of her face, must have been a habit, because her hair was tucked behind her ears.
“Now, imagine yourself on a beach,” he began, voice lulling and soft, gently hypnotizing. Once, long ago, he’d been good at this.
Her nose scrunched up in the most adorable fashion and his lips twitched. “Do you see the beach?”
“I see blackness. Lots and lots of it,” she whined.
He chuckled and closed his own eyes. The magic resting in his soul flared softly to life, like the gentle glow of candlelight. It flickered low, but steady. Reaching deep within himself, he grasped a hold of the flame and drew that heat through his body. It trickled through him, and for the first time in ages he trembled with joy. With the remembered knowledge of what it meant to grasp the fire.
But he no longer had what he used to have, what he’d taken for granted. Using too much would be dangerous. Hard as it was, he tamped down the thrill of the magic and took only what he needed. Even this little bit would cost.
Making sure to keep a connection between his mind and the flame, Jinni opened his eyes and smiled into Paz’s startled face.
She glanced around, mouth slightly open. “You’re here? In my head?”
In here she did not glow blue, her skin was a tanned olive, her hair darker than midnight, and her eyes the piercing brown of an owl. Dressed in a Grecian gown of sheer white-- Jinni lost his breath-- as her each and every curve came into exacting focus. Exotic and curvaceous, the type of body only a master sculptor could hope to capture. Round, firm breasts rose high as her breathing inched up a notch.
With the same degree he studied her; he felt her eyes on him like a hot brand. He’d dressed himself in the style of the King he’d served. Tunic and pants, the cerulean fabric threaded through with veins of gold.
Around them was nothing but darkness. Her mind was unfocused. Though all of what he was about to do was illusion, there would still be the sensation of touch. Jinni walked up to her. Her eyes were huge in her face, but she didn’t utter a word as his warm hands slid up the length of her bare arms. A rigid rise of goose bumps traveled in their wake and she hissed.
Touching her was like touching something hot and explosive. He licked his lips, his stomach bottoming out. He’d already touched her. When he’d carried her from the plane, but the desire to truly know her hadn’t yet been born in him.
Now it was, and this was so different.
Jinni forced himself to breathe. “Imagine the sand, dove.”
Her lashes fluttered, her gaze held his, as if spellbound.
With a flick of his wrist he helped her to see it.
She gasped as the land swayed around them, the blackness bled away as a wave rolled in.
“Stop the water.” He continued to rub circles on her arm with his thumb, enjoying the touch of her silky, soft skin much more than he’d ever expected.
Paz glanced at the wave barreling toward them. Her mouth set into a tight line, a frown marred her brow and then she said, “Stop.”
Power rippled through the air, danced across their skin, and the wave froze. A curl of blue water forever frozen.
“Good,” he said.
&
nbsp; She smiled.
“Now, pick up a grain of sand.”
“Jinni?”
“You can do this, dove. You can.” He grabbed her hand. “Push all that power into your hand and pick it up.”
Paz knelt, studying the sand as if it were a science experiment. Jinni pushed a small measure of his magic into her palm, a tiny flutter of “will.” She inhaled deeply, then reached out and dug her hand deep into the sand.
A delighted squeal fell from her tongue. “I can feel it, Jinni.”
“What does it feel like?” he asked as his thumb traced the curve of her knuckle.
His entire body quaking and alive with the sensation of touch.
“Cold. Hard.” She looked at him, joy shining in her eyes.
“Pick one up.”
Tip of her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth in concentration, she focused, and ever so slowly held the grain aloft. Her hand shook, and her body trembled, but her laughter was full of light.
“I did it. I did it. Jinni, I did it!”
He kissed her.
Couldn’t help himself.
Her joy was infectious, made him forget that he shouldn’t do it, that it wasn’t a good idea. He wanted her joy inside him. Wanted to drown in it. It’d been so long.
At first her lips were unresponsive. Then she softened, grew pliant in his arms and threw her own around his neck. Pressing in with the fervor of a woman parched. The kiss was chaste, no tongues, no moans, and yet it transcended all that.
It went beyond shadows, loneliness, even death. It was the joy of discovery, of birth and rebirth-- the very beginning of possibility, that sacred moment when it was new and perfect, and beautiful.
“I am sorry, I forgot myself,” he murmured against her lips, leaning his forehead against hers, running his hands up her back, the touch of her skin softer than any he’d ever felt. She grabbed the hands he’d placed on either side of her face and shook her head.
The rich earthy scent of jasmine flooded his head and senses.
“Don’t be.” She looked at him, holding his gaze and forcing him to keep hers. “It’s just too bad that I had to die to learn what it finally meant to live.”
“You want to know where I was born, Paz?”
“Yes.”
“You want to leave this hospital?”
“I do, but what will happen to me if I leave? I have this terrible feeling that if I walk away, I’ll never be able to return.”
“We cannot be gone long, dove. But I’ve still some magic left to me. Enough to safely show you my home. Do you trust me?”
She didn’t stop to think, simply nodded. “I don’t know why, but I do.”
“Then let us go dance.”
Concentrating his magic, he focused on his place of origin. Above the clouds, within the stars. They shot up like beams of pure light.
Paz laughed-- a rolling, booming sound that spewed from the depths of her belly. She glanced all around as the ground around them faded, as the sky opened up. A giant canopy of stars and gases and planets.
She ooh’d and aah’d, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in his arms. Lush curves, huge smile. Hugging her tight to his body, Jinni wished for more, wished it didn’t have to end as he knew it would. If only he could have met her years ago.
Then they were there. At the beginning of his time. He stopped and thrilled at the way she hugged his neck fiercely, almost cutting off his breath. Not that he needed to breathe up here, he’d turned them into balls of pure energy.
Paz looked all around. At the vastness of space, at the colors that exploded in a miasma all around. The deep hued greens and neon blues, the silvery stars, and rose pink expanse of space and time.
“Where are we?”
Jinni turned them, and pointed to a blue sphere. A pinprick of light, almost insignificant, except for the surge of powerful energy that sucked at them, drawing them closer to its sphere.
“That is my mother.”
She laughed. “So you’re the starman, huh? Didn’t they make a movie about that once?”
“Starman?” He shook his head. “She is not a star. She is life itself. What you mortals have called a quasar.”
Just as he spoke a brilliant burst of light streaked from the pinprick of light, anywhere it touched stars evaporated. The brilliance lasted only a second, but it was so bright, that had they been in human form they’d have had to shield their eyes.
“What was that?” Paz asked when the light faded. “New baby starmen?” Her lips quirked.
Laughing, Jinni shrugged. “Sure. Let us call it that. That power, that energy, that is another djinn being born.” He waved his hand all around. “We are born masters of the stars. We create and design. You cannot see us in this form, but we are here.”
Looking, she frowned. “Then how did you get to Kingdom?”
“I left. I wanted more than creation. I wanted to understand and know the creation. And perhaps I wanted to rule them as well.” His last words were sad, humbled. “I was not a good person then, Paz.”
She traced the curve of his cheek. “That was a long time ago. You don’t seem like a bad person now.”
He snorted. “You do not know the end of my story, dove. Save your kindness until you learn it. You just might change your mind.”
Her lips compressed and Jinni fought to shake off the self-recriminations. This was for her. Not for him to wallow and dwell in his misery.
“I do believe you mentioned wanting to dance on a star.” He held up his hand.
The effervescent smile was back and, as she slipped her hand in his, a symphony only they could hear rode the winds of time, embracing their light in a tight hug. They danced and swayed, hopping from one star to another. Paz laughed and laughed, throwing her head back, breathing in deeply as a rosy flush touched her cheeks.
“I wish I’d known you before, Paz,” he whispered so low he knew she wouldn’t hear. “You would have saved me.”
Chapter 10
Before she was ready, they were back. And something was very wrong with Jinni. He was clutching his middle, and maybe it was just her, but he seemed even less substantial than before. A pale wisp of a shadow against her wall.
“Jinni,” she cried as he dropped to his knees.
“I’m fine, dove.” He gave her a brave smile, straight teeth cutting a path through his face.
“You don’t look fine.”
She reached for his hand, but this time failed to even feel a shock of his awareness. There was literally nothing, no static, no energy. Dead air.
Her stomach rolled. “Jinni?”
He closed his eyes. “It will pass, dove. I’ll return soon. I must get back to my world.”
“Are you going to recharge?”
He didn’t speak for a moment and her lips trembled.
“You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
His eyes were glazed and seeming in pain, but his voice was sure as he said, “I will be back for you. Do not go to the light. Wait for me.”
She nodded and then felt an aching tide of loneliness sweep through her as he vanished once again.
Chapter 11
Jinni crawled through the portal, dry heaving and panting as every molecule in his body threatened to rupture apart. Grabbing his skull, he winced as needle hot pain stabbed his brain. The moment he stepped through into Kingdom, he expected to gain back some of the immortal flame he’d spent dancing with Paz, but as his face landed on the dirt and he gulped in greedy mouthfuls of air, he realized there was nothing left.
He laughed-- a wretched sort of sound full of pain and irony. “Humpty dumpty cannot be put back together again,” he sputtered and coughed as pieces of him stretched further apart.
Closing his eyes, he cursed the day he’d made that fateful decision. If he’d only known, only could have seen what lay ahead. What waited for him, but he’d been blinded by a pair of exotic green eyes and honey slickened skin.
The air around him tightened, co
mpressed, and then burst with a bolt of blue light. Jinni blinked against the overwhelming brightness, studying the tiny figure of Danika as she sailed through the time rift. She shook herself like a wet dog, sending strings of pearls and dew to bobbing in her blond curls.
Exhausted, Jinni closed his eyes. It only took a moment before he heard a sharp gasp and then the buzz of her wings, before she landed beside him.
“Bloody hell, Jinni! Fine mess you’ve made.”
Not exactly the greeting he’d expected; surprising enough to illicit a minute response from him. He cracked an eye open. “I’m dying, fairy,” he mumbled.
“Thank you, captain obvious.” She planted hands on her plump hips. “Why haven’t you used the bloody golem yet? ‘Tis why I sent the beastly thing.”
She swished her wand, a bright pink bolt of energy wrapped him up, and instantly the fracturing molecules stilled. The frenetic buzz of his form quieted to a low hum and he took a deep cleansing breath, still trembling from the after effects of nearly dissipating.
He grabbed his chest, the ghostly remembered pain, making him dizzy. “You did not ask me if I’d be okay with that, Danika.”
At the moment she reminded him of a teenager the way she theatrically rolled her eyes. All that was needed was a foot stomping to round out the illusion. “Of course I didn’t. Because I knew how you’d react, you… you Neanderthal. The key to your salvation is right there with that thing and yet still, you refuse my help. Why?!”
Jinni popped his jaw from side to side. She was right. He’d never made it easy on her, never wanted Danika to help him. Because to admit he needed her help, was to admit he’d screwed up. That it hadn’t been Nala, who he’d blamed for centuries, but rather himself. His fall from grace, from power, from… everything that had ever meant anything to him, wasn’t because of her. But him.
She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, of course you won’t answer. Why would I ever expect to hear an answer out of you? Hmmm?” She flitted back and forth, her dragonfly wings buzzing louder than the wailing winds crying outside his home. “Because I’m just a fairy, not worthy of a mighty djinn’s notice…”
