Curse of a Djinn

by Lichelle Slater

  Chapter 18

  Doren

  I sat with my back and head resting against the wall, wrists balanced on my knees, as I stared up at the frozen clouds in the colorless sky.

  “Been a while since you’ve been back here.”

  I rolled my head to look at Avashal. “Yeah, funny isn’t it?” I lifted my head from its support.

  “Did the girl get mad at you or something?” He folded his arms across his chest, and he watched me with his cold eyes. I knew him well enough to know he was fishing for information. Especially since I’d never told him my new master was a girl.

  “Well . . . you could say that.” I rubbed my chin. “She found out I suck her energy whenever she makes a wish.”

  Avashal snickered and sat on the stone edge of the reflective pond. “Why did you tell her that?”

  I shrugged.

  His smirk slowly grew. “You started to develop feelings for her, didn’t you?”

  I felt my lips press in a line, regardless of my intentions to ignore the comment. I used to be so good at hiding my emotions.

  Avashal chuckled—a cold sound where it should have been warm. “You know better than that, don’t you?”

  I shook my head and climbed to my feet. “I don’t think she feels the same.” I dusted my pants. “So it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like she can save me. Still, doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun.” I grinned back at him.

  “When was the last time you had some fun for yourself?” he pressed.

  I shrugged. “I think, possibly, when I was alive.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Shame. Your master should reward you with such things.”

  “They should have, perhaps. But they didn’t.” I inclined my head. “I’ve been thinking. You speak very highly of your master. You always have. Is it possible you’ve had the same master all these years?”

  His lip curled. “Why such questions now?”

  I already knew how to answer that question. “Remember a few weeks ago when you found me sulking? You said something that stuck with me. You said I should embrace my being a djinn, embrace the power.”

  He nodded, obviously remembering that conversation. “And that changed you?”

  “That and my new master.” I glanced around. “The power I’m gaining . . . I crave it more,” I said in a low voice.

  Once, Avashal and I had known each other as friends. We compared what our masters wished, laughed at their foolishness, enjoyed our victories. Slowly, we drifted apart, because I was haunted by the many faces of those I’d killed and wanted nothing to do with Avashal.

  “Why did I change all those years ago?” I murmured as I recalled the memories.

  “I’ve been asking myself that,” he replied. “Even asked you.” He laughed.

  I forced my lip to tug in a weak smile. “Maybe because my summonings were always the same. Nothing ever changed. Summoned, go kill this guy, then go back. Summoned, go kill that man, then go back.” I shook my head. “What sorts of things does your master ask of you?”

  Avashal’s eyes drifted down me, scanning more than likely for any sense of lies or weighing my expression to see if he could trust me. Maybe he could sense I was trying to pry information. My newest master, Jesse, believed a djinn helped Taotin with his reincarnation. By process of elimination, Avashal was the only one I felt could be powerful enough to do such a thing.

  I raised my brow. “Is something wrong? Since when don’t you want to gloat?”

  His smile and glint in his eyes reappeared. “His wishes of late have changed. Now he knows I have real magic, he’s gone beyond wishing for new houses or cars. He craves power. Real power. Like your mafia masters.”

  I rolled my eyes, but a gnawing thought at the back of my head made me wonder if he knew I had returned to the mafia bosses. “I used to wonder if they have more djinn than myself,” I muttered. “All they asked from me was to kill their competition.”

  “Hm. Possibly.” He nodded.

  Silence stretched between us.

  I finally nodded at him. “I suppose I’ll go visit the library or something. Keep myself busy until I’m summoned again.”

  “Do you know how to manipulate your master?” he asked the instant my shoulder turned.

  I looked over it. “What do you mean?”

  He had that familiar glint of mischievousness in his eye. “What is it you really want?”

  “I want to remain in the mortal realm as much as possible,” I confessed. “I’ve missed the color and sounds.”

  Avashal laughed, likely at the pettiness of my desire. “You have gone soft after all these years.”

  “That’s easy for you to claim when you haven’t been locked up here for as long as I.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  I sighed. “Avashal, are you going to tell me, or should I go?”

  He motioned his hand for me to draw nearer. “Tell your master that in order for you to cast bigger spells, you need, say, a night with a woman. When he makes a wish, take a little more energy than what you normally would. He’ll never know the difference. Essentially, he’s giving you two wishes for one.”

  I couldn’t help but admire Avashal’s brain.

  I nodded at him. “Thank you. I’ll have to give that a shot.”

  “And one more thing.”

  I looked back at him.

  “How much do you trust your mafia masters?”

  I felt my brows pinch. I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me.

  “I know they’ve claimed you again, somehow. How much do you trust them?”

  “You and I both know it doesn’t matter,” I answered. “I still have to follow their wishes.”

  He stroked the short beard on his face. “What if I could get you in the hands of someone who would benefit you the most? Someone you could show your true powers to?”

  I gave him a forced smile. A part of me knew he had to mean Taotin. I was about to agree when I blinked. Avashal and the djinn realm were gone. I stood in front of Jesse and his black-and-blue faced brother, Oliver.

  Annoyed, I rested my hands in my pockets and inclined my head. “I was in the middle of an important discussion.”

  “You’ll be pleased to know we offered Gwen the opportunity to stay, and she chose to leave.”

  I resisted the urge to sigh in relief and thank them. “Now what?” I asked instead.

  Oliver rolled his one good eye. “Now, you kill his djinn.”

  “And who is it?” I gestured to them. “Do you know? Do you know if he only has one? And how many do you have?”

  Oliver scoffed. “It’s not your place to question us.”

  But Jesse put his hand on his brother’s back. “You’re asking how many djinn we have?”

  I nodded.

  The brothers exchanged a look, and finally Oliver leaned back against the desk. “I don’t see why he needs to know everything.”

  “At this point, maybe it’s the one thing that will help,” Jesse countered.

  “I’m still waiting,” I interrupted.

  Jesse met my gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember how I said Taotin had been reincarnated?”

  I nodded.

  “This isn’t the first time. We have acquired other djinn.”

  “And what have you done for them when they fulfilled your mission and killed Taotin?” I cut in. “What did you do for them?”

  Oliver snorted. “Sold most of them.”

  “Most?” I moved my attention from Jesse to Oliver. “The others?”

  Jesse’s lips tightened.

  “Dead,” I said. I scoffed and shook my head. “Why did you even need others?”

  “Because we need as much help as we can to get rid of Taotin,” Jesse answered.

  “You haven’t convinced me anything needs to happen to him.”

  I lifted my chin in defiant response. I chuckled, scoffed really, and shoo
k my head. “You’re right. I’m just a djinn to fulfill your every command. So give me my first order. Master.”

  Jesse looked at Oliver.

  There was a soft knock on the door before it opened, and a butler entered. “Sir, she returned.”

  He spoke at the same instant Guinevere marched into the room with Seymour following behind. “I need more answers.” Her breath hitched when she met my gaze, and I gave her a relieved smile.

  She walked over to me, a mixture of relief and frustration on her face.

  She promptly slapped me across the face. “How dare you just leave like that?”

  “Yeah! How dare you leave us!” Seymour barked.

  I blinked at Gwen and rubbed the sore spot on my cheek. “I was . . . trying to keep you safe,” I argued back, keeping my voice low to try and keep the observers outside our conversation.

  “Trying to keep me safe?” She pressed her fists into her hips, trying her hardest to resist the urge to smile by forcing her lips into a straight line. In spite of the anger in her eyes, relief softened her face. She finally stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, holding on to me tightly. “I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

  I felt a lump growing in my chest. Maybe she did care. I barely had time to wrap my arms around her before she stepped back.

  Seymour jumped on my leg, and I leaned down to give him a proper scratch on the head.

  Gwen cleared her throat. “By the way, your plan to keep me safe was stupid. Because they”—she gestured to Jesse and Oliver—“still got me and want me to help.”

  “Help what? Did they tell you anything?” I glanced over at the men.

  “That there’s some guy I’m supposed to help them kill. I supposedly knew him when I was the mighty sorceress you told me I was.” She folded her arms and frowned at me.

  I held my hand up at Jesse and Oliver, who both began to speak. “The way I understand it is they want Taotin dead.”

  “The pharaoh,” she spoke before I could explain.

  I nodded. “He’s the reason I was imprisoned as a djinn. My . . . mistake would have likely been overlooked otherwise.” Overlooked by everyone but me. The memory of my dagger sinking into Zenja’s chest made my stomach churn.

  Gwen tilted her head at me. “Is there more to it?”

  I looked at the others. “I think you need to tell us the rest.”

  Oliver shrugged off the desk and stepped nearer. “Here is the truth. Taotin, now Hayes DuBoi, is a very bad man who needs to be killed.”

  “That’s not going to cut it,” I said sharply, flexing my fingers.

  “You don’t get a choice,” Oliver replied coldly.

  “Oliver,” Jesse warned. He stepped up to his brother’s side.

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to need to trust you on this,” I interjected when Jesse opened his mouth to speak. “No more lies. No more beating around the bush. I know you don’t need to be honest with me, but you need to tell Gwen the truth. She needs to understand what the stakes are should she decide to help you.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?” she asked.

  I tightened my lips. Yes, I did. I knew so much more. I didn’t want her to get involved for many other reasons.

  Seymour sat on my foot as he watched everyone silently.

  “Taotin has been killing the magi,” Jesse explained.

  Even I blanched. Jesse hadn’t told me that. “Why is he—”

  “We don’t know,” he said. “But it can’t be good. There was a rumor that he’s been collecting their life energy to use magic.”

  Gwen began moving around the room, her hands moving in and out of her pockets, brow lined in thought. “What makes him so important?” she asked. “Who cares if he’s killing magi? What are magi anyway?” She circled in front of the desk. Oliver and Jesse hadn’t been paying attention to her, but I had. She swiped my painting from the surface of the desk, and I smirked at her boldness.

  I gestured to Jesse and Oliver to explain.

  “We try and protect the future,” Oliver said. “The art has been lost over the years, and only a few of us who are direct descendants still hold the power of the magi.”

  “Which is?” Gwen asked.

  “Each house has its own responsibility. Ours has the ability to foresee into the future, and it’s our life mission to protect that future.”

  “Isn’t that a little Greek?” she pointed out. “Surely because you try and prevent things from happening, they happen. Like the oracles in Greece?”

  Oliver stared at her in surprise.

  “Sometimes.” Jesse nodded. “It’s worrisome that Taotin is killing the direct lines. He’s already completely eliminated the House of Avesta. He’s trying to get Smerda out of the way as we speak.”

  “You don’t want me to kill him,” I suddenly realized. “You want me to find out why he wants the magi dead.”

  Jesse nodded. “Anything you can discover will help us in this battle.”

  “How long do you want me gone?” I asked.

  “However long it takes.”

  I glanced at Gwen. “Looks like I have to go.”

  She bit her lip and started walking to me.

  Oliver cleared his throat and held out his hand toward her. “I saw you slip that painting into your pocket. You aren’t going to leave here without it.”

  “Unless I wish us somewhere else,” she smiled, and her eyes darted to me. “I wish us back home!”

  I didn’t feel any tug to comply, and my stomach sunk. I shifted my gaze to Jesse.

  Jesse pulled the painting from his jacket pocket. “This is the real one.”

  Gwen’s smile fell.

  “I recommend you go practice your magic. When you’re ready, you can come back,” Jesse said, replacing the painting in his jacket. “Doren, go find out what you can about Taotin.”

  I wanted time to say bye, to say anything to Gwen, but only had time to give her a little smile before disappearing.

  Chapter 19

  Gwen

  I stood in front of the mirror, moving my hands as shown in the open book on the nightstand. I studied the way they flowed, or how I positioned them, and glanced at the book, but my mind was far from studying. I finally threw my hands down to my sides and wheeled around.

  Doren really didn’t need to be so selfish to turn himself over to the mafia.

  Protect me?

  The only one who needed to protect me was myself!

  I snatched the book, knocking my lamp off the nightstand in the same movement, and it shattered on the ground. I let out a groan and threw the book on my bed, then huffed as I crouched to scoop up the shards.

  “Use your magic.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin as I straightened and narrowed a glare at Doren. “Did they wish you to spy on me?” I snapped.

  He smirked. “No, I did that of my own accord.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, really not in the mood for his playful antics.

  He held his hands up to me. “All right. I’m sorry.” He lowered his hands. “They sent me out to collect information, ironically enough, and I might have manipulated their wish so I could come . . . visit you.”

  I remained as impassive as I could muster, in spite of being very aware that my heart was melting just seeing him.

  “Would you rather I didn’t?” he asked, and his brows dipped as a flash of hurt flickered in his eyes.

  “I just don’t understand why your communication skills are so sorely lacking,” I finally said, lowering my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? Give me a chance?”

  “A chance? For them to use you to their advantage?”

  “Your job isn’t to protect me! You said so yourself!” I crouched yet again and started placing the largest of the pieces of the lamp in my hand.

  “Guinevere, you can use your magic,” he repeated.

  “I don’t know how,” I sassed back. “In
case you don’t remember, I don’t have the privilege of recalling my previous life enough to just know how to cast all of those spells.”

  “What if I could help with that?”

  I stopped and looked up at him.

  He hadn’t moved closer, likely wary from my mood.

  “Care to expand?” I asked dully.

  “I happen to know where your book of spells is.” He smiled like he’d just given me the most important piece of information.

  “What good does that do?” I asked.

  Doren shrugged a shoulder. “I think if you held your book, the magic in it would awaken something inside of you.”

  I straightened, setting the pieces of glass in the garbage beside my bed. “And where, exactly, is my book?”

  “The Library of Alexandria.” He grinned, that playful, handsome grin that made my heart flip.

  But I scoffed. “That burned down centuries ago.”

  He nodded. “In your realm, yes.”

  “My realm?” I asked, finally stopping to get a good look at him. “You’ve been gone for weeks, and the first thing you say to me is you know where to find a magic book? And that you’ve been spying on me without telling me?”

  He frowned. “Weeks?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Weeks. Three, to be exact.” I wheeled around, unsure of what to do, so I grabbed the laundry basket of clothes at the foot of my bed I’d been meaning to wash for nearly as long as Doren had been gone. Now was as good a time as ever to wash them. So I stalked past him, the laundry basket between us, and out of my bedroom.

  I heard him exhale, and a part of me thought I shouldn’t be so hard on him.

  “Guinevere,” he said softly, his voice right behind me.

  I stopped at the front door to slip my shoes on.

  “Gwen,” he tried again.

  “What?” I snapped, facing him.

  His brows softened, and he averted his gaze a moment before meeting my eyes again. “I really am sorry. I didn’t have time to think about what to do. I had to act.”