Jinn and Juice

by Nicole Peeler

  “Who died?” came a new voice, from the door to Purgatory.

  It was Loretta. Her blonde curls were ratted, her face pale, and her siren’s third eyelids were blinking overtime, a nervous habit she’d had to work on suppressing when I taught her to dance. Charlie’s already glum expression turned even dourer. Exterminators were never the bearers of good news, and, despite our long friendship, Loretta was no exception.

  I obviously hadn’t rapped hard enough at that wooden skull of mine, because this situation wasn’t turning out to be any kind of cinch.

  Chapter Nine

  So who are we looking for?” Ozan asked skeptically, eyeing the copper-roofed cairn upon which was etched “Frick Park.” It’d taken some convincing to get Oz to believe that this Frick Park, which looked like a wild nature reserve, was the same Frick Park that had just played temporary home to a bugbear.

  I kept telling him it was a big park. But he was apparently deaf as well as an enslaver of (not-so-) young ladies.

  “His name’s Sid,” I grumbled, checking the lacings on the hiking boots I’d put on after we’d gone back to my place for a much-needed quick change. “He’s a troll.”

  “I’m assuming you mean like Big Bertha, and not a jerk on the Internet.”

  I stood, huffing at his lame attempt at a joke. “He’s actually Bertha’s great-uncle.”

  “And why are we visiting Sid the troll?”

  Zipping up my jacket, I frowned at him. “We’re trying to kill two birds with one stone. Loretta wants me to find out who brought that bugbear over and find out where it went, since they somehow managed to lose it. But Sid also knows everything that comes over and everything that’s happening in Pittsburgh. So we can ask him about Loretta’s problem and if he’s heard rumors of Tamina’s whereabouts, at the same time. I just wish he would answer his stupid phone.”

  “Trolls have phones?”

  I glowered at my Master. “Here’s Random Supernatural Rule Number Forty-Nine: If it’s got thumbs it’s got a phone.”

  Oz gave me a long look. “I’m sorry I have to keep you Bound. But I swear it’s only till we find Tamina. Then I’ll free you.”

  I took a deep breath, reminding myself that antagonizing him wouldn’t help. Angry Masters were nasty Masters.

  “Okay,” I said shortly.

  “Even Loretta said it was for the best.”

  I would have given anything to throttle him. But he was right. In the fight with the bugbear, Loretta had obviously noticed I could do the impossible: use the Deep Magic of our steel-stained Node now that I was Bound. And the Exterminators wanted that bugbear taken care of pronto. With their two best fighters out of commission after the Frick Park incident, I was the strongest thing in Pittsburgh.

  Loretta had been happy to agree Oz shouldn’t unBind me until I found his missing girl… if I took care of their Exterminator problems first.

  Oz had been very evidently thrilled to have another voice backing up his Master plan, and he’d promised her and everyone else in the room it was just for now. Charlie had taken me aside and reminded me that (a) I had no choice in the matter and (b) it was smarter to play nice with Oz, hoping he’d stick to his word, than piss him off. I’d already known both of those things, so we’d formally “agreed” to Oz’s terms.

  Although it wasn’t really agreement if, technically, I didn’t have any real choice.

  “Yes,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Loretta was keen on your plan. So let’s get going and find Tamina quickly… for the girl’s sake,” I amended, managing a faint smile at him.

  And before you realize how cool it is to be a Magi. I kept that thought to myself.

  Oz managed to keep his trap shut as we started down the park’s steep paths. I knew my science-minded Master wouldn’t be able to maintain such quiet for long, however, and soon enough he was pestering me again.

  “Why don’t you tell me more about Purgatory? Why it’s so hard to find. It’s a nice bar and the dancers are pretty good.”

  “Pretty good?” I said, feigning outrage. He winked at me, an act of flirtation that I chose to ignore. “Well, we don’t make it easy for humans.”

  “And how do you do that? I know it’s magic, but…”

  The bright fall day was just crisp enough for my breath to hang in the air as I answered. “Warding, mostly. Wards make humans not want to approach, unless they have a bit of the Sight, like Rachel, or they’re pulled towards something, like you were to me. Purgatory is also a bit Sideways, mostly for space purposes, although just a bit.”

  Oz frowned at me. “ ‘Sideways’? What the hell is that?”

  “You’re Irish,” I said. “You’ve probably heard of Faerie.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, my dad’s mom was from Cork. She talked about the Little People.”

  “That’s right, although I’m talking about the place more than the people.”

  “Oh, right,” he said, his brow furrowing as he thought back. “I remember them telling me stories about the fey living underground, sort of? But not?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Well, that’s Sideways. All purely magical beings have the ability to go Sideways. It’s called different things in your mythologies… the demonic plane, Faerie, Olympus, whatever. A place that’s here, but not.”

  “And Purgatory is Sideways?”

  “Only a little bit. If you were a human who bumbled upon Purgatory’s door without any Sight whatever, you’d walk down the stairs and into a very small basement. Unless you were led by the hand, of course, by a pure supernatural or someone like me or you—a human who is a bit extra.”

  We walked in silence for a while. This densely wooded part of the park gave the illusion of real wilderness as long as one ignored the nice wide dirt tracks and the occasional park benches. When Ozan finally spoke again, his voice was soft. Hesitant.

  “Is that what I am, then?” he asked. I cast him a confused glance.

  “Huh?”

  “Human. Am I human?”

  I laughed. “Is that what you’re worried about? Well, have no fear. You’re totally human. Just with a bit extra, like I said.”

  “But how? Why?”

  Thinking through the best way to answer, I finally opened my arms wide, gesturing to our surroundings. “It’s the natural law,” I said. “Take what you know of life, and add magic to it. Magic is part of the world, but I guess it’s like the God particle, or dark matter, or whatever they’re calling it these days. It’s all around humans, even if they can’t see it.

  “But magic is like anything else in nature. It has its own laws. And for every action there has to be a reaction. For every sheep there’s a wolf. And for every wolf there’s a lion.”

  Oz frowned at me. “You sound like a fortune cookie.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m a belly dancer. You’re lucky I’m not full hippie.”

  “I dunno about that. I’ve seen your room.”

  “That’s Bohemian chic, you Philistine.”

  “Whatever, I still don’t have a clue what you’re saying. Where did jinn come from, first of all? Are they all like you? Cursed?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m the only one like me.”

  Oz blinked at that. He was a smart guy and I could see the wheels of his brain churning over the implications of my experience.

  “Wow,” he said, after a bit. “That must be lonely.”

  “It is,” I said, sounding curt even to my own ears. I moderated my tone. “Or it was. Now it’s not so bad. But to answer your question, jinn are normally born, not made, as I was.”

  We were walking steadily downward, away from cultivated grass. The path was still wide and clean, but other signs of man like signs and benches were becoming fewer and farther between.

  “But where did jinn come from?”

  “I don’t know. They have their own origination myth and it accords with the one I was taught as a child, which was that Allah made the jinn out of smoke and fire, while he made humans out of earth.
They leave Allah out of it, of course, but they also trace their lineage back to a single being, who forged himself out of the heat of the universe.”

  “Did this jinni-Adam have an Eve?” Oz asked.

  “Yes. According to their legends, that first jinni created his own mate—Called her into being and Bound her to him. It was the first Binding, and the spell you spoke is supposed to be the same one he shouted into the darkness to find her.”

  “Wow,” Oz said. He looked sorta like he might explode.

  “I think your nose is twitching, you’re thinking so hard,” I observed.

  “This is just so cool,” he replied, in the excited voice of a child with a new toy. “I mean, I’m an anthropologist. To hear there’s an entirely new world out there, one that I can study…”

  “First of all,” I said, “It’s not new. We’ve existed alongside humanity forever, Oz. Literally forever. Which leads me to number two…” My voice trailed off as I stepped onto and then over a huge tree that had fallen across the path. Oz hopped nimbly over, and I envied him his height. At five-four, I’d been tallish for a woman of my time and place. Now I was definitively short, especially next to my new Master, who stood well over six feet.

  “There’s a reason you only just found out about us,” I said. “We keep ourselves secret, on purpose. A lot of us prey on humanity, in some capacity or other. And most of us are too vulnerable to your steel, your iron. If humanity knew about us, we’d be destroyed.

  “So,” I said, choosing my next words carefully so he understood the importance of what I was saying, “we guard our secrets zealously. And by zealously, I mean we greet threats to our secrets with death. If you try to publish a paper or something about us, they will come after you. And I will have to protect you. Which means they’ll destroy us both.”

  Oz raised his eyebrows. “By ‘they,’ do you mean the Exterminators? So they’re like some kind of secret police for you people?”

  “We’re not people, Oz. Never expect human mercy or logic or reasonable behavior from one of us. If there’s any hint that you’d betray your heritage, not only would everything Other that knew your intent come after you, but so would other Magi.”

  “But I thought you said Magi were human…”

  “Magi are Magi,” I said, cutting him off. “Yes, you’re human. But every time, Magi trumps humanity.”

  Oz fell silent, processing that last bit of info until he spoke again. More questions, of course. Having a scientist for a Master obviously entailed a lot of talking.

  “So if jinn were created out of smoke and fire, what created Magi?”

  I shrugged. “Evolution, I guess. Jinn are powerful. Some born jinn are as powerful unBound as I am Bound. Nature abhors such unfair advantages. So voilà… Magi emerged to keep jinn under control.”

  “Is that the official story?”

  I grinned. “No. The official jinni mythology is that humanity, seeing the glory of the jinn, were jealous. They raged at their own gods until their gods took pity on human weakness and made some of them Magi. But that’s like my theory, only the jinn stripped out the word evolution and put in the word god.”

  He laughed. “Isn’t that what all religion does? Try to explain what science either hasn’t or can’t?”

  I shrugged. “I’m no philosopher.”

  The look he gave me was sharp. “Stop being so self-deprecating,” he said, probably not realizing I would literally have to stop being self-deprecating now. “And tell me… what are you, then?”

  I cocked my head at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You say you’re a human made into a jinni. So which are you? Human or jinni?”

  I shrugged. “I dunno. Neither, I guess. Not anymore. But we’re almost there.”

  I turned onto a narrow path that led sharply downward off the trail we’d been using.

  “Watch your step. It gets a bit treacherous from here on out.”

  We half-hiked, half-slid down a steep hill toward the wide, marshy plain that led toward our destination. Oz struggled gamely behind me, his upturned nose wrinkling as cold water undoubtedly rushed into his boots. He wasn’t exactly dressed for the wilderness, but he didn’t complain.

  When he realized our destination, he groaned. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “They really do live under bridges?”

  “Yep. Humans get most things mostly right about us,” I said, casting him a sideways glance. He shook his head.

  “Amazing.”

  We were slogging our way toward the Parkway bridge that loomed over Frick Park. The sounds of traffic and occasional huge piles of slag, signs of Pittsburgh’s industrial past, marred the otherwise beautiful landscape. But I couldn’t complain too much about such things. After all, it was all that cold steel that made Pittsburgh a haven for one with my unique heritage.

  “So what do trolls do?”

  “They eat humans who ask too many questions,” I replied.

  “Very funny. I’m serious.”

  “So am I. I can’t lie to you, remember? They do prefer to eat people.”

  Ozan stopped short. “Um…”

  “Don’t worry. They rarely do it anymore. And you’re safe with me.”

  Ozan caught up with me with a few strides of his long legs. “So what do they spend their time doing now that they can’t eat people?”

  I didn’t comment on the specificity of his question, although I certainly noticed it. He was learning, damn it.

  “They still live under bridges. But they feed on deer nowadays, mostly. Of which there is no shortage, around here.” If there weren’t trolls, all of Pennsylvania would probably be drowning in whitetails.

  “And why are we visiting one?”

  “Living under bridges, they get a lot of supernatural foot traffic, so they hear a lot. I’m hoping Sid knows who brought over the bugbear, since using the Bridge is the only way to bring something that big over. Sid also loves to gossip, and living under our main Bridge he gets a lot of opportunity to do so. He may know where we can start looking for your Tamina.”

  “That’s all great, but what’s the significance of a bridge that crosses a park?”

  “It may just cross a park for humans, but not for supernaturals. Bridges have their own magic,” I explained. “And don’t ask why. I have no idea. I guess magic likes a metaphor. But oftentimes bridges serve as a conduit to Sideways—the place your ancestors might have called Faerie.”

  “So Sideways is an actual place?”

  “It can be, yes. If you go all the way Sideways, you’re basically in a world parallel to our own, that only magicals can find—purely supernatural creatures or humans with magic, like you. That’s where the majority of pure supernatural creatures live nowadays, because humans and their steel are everywhere. Supernaturals don’t like steel. So yes, Sideways is a place.

  “But Sideways is also… I dunno how to explain it. The route, as well as the place. So you move Sideways to get Sideways, and you can have pockets of Sideways. Big pockets, like where Purgatory’s located, or little pockets that you can use like they’re actual pockets—little magical closets where you store stuff. I keep my swords Sideways, for example.”

  “This makes no sense,” Oz said. “You realize that, right?”

  I grimaced, remembering my own steep learning curve when I’d been cursed to live as a jinni. “No, it doesn’t. But I already warned you: magic has its own rules. You’ll learn.”

  “So can anyone go all the way Sideways, like to a parallel world?” he asked.

  “Yes, but only with the help of a Bridge,” I said. “Something pure and powerful, like a sidhe Lord or a really powerful jinni, can propel themselves directly Sideways. But something with that much power is rare. And they don’t usually enter the human plane at all; they prefer to stay Sideways permanently.”

  “And bridges always lead Sideways?”

  “Not always, but often.”

  Ozan shook his head as if trying to clear it. “There’
s so much to learn.”

  I jumped over a big puddle, landing lithely on the other side. Oz tried to follow my lead, but landed short, his big booted feet splashing my gray skinny jeans with mud. I gave him a dirty look and he winced.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  I flicked something globular and gross off of my thigh. “It is a lot,” I said. “But you’ll absorb it all. You’re part of this world now, whether you like it or not.”

  Oz fell silent for a moment and only then did I notice how quiet everything had gotten. Too quiet.

  “Maybe when we’re done here,” he continued, “we can sit down and talk. I could buy you dinner. You can tell me more about all this. I don’t understand how your power’s different, for example…”

  I lifted my hand to shush him.

  “Something’s wrong. Stay here…”

  “Huh?” he said, ignoring me and keeping to my heels.

  “Quiet,” I said. I crouched down and he followed suit. Lifting my nose, I breathed deeply.

  “No birds calling. And no fires,” I explained in a whisper. “Trolls always keep a fire burning…”

  “Stay here,” I repeated, creeping forward. I knew it was useless, however. Sure enough, Ozan stuck to me like a burr.

  We were getting close to one of the concrete struts holding up the Bridge, but everything was wrong. No smell of fire, or roasting meat. Not even a whiff of troll droppings or the musky scent of their border markings.

  And no deep rumble from Sid, an old friend. There was no sneaking up on a troll in his own territory, and I’d been expecting a greeting for the last few minutes.

  We crept all the way up to the concrete strut, but still there was no sign of my friend or his brothers.

  “Something was here,” Oz whispered, pointing at the old oil drums standing at odd intervals, their interiors darkened from fire.

  Sid’s tribal marks were also still there, graffitied in spray paint on the concrete of the Bridge and carved into the few trees that grew in this boggy patch of the park. But there was no sign of the trolls who had made them.