“Are any of these tribes still around?”
“No. Not for a long time. Desert fae used to be nomads but gradually they settled into villages. They mixed with humans, intermarried. Most have lost their powers. Occasionally someone like me will be born with some small ability, a throwback, but it doesn’t happen often.”
“So you’ve never met a djinn before?”
She shook her head.
“Djinn were rare, even in the old days. Mortals hunted them, enslaved them and forced them to do their bidding. One by one they escaped or were freed, and then they disappeared. We assumed they had all died out.” She darted a glance at me. “They say that sometimes you can hear their voices on the wind.”
I thought back to the murmuring I’d heard when I passed the sentinels, and shivered. I saw Kiran’s sharp eyes on me and changed the subject.
“So that’s an amazing ability you have. You create illusions?”
“I can change what a person sees, smells, feels. It seems real while I do it, but I can’t hold it for long. It’s nothing like your power.” Her face lit up. “You are like the stories of old, the glorious djinn who could wield the elements.”
I laughed.
“I’m not that powerful,” I assured her. “My grandmother could control fire. My ability is peanuts compared to hers.”
Kiran gave me a sideways look but didn’t say anything.
An image popped into my head; a story on the local news channel. A roof had blown off a house and the reporter had excitedly described it as a freak storm. Gran and I knew different.
I had been overwhelmed with grief after my parents died in the crash and I had lashed out the only way I knew how. Gran had told me I could never lose control of my power again, and I hadn’t.
“Anyway.” I shook my head. “My mum could control water. That was cool.”
“A water mage? They used to be in great demand in the desert. Even among the djinn they were highly prized. She must have been revered among your people.”
“Um, not really. She never used it. She hated it.”
“She hated it?” Kiran’s tone was frankly disbelieving. “But a power like that would make you a god.”
“Maybe in this world. In mine, it makes you a freak.”
“This is your world.”
I let out a bark of laughter.
“No, sweety. Big cities, bright lights, bars full of easy marks – that’s my world. Not…” I gesticulated at the sandy expanse around us, “…this.”
Kiran was puzzled.
“So you can’t hear them?”
“Hear what?”
“The spirits of the djinn. I told you. My people believe they’re all around us. I used to think I could hear them at night. I thought…” she hesitated, then ploughed on. “I thought they were trying to comfort me, tell me someone would rescue me. And then you came.”
So that’s what she’d meant when I first met her. They said you’d come.
“I don’t hear anything,” I said firmly.
“But djinn can communicate with their ancestors.”
“Not me. Sorry to disappoint you.”
I resolutely ignored her crestfallen expression. Demons, magic, spirits… It was all getting too much for me. After a while, she trotted forward to walk with Dhav.
I watched them chatting, marvelling at how relaxed he was with her. He had an effortless charm, making her laugh and putting her at ease. For the first time, I began to see why his subjects in Ashfahaan adored him.
His face lit up at something Kiran said and his mouth curved into a smile.
I remembered fixating on his mouth while the succubus had me in a trance, and a warm feeling travelled up my body. As if sensing my scrutiny, he cast a glance over his shoulder.
“Don’t get left behind, little thief,” he said. “We’ll reach the foothills in a few hours.”
“Don’t worry about me, Indiana,” I said snarkily. “This is just a walk in the park.”
But as the hours wore on, I began to struggle. The sun beat down mercilessly. I had discarded my sweater a long time ago, and my T-shirt was drenched in perspiration.
My feet hurt. The constant suck and pull of the sand made walking hard. It became easier as we drew closer to the mountains and the ground gradually became more rocky. But even Dhav began to flag as he tried to maintain the pace he’d set. Only Kiran seemed to have no problems, trotting along as fresh as a daisy.
I called up a breeze and let it swirl around my head and neck, feeling it dry the sweat from my skin and create a cooling effect. It was only a small relief, but a welcome one.
As an afterthought, I expanded the swirling air to include Dhav. I saw him stiffen as he felt the wind touch him. He looked back at me, then nodded stiffly. It barely counted as a ‘thank you’, but coming from him it was almost a standing ovation.
“Kiran, you need some air?” I asked. “It’s like an oven out here.”
“No, I’m okay. I’m used to it.”
Dhav fell back to walk alongside me.
“May I ask you something, little thief?”
“Only if you call me Samira,” I said pointedly. “I haven’t stolen anything from you for at least two days.”
“I’m sure it’s been a struggle for you. May I ask you something, Samira?” I ignored his sarcasm.
“What?”
“How does it feel? When you summon air?”
“What do you care? You said my ability was an abomination.”
He was silent for a while. I saw a muscle working in his jaw.
“Perhaps I was too quick to dismiss your abilities as evil,” he said at last. “They did save us from the succubus, after all.”
I put a hand behind my ear.
“Sorry, I’m not sure I heard you right. Was the great Prince Dhavani admitting he might have made a mistake?”
“Princes do not make mistakes,” he said gravely. “But we may sometimes, very occasionally, have a change of heart. We are not too proud to admit it.”
“I’m shocked.”
“You haven’t answered my question. What does it feel like? Your power?”
I tilted my head to one side, considering.
“It’s hard to explain. You know the sand buggies? How they leap forward when you give them some throttle? It’s like that. The power’s there all the time, but it only comes out when I press on the gas.”
“But you mould it, give it shape. Right now you are creating a refreshing breeze, but with that demon you drove a stake through its heart.”
I shrugged.
“I just focus on what I need. That’s all.”
“And if you wanted, you could throw me to the ground right now?”
“Would you like a demonstration?” I teased.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Keen to get me on my back, little thief?”
“I… no, I meant…” I went bright red.
“I know what you meant. And no, I do not require a demonstration. But I’m curious. How strong are you? Could you tear down a kingdom?”
It was a casual question, but my heart sank. He’d been doing a passable imitation of a decent person until then. But he still thought I was nothing more than a destructive force.
“And there we have it.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “That’s what you’re afraid of.”
He looked at me, startled.
“I’m sorry?”
“Even though I saved your life, even though I came here to help Raj, you still don’t trust me, do you?”
“I trust you more now than I did yesterday,” he said simply.
I held up the wrist bearing the amulet.
“Then prove it. Take this off.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes so dark they were almost black.
“You know why that’s there. In case Al Uddin captures you.”
“So you won’t take it off?”
“I cannot.”
I let my hand
fall.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
Chapter Sixteen
It was getting dark by the time we reached the foothills. We stumbled into the mountain village, dirty, tired, and thirsty. Lights twinkled from low-roofed dwellings, many of them with chickens and goats in their small front yards.
There were fields around the perimeter of the village, laid out haphazardly like a patchwork quilt. Some had crops growing, others held what looked like llamas. Either that, or some very odd breed of cow which I hadn’t seen before.
“Welcome to Maeltor,” said Kiran. “It hasn’t changed much.”
“Do you think people will remember you?” I asked.
“I hope so. My cousins will, if they’re still here.”
We followed the main road, a wide path really, until we reached a small centre square where several stores were grouped. They were just closing for the night, and I looked at them curiously as we passed.
One sold clothing, with a solitary mannequin in the window wearing something that looked like it had been made out of curtains. Another advertised tinned food, with the ubiquitous coke logo emblazoned on the door.
If I died and went straight to hell, I figured I’d be greeted with Lucifer chugging from a red-and-white can.
There were few people out on the streets, but the ones we saw passed us without comment. No-one seemed worried by the sight of three desert-soiled strangers wandering into their village. Or at least, no-one wanted to make a fuss.
I glanced up. The mountain loomed over us, the whole hamlet blanketed by its shadow as the sun dipped behind it. Somewhere up there was Al Uddin’s tower. The place where my gran had been held captive for centuries.
I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but the peak seemed to glower sullenly. What had Kiran said? It’s not safe for humans. An odd way of putting it, but I was beginning to see that ‘human’ wasn’t necessarily the only species a person could be.
My heart lifted as we approached a brightly lit building bustling with people. Some things never changed, I thought, as we peered through the window. Even in this godforsaken backwater, there was a bar.
“My cousins used to run the inn,” said Kiran. “If they’re still here, we can get lodgings and food. Come on.”
We followed her in and I inhaled the familiar aroma greedily. It didn’t matter where you were in the world, low-life bars always smelled the same. Spilled beer, stale sweat, tobacco and cheap perfume.
Dhav’s nose wrinkled. He obviously didn’t frequent many dives. But this joint would have passed as ‘classy’ compared to some of the shit holes I’d been in. It had a long polished timber bar sweeping the length of the room, and separate tables dotted about the wooden floor in a pitiful effort to give the place some elegance.
“Wait here,” said Kiran, and disappeared through a door marked ‘private’.
I glanced at the clientele with a practiced eye, automatically assessing which of them would be potential marks. There was the lone drinker at one end of the bar nursing a whisky; a group of grizzled labourers at the other, maybe farmers sharing an after-work beer; a couple of brash young men enjoying the company of two women who I was fairly sure were what my gran would call ladies-of-the-night; a few respectable-looking couples, husbands and wives sharing a meal; and two large men wearing waistcoats.
I zeroed in on these last characters. Unlike everyone else who was drinking whisky or beer, they had a bottle of wine on their table. One of them reached into his pocket and brought out a watch on a chain; not as expensive as Dhav’s Rolex, but a good piece of jewellery nonetheless.
I became aware that Dhav was watching me.
“What?” I said rudely. It was the first word I’d spoken to him since the desert.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just people-watching,” he murmured. “But we both know you’re sizing up the opportunities. Let me warn you now, little thief. No stealing. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Killjoy,” I muttered. It irritated me to admit he was right.
It was interesting though. Everyone looked very normal here. For a village with fae descendants in it, it seemed very boring.
The solitary man at the end of the bar turned his head towards me, and a chill went down my spine. His face was gaunt, but that wasn’t what bothered me. Where his eyes should have been, the sockets were covered in translucent skin. Blue veins spidered across the hollows, throbbing repulsively.
And in the centre of his forehead was a single eyeball. It was a perfectly ordinary eyeball, with ordinary eyelashes and even its own eyebrow. It’s just that it was acid yellow in colour and it was looking right at me.
I shuddered and turned away. So much for normal.
Kiran came out, followed by two short dark people who looked like twins.
“These are my cousins,” she said joyfully. “I can’t believe they’re still running this place after all these years. Deelan and Maeva, this is Samira who save me from the succubus. And this is her human pet, Dhav.”
Dhav glowered, his face like thunder. Before he could say anything, I shook the cousins’ hands, relishing his discomfort.
“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about him, he’s house-trained.”
“You are most welcome here,” said Deelan. Or maybe it was Maeva, I wasn’t sure. “We tried for years to find Kiran. We feared she was dead.”
“We’re glad you have been reunited,” said Dhav. “May we beg lodgings for the night?”
“Lodgings, food, drink, whatever you want,” said Maeva. Or maybe Deelan. It really was difficult to tell them apart. “Our home is yours.”
“In that case,” I said as I parked my butt on a bar stool, “I would kill for a beer.”
Dhav glared at me, but I ignored him. It was only when the cold frothing beer was in my hand that he relented and sat stiffly next to me.
“That looks good,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Bar-keep, another pint for my uptight friend here,” I called out. An overflowing glass was pushed across the counter.
I looked round for Kiran but she was catching up with her cousins. They were talking animatedly, their heads close together.
They didn’t look like her. Their ears were more rounded, their hair and skin darker. But they had the same blue eyes and sharp features, and they were clearly overjoyed to have her back.
It must be nice to have family, I mused, before pushing the thought away. I was used to being alone. I didn’t need anyone.
“Cheers,” I said, and took a long pull of beer, relishing its slight tang.
“Take it easy,” Dhav cautioned. “This is probably brewed locally. It may be stronger than you’re used to.”
“Are you suggesting I can’t hold my drink?” I deliberately stared at him over the glass as I took another big swig. He shook his head in exasperation.
“I’m sure you know best.” Cautiously he took a sip. “Actually, it’s not bad.”
“I’ll tell the cousins. They’ll be thrilled to know they’ve got the royal seal of approval.”
“Why are you always so sarcastic?”
“It’s just one of my many charms.”
“By the gods, you are the most….” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Samira. Can we have a truce?”
“Huh?” I was startled.
“You seem to want to pick a fight with everything I do or say.” He held up his hands as I started to reply. “And yes, maybe that’s my fault. You think I don’t trust you. But Samira, if we can’t work together we won’t be able to get the antidote for Raj, or retrieve your ring. Al Uddin may be trapped in a tower, but he is still dangerous.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“One evening without arguing. Just a few hours where we try to get along, and get to know each other better. What do you say?”
I cocked my head to one side.
“You wa
nt to be friends?”
He looked at me appraisingly.
“Friends may be pushing it. I want to be… not enemies.”
“Good enough.” I drained my beer and signalled for two more. “Then keep up. My not-enemies have to be able to match me drink for drink.”
“A drinking contest? Isn’t that a bit juvenile?”
I held up a finger.
“Sorry? What was that?”
He sighed.
“Fine. What are the rules?”
“Each time we drink, we have to tell the other person something about ourselves. Something personal.”
He frowned.
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Too scared?”
I taunted him with a stare, and his jaw tightened.
“Very well. I will play your game. But Samira,” he leaned forward and spoke softly, holding my gaze with his own, “if any of my personal information is ever repeated to anyone else, I will have you flogged.”
He meant it, I could tell. I dragged my eyes away and clutched at my fresh drink, feigning nonchalance.
“Fine. I’ll start. My parents died in a car crash when I was five. They were hit by a guy who was texting and driving. I was orphaned, but all he got was a fine. My gran took me in.”
“Were you happy growing up? As much as you could be without your own parents, I mean?”
“Yes. Mostly. I mean, I wasn’t a popular kid. I don’t make friends easily, as you may have noticed.”
“You don’t say,” he remarked drily. “Did you at least have a best friend when you were a child?”
“I did. Her name was Victoria and we hung out together all the time, until we drifted apart.”
“What happened?”
I gulped down some beer before answering.
“I realised she was prettier than me. The boys flocked around her, including the one I had a big crush on, and it dawned on me that being introverted and ethnic-looking wasn’t an advantage.”
I drank some more, the memory still rankling after all these years.
“I like your looks.” I turned to him, surprised, and he shrugged. “Your skin is beautiful. The colour of the sand at sunset.”
“Um, thanks.” I was wrong-footed by the compliment. “Your turn.”
Mark of the Djinn: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Romance Page 10
