by J G Jerome
L’liana nods, “He imagined hundreds of flying dragons. More like the Chinese style than the western.”
Zandra says, “There are probably fewer than twelve left in the world.”
We all turn to look at her. I just realized she’s speaking English, and her words are a bigger shock.
I ask Zandra, “Dragons exist?”
She nods slowly, “Yes. As do the Djinn.”
“Djinn?” I ask like a moron.
She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes begin to glow and swirl. Then she explodes into a puff of air that blows past me before she materializes equidistant between myself, L’liana, and Hakim. Then she says, “Yes. Djinn.”
Zandra turns to L’liana, “Can you show me the ‘nomadic men’ you mentioned? I think they may be my people.”
L’liana nods, and shortly thereafter Zandra falls to the ground sobbing.
I decide to see what my abilities do to Hakim now. I reach down and grasp his right hand. I identify the nerve paths for pain, touch, pressure, and heat. I light up the ones for heat and pain. Hakim screams with renewed vigor until I stop stimulating them.
Conversationally, I say, “Hakim. I would like to know about the Djinn in your glass tubes. How many do you have in captivity?”
He gasps, “Bugger off, infidel!”
I light up the nerves again for a five count. “Hakim, I think you underestimate how much I want to know this information. Tell me, please.”
He shakes his head and clamps his lips tight. I place my right hand on his head and light up the heat and pain nerves in his whole body while I count to ten.
I remove my hand from his head. “Please, Hakim. Please tell me. Unlike your father, I don’t enjoy torturing people. I would rather forgive you and set you free to become a better man than him. Please tell me.”
He sobs, “Twenty-seven. We have twenty-seven males. We killed four of them trying to capture them, and one suffocated before we figured out how to ensure they got sufficient oxygen without giving them an avenue of escape. We have not yet found any females. That’s what father is looking for.”
I lay my hand on his head again as he lays his forehead on the cobblestones. “Hakim, somewhere inside your mind is a little boy who just wants the love and approval of his father. I’m sorry you chose evil and dread as the method to get that love and approval. Your father will never love you. I doubt he loves anyone other than himself. I’m going to show you what you are missing out on.”
I let warm loving energy flow into him from the contact point of my hand. He gasps and looks up to me with tears streaming down his face. He wails. At that point I tell him, “I forgive you for the evil you have done, Hakim. Now I will set you free.” I send my will into his cranium and vertebrae. Then I make them grow lightening fast - each of his vertebra grows a sharp shelf in the hole that severs the spinal column, and the cranium grows long spikes that pierce his brain. He’s dead in an instant.
I reach out to his spirit with my will and wrap it in a warm loving embrace. I call out into the night, “Hakim, you are free, and you are forgiven. I hope the powers of the afterlife will pull you towards a more loving existence. I will name a child after you in the hope he will balance the wrong you have done in this life. Go forth and be a force for good, Hakim. I will remember you.”
I release my will and I feel him slowly move away from me.
13 - Djinn
I look at Aslan. “Did your people get Malia? If not, I’ll go get her now,” I say in German.
“The security staff from my import-export business have gone to get her,” he says. “I would like to go meet her at the port.”
I nod my agreement. “Yes.”
Aslan says, “I need to pee first. Meet out front in five minutes.”
“Sounds good,” I respond.
Zandra walks up and grasps my hand. I turn to look at her, and she genuflects. “Lord, on behalf of my people, I pledge our service to you. I am one of seven remaining Djinn females on this earth. Only six of us are still of child-bearing age. There were only thirty-two males left - now twenty-seven. We are becoming extinct. We were here before your people arrived on this planet. I am the last child born, and I am forty-three years old. I offer my people to your service. In return, I beg that you don’t let us all die.”
I kneel on the ground in front of her. “Zandra, I need to know more about you and your people. However, I accept your pledge. I pull Eventide and cut her hand and mine, then I grip her hand so our blood mingles. “For your service, I offer my service. For your people, I offer you my own. Your family now includes my family. Welcome.” I heal the wounds in our hands and lean forward to gently kiss her lips.
I say to everyone present. “Let’s go rescue Malia.”
I help Zandra up, and L’liana wraps an arm around Zandra. She tells the Djinn, “Come with us sweetheart. I’m a Jack’s sixth wife. I speak for the women of the family here - wives, concubines, and all other females in the family. You are welcome.”
Eileen hugs them both. “Zandra, I am Eileen. I am Jack’s fiancé, and I will be his seventh wife. Welcome to the family.” Each of the ladies kiss her cheek, and Zandra blushes.
I hear Eileen say, “You’re riding with us, Zandra. I’m sure Jack will want to learn more about your people. The harbor isn’t far, but you can give him a good start.”
While the ladies are getting acquainted, I check out the first guy we interrogated. He’s dead and cold.
Then I check ‘Mr. Mouthpiece.’ One of Berek’s guys taped him up while I was playing with Hakim. They went a little overboard. I think Berek must have been seriously pissed off. There are multiple wraps around his eyes and mouth. His nose is barely clear to breath. His long beard is caught in the tape they wrapped around his arms and chest. Below his neck he is nearly wrapped up like a mummy. I bet they used a whole roll of duct tape on him.
I ‘remove’ the tape from his eyes. I ask him in Arabic, “Can you understand me?”
He tries to nod his affirmation.
“Do you know who the Dread Lord is?” I monitor his brain and look for a connection to see if my buddy Farouk tries to scramble his brain.
Mr. Mouth nods again. I don’t sense anything. Maybe he was connected to Hakim.
“Were you serving Hakim?” He nods.
“Could the Dread Lord talk to you in his head since you began serving Hakim?” I get a slight shake.
“Before?” A slight shake. Maybe the communicators don’t embed that connection like the watchbands do.
“Do you believe in the Dread Lord’s cause?” He nods tentatively. I nod in return as I step back from him. Then I use my mind to slowly lift his supine body straight into the air. I keep his body parallel to the ground and roll him over so he can look in my eyes.
His eyes are so round I’m afraid they might pop. I cross my arms. “What am I going to do with you?” I nod once and begin to slowly ‘influence’ in the manner of the Winter Court.
I tell him, “You will no longer serve anyone in the Al-Sabah family from this moment forward. You will remember all of the mean and evil things Farouk bin Jaber Al-Sabah and his direct family did to you, your family, his family, his servants and their families, and legions of people that had done nothing to him. This will only reinforce the idea that you want nothing to do with his line. You feel remorse for kidnapping Malia Çakmak, and you decide that you will serve Aslan Çakmak for the rest of your days to atone for the sins you committed upon him. You will perform charitable works in the community in the Çakmak family’s name. You will be an example for all Muslim people of the prophet’s guidance to be charitable. You will be kind. You will use love as your primary tool for solving problems. Is that clear?”
I hear Aslan behind me, “What if I don’t want him?”
I answer Aslan as I slowly set Mouthpiece on his feet, “Then find a family that needs manpower, and instruct him to serve you by helping them.”
I ‘remove’ the tape from his body, but th
e hair still sticks to it. I touch his head, and I will his body to release all hair from its follicles. The tape all falls in a pile around him.
I ask him, “What is your name?”
He drops to his feet and kisses my boots. “I am Ali bin Hamadi, Lord.”
“Rise, Ali. From this moment forward you serve me by serving and protecting my friend, Aslan. You may grow your beard, but you must keep it trimmed short. Anything else is just a display of pride and false humility. You will be neat and clean at all times. You will work hard. You will atone for your sins. I forgive you for trying to harm my friends and family. May Allah have mercy on your soul.”
I tell Ali, “Start by disposing of your colleague’s body. Hakim killed him. Ensure his body is properly cared for according to the law of Islam.”
Aslan says, “Kerem will wrap the body and put it on ice until your return, Ali.”
I turn and walk past Aslan. I tell him, “I’ll meet you out front. I’ve got at least a liter of piss to get rid of.”
He chuckles as I walk past.
* * *
L’liana and Jessica are finishing up their meals when I get out to the trucks. Aslan’s staff are waiting out front by a pair of Mitsubishi Pajero’s, the European equivalent of the US Montero.
I get a WhatsApp text message from Yuri that the bill was paid by a Visa registered to Hakim bin Farouk Al-Jaber Al-Sabah. Last known location was the Penthouse suite of the Maratim hotel. I send a note back thanking him and tell him to send me the bill.
I stand in the open door of my SUV and pull on my shoulder rig. I put the suppressor on the Sig automatic, function check it, load it, and chamber a round before I decock, safe, and holster it. Eventide goes into the scabbard of the shoulder rig. I pull my car coat back on. Eileen roots around in her shopping bag and pulls out a neck scarf in thin grey fleece. She tosses it to me saying, “Put that on, Jack. It will help fight off the cold and protect your throat in case of a garotte.”
I chuckle and say “Yes, dear” as I think that Durec is probably much more utilitarian than the scarf.
*Probably not warmer, Lord,* I hear him whisper in my mind.
*I don’t know, Durec. I remember you being quite good at keeping me warm,* Eliana whispers back. I don’t know how a soul in a magical mail shirt of armor manages to convey a blush, but I definitely sense it as Eliana giggles.
I wrap the scarf around my neck and fold it into a loose knot.
I give Trina a wet kiss and slide my hand inside her pants to squeeze her firm tushy. I hold her close. “Are you okay, Pet?”
“Yes, Master. I was concerned about your safety and Eileen’s. Otherwise, I just missed being near you.” She finishes by kissing me again. I pull my hand out of her pants.
I give L’liana and Jessica deep passionate kisses before we all mount up. Zandra snags a hug from me before I hold her door open and get her settled. Then I hustle around and mount up. Eileen takes off before I get the door closed to catch Aslan’s party.
I look over the seat to catch Zandra’s eyes. “Aslan told me you were a friend of the family. Your story earlier seemed to contradict that. Tell me your story.”
She nods at me, and her eyes hold mine as she marshals her thoughts. “My name is Zandra Sadik. It means ‘true protector of humanity.’ I was born in Eastern Anatolia a little over forty-three years ago in an area that my parents knew as “Western Armenia” near the city of Erzurum. My father is Sadik Sadik and my mother is Zahra Sadik. At the time of my conception both were over three hundred years old. We are Djinn, or the ‘People of the Wind.’ As I said, I am the last child born to the People of the Wind. Our homeland is a valley in the Armenian Highlands. It’s a very dry place - most of the moisture we get is from the winter snows.”
She pauses for just a moment. “My people are not Muslims, but we publicly live according to Turkish Islamic custom to blend in. We worship the Four Winds and the Earth Mother. It makes sense when you consider we are spirits of air embodied in human form. Because of my father’s reputation as a devout man, he was favored by a merchant in the city. He gained greater favor because the People helped protect the merchant’s convoys through the mountains. Banditry is a constant problem. As a result, the merchant helped my father arrange for me to come to Germany for an education. I was twenty years old, but looked much younger. I presented myself as an orphaned 14-year old girl related to a Turkish resident of Düsseldorf. The merchant connected me with appropriate officials at the German Consulate in Izmir. That allowed me to emigrate to Germany. A family in Düsseldorf with the same surname took me in. My foster father works for Aslan Çakmak. My father worked with Aslan to smuggle gold bars to my foster family to offset the costs of raising me. I graduated with a degree from the University in Köln in business and horticulture. ‘Uncle Aslan’ got me a job with Berek while I work part-time as a horticulturist in a local hydroponics garden.”
She holds up her finger, “Education is important, but the main reason I was sent west was to find indications of the People or your people elsewhere in the world. We have only six women of an age to still conceive and bear children. There are only twenty-seven males to breed us, and apparently the Grey have them. Even if we were together, we are all related to each other. We’ve had children born that didn’t survive due to birth defects. We need new genetic material in our gene pool. The situation is made more difficult in that we can breed with Humans, Dwarves, Sidhe, and Elves, but none of those pairings will result in a Djinn. We can’t procreate with Dragons. The times we’ve bred our women with Greys created something similar to a Djinn, but darker, evil. We had to hunt them down and kill them. Every one. There are none left. I need to find another enclave of Djinn or a Green. Someone like you.” Her eyes remain locked on mine.
I ask, “What happens when a Djinn male breeds a woman of the Grey or the Green?”
Zandra answer is, “We have no stories of that ever happening.”
I have another question. “What kind of signs are you looking for that would indicate another enclave of Djinn?”
She says, “Frequent thermals. In the US you sometimes call them ‘dust devils.’ Not tornados, but small cyclones that rise from the ground. Dry climate is typical, especially with mountains surrounding an open dry plain. The central states in the US between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains, the American Southwest, the Pampas of Argentina, the Xinjiang province of China, the south of Mongolia and the plains of Inner Mongolia in China, and a few other parts of the Eurasian Steppe from Kazakhstan, through Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan to the Altai range. We’ve looked in Xinjiang and Uzbekistan with no luck. Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan haven’t yielded any leads, but we haven’t done a very thorough survey. Our Dragon contact discourages us from going into it. We thought we had a lead in Mongolia when I was ten years old, but we never actually found anyone.”
“We get a lot of thermals in Arizona,” I tell her. “That’s where we live.”
Eileen says, “I currently live in Maryland, but I anticipate moving to Arizona soon.” She reaches for me, and I clasp her hand and kiss it.
I look back at Zandra, “You said that Dragons exist. What can you tell me about them?”
She looks at me, “You don’t know?”
I tell her, “Until November, I never heard of Greens, Greys, Elves, Sidhe - any of it.”
She looks puzzled, “I thought you have powers like the Green Lords of old. How have you done that in two months?”
I shrug, “I don’t know. I met a young Sidhe woman in mid-September. She was the Crystal of the Summer Court. We worked ourselves into a passionate fog, and before I knew what was happening I was eating a huge mouthful of her flesh. Then she ‘influenced’ me to forget. I now have six wives and twenty concubines. All have given me at least one bite of flesh, which seems to help strengthen my abilities. I train as often as I can. I began to manifest powers in mid-November. By mid-December I had pretty good control on healing and putting people to sleep, moving a
nything organic, and I also inherited the Elven ability to blink - or teleport. I already knew how to fight from my time as a soldier and as a lifelong student of martial arts. Putting that all together makes me pretty formidable. The love and support of my family makes me very formidable.”
“Hmm,” Zandra exclaims. “So you weren’t raised by a Green community?”
“No. As far as I know, there are no Green communities. The last Green Lord died over 4,000 years ago. I’m a fluke,” I tell her.
She frowns, “Well, the Greys have been a consistent force in the Arabian peninsula and Turkey for centuries.” She looks at me frankly, “The People have a very strong tradition of oral history. Let me share it with you.” She pauses for a moment. “I can only do this in Persian or Turkish.”
“Turkish,” I say. “I’m assuming you mean Farsi, when you say Persian. I don’t speak Farsi at all.” I look at Eileen. “You?”
Eileen says, “About enough to ask for directions and order dinner. Let’s go for Turkish. I’ll help with translations, Jack.”
“Turkish it is,” I say.
Zandra says, “Okay…” then she switches to Turkish. “Listen well and you will hear...the story of how from the sky the Grey people came here.”
14 - The Ballad of the Grey People from the Sky
Long ago when humans barely walked on two feet, the People and the small hairy beings were plentiful in all the lands. The People were the guardians of humanity, game was plentiful, the Earth Mother was generous, and the Four Winds blessed all of us.
One cycle during this golden period, in the last moon of the snows, a large, burning rock fell from the sky into the mountains between the hunting grounds of the People and the great sea of black water. The People saw the rock burn into the mountains and sent a hunting party to investigate.
The hunting party rode the winds into the foothills, but then they had to climb. The mountains of the black water sea were steep and rugged. The party climbed. They slipped. They struggled. As the People do, they helped each other, and so the party slowly made its way to the burning rock.
