Ring of Aandaleeb: The Hidden Ones (The Djinn Chronicles Book 1)

by Hutchins, S. S.

  The Ring of Aandaleeb

  The Djinn Chronicles Book One

  S.S. Hutchins

  www.throwbackcomics.com

  The Ring of Andaleeb © 2016 by S. S. Hutchins

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage, and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  THROWBACK COMICS PUBLISHING

  Why the name “Throwback Comics Publishing”?

  The term “throwback” is defined as a person or thing having the characteristics of a former time. When I was a kid I loved the adventure and excitement of Flash Gordon, Tarzan, Dungeons & Dragons, the Martian Chronicles, and fifty cent comic books printed on blurry newspaper paper. So that is the goal when I write; matinee imagery, plus absurdity, plus characters you want to be or want to be friends on a high-paced adventure.

  I had a good time writing this, I hope you have a good time reading it and you are “thrown back” in a fun way.

  S.S. Hutchins

  Author & Publisher

  www.ThrowbackComics.com

  THANK YOU

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  While there are A LOT of social media outlets, for now I spend the majority of my time interacting with readers on the Facebook platform. So please “like” our Facebook community and participate or contact me there to stay up to date on the progress of the upcoming books in the series- http://www.facebook.com/djinnchronicles

  Review. Review. Review. I greatly appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Please leave me a review wherever you bought the book, share the book with your friends, and help spread the word.

  As a small press writer any and all support is very much appreciated, Thank You.

  This book is dedicated to my wife, who always finds the magic in the

  most ordinary of things, namely me.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Road Trip

  Chapter Two: Mandalas

  Chapter Three: Heart of Stone

  Chapter Four: How it all began

  Chapter Five: Angels dream too

  Chapter Six: Down the rabbit hole

  Chapter Seven: The battle of the minds

  Chapter Eight: The prince of Mount Qaf

  Chapter Nine: Guess who’s coming to dinner

  Chapter Ten: Train or be killed

  Chapter Eleven: Sky Burial

  Chapter Twelve: Meeting Anka

  Chapter Thirteen: Swords and Sushi

  Chapter Fourteen: The Haoma Tree

  Chapter Fifteen: Old friends

  Chapter Sixteen: Angel’s fall

  Chapter Seventeen: Rings and books

  Chapter Eighteen: Standing up to bullies

  Chapter Nineteen: Coming back

  Chapter Twenty: Touching base

  Chapter Twenty-one: Watching the watchmen

  Chapter Twenty-two: Book return

  Chapter Twenty-three: North Star meeting

  Chapter Twenty-four: Djoser

  Chapter Twenty-five: Agendas

  Chapter Twenty-six: More Agendas

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Not quite yourself

  Chapter Twenty eight: Meeting a pharaoh

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Plans within plans

  Chapter thirty: Joy of Hebsed

  Chapter Thirty-one: Running out of time

  Chapter Thirty-two: Let the race begin

  Chapter Thirty-three: Enemy of my enemy

  Chapter Thirty-four: Something to prove

  Chapter Thirty-five: Not quite safe yet

  Chapter Thirty-six: Walkabout

  Chapter Thirty-seven: All out

  Chapter Thirty-eight: Fifth wheel

  Chapter Thirty-nine: Failure is not an option

  Chapter Forty: Expect the unexpected

  Chapter Forty-one: Equinox Arrival

  Chapter Forty-two: Found and lost

  Chapter Forty-three: Something wicked

  Chapter Forty-four: Getting your bearings

  Chapter Forty-five: Get back on the horse

  Chapter Forty–six: Time to go

  Chapter Forty-seven: Party crashers

  Chapter Forty-eight[Ma1] [Ma2] : Troublemaker

  Chapter Forty-nine: Barzakh

  Epilogue

  Chapter One: Road Trip

  It was only one more hour until Henry arrived at the apartment that everyone assumed his family had died at, Henry knew otherwise.

  Henry pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and tried hard to reposition himself in the cramped bus seat to catch one more quick nap. Somehow he had thought that riding the bus from New York to California would be both cheaper and less crowded. Neither assumption had been quite true. The bus fare had only been a few dollars less expensive than a plane ticket, primarily because of rising gas prices. The bus was packed entirely from front to back, obviously everyone else had also made the wrong assumptions as well. Another cough, Henry thought to himself, another wheeze, a crying baby. All of these had become a part of the white noise symphony of this three thousand mile, plus, road trip across country.

  At seventeen this was the first trip he had taken alone in a decade. The first time, was after the fire. The fire that everyone claimed killed his parents and his brother. That was the night that the police wanted to label him an arsonist. Aunt Sadie swiftly put an end to that madness. Now she was gone too. No one left, nowhere left to go. Just questions and a need to find the answers.

  “Excuse me, son.”

  Henry looked at the little old lady sitting next to him, as if seeing her for the first time.

  “Sorry I didn’t know you were sitting there.” Henry tried to sit up while rubbing his eyes. She reminded him of Aunt Sadie. Same salt and pepper hair. Same laugh lines at the corner of her eyes. Speaking with the same Southern drawl you can only find in the Baptist churches of the South.

  “You alright? You were moaning in your sleep.”

  “No. I’m fine; it’s just tough on these long bus rides.”

  “I know what you mean. Lord, I haven’t been traveling this long for years. My name is Mable. “

  Mable stuck her hand out for Henry to shake.

  “Henry.”

  Mable pulled a hard toffee candy from her purse, looked at Henry and reached for another one, offering it to him. Henry took the toffee from her and slowly unwrapped the cellophane paper. He loved toffee. He couldn’t help but love it. His father had always given him and Sam one every day after work. Mom didn’t want him and his brother eating sweets, but Henry’s dad would take them to the side and hand one to each of them. Just the memory alone brought warmth to Henry’s heart and the toffee candy began to lightly melt in his hand. He quickly popped the toffee into his mouth.

  He glanced over at her and gave her a quick smile. She smiled back.

  “You seem kind of young to be traveling alone.”, Mable said with a slight cough.

  “It’s a long story. It’s okay though, I am seventeen and considered an emancipated minor.”

  Mable laughed. It was a deep belly laugh. She leaned slightly fo
rward unable to control herself. A few people on the bus cleared their throats, loudly. Another man shushed them from somewhere upfront. Henry hoped that Mable’s laughter didn’t wake the baby. The last thing he wanted to hear was another round of crying so late at night.

  “Boy, what the heck does that mean- emancipated? Don’t tell me you were somebody’s slave?”

  Henry got the joke and understood the confusion.

  “No, ma’am. My aunt passed away a few months ago and before she died she hired a lawyer to make sure I wouldn’t get put in foster care. So he helped me become an emancipated minor. “

  Mable’s expression became pained instantly. Henry could tell right away she felt for his loss. Unfortunately Mable’s sympathy came a little too late. Henry had become accustomed to dealing with loss alone. He couldn’t feel it anymore. It was like the feeling of loss had atrophied inside of him, like a useless appendix. He knew he should feel the pain of loss, but actual loss did little for him now, much like tears.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Mable leaned in and hugged Henry with one arm, softly patting him on the shoulder. Mable’s fragrance wafted to Henry’s nose. She had an odd mixture of rose water, cocoa butter, and a little Bengay emanating from her. He couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly how Aunt Sadie used to smell.

  “Thank you. That’s alright though.” Henry said “I’m okay now.”

  “Well I can be your auntie now young man. You can call me Auntie Mable. You need something, you call me. You hear?”

  Mable pulled out a sheet of paper from her humongous flower purse. She searched around inside and found a ball point pen, licked the tip and shook it three times.

  “That’s for good luck.” And she proceeded to write down her number. She handed the little slip of paper to Henry.

  “I understand all about the dying and the dead,” Mable explained. “There’s no need in wasting tears, pain is reserved for the living. So you enjoy your life. You hear me boy, you hear me?”

  Henry nodded yes at her sheepishly.

  “Take those sunglasses off boy and turn around let me get a good look at you.”

  Henry hesitated. This was something he rarely did. Day, night, the sunglasses were a fixture on his face. His Aunt Sadie had fought with many principals over the years to make sure he didn’t have to take them off. Yet something about Mable was so familiar. She made him comfortable. He slowly removed his sunglasses and waited for the questions.

  She reached up and squeezed his cheeks.

  “Now that’s a good boy. If you need anything, anything at all, while you’re in Long Beach you let me know. Ok? You got enough money, food?”

  Henry felt good. It was a long time since anyone looked at his different colored eyes and didn’t question him or make him feel like a freak. Mable was okay. He’d been bullied too many times for having one brown eye and one green eye. Henry had long endured the teasing and the name calling, from other black kids as well as everyone else. Heck, he’d even been called Fido for several years to make fun of him. Henry had endured it all. His eyes were nothing special to him, but they brought attention to him, most of the time the unwanted kind.

  “I’m good, Ma’am. My aunt left me a little money to take care of myself. “

  “Are you staying in town long? Are you in school?”

  Henry wasn’t sure how much he should say to Mable. She was nice, but still a stranger. She wouldn’t understand his need to discover what really happened when his parents and brother were killed. She wouldn’t understand how he had seen something in the fire before he had blacked out. To be honest, Henry barely understood it himself. He needed to sort out what happened that night. He’d never felt it was an accident, but he could not quite shake that it was more than that despite the evidence.

  “I won’t be here long. I’m just here for nostalgia’s sake. I graduated high school early, so this is my trip before I head off to college.”

  Mable gave him a long, hard look. Henry could tell she knew there was more to it than he was saying. She shook her head and just as she hadn’t commented on his eyes, she didn’t press for any more information. Henry liked that.

  “Well give me your palm,” Mable said, “I’m originally from the south. My daddy’s people are from Louisiana, New Orleans to be exact.”

  “I bet you don’t know nothing about New Orleans”. Henry shook his head. The most he had heard about New Orleans was when Hurricane Katrina hit and even then, he hadn’t really understood what had happened. National Guard shooting at citizens, people living in the Stadium with little food and no bathrooms all of the houses on TV completely covered in water. It was something out of a horror movie. At the time, Aunt Sadie had cried, mumbling to herself how nothing had changed. Henry could feel his Aunt’s pain.

  “Well down in New Orleans there was deep culture of Hoodoo.” Henry raised his eyebrows at Mable as she inspected his hand.

  “Don’t you mean voodoo?” Henry asked.

  “No, I always say what I mean and mean what I say. Hoodoo is the good magic we brought from Africa when we were slaves. There’s a reason why slave masters used iron on us when were captured. To block the power of those that could really work the hoodoo. We don’t raise no zombies from the dead. We use Hoodoo to help heal the spirits, protect us from the fallen, and to save our souls from ol’ Scratch and his children.”

  Henry looked skeptical as Mable inspected his hand.

  “I can tell you don’t believe me. Your hand says it right here.” Mable ran her finger along a line that ran from right to left on Henry’s hand.

  “Your hand also says you will find your brother, but be careful, all is not what it seems, all will not be well. It also shows me here that you have great power and to not fear the heart. More importantly…” Mable looked deep into Henry’s eyes. “You have a destiny that will be hard; you’re going to have to give them what they want, in order to get what you want.”

  Mable put his hand down and folded her hands in her lap. She looked away, down the aisle, for the first time since they had begun to speak. Henry couldn’t tell if she had guessed this or was lucky. Henry’s face went slack as he stared down at his palm. He could swear he’d never mentioned anything about his brother. He looked at Mable. She turned to him with a knowing smile. For an instant, he saw Aunt Sadie’s face.

  “I really wish we had prepared you better, Henry, but you got a big task in front of you. The world hasn’t been kind, but you need to trust that the Lord has a plan for you.” Aunt Sadie’s face smiled over Mabel’s. “You are destined for great things. Find the man with the heart of stone; he will explain everything to you.”

  “Aunt Sadie?” Henry whispered. Mable blinked her eyes and the shadow of Aunt Sadie’s face was gone. Mable shook her head slowly, as if shaking off spider webs.

  “Your Aunt came to visit? “ Mable said, clearly.

  Henry couldn’t make out exactly what had happened, but nodded his head slowly, “I think so.”

  Mable grinned and winked, “That’s Hoodoo. Means my time is coming close.” “She didn’t do no harm did she?” Henry shook his head as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. “You’ve got a lot ahead of you, boy.”

  “Don’t lose my number. As long as I’m around, you got my help. ” Mable patted Henry on the thigh. “I may not come exactly when you call, but I’ll be right on time.” The laugh lines in her face turned up, Henry instantly felt good inside. Could this be the hoodoo, she was talking about, he thought to himself. He had no idea about what had happened, but it felt good.

  As Henry looked past Mable, he saw it in slow motion. A semi-truck running the red light, headed toward the bus at full speed. Before he could react or say anything, the smash of glass and the crunch of metal hit him instantly. The bus rocked to the right from the impact and began to fall over.

  Henry braced himself by grabbing the back of the chair in front of him, then the bus hit the pavement and it sounded and felt like a small explosion. T
he bus skid across the street and all Henry could see was darkness. The acrid smell of burning gasoline and smoke began to fill the bus. Somewhere on the bus he could hear screams and moaning on the bus. He looked to his left to see if Mable was okay. She was gone.

  “Mable! Mable!” Henry shouted.

  In the chaos he couldn’t see her or even tell if she was shouting back. Then he smelled it. A fire was just beginning somewhere on the bus. It hadn’t happened yet, but Henry knew any second it would begin to engulf them all. It was the same feeling of foreboding he had when his house went up in flames when he was younger.

  Somehow, he had also sensed that fire starting, but by the time he had gotten out of bed, it was too late. He couldn’t make it to his parents’ room or his brother’s room in time to help them. That’s when he’d seen it, something in the flames. The smoke was thick, but something humongous stood in the flames with horns from it’s head. The thing had looked at Henry through the smoke as he cowered in the closet.

  Henry had been terrified then and now the terror was taking a hold of him again. He was trapped on this burning bus and that’s when Henry realized he had come all the way back to Long Beach to die with his family. In a strange way, he was happy.

  Chapter Two: Mandalas

  They say that when you are dying your life flashes before your eyes. Henry saw images of his brother grinning at him; his mother’s beautiful haunting almond eyes and his father smiling at him in his wire framed glasses. He was finally going home he thought to himself. Warmth began to overtake his body. He couldn’t help it, the image of the horned shadow in the flames came to him and he could hear himself screaming, a deep gut wrenching scream. Then the face of Mable/Aunt Sadie appeared to him.

  “Focus, look for the flaw.” He remembered Aunt Sadie saying to him many times, “Look for the flaw,” as she lifted images of mandala after mandala in front of his face. These same mandalas began to cycle through his mind now. What a way to end, Henry thought to himself; his mind was giving him a slideshow of squares, triangles and circles, all of them interwoven with exotic colors and forming a unique collage of shapes. She had told him to look for the flaws, but he couldn’t see any then. But her voice was persisting now, once again, “Look for the flaw.” Then he saw it—a line slightly askew, a line simply not quite right, different from all of the other lines, almost imperceptible. He’d never seen it before, but his memory had given him clarity.