by S. Young
Charlie threw his hands up in frustration. “What part of this doesn’t say ‘it’s a trap!’ to you?”
“Hey!” The Red King’s voice thundered around the room. There was an otherworldly glow to his eyes. Ari blanched. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked truly dangerous, frightening even. “Are you questioning my word of honor?”
“Say no,” Ari commanded her friend.
Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, and Ari’s heart fell, recognizing his defiance. Before he could say anything, Jai thrust an arm out, pushing Charlie back. “No, he’s not. He’s just a kid worried about his friend. But if you say Ari is safe to go to Mount Qaf to speak with Azazil, then we believe you.”
There was a tense moment as they all waited for Charlie to agree or not. However, to Ari’s everlasting relief, he remained silent.
“Good.” The Red King skewered them with another severe look. Ari knew this was a reminder that he might seem like a friendly, easy-going guy, but he wasn't a guy. He was a powerful jinn who could kill them with a snap of his fingers. Drawing the moment out, his demeanor slowly transformed from scary to cheerful again, which was, in itself, sinister. Ari shivered when his blue eyes alighted on her. “When I ask you to repeat these words, I need you to truly mean them. No being enters Mount Qaf under duress.”
“Got it,” Ari agreed.
“Okay. Repeat after me: I, Ari Johnson, wish to request an audience with Azazil, Master and Sultan of the Jinn.”
Feeling stupid, like a lost cast member of The Wizard of the OZ, Ari blushed but repeated the words, infusing meaning and belief behind them. “I, Ari Johnson, wish to request an audience with Azazil, Master and Sultan of the Jinn.”
Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt pins and needles in the tips of her fingers. Oh crap, not this again. Ignoring the uncomfortable pain that tingled and turned into a nip, Ari lifted her eyes from her slowly disappearing limbs to Charlie and Jai’s faces. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be back soo—”
Blackness crawled across her vision, and Ari gave into the overwhelming sensation of moving between realms. She let her body relax and float into the ether.
Her cheek was smooshed against something solid and smooth. Not just her cheek, but her whole body. Her chest ached, flattened against the hard surface and Ari groaned, shifting her torso at an angle to relieve the pressure. Just that slight movement felt exhausting. And familiar.
The memory of the Red King in her living room unfurled fear in her heart. She was terrified to open her eyes.
“I haven’t got all day, Seal.”
That voice.
Horror pried her eyes open and she jerked up from her prone position on the floor at the warped reflection of herself in glass tiles. The White King? Pushing herself up with more ease than she'd anticipated, Ari glanced around, her eyes almost crossing over at the warring, clashing reflections that collided with one another in the discombobulating room of glass. Focusing, Ari fought her way through the confusion, her eyes zeroing in on the colossal figure before her. Not the White King.
Thank the ever loving gods.
“Will you not stand before your master, Seal?”
Ari took in his huge bare feet, the long legs clad in black hand-sewn leather, the bare chest inked with tattoos of ancient script, the billowing blue silk robes and the startling face upon a thick neck. Like the Red King, Azazil’s head was unshaven, his long silver-white hair loose and flowing around his shoulders. His skin was a dark contrast to the pure brilliance of his hair, as were the deep black abysses that qualified as eyes. Those alien eyes narrowed between a strong nose and a hard mouth.
He was mammoth.
Standing next to a black marble throne that must have stood at least ten feet tall, Azazil was an awe-inspiring and intimidating figure. The jinn was at least seven and a half feet tall, the largest she had yet to meet.
She guessed it made sense that the daddy of them all was the biggest of them all.
Coming to her senses, Ari struggled to her feet, her sneakers squeaking on the glass floor. When she glanced up at Azazil for a reaction, he merely frowned and the next thing Ari felt was glass against her bare feet. She blinked, stupefied, down at her tan toes and chipped nail polish.
He’d taken her sneakers.
Shoving down her indignation, Ari drew her gaze up. How was she supposed to address this guy?
As if reading her mind, Azazil stuck out a hand and she noted his bejeweled fingers. Guy likes his accessories, huh? “You may kiss my hand, Seal.”
Seal? That was a creepy-ass nickname.
Gulping down her trembling nerves, Ari took a few tentative steps forward, placing her feet carefully, one in front of the other, as she headed up the dais. She kept expecting something to jump out and attack her. Despite her resolve to be cool, when Ari reached out a hand to clasp his, her fingers shook. Her hand looked tiny in his. The butterflies in her stomach raged a war as she pressed her lips to his knuckles, and darted back so quickly she nearly fell down the stairs. Glancing up at him, petrified at his reaction, it surprised Ari to see humor glittering in the black depths of his gaze. Unlike his son, the White King, Azazil’s features were warm with emotion. Oh, Ari had no doubt he was terrifying when enraged, and cruel and spiteful when he wanted to be (she’d read the book Jai had given her cover to cover after all), but she also could see that he could feel. The White King seemed to have no emotions. He was the darkest, soulless being she had ever met.
Trembling at the bottom of the dais, Ari waited for Azazil to speak.
“You are quite lovely.” Azazil smiled and Ari felt the warmth of that smile seep through her, her muscles loosening and relaxing. “But then if I remember correctly, so is Sala.”
Like always, the mention of her mother felt like a slap across Ari’s face. The warmth dissipated and she grew tense again.
Sensing it, Azazil waved his hand dismissively. “But that is not why you have come. You wish to save your human father?”
“Yes... Your Highness.”
He nodded. “A noble quest. One that…” as he trailed off, his eyes flicking over her shoulders, Ari felt the atmosphere within the humongous room shift and change, like the cap on a bottle of soda twisting, trapping all the gas inside. Ari felt choked by the sensation. Inexplicable fear exploded through her and she whirled around, her vision fighting the sparkling reflections. There at the opposite end of the room she finally spotted jinn servants in white, all staring toward the massive thirty feet double doors at the end of the hall. “Have you mastered the art of the cloak, Seal?”
Whipping around, Ari shook her head. What the hell was coming?
“Well.” Azazil smiled. “You better learn it fast. I invited my son, the White King, today. I wanted you to hear from his mouth what a scheming, manipulative bug he is.”
Ari’s teeth chattered as she jerked around again, watching the doors slowly swing open. “I already knew that.” Feeling betrayed, she shot Azazil a watery glare.
He tutted. “I just wanted you to be sure. Don’t panic,” he now coached her soothingly. “Just believe you are hidden, that no one can see you. Just believe.”
Drawing in shuddering gulps, Ari tried to calm, turning her thoughts inward. I am invisible. No one can see me. I am invisible. No one can see me. I am invisible. No one can see me. She shut out the sounds of the doors creaking wide and kept chanting.
“It worked,” she heard Azazil murmur. Shocked, she faltered. “Don’t break your concentration. Just come up here and hide behind the throne. My son will never know you were here.”
Petrified, Ari followed Azazil’s directions, moving forward and up toward the throne. A gasp escaped her when she looked down and right through her body. Where was her body? Holy shit!
“None of that,” Azazil muttered under his breath, shooting her a venomous look. “Don’t make a sound.”
Cowed, Ari moved fluidly behind the throne, placing her invisible hands against the ch
illed marble for support, and she peered around it. Her eyes widened at the sight of her real father’s face reflected around the room. He seemed to glide along the glass floor toward Azazil, his purple robes trimmed in gold, his shaven head shiny under all the brilliant light. As he grew closer, Ari noted the diamonds winking in his ears and the rings bejeweling his fingers. He’d dressed up to meet his dad, she mused.
Without a word, the White King strode up the dais. He grasped his father’s hand in his and placed a kiss on his knuckles. Militantly, he returned to his stance at the bottom of the dais. For the first time, as Ari glanced between father and son, she wondered why on earth her ‘father’ was the White King when Azazil was the one with the white hair? She got why the Red King was the Red King—he had that blindingly passionate mane of his. Her real father, however, was bald.
So the Seven Kings of Jinn weren't named for their appearance then?
Ari held in her breath, watching Azazil and the White King stare at one another. Peeking around, she caught the tension in Azazil’s jaw. He seemed perpetually, scarily amused. The White King, however, looked just as he had before. Emotionless. Blank. Soulless.
And suddenly it occurred to Ari why he might be titled the White King. There was a purity about him.
A purity of evil.
“Are we just going to stare at one another?” The White King cocked his head, for one moment seeming almost introspective.
The amusement fled Azazil and the air pulsed around him, like waves rolling out tumultuously and crashing against rock. The rock in question was the White King and, to Ari’s awe, he actually stumbled back against it. She shot Azazil a giddy, impressed look before reminding herself she was supposed to concentrate on remaining in the cloak.
“How dare you address me so disrespectfully.”
The White King looked up at Azazil from under his lashes. “Apologies. Master.”
Accepting the apology with a brittle nod, Azazil settled down into the throne, causing Ari to flinch. The tart, citrusy scent of pomegranate washed over Ari. She felt pressure against her skin, like a strong wind trying to blow her over. Heart thudding, she held her feet against Azazil’s natural power and tried to concentrate on the conversation taking place. What had she missed?
“Master has requested an audience with me to ask if I had Pazuzu curse the human, Derek Johnson?” The White King asked, pursing his lips.
“Yes,” Azazil replied. “That’s exactly what I am asking.”
The White King shrugged elegantly. “Even if that were true, Master, there is nothing anyone but the seal can do about it.”
“What a heartless child I reared that would cause his daughter so much strife.”
Surprised at the admonishment, Ari waited with bated breath for her father’s reply. As before, the White King betrayed no emotion. “It shocks you that your son has learned from your behavior, Master?”
A chuckle rumbled from the back of Azazil’s throat. “I never harm those whom my children call family.”
“Then that is where you and I differ in strategy, Master. Perhaps my ability to set aside emotion will act in my favor in this—”
“Usurpation,” Azazil supplied. “You are an arrogant, festering boil.”
“Must we have this same disagreement every time we meet, Master?”
Ari had to suck in a gasp as she was forced to skitter away from the throne at the angry vibration of power that throbbed from Azazil’s body. He leaned forward in his throne and hissed at his son, “I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to aid the seal against you.”
As if expecting such, the White King nodded. “You may try, Master. But the girl is my daughter and I have no doubt that once she is left with no one, she will come running to her father, to her family.”
“You seem confident of this.”
The bitter smile that curled the White King’s mouth almost blasted Ari off her feet. She was so surprised by the slip of emotion. “Every child needs their father, Master.”
The growing heat of rage thickened between father and son, and Azazil abruptly stood from the throne. “You will never have the seal. I promise you that. You are dismissed.”
With his blank mask perfectly back in place, the White King offered a ‘deferential’ nod and turned, his purple silk robes snapping in the air like a wild animal, the reflection and explosion of amethyst rippling back at Ari from every direction.
She knew now why Azazil had invited her to witness this interaction with her father. He wanted to remind her that his son was cruel, merciless, unloving, and she should never be manipulated to his side by anything he said or did because he spoke and acted with one goal in mind: to use her to usurp his father.
The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the giant doors glided shut. Ari stepped out of the cloak and walked down the steps of the dais to face Azazil from a respectful distance. As soon as he saw her expression, he nodded with satisfaction. Holding her emotions inside, Ari gave him a careful look. She may know now to never trust her father, but that didn’t mean she trusted this alien creature before her either.
“Pazuzu, Your Highness?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at the question and smiled. “Your determination and bravery are entertaining, Seal. Pazuzu is not like other shaitans. He is an ancient Mesopotamian jinn we call a wind demon; he’s older than many of his kind. The wind demon is loyal to the White King despite his ex-servitude to me. Thousands of years ago the White King created an entire city, spent decades spinning destinies and watching it grow and flower into something beautiful and productive.” He pinned her to the spot with a dark look. “My son built it up specifically to let Pazuzu terrorize it once it reached its glory. That patience, dedication, and artful evil is seductive to our kind. It is his way of gaining very loyal followers.”
There were no words to describe Ari's despair over her parentage. It seemed unreal. It was sickening. Hollow. Painful. Heart wrenching. She wished she was anywhere but where she was just so she could run and hide from the truth.
“Pazuzu is a desert spirit. He never strays far from the sand. He cannot.” Azazil gave her a permissive nod. “You will find him in Roswell, New Mexico.”
Ari had no chance to reply, to thank him, to tell him how grateful she was for his help despite the fact he had terrified the living daylights out of her. Almost immediately upon his words, Ari felt the darkness crawl over her eyes. She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for the wind tunnel.
Chapter 22
I'm yours
are you his?
Pomegranates. She couldn’t get the smell of pomegranates out of her head. The visit to Azazil's home on Mount Qaf had dragged Ari into the gloom. No matter what happened with her dad, Derek, her life was forever changed, forever tainted by the truth.
Trying to focus, Ari’s head swiveled back and forth between Jai, Charlie, and the Red King who oversaw their discussion. After returning to the house, exhausted yet determined, Ari had recounted her visit with Azazil, including the White King’s appearance. To her surprise, the Red King looked perturbed when she mentioned Azazil had invited his brother. It was as if he hadn’t known about it. Somehow, it made Ari feel better, that perhaps out of all the jinn kings there was one who really cared for her well-being.
“I agree with Jai, Charlie,” the Red King said, bringing her attention back to the present. “Pazuzu is not an amiable creature. In fact, he’s incredibly difficult to overpower. If I go on this little mission, he’ll sense my energy and disappear. If you go, you might get killed. Only Ari and Jai should go.”
Agreed.
“No way,” Charlie growled. “Ari, I won't allow you do this without me. Why can’t I help when you’re the one who needs a 24 hour guard?”
“Oh, yeah.” The Red King slapped Jai on the back. “Your contract has changed since Ari came into her gifts. You’re still her guardian, but you don’t have to hang around all the time. If she needs you, she can contact you usin
g this.” He tapped a finger on his forehead.
At that news, Ari caught Jai’s gaze, hating the strange ache and panic that spread through her. Like always, Jai revealed nothing of his feelings. “Okay, no problem.”
No problem?
It was so a problem.
Feeling guilt rip through her, Ari shot a look at Charlie, only to find him smirking. Of course, he was happy with the turn of events. Annoyed, Ari punched him on the upper arm. “I don’t know what you’re smiling about. You aren’t coming to Roswell.”
Glowering, Charlie rubbed his arm where she'd socked him. “What if it was me? You’d be tailing my ass whether I liked it.”
“Probably true,” Jai replied before she could. “But since I’ll be flying us there, I think you’re out of luck.”
Flying us there? Ari’s jaw dropped. “As in… flying?
“You forgot we can fly?”
“Was that in the book?”
“Yeah.”
“No.” Charlie shook his head adamantly. “It wasn’t in the book.”
“Huh.” Jai frowned. “Sorry about that.”
“We can fly?!”
The Red King winced at her screech. “Hysterical jinn. That’s my cue to leave.”
Before she could say a word or question when she’d see him again, the Red King went up into the fiery peripatos, leaving Ari staring at the empty spot in disbelief. “Do I have to fly?” she asked Jai, feeling more than a little queasy at the thought.
Jai shook his head. “No, like the peripatos, that’s something that will take time for you to learn how to do, time we don’t have. And since it’s impossible to take someone into the peripatos with me, it looks like I’m flying us there. It takes a lot of focus because you have to go into the cloak at the same time. You’ll have to hold on to me.”