Jinn Nation

by Caroline Barnard-Smith

  “We can change our appearance, too,” Rob suddenly piped up. “I’m not as good as Gwyneth was, but–” He paused and closed his eyes. A few moments passed and his face began to ripple, becoming broader and darker. His long beard disappeared and black hair began to sprout from his head, rushing to cover his skull with the speed of a racing bush fire. When he opened his eyes and peered at his two companions, they were a deep, icy blue, burning with an ancient light.

  “Oh my God,” Christa breathed. “You look just like Dylan. How did you do that?”

  Rob grinned and the alien face he had formed evaporated, the image drifting away like a thin cloud of smoke until he looked like himself again. “It’s easy,” he said. “Some hunter thing, I guess. We are predators, after all. It makes it a lot easier to get inside peoples’ homes.”

  “But you can’t do it?” Christa asked Dylan.

  “No, I bloody can’t.” Dylan glared at Rob, sure that he was embarrassing him on purpose.

  “Hey sorry, man,” Rob said, holding his hands up. He reached for the plastic lighter lying on the table and finally lit the cigarette in his hand, smoking in silence while Dylan and Christa watched him. “Shit,” he eventually said. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Christa said. “I have more tricks than you do.”

  ***

  That night as they lay in bed, Dylan was finding it hard to break his mind from the past and focus on the present. He and Gwyneth had been so happy in Hannard. So carefree without the tired daily rituals of The Ancient Order.

  “So what’s The Ancient Order?” Christa said, as if reading his thoughts. Dylan scowled at her, quickly checking his mental barriers. No, she hadn’t slipped through and probed at his mind. He relaxed, wrapping a long arm around her warm body.

  “They were my kin,” he said. “They were the ones who made me. They were too cautious, though. They were scared of the modern world, of being hunted down and caught. Eventually they began to starve.”

  “Is that what killed them?”

  Dylan stared up into the darkness. “I suppose so. All creatures can become reckless when they’re starving to death.”

  “And Gwyneth?”

  “And Gwyneth, what?”

  Christa sighed deeply and fidgeted beside him. “Was she your girlfriend?”

  Dylan imagined how Gwyneth would react to being called his girlfriend. He could see her floating above him in the dark, so clear in his mind’s eye she was almost tangible. He could also see the fiery amber that would spring to life in her eyes and the way she would draw her lips back to reveal her teeth when she was angry, the action both dainty and devastating. He laughed out loud. “She wasn’t my girlfriend,” he explained. “That’s too tawdry a word. We were partners, companions. Lovers.” He felt Christa stiffen, heard her intake of breath. “But that was all a long time ago.”

  Dylan soon drifted into sleep but Christa remained wide-eyed in the deep silence of the night, her breathing uneven and her heart racing in her chest.

  Eight

  The shadows deepened as another day drew to a close, yet Dylan was unable to take comfort in the familiar caress of night. All his senses were strung raw with the nearing threat of confrontation. While he had paced the hotel room Christa had been infuriatingly nonchalance, playing with lipstick and eyeliner at the bathroom mirror like a child trusted with her mother’s make-up case. He envied the ease with which she moved through the world, doubted she had ever had cause to fear anything. If something threatened her, she could simply wish it away like a bad dream. Now they were approaching the Coldblood’s nest and still she refused to register any concern. She simply smiled serenely and swung her hand in his.

  The house Rob had directed them to seemed to drain all the light from the street. It squatted amid a brown, overgrown lawn, bristling with quiet menace.

  “How are we going to do this?” Rob said. His entire body was agitated, his hands making fists at his sides.

  “We’re going to ask for your girlfriend,” Christa said. “They’ll give her back, then we’ll go out for enchiladas.”

  “Enchiladas?” Rob stared at Christa, his forehead creasing.

  “Just let her do her thing,” Dylan said.

  Christa walked up the barely discernible garden path and knocked loudly on the front door of the house. Dylan and Rob followed, standing on either side of her. Scratched into the wooden doorframe frame were the words: ‘Coldbloods 4eva’.

  A short, pot-bellied man answered Christa’s knock. He grinned when he saw them.

  “You’re early,” he said, stepping aside and encouraging them to enter.

  “I don’t believe in standing on ceremony,” Christa said. She walked inside with a lightness in her step and took in her surroundings. Dylan followed her gaze, wrinkling his nose. The house smelt of decay and damp, crumbling brickwork. There was also an underlying scent of bloody death threading the air, rich and rotten.

  “That may be,” the pot-bellied man said, “but you weren’t even invited.” He closed the door behind them, taking care to slide a large deadbolt into place across the top.

  “It’s okay,” said a voice beside them. “It looks like Rob has brought us dinner. We should thank him.”

  Ernie appeared from the shadows of the front room, face stretched wide with his customary leer.

  “No one’s eating anyone tonight,” Dylan said. He moved to stand before Ernie, to remind him he was still taller and stronger than he was. Three Coldbloods immediately sprang up behind their leader, their eyes fixed on the vampire.

  “Calm down,” Ernie told them. “Dylan wouldn’t be so stupid as to turn on a Coldblood in his own house.”

  Dylan paused, shaking his head. “How do you know my name?”

  “I know quite a lot about you.” Ernie’s plastic grin widened. Dylan could see he was taking great pleasure in this little exchange, but it felt forced, as though the jinn had practised this speech before they arrived. The thought made Dylan anxious.

  “I know, for instance, that you’re not just jinn,” Ernie continued. His eyes shone in the dark. “No, you’re a very rare creature: both vampire and jinn.”

  Dylan felt a tremor of shock or fear pass through Rob. He was still deciding if he should deny this revelation when Christa moved in front of him.

  “Enough of this crap,” she said. “I’m bored. Give us Marie so we can get out of this pit.”

  Ernie began to laugh. It was loud and hollow, ringing in the hall like the broken shots of a backfiring car. “I know about you too, Girl,” he said. “You embarrassed us at The Starlight Lodge.” His grin faded. “The Coldbloods don’t like being embarrassed.”

  “Go and get Marie,” Christa said, ignoring him.

  Ernie pretended to consider her request, cupping his chin and tipping his head to one side. “No,” he eventually said. “I don’t think we will.”

  “Wait,” Rob said, his voice laced with panic. “You said you’d let her go if I came. That’s what you fucking said, man.”

  “That’s exactly what they’re going to do,” Christa said. She addressed this to Rob, but didn’t take her eyes from Ernie’s face. “Go and get Marie,” she tried again.

  Dylan looked at Christa, sick horror blossoming in his stomach and stirring the jinn stones hidden there to dark murmurings. Her face was unusually flushed, her eyes wide and searching. Too late, Dylan realised that her powers weren’t working.

  “I’ve already told you,” Ernie was saying, “we’re not going to go and get her.” He grinned again. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “No,” Christa said, refusing to admit defeat. “No, I want you to–”

  Ernie’s fist flashed out, fast and brutal, striking Christa hard in the face and sending her to the floor.

  “What the fuck?” Dylan shouted. He lunged at Ernie but his vampiric speed failed when three Coldbloods grabbed his arms and pulled him back. They had been waiting for this moment, he realised, hidden
in the hallway like stony-eyed gargoyles. He bellowed with anger as he thrust against them, attempting to free himself.

  “In here,” Ernie said, turning into the front room. “Bring them in here.”

  As Dylan twisted and struggled, he saw that Rob was similarly incapacitated. The jinn dragged them both after their leader while the pot-bellied man at the door stooped and gathered Christa into his arms. Her head rolled against him, her nose streaming with blood, livid against her pale face.

  “You don’t need to do this,” Rob said, his breathing shallow. “I came like you asked. I’ve done what you wanted.”

  “That’s true,” Ernie said. “But you didn’t come to make good on our deal. You came with a mind-raping witch and a mutilated vampire freak show. What were you planning to do, Rob?”

  “You’ll all be mutilated freak shows if Rob does what you want,” Dylan said, still bracing himself against his captors.

  Ernie laughed again. “You’re funny, Dylan. It’s too bad you’re friends with this asshole, I like you.”

  “Asshole?” Rob shouted. The jinn holding him crowded closer, pinning his arms to his sides. “You’re the asshole, you fucking loser.”

  “Watch your goddamn mouth,” the pot-bellied man said. He dropped Christa into a dining chair at the side of the room. The blackened wood creaked even beneath her slight frame. She stirred and groaned, but didn’t seem able to lift her head from her chest.

  Fresh anger ripped through Dylan as he looked at her, slumped against the chair like a broken toy. With a roar, he tried once more to pry himself loose from the jinn gripping his arms. One of them kicked him hard in the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees with a thud.

  “Get them in the chairs,” Ernie said.

  Dylan immediately felt more hands grasping him, lifting him up and walking him towards Christa. They manhandled him into a chair beside her and bound his arms and legs with tough nylon rope.

  Ernie waited while the Coldbloods tied all three of his prisoners to their separate dining chairs, watching the proceedings with deep amusement etched into his pockmarked face. “That’s more comfortable, isn’t it?” he said when the jinn were finished.

  “You should fucking try it,” Rob said. He turned to Dylan, shock and anger draining his face of colour. “I’m sorry, man. I had no idea this would happen.”

  Dylan exhaled, trying to control the gamut of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “It’s not your fault,” he said. He could barely bring himself to look at Ernie standing before him. He realised that he felt deeply ashamed. He was a two-hundred year-old vampire, literally brought to his knees by jinn children. At that moment he was glad his kin were no longer alive to see him. They would have been appalled.

  “What did you do to me?” Christa murmured, breaking Dylan from his train of thought. The smell of the blood seeping from her torn nostrils threatened to stir him to madness. He studied her face, assessing her for damage. Her nose was a ruined mess that made her breathing difficult and laboured, but she was coherent at least.

  “It looks like I broke your nose,” Ernie said. He bent and peered at her, flanked by his Coldblood followers. Dylan counted eleven of them and grimaced. They were woefully outnumbered.

  “Get away from me,” Christa snarled. Ernie winked at her, but complied. “I meant, what did you do before you broke my nose, you fucking pig?”

  “Such rudeness,” Ernie gasped in mock shock. He turned to Dylan. “You should teach your little girl some manners.” The men surrounding him laughed.

  “She’s not going to learn any from you,” Dylan said.

  “You can’t play your witch’s games here,” Ernie told Christa, ignoring Dylan’s comment. “I did some digging around after you’d had your fun at The Starlight. I don’t like being made to look stupid. The Coldbloods don’t run from bars, not unless we’re the ones doing the chasing. I made it my business to find out what the hell you are.”

  Dylan watched, perplexed, as a cold, alien fear crept across Christa’s features.

  “I had to turn to Bredia herself,” Ernie continued. He stood straighter when he said this, filled with a curious sense of pride. Despite their predicament, Dylan was intrigued.

  “Bredia?” he questioned. “Who’s that?”

  Ernie’s small, inky eyes flashed. “You dare to call yourself jinn and you don’t even worship the Goddess?” He rushed at Dylan and clamped his hands onto his shoulders, acrid breath steaming in the vampire’s face. “You really are a freak show. Bredia is the mother of the jinn, the saviour of us all. She’d crush you if she met you. You’re not worthy of the stones in your gut.” He spat at him before straightening and Dylan baulked, repulsed by the sensation of hot spittle running down his cheek.

  “What did Bredia tell you about me?” Christa said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You’re fucking full of it,” Ernie said. “Do you really think she had any idea who you are? No, of course she didn’t. You’re nothing to her. She did have some ideas about your little magic tricks, though. She trusted me with some lesser jinn stones. Me, Ernie Coldblood. That trust has to be earned. You can’t play your mind games when the stones are charged, and they’re all around the house.”

  Dylan quietly tugged at his ropes while Ernie talked. He didn’t think he could bear another minute of the Coldblood leader’s self-indulgent posturing. With a desperate sinking feeling, he realised that the ropes were too strong even for him to break. He lowered his head, shaking with sick rage. He hated this feeling of helplessness. It was completely unbecoming for a vampire of his years and experience.

  Ernie suddenly whirled towards Rob, his face transformed by indignant fury. “Fucking vampires,” he said. “You think you’re above the jinn. You’re not very clever though, talking out in the open. I have ears everywhere, I own this town.”

  Dylan lifted his head, unable to stop himself from smiling. “That’s funny, I used to say the same thing.”

  “Shut up,” Ernie countered. “I wasn’t talking to you, Freak Show.” He sighed. “Okay guys, let’s get the girl out here.”

  Beside him, Dylan could hear the barely perceptible quickening of Rob’s breathing. He was struggling to sit up straighter, to lean forward and peer into the darkness beyond the jinn. The pot-bellied man and a taller, long-haired jinn with broad-set shoulders disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with a quivering, wild-eyed woman between them. They brought her before Dylan and his companions, forcing her to her knees.

  “Marie,” Rob said, “are you okay? Fuck, I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  Dylan could see why Rob had become infatuated with the woman. She was soft and pretty, her long dark hair falling in tousled waves to her waist. In the midst of her terror however, her eyes were red from crying and her hair hung in front of her face in a tangled sheet. She seemed driven mad, her mouth opened and closed and sweat ran from her hairline and between her breasts. She stared at Rob for several seconds before she recognised him and even then, she could only gape while fresh tears rose in her eyes.

  “What did you do to her?” Rob said to Ernie. He too was struggling against his bonds, desperately trying to break free so he could comfort Marie. “You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “I kept my promise,” Ernie said. “Unlike you. I should kill her right now, just to teach you a lesson.”

  “No,” Rob said. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

  “If you want her to remain safe, you know the price,” Ernie said. He crouched beside Marie, grabbed the back of her head and wrenched it back, a fistful of her long hair knotted around his fingers. She screamed and flailed uselessly against him. “Just turn me vampire,” he said, eyes fixed on Rob. “It’s such a simple request. Turn me and my associates, then I’ll let you all go.”

  “Okay, okay,” Rob said. “Just leave her alone.”

  Ernie released the bucking woman and let her crumple to the floor. He rose to his feet, his arms outstretched in a gesture
of peace. “So we still have a deal?”

  “Wait,” Dylan said. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Really?” Ernie moved to Christa and seized her by the throat, forcing her head back against the chair and causing her eyes to water. “It seems easy enough to me. Do it, or I’ll eat your girlfriend, too.”

  “It‘s not that easy,” Dylan growled, his patience wearing thin, “because not everyone can be turned. It’s a long, involved process.”

  Ernie retracted his hand from Christa’s throat with a snarl of disgust. She spluttered and coughed, drawing in long, ragged breaths. “Talk quickly,” he said to Dylan.

  Dylan’s lips drew back from his teeth and he strained again against the ropes, but he forced himself to talk evenly. “In the old days we chose our candidates for turning very carefully. We had to be sure they had the stomach for it. It can take hours because we have to virtually drain you of blood. That alone can kill you. If you’re strong enough to survive it, you have to drink from each of us. Even then, it might not be enough. When I was turned I had my entire kin to drink from, to gain power from. You only have me and Rob.”

  “You’ll just have to do an extra good job,” Ernie said. “If you kill me, I can assure you that the Coldbloods won’t be very happy.”

  “Too fucking right,” the pot-bellied man said, laughing.

  “You’re not taking this seriously,” Dylan said. “You’re asking us to do a virtually impossible thing.”

  “Enough of this,” Ernie roared. He looked at Christa. “We should show you just how serious we are.” He turned to his followers. “We don’t need two hostages, do we? We have the little witch, why not make a meal of this one?” He kicked Marie in the back, eliciting a low whimper from the cowering woman.

  “Fuck you,” Rob shouted. He began to struggle against his chair with renewed vigour, his eyes burning with the primal fire of a wild animal. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

  Ernie grinned his slow, insidious grin. He ignored Rob’s desperate howls of rage and threw himself upon Marie, forcing her onto her back and ripping her shirt away from her stomach in a matter of seconds. He nuzzled against her skin while the other Coldbloods gathered to hold down her arms and legs. Dylan watched aghast as the fiery malice of the jinn burned up from the stones deep in the pit of Ernie’s stomach. Sweat stood out on his face and his eyes glowed in the dark. He latched onto Marie’s belly button ring with his teeth, growling like a feeding dog as he ripped it clean away and spat it out. Marie screamed in agony, arching up from the floor. The jinn surrounding her pushed her back down. They were laughing, their own stones filling them with sweat-soaked anticipation that made them tremble with excitement.