Fate must have been on her side, because she collided heavily onto the bomoh’s back. He was hot and sweaty beneath her thinly clad legs, and his soft flesh gave way beneath her weight. He let out a noisy “oomph”. Quick as a flash, she wrapped the chain around his neck and tugged backward. He gurgled furiously.
Using his momentary shock to her advantage, Jinx twisted the chain into a garrote. She tightened it with all her strength.
The bomoh let loose his magic, bucking as she rode him like a mad steer. The pelesit was as livid as its master. It buzzed, fluttered, and clicked around her furiously. The bomoh reached up with his fat hand to release the chain tightening around his neck. He clawed at the thick, gold chain cutting into his flesh and furiously gurgled spells trying to move it, melt it, or something. Yet, the chain stayed strong and true, just as it should. As a religious item, the chain was impervious to his spells.
The bomoh retched again and tried a different tactic. He swung his arms frantically, trying to grab Jinx, who clung like a rabid monkey to his back. She tightened the garrote with every fiber of her being.
Her heart hammering, Jinx felt something hit the back of her head. Pain dribbled through her. She shook her head weakly. She twisted the chain so tightly, it bit into her hands just as it bit into the fat flesh of the bomoh’s neck. Blood oozed from her hands yet despite it all, she clung on. The bomoh’s strength became weaker. Suffocating and unable to utter a spell, his magic was fading fast.
The pelesit flew at her again and this time smashed into her face like a living shard of glass. Blood dripped from the cut. Jinx shook her head to ignore the multiple pains in her body. She squeezed so tightly on the chain that the muscles in her arms screamed in silent agony. The bomoh gurgled with a sick, rasping, thick, and viscous sound. His legs finally gave way, and he buckled.
For a long instant, he swayed. Jinx held her breath and leaned her weight forward further. He collapsed to the ground beneath them, his body hitting the ground with a heavy, wet thud. Jinx’s knees crashed onto the stone floor, the pain sending a wave of nausea through her. There was a sound like a watermelon crashing onto a pavement, and the bomoh instantly stilled beneath her.
Chapter Twenty
For a long heart-hammering minute, Jinx struggled, still twisting and tightening the garrote, though her hands were now a bloody, slippery mess. What if he’s not dead? She gasped for a panicked breath and didn’t dare move off him. Endless seconds ticked restlessly by. Her body felt strange, and the scene seemed surreal. For one demented moment, she questioned her own sanity. The moment felt more dreamlike than real.
Eventually, she looked down at the bomoh. He was shockingly still beneath her. Blood dribbled sickly from his nose and pooled like a crimson puddle on the cool, stone floor. There was a buzzing sound to her left. She jerked her head up, spraining a muscle in her neck. The pelesit, red with Jinx’s blood, was writhing on the floor beside the leg of its fallen master. It twisted and bucked in obviously painful death throes, like a fly doused with spray.
Does this mean he’s really dead?
The pelesit spasmed again. Its spindly, slightly barbed legs flexed and contored out of control. Then, it just lay still.
Jinx tightened the chain around the bomoh’s neck despite the bloody protests of her hands. She couldn’t believe the monster and his pet were dead. She didn’t want to release the bomoh’s neck lest he bounce back to life–she saw it happen enough in horror movies.
The room was silent except for the noisy buzz of human traffic in the markets above. She held her breath and waited. Nothing happened. Once or twice, Jinx’s heart screamed when she thought she heard footsteps toward the stairs. Again, nothing happened.
She loosened her grip hesitantly. The muscles in her hands and arms relaxed, spreading a painful heat through her body. The bomoh’s body didn’t shift. Jinx crawled off his back gingerly. The air felt cool as it touched the wet cloth of her inner thighs, drenched with the bomoh’s sweat. Spasms shook her, and a horrified gasp collected in her throat.
I’m a murderer!
She looked at her hands. They were covered in lacerations, and purple-blue bruising was already visible. Her chain hung limply from one hand, the gold tarnished by her blood. Her eyes travelled to the chair where Hakim had sat. He was gone, and she was relieved. The poor boy. It was a small mercy that he hadn’t witnessed her kill the bomoh. No doubt her parents had him safely warded in their house. When this was all over, she’d send them a note telling them Hakim was safe from the pelesit.
Still battling with the surreal dreamlike feeling, she walked over to the large, green grasshopper. Its eyes were glazed and still a violent orange. Without thinking, she lifted her foot and brought it down heavily. There was a sick, wet crunch as the pelesit’s carapace gave way under her weight. A shot of blackish red fluid spat across the room and splattered against the bomoh’s bookshelf.
“Dead bug,” murmured Jinx and rubbed the sole of her shoe over the shiny, stone floor. She winced at the wet, gritty sound and stared numbly at the mess of pelesit entrails. The revolting scent of sweet, rotten meat floated lazily up and assaulted her nose. She swallowed rising bile and looked away.
Her numb gaze found the bomoh’s crowded book shelves. From their bottle prisons, she saw twenty or so small figures of the djinn waving frantically at her. Beside one particularly shiny, large green bottle she noted her own lamp nestled, leaning against a thick, evil-looking textbook.
Her heart thumped. Swaying slightly with vertigo, she walked over to the shelving. The feeling of numbness persisted, but as soon as her tortured hands rested upon her lamp, its warm spiciness suffused her. She sighed with relief.
The moment of peace was brutally cut short.
“Bomoh?” a Malay voice called. “Eh? Bomoh?”
A spasm of abject horror cut through Jinx so fiercely, she nearly lost control of her bowels. She winced as her hands involuntarily clutched her lamp too tight. With her heart hammering so loudly that she was very nearly deafened, she closed her eyes. Jinx fought the urge to see who was descending the stairs. She uttered a spell under her breath.
A flurry of Bahasa Malay erupted. Jinx opened her eyes as curly fingers of rainbow smoke surrounded her.
A thin, wiry man sprinted down the remainder of the stairs. His dark eyes widened for a second on the fallen bomoh lying in the pool of blood. Then, he looked at Jinx and gasped.
“You! Stop!” He launched over toward her. Just as Jinx felt the tickling of the spell whisk her away, she saw the man skid on the entrails of the pelesit and slam into the bookshelf where she previously stood. As she disappeared, all she heard was the shattering of bottles filled with djinn and their raucous catcalls of delight.
* * * *
Jinx forced every other thought from her mind and focused on one thing only. Lucian. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in mortal strife. Although she felt inwardly numb, she had a burning desire to be with him. The only problem was she didn’t know exactly where he was. He could be anywhere in the world. She materialized in a noisy street, not far from the bomoh’s market. She saw a small food shop to her left and scuttled in, looking around wildly for magical ion-sensing devices. Blessedly, there appeared to be none.
“Can I help you?” a brightly veiled woman asked. Her face was unusually blank as Jinx entered the shop.
Jinx’s stomach grumbled as the smell of fruit and fried goods met her. She knew she must look a mess but hadn’t the care to rectify it.
“Yes, can I have one of these?” Jinx asked and pointed at small platter of chopped fruit.
“Fifteen ringgit,” the woman said. Jinx conjured the money discretely in her pocket before handing it to her.
“Thanks,” Jinx said and scooped up the platter. She turned her back on the woman and took a seat on a stained, white plastic table and chair set near the door. Making sure n
ot to let go of her lamp, she devoured the food with one hand. As she chewed, allowing the juices of the pineapple, star fruit, and lychees to mingle in her mouth, she thought about where Lucian was likely to be. Her heart gave a nervous skip as she felt a strange pang of pain. More juice dribbled into her lacerated hands. Ignoring it, she focused deeply on Lucian, tentatively feeling for his life force and the strange link that bound them. If she could just be pointed in his direction, their link as master and genie should guide her to him.
Alas, it was hopeless. The only image that popped into her mind was the horrible transparent box over the streets of Mortlake. Surely, the Family wouldn’t have taken him back there? She gritted her teeth. Unfortunately, the shock of killing the bomoh was fading. Her mind and body started to feel raw and nervy. Disturbing, wretched thoughts kept interrupting her flow. She rubbed her face to try and break free of them. She had to be strong. She had to find him. If only he’d call her!
* * * *
Lucian howled.
“Take the damned wish,” the Pater Rex bellowed for the hundredth time. Through the haze of agony, Lucian thought his ears might bleed.
“No!” He spat a hunk of bloody sputum on the floor. The Pater Rex had put out the fire in fear of killing him. Now minutes, hours maybe, had passed and were filled with violent, mindless torture. His body was ruined. He knew it and felt it. If it had not been for his demonic form, his humanoid body may well have perished some time ago.
“There isn’t much left to ruin of you, Lucian.” The Pater Rex convulsed toward him. From his vantage point, Lucian could see the sick, black tracks of naga poison edging their way up the gnome’s arm. He must be in agony, Lucian thought briefly, trying to ignore the pain in his own wretched body.
“There is one part of you I can still mutilate, but thus far I’ve been a gentleman and left you with your manhood intact.”
Lucian closed his eyes, unable to contain a grimace.
“My wife is becoming impatient. She wants to meld her soul with yours. I need your cooperation. We simply cannot have your genie appearing in the midst of proceedings and endangering…my…my…my wife. I need that anti-venom!” The Pater Rex took a gulping breath of air. “Take the wish, now.”
“I…can’t,” Lucian groaned. “I can’t hand her to the bomoh.” Blood oozed from his destroyed lips.
“You can.”
Lucian heard the zap as a sharp injection of pain exploded near his groin. “Agh,” he cried and clutched his remaining hand between his legs.
“That was just a warning.”
Lucian squeezed his eyes tighter shut. He wouldn’t betray her. For the briefest of moments, he caught a glimpse of her. Jinx was sitting alone in a small shop, hunched over a platter of…fruit? She looked exhausted, slightly bloodied, but otherwise unharmed. The image was so at odds with his imaginings that he didn’t realize the name Yasmina slipped from his lips.
* * * *
Jinx’s head shot up, and she opened her eyes. She just heard Lucian call her name! Information filled her brain like a bullet train. He was in that horrible box in London and he was in pain.
Jinx leapt to her feet. Her body felt leaden, and her arms cried out in protest. She was about to push her way through the door when a firm hand caught her shoulder.
“Are you the genie known as Jinx?”
Jinx spun around and belched a strangled gasp. A clean-shaven man in a khaki uniform with a Malay flag embroidered on the shirt stood above her.
“Yes, but I’ve got to go.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Jinx. You are under arrest for the murder of a bomoh.”
“What? You can’t be serious.” Jinx shook off his hand and yanked herself away. “Seriously, I have to go.”
The man gripped her lamp tightly with his hand.
“Let that go,” Jinx snarled and tugged it back painfully. Surprised by the vehemence in her voice, the man released it for a moment.
“I would advise that you come with me quietly. There is backup on its way.” He tried to grab the lamp again, but Jinx leapt a step away. She looked at the woman behind the counter. She still had that strange, vacant look, as if none of this was happening in her store. Then, Jinx realized it. How stupid could she be? The woman behind the counter wore the same blank expression as every other one of the bomoh’s minions.
Jinx growled her frustration. The khaki-dressed man was blocking the door. Through the cluttered store window she saw black cars parking in the middle of the street and soldiers pouring out from them.
She took a deep breath and prayed that her meager fruit platter would be enough to sustain her. Then, Jinx uttered the motus spell.
There was a furious explosion of activity around her. Voices cried out, some in Malay and others in English.
“Stop her!”
“Get her!”
“Where’s the damned magician?”
“Don’t let her get away.”
Then, Jinx was gone, only to reappear in the same place her adventure had all started.
She stood up, vertigo tricking her, in the transparent box above the frozen streets of Mortlake.
“No, Jinx,” she heard Lucian moan in dismay behind her. Waves of exhaustion physically rode her, and she slumped, slowly turning around. “Don’t look,” he cried.
She should have listened.
She tore her gaze away from the angry gnome and faced him.
Words couldn’t adequately describe the horror she beheld when her gaze found him. Her gorgeous, strong Lucian was turned into meat—red, raw, bleeding, human-shaped meat.
Bile burned up her throat. She swallowed hard to keep the vomit down.
“Lucian,” she croaked, unable to keep her legs from failing. She stumbled and fell to her knees but slipped on the perforated bottom of the clear box, so slick was it with his blood. “What have they done to you?” she squeaked, her throat unable to let the words past. She scrambled and slipped in his cold, congealing blood as she tried to right herself.
“Get out of here, now,” he whispered.
“You’re my master. I’m not going anywhere without you,” she cried.
“Make him take the wish, Miss Jinx,” the Pater Rex said softly. Taking her eyes off the mess that was Lucian, she turned to look at the gnome. Black lines raced up the veins of his arm from where a putrefying bite festered. Was that a naga bite?
He looked demented, wild, and unimaginably angry. “He made me hurt him. I need him to take the wish, stubborn boy. I need the anti-venom, you see. My wife will not give it until she is certain you will not endanger her.” He paused and looked at the lamp hanging limply from her hand. “Is…is…is that your lamp?” he whispered, delight spreading pink hues to his cheeks.
“His lamp,” Jinx hissed and placed it beside Lucian. “Not yours.”
“It can be mine, now. Why did Mister Bomoh give it back? What did you do, little genie?” His questions were staccato and off-pitch, and he looked crazily over her body, noting the cuts to her face and her bruised, weeping hands.
Jinx ignored the Pater Rex. “Lucian, wish yourself well,” she growled as the gnome hopped madly around, doing some kind of insane dance. Slipping in the spilled blood, she skidded closer to Lucian. His blood soaked into her pants and chilled her. Ignoring her nausea, horror, and shock, Jinx reached her hand out and brushed a patch of his head where hair still remained. “Please, I can’t heal you on my own. This damage…it’s too much…You have to take the wish.” She caught him staring at her. His eyes were still red but had an opaque and glassy look, like the eyes of a boiled fish. “I couldn’t bear to live on this Earth knowing you’re…so…ruined.” Hot tears splashed down her cheeks and stung the cuts on her face.
His opaque, red eyes glittered with reciprocal tears.
He mouthed something softly, but
Jinx couldn’t hear.
“Don’t worry about me. If we’re both in the Family, at least in some way, we’re together. The Pater Rex can have my damned lamp if you just, please, please wish yourself well.”
There was a horrid, wet rasping from Lucian’s throat as he mouthed something through his burned, blistered lips.
The Pater Rex’s voice interrupted them. “Take her wish and heal yourself. It’s the only chance you’re likely to get. Devika can meld her soul with yours even in your current ruined state, and she is not as compassionate as I.” His tongue tripped on several of the words. The scent of his magic became thick and cloying.
Lucian suddenly contorted and rolled into a ball. Horrific pained whimpers slipped from his tightly pursed lips.
“What’s happening?” Jinx screamed. “Stop!”
“I am…merely reminding him of the pledge…” The Pater Rex ticked. “Perhaps he will take that wish, now?”
“Stop,” Jinx screamed. She whirled around and thrust the lamp at the Pater Rex, who accepted it lightly with a contorted smile.
Lucian stopped writhing. Jinx laid a hand on his horn. It was blackened and burned, a dull reflection of its previous ruby red hue.
“Oh please, Lucian. I couldn’t live with you like this. I can feel your pain. It’s unbearable!” The pain was consuming him. Blood still spurted from his severed arm. Jinx could only guess how much longer his body could sustain that. Even demon spawn would eventually give into death under such blood loss and physical trauma.
She met his gaze again, ignoring the tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Lucian, I love you. Please…” she said in a strangled sob.
Lucian’s lips started moving. A croak belched out followed by a bubble of bloody spit.
Through the bloody and burned mask of his face, Jinx saw understanding and peace suddenly wash over him.
“I…wish…” Lucian heaved the words out. “I…wish…”
Magical Redemption Page 23