The Reaper Rescues The Genie

by Kristen Painter

  Lucien certainly hoped he didn’t have to figure that out. Not because the thought of uneven odds intimidated him, but because he didn’t relish the prospect of reaping more souls out of their time.

  He was content to think about that, though, because it kept him from dwelling on Imari’s last words to him in the wagon. Words that he took to mean she wasn’t sure she even wanted to remain friends.

  It shattered him to think that they might part ways permanently. But he’d known it had been a possibility, and he refused to allow it to color his actions in the ring. He snorted at his own choice of words.

  He would miss color again. But not nearly as much as he would miss her.

  The mediator was climbing the spiral stairs that led to the top of a narrow turret at one end of the arena. From there, Lucien imagined Hammad could see everything. He just hoped that the jinn would be fair. It seemed logical he would be. To do anything else would invite chaos, and that was the main thing it seemed no jinn wanted to do. Not in this world, anyway.

  At last, Hammad leaned over the turret’s railing. He held a fat brass bell by the leather strap that served as its handle. He raised the bell, then brought it down sharply, sending a deep peal echoing through the space.

  The challenge had begun.

  Lucien tensed. Hades help him, he didn’t know if he should attack first or leave that to Khalid. Was it better to be on offense or defense? He decided on the fly to let Khalid make the first move. Then he’d see what the ifrit was made of.

  Khalid didn’t do anything immediately, however, and the two of them continued to circle each other, shuffling through the dirt covering the floor and blurring the perfect spiral it had been swept into.

  The tension in the air hung over them as thick as syrup, but there was no sweetness here. Khalid eyed Lucien with such animosity that, for a moment, Lucien wondered if looks could actually kill.

  Slowly, they crept closer to each other. It was a matter of inches, centimeters maybe. But they shrank the distance ever so slightly as they moved. Something had to happen soon.

  Khalid must have realized that too. He twirled his staff through his fingers with such nonchalance that Lucien wondered if he was taking any of this seriously. Maybe he thought Lucien was unarmed. A good reason not to call up his scythe yet.

  Finally, Khalid spoke. “Do you want me to kill you quickly? Or should I make a game of it? Or will you concede when you realize how little chance you have?”

  “I won’t concede. And you can’t kill me, jinn. You don’t have the proper tools.” If it was trash talk Khalid wanted, Lucien could do that. But it wasn’t going to distract him. That’s what Khalid wanted. For Lucien to underestimate him. To get cocky with possibility.

  Not going to happen.

  “And you don’t know how powerful I am.” Khalid shrugged. He spun the staff in more intricate patterns, the blade sparkling in the torch light. “I forgive you for that. You’re not one of us, jinabi, so how could you?”

  All this talk was doing nothing to bring an end to this display, but Lucien understood that it was part of the dance.

  So he played along. “The Chaos Realm is but one world, jinn. And no, it is not my world. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how to defeat you. What it does mean, however, is that you don’t know how powerful I am.”

  Khalid snorted as if Lucien’s power was laughable.

  Lucien wasn’t interested in games. Imari was outside, waiting to know her fate. And his, certainly. She had to be a knot of nerves, wondering how things would turn out. He didn’t want to make her wait any longer than necessary.

  He thrust his hand out and called up his scythe. It sprang forth from the tattoo on his forearm, the solid handle forming in his waiting hand. The wood was warm and welcoming, like an old friend. The curved blade hummed in anticipation. It didn’t care about the condition of the soul to be reaped, just that there was a soul to be taken. The tool wasn’t exactly sentient, but it wasn’t without its own sort of needs and responses.

  And it had been too long without a soul in its teeth.

  He’d never used the scythe in self-defense. He’d brandished it to scare the wish merchant, but that was as close as he’d come.

  If he took Khalid’s soul, there would be an inquiry. Even if he returned it. That had been the case for Hattie, so there was no reason to think it wouldn’t be the same now, especially with a deliberate reaping. But for Imari, he would endure whatever the reaper council put him through.

  What was a fortnight of scrutiny and questioning in the name of love? Besides, the council couldn’t take anything else away from him. He had nothing left to lose. Nothing but Hattie since Imari seemed to have already made her choice. Although, he hoped that wasn’t ultimately what she decided.

  Kora, on the other hand, would only miss his money if something happened to him.

  Khalid’s gaze fixated on the scythe for a moment, then he laughed. “What kind of creature are you? A farmer? In this realm, that is a tool we use to cut grass and weeds.”

  Lucien hesitated, enjoying the moment. “Some might call me a harvester. I definitely use it to cut things down.”

  Khalid’s chest puffed up as he spun his staff overhead, shifting it to his other hand. “Imari chose a day laborer over a prince. The woman is more fool than I thought.”

  “You’re the fool.” Lucien ran the scythe through the air in a slow figure eight, making the blade sing its ethereal song. Khalid wasn’t the only one who could showboat. “She’s one of the brightest, most wonderful women I’ve ever known.”

  Khalid snorted. “You really do love her. You’re both fools, then. Love is a reckless emotion.”

  How well he knew that. “And you think what, that pride is better? Pride is hollow. So is honor without love.”

  Khalid pointed the staff at him. “Honor is everything. Honoring tradition brings order, and order is peace.”

  “Not if that peace means you’re living a lie.” He leveled the scythe at Khalid. “Renounce your claim on Imari. Agree to break the marriage contract, and I’ll let you live.”

  Khalid’s brows pulled together in disbelief. “Perhaps the air of my world disagrees with you, as it seems to be rotting your brain if you think you can kill me. I am an immortal. All jinn are. Only jinn can kill jinn.”

  A speck of doubt slipped through Lucien’s confidence. Was it possible his scythe couldn’t reap Khalid’s soul? His touch had done nothing to Imari after all. But he couldn’t think that way, or he’d lose all hope.

  He firmed his grip on the scythe’s handle. “There is no such thing as immortal, jinn. And it’s time I showed you.”

  Imari couldn’t stop herself from pacing in front of the cavern. Her slippers were ruined, coated with dust, but all that mattered was Lucien walking out, alive.

  What was taking so long?

  And why hadn’t she told him she loved him?

  She made herself stop and take a few breaths. Khalid would want to be sure Lucien knew just how great a foe he was up against. No doubt the ifrit was informing Lucien of where he’d gone wrong choosing Imari as a bride. How Lucien was a fool to go against jinn tradition. How dishonor was worse than death.

  Or something like that.

  She glanced up to see her mother watching her with a disapproving gaze. Her parents had taken seats under the shade of a stand of palms where there was a small fountain. They seemed content to wait out whatever was happening inside. They were so calm. Like they knew Khalid was going to prevail.

  Her mother’s look stirred Imari’s anger. And since she was powerless to do anything against Khalid, she focused on those she could affect. Her parents. After all, things certainly couldn’t get worse. She strode over to them, filled with righteous indignation. “You must be so proud at what you’ve done.”

  Her father frowned, then looked away, ignoring her.

  Her mother arched a brow, then shook her head. “You think I am proud to have such a disobedient daughter?” S
he shook her hands at the heavens. “Why didn’t you give me another girl child?”

  “You would really rather I had become the prisoner of the wish merchant than break my marriage contract?”

  Farozza hesitated, but only for a second. “Do you think marriage to Khalid would have been a worse fate?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother pursed her lips. “Where did we go wrong, Zakir?”

  “I cannot say.”

  Imari rolled her eyes. “You went wrong by staying in this world. You should have left like I did. Then you’d know there’s more to life than rules.” Lucien had certainly taught her that. He lived an unconventional life in an unconventional house with his unconventional grandmother. He’d found a way to exist even when everything he’d known had been taken away from him.

  He was proof she could do it too.

  “Shut your mouth, girl,” her father snapped. “You’re the one who’s turned her back on life.”

  Imari stretched her arms out. “This life? Where order is worshipped like a vengeful god? Where chaos is feared more than anything else?” She leaned in. “Not only am I okay with breaking rules, but sometimes, I enjoy a little chaos.”

  Both of her parents gasped.

  The reaction spurred something inside her. “That’s right. I drove one of Lucien’s cars. Twice. And I exceeded the speed limit. A lot.”

  Another gasp from her mother and a frown from her father. He turned his head away. “Maybe in the mortal world, that’s acceptable, but not in this one and you know it.”

  “I don’t live in this world anymore. I can’t. You saw to that by disowning me.”

  Her mother scowled. “We haven’t done it yet. And we won’t. Not if Khalid wins. Which he will. Then, if you’re lucky, he’ll still marry you, and in time, maybe we can forget all this. But you have a long way to go to be the kind of wife a man like the prince can be proud of.”

  “I will never marry Khalid. And Lucien is already proud of me.” Imari looked toward the entrance to the cavern, realizing the truth of her words.

  Lucien was proud of her. He’d told her as much. He expected nothing from her. Not even for her to remain his wife.

  Suddenly, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

  Khalid swung first, but Lucien dodged the staff easily. Khalid had telegraphed the incoming blow with a loud grunt and a slow start.

  Lucien whipped the scythe around and used the butt of the handle to force Khalid to his knees, then he spun out of range. He shouldn’t have been able to evade the blow of a trained warrior so easily.

  Khalid was playing with him.

  The jinn got to his feet with a smile on his face, confirming Lucien’s suspicions. “Good job, jinabi. I wasn’t sure you knew how to fight.”

  Neither was Lucien, but Khalid wasn’t going to get the best of him, no matter how well trained the jinn was. If he wanted to keep up the trash talk, so be it. “I don’t really know how to fight. It’s not what I was trained for.”

  “Oh?” Khalid seemed genuinely interested. “What were you trained to do, then? To cut grass like a common gardener?”

  Lucien brandished his scythe with two hands. “To kill.”

  The haughty look in Khalid’s eyes faltered for a moment, then snapped back. “And again I tell you, I am immortal. You cannot kill me.” He spread his arms. “This is not a fight you can win.”

  “I disagree.”

  “So be it, but you are still wrong. Let us make a deal. You denounce Imari, go back to your home, and we end this peaceably right now.”

  “And why would you want to do that?”

  Khalid snorted. “It will make my married life easier if I do not have to hear over and over how I killed you. This way, she cannot hold that against me.”

  “I see. Too bad I don’t care about making your married life easier.”

  Khalid let out a long sigh. Like he’d exhausted himself trying to be the peacekeeper. “I do not understand your desire for another man’s wife. Where is your honor?”

  “She’s not another man’s wife. She’s my wife. You’re the one without honor.”

  A new spark of anger flared to life in Khalid’s gaze. “Too far, jinabi. Too far.” He spun the staff in his hands again. “No more talking. Time to die.”

  That was Lucien’s cue. He shifted into full reaper mode, allowing his reaper form to take over. With the shifting of his bones and the emerging of his skeletal self came the glowing eyes, the robe that billowed around him like a living thing, and the increase in height that made him seem like a living nightmare.

  He gave in to the darkness of the form, channeling the memories of the souls that he’d reaped just as he’d done the night he’d first scared the wish merchant away from Imari.

  Those memories took on form in their own way. Hands and faces pressed against the abyss of his body, reaching through the gloom as if they could save themselves. It was a parlor trick, a little reaper shock and awe meant to scare and subdue.

  Judging by Khalid’s horrified expression, it was working. “You’re an abomination,” he whispered.

  “No,” Lucien answered. His voice vibrated and rattled like chains pulled over a gravestone. “I am death. And I have come for you.”

  He lifted his scythe, ready to slice through Khalid and end this challenge once and for all, but Khalid reared back.

  The jinn held his staff out like a shield. “You will not take me.”

  Before Lucien could respond, the jinn seemed to…fall apart. It was as if he was dust. Disintegrating away. No, not dust. Sand.

  Piece by tiny piece, the jinn dissolved into a pile of sand on the arena floor.

  Lucien stared at it, unsure what to do. Did this mean he’d won? He glanced at the mediator for some kind of response.

  The man gave him nothing.

  Then a soft, whirring sound filled Lucien’s ears. He looked back at the pile of sand. Wind, from where Lucien couldn’t say, was picking it up and spinning it around.

  The spiral grew larger. Lucien backed up, at a loss as to what was happening.

  The whirl of sand increased in size and height, and the rush of wind tugged at Lucien’s robes and filled his ears with a thunderous roar. He struggled against the wind. It tore at him now. Sand stung his face and filled his mouth and nose. It grabbed at the blade of the scythe, turning it and teasing the handle out of his hands.

  Lucien squinted against the blast of wind and gripped the scythe’s handle more firmly.

  Then he heard a new sound mixed into the growl of the wind. A deep, repeating sound that was very much like laughter.

  Khalid’s laughter.

  The sandstorm was Khalid. It was another form of his, just as Lucien had become the reaper.

  With that realization, Lucien recalculated everything. He couldn’t reap the soul of a sandstorm. He needed Khalid to be flesh and bone. The wind whipped harder, tearing at Lucien’s body and robe with incredible strength. His options were running out.

  He recalled the scythe to his forearm and dismissed his reaper form to retake his human one.

  Then he let himself fall to the floor of the arena, as if defeated. His face was toward the cavern entrance. He could only think of Imari and what she must be going through waiting to hear her fate.

  The wind died away. The sand fell back to the ground. Seconds ticked by. Then he heard what he’d been listening for. Soft footfalls behind him, making their way through the dirt in his direction.

  Lucien steeled himself. He would have one shot at this and one shot only.

  A foot nudged him.

  In a single, swift move, Lucien leaped into the air, calling up his scythe and changing back into his reaper form with the speed of a single blink.

  Khalid’s mouth was still opening in surprise, his eyes still widening in shock.

  As Lucien fell back to earth, his scythe sliced through Khalid, hooking the jinn’s soul and cleaving it from his body with the efficiency of a hot knife through
butter.

  Khalid’s eyes finished rounding and his mouth came fully open, but the only sound that left him was something between a sigh and a sob.

  The last breath. Lucien had heard it many times.

  Hattie had once told Lucien that the feeling of her soul leaving her body was like being forced to exhale cold air. Of course, Hattie’s soul had been reaped by touch. He imagined having the scythe pass through one’s body created an even greater sensation.

  Khalid dropped to his knees, then collapsed to the arena ground. A second later, his physical body dissolved away into sand, and what remained of him, a ghost form, arose to confront Lucien. “What did you do to me?”

  Lucien plucked the bright tangle of energy off the end of his scythe and held it out. “I took your soul.”

  “But…how? I’m immortal.”

  “I am a grim reaper, and I can tell you that no one is truly immortal. And if you have a soul, I can take it.”

  Khalid stared at his transparent body. “What is this? I don’t want this. I want my body back.” He glared at Lucien. “I want my soul back.”

  “Good. I was counting on that.”

  With a grunt, Khalid swiped at his soul, but his hand just passed through the pulsing ball of light in Lucien’s grasp. He sucked in a breath, a purely responsive action at this point, and scowled. “How dare you?”

  “This challenge that you initiated was to the death. I’ve essentially done that.” He looked up at the mediator, lifting Khalid’s soul toward the man. “I hold the jinn’s soul. Is that good enough for you?”

  The mediator stared back for a moment, blinking hard. Then he turned and headed down the steps.

  “You can’t do this,” Khalid said. “It’s not how things are done. Death is death. This is…I don’t know what this is, but you cannot leave me this way.”

  “I absolutely can. Or I can transport your soul to its final resting place and the form you currently hold will cease to exist altogether. Would you prefer that? Permanent death?”