Curse of a Djinn

by Lichelle Slater

  That’s when the accident happened.

  Because I had an idea.

  I rubbed my hand on my chest. The pain wasn’t going to ever go away. The guilt was never going to disappear.

  “Your family’s house?” Seymour asked softly.

  I nodded.

  He nudged my hand again.

  I blinked at the tears. “It still hurts so terribly.”

  “That pain means you loved them. Don’t worry. You’ll see them again.”

  I gave Seymour a grateful smile, checked the closet for blankets, and left the room. I finally found some blankets shoved at the top of my mom’s closet and pulled them out. I don’t know how I missed them during packing, especially those blankets.

  One of the blankets was Beckett’s. She’d made a blanket for both of us when we were born. I still had mine in a box in my bedroom at my apartment. How she knew he would love airplanes so much, I’ll never know. It was embroidered with his name underneath the printed airplane on the pattern.

  The second blanket I found was one she’d made when my mom and dad had gotten married. My brother’s was far too small for me, but maybe Seymour could use it.

  I went back downstairs and blew up the air mattress. “Any ideas how we can start a fire?” I asked, looking over at Seymour.

  He shook his head, eyes darting to the painting I’d left on the ground.

  “I don’t know that I dare bring him back,” I said, answering his question. I closed the lid to the air mattress, sealing the vent so the air couldn’t escape, and climbed on top. I tossed the old quilt on top of myself and was greeted with the smell of staleness. “I got a blanket for you too. Want to curl up on the couch?”

  Seymour barked and jumped up, the bone in his mouth. He walked in a circle, lay down, and put his chin on top of his bone.

  I leaned over and covered him with Beckett’s blanket and then lay down once more and snuggled up.

  Chapter 10

  Doren

  I collapsed on my bed, gasping as pain coursed through my body. I knew I couldn’t die, but I didn’t know what would happen. I’d been wounded, sure, but never to this extent. I would never admit to Guinevere just how worried I was in that moment.

  I forced myself to my hands and knees, then somehow grappled onto nearby objects and pulled myself to my feet. The only way I could get rid of the pain was to get the bullets out of my back, and that would require energy I didn’t have.

  My only option was to look for help.

  I flung my door open and spotted a man named Marid walking by.

  He stopped and stared at me. “You look like hell.”

  I nodded. “Can you help?”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Reciprocation should you need it?” I said through clenched teeth.

  He folded his arms.

  I rolled my eyes and stumbled past him.

  “You’ll pass out before you make it to the next block,” Marid said flatly.

  “Then I guess I’ll pass out and let the nonexistent vultures feed on my magical flesh!” I spat back.

  “You’re always so dramatic.” He grabbed my arm, stopping me. “I want a pass to the library.”

  I stared at him, brows furrowed. “That’s it?”

  He nodded once.

  “Okay.” I didn’t have the strength to ask why he couldn’t get in on his own or why he wanted to get in.

  Marid let me lean on him—whether he liked it or not—as he guided me back into my bed. I collapsed with a gasp. A wave of nausea trickled saliva out from under my tongue, and I had to close my eyes and take calculated breaths to force it away.

  “What happened?” Marid asked.

  I felt my left shoulder grow warm and peeled my eyes open. His hand was enveloped in the glow of magic, which he used to guide the bullets backward out of the wounds. I felt the metal shifting inside my body and hissed through my teeth.

  “My previous masters found me. My new master didn’t want to give me up,” I said.

  “Is your new master dead?”

  I shook my head.

  Three bullets clanged against the stone floor.

  “Wait, you protected your master?” His magic had stopped, and I looked at him again.

  “Yes.”

  Marid stared.

  “She’s the reincarnation of my debtor.” I didn’t know why I needed to explain myself, at least not to him, but it was a small moment of victory few, if any, djinn got to claim.

  “Well, aren’t you lucky.” He enveloped his hand in magic again and set back to work.

  I exhaled and closed my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You owe me.”

  Chapter 11

  Gwen

  I barely slept.

  My nerves were shot.

  All night I thought I heard noises, and every time I woke I remained awake worried about Doren until I drifted off into exhaustion, only to jolt awake later.

  What if I summoned Doren and he didn’t come back?

  What if I could have helped him, but I left him to his death because I sent him back to the djinn world?

  I finally climbed off the air mattress, groaning as my muscles protested.

  Nothing about it was comfortable.

  I stretched carefully, moving into a couple of standing yoga poses. There was no way I was lying on the ground to do the others.

  I ran my tongue over my teeth and frowned. “I didn’t even think about buying a toothbrush,” I muttered. I looked at Seymour, who hadn’t moved from the couch but was awake and watching me. “I need to go back to the store and buy a couple more things. When I get back, we’re summoning Doren and getting some answers.”

  I ate my pathetic breakfast on the way to the store, used the bathroom once there, and bought a couple more things, like a brush, hairbands, lantern, snacks, toothbrush and toothpaste, and socks.

  As soon as I got back to the house, I brushed my teeth using a water bottle so I could rinse out my mouth. I poured the rest into a small bowl for Seymour.

  “Did you eat all your food?” I asked, glancing around.

  He nodded. “It was yummy, but not yummy like your meatball.”

  I smiled at him and ruffled his head. I was more grateful in that moment for him than ever before. If I had to face this situation on my own, I didn’t think I would have made it through as well. “Let me know if you want more, and I’ll pour more.”

  I walked into the living room and retrieved Doren’s painting. I stared at the ocean scene and fisherman’s hut. It was sadly ironic he should be bound to a painting of something so beautiful yet live in a land without any color at all.

  “Okay, Doren,” I finally said. “I hope you’re healed enough that I can bring you back.” I rubbed the top of the painting and set it down on the ground, my palms sweaty and heart beating.

  The familiar swirl of colors floated into the air, and Doren took shape in front of me.

  I found myself smiling far too widely and threw my arms around him, squeezing him tight. “You’re alive!”

  “Ow, ow, ow,” he hissed.

  “Sorry!” I let go, holding my hands up.

  Doren’s face relaxed a little.

  I tightened my lips, put my right hand in a fist, and resisted the urge to punch him in the arm. “Who the hell were those people and why were they trying to kill us?”

  Doren frowned at me.

  Frowning or not, it felt good to see him. So good I could have grabbed his stupid face and kissed him.

  He smiled at me slowly, and I realized he felt the same way. Maybe not the kissing, but at least that he was happy to see me.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Answers. Now.”

  He licked his lips. “I didn’t know . . . I didn’t think this would happen.” He walked carefully to the couch and slowly took a seat. Clearly, his back was still tender.

  “Let me have a look,” I said.

&n
bsp; Doren raised his brow.

  “Your back.”

  He tried to protest, and I tried to argue with myself that it wasn’t so I could see his amazing body again.

  I gave him a dramatic eye roll so he wouldn’t think I was completely head-over-heels for him. “I just want to see how your wounds are healing.”

  “Okay, fine.” He shimmied his shirt up, exposing his muscled back.

  Of course, I allowed my eyes to roam over his body. I don’t know why I hadn’t imagined him so fit. The wounds had scabbed over and seemed to be healing properly—not that I knew at all what healing bullet wounds should look like.

  Doren was built, not huge like Collin, but lean enough I knew he was built for speed and dexterity. More than that, he had tattoos of Egyptian hieroglyphics up his spine, and then an eagle wing made out of Egyptian symbols spread from it over his shoulder blade and down his left shoulder.

  I tried to resist the urge to touch but was unsuccessful. My finger traced upward along his spine.

  I felt Doren’s gaze on me and looked up to see his lavender eyes watching me over his shoulder. I flushed madly and shoved my hands in my lap. “I was just wondering what they all mean,” I blurted.

  “It’s from when I was alive. A vow I made.” He smiled and held his shirt out to me, revealing all the holes and blood. “I’m going to need to get a new shirt.”

  “Did the bullets come out?” I asked, gesturing to him while trying not to let myself ogle at his finely toned abdomen.

  He nodded. “I had someone take them out for me.”

  “Someone?” I didn’t mean to sound so stupid, but anything to keep my gaze locked on his.

  Doren’s smile widened. “There are other djinn in my realm, remember? I asked one of them for a little bit of help.”

  I cleared my throat. “Right.”

  He chuckled. “Shirt?”

  “Oh! Oh, yeah. I wish you to go get a shirt.”

  I could have sworn he winked at me as he disappeared. I jumped to my feet, silently scolding myself for so obviously eyeing him. I hadn’t been in a relationship in months, and it had been longer than that since I’d even kissed someone.

  Seymour watched me, and I could have sworn he was smiling at me too.

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  “You like him.”

  “I . . . do not. I barely know him.” I snatched the brush and quickly combed my hair, realizing I hadn’t done that yet. It was likely a mess, and Doren had seen me in that state.

  “All right, I’m back.”

  I turned to face Doren and set the comb down with a frown. He wore a cut-off top, which exposed his chiseled abs and v. I was trying to find words while simultaneously staring.

  “This way you can stare all you want,” he said.

  I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so hard or fast in my life. “Doren! I-I wasn’t staring!” I turned my face away, holding my hand up to the side to block Doren from seeing me mouth a curse.

  He laughed, and from the corner of my eye, I saw a burst of color.

  I turned back, and he was in a normal t-shirt again. I lowered my hand.

  He was still smiling at me, his biggest smile yet.

  “Back to our conversation,” I said, grateful to change the subject, “you said you didn’t think this would happen. Which means you knew something might happen.” I raised both eyebrows this time and lowered my chin, staring at him with as much intensity as I could muster after so blatantly humiliating myself.

  Doren ran his fingers through his ebony hair. “It’s true,” he relented. “I’m going to give you a lot of information, and . . . know I’m sorry, okay?” Just like that, his smile was gone, and his purple eyes saddened in a way I’d never seen before. He sighed. “I told you djinn are prisoners, right?” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

  I nodded.

  “The crime I committed was murder. I murdered the sorceress to the king.”

  I heard myself swallow. I had just been flirting with this guy, and he was a murderer.

  Doren’s voice lowered. “Her name was Zenja. She was . . .” His lips turned in a sad smile, and his eyes glazed over. Something in that expression showed me he’d seen a lot in his years of existence. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever known.” He looked at me, and his smile fell again. “The first day I saw you, when we were in the sun, I suspected.” He licked his lips. “Zenja had a birthmark on her left hip. I used to tease her that it looked like a crocodile of the Nile.” He raised his eyebrows, hinting.

  I put my hand on my hip and my heart stumbled. I had a birthmark too. Just like that. My brother used to tease me about it, but I always thought it was awesome.

  He nodded only once. “You’re following along. You look just like her, Gwen. I believed before but never brought it up because I didn’t think it possible. Until you used magic yesterday.”

  “What are you saying?” I blurted. My heart was beating so loudly I could hear it.

  “I’m saying you are the reincarnation of Zenja. I don’t know why after all these years, but the gods reincarnated you.” There was a slight dip to his brows, worry as he waited for my reaction.

  I scoffed and kicked the air mattress out of the way. “You’re diverting the conversation! You . . . You’re making this up because you don’t want to talk about yourself! You always change the subject. This . . .” I gestured between us. “That can’t be true. Why?”

  He straightened. “It’s all connected, Gwen. I have to start at the beginning.”

  “No. No, I don’t want to hear your lies! I-I wish for you to be honest!” I ordered.

  Doren exhaled. “I am being honest. You really are Zenja, or at least her reincarnated. I know it sounds crazy—”

  “And how did you accidentally kill me?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to kill you.” He went to step forward, but I stuck my hand out.

  “Don’t you dare. You stay right there where I can watch you.”

  His jaw flexed, and his throat bobbed up and down. “Okay.” He backed up and took a seat on the couch.

  Seymour got up and moved with a huff.

  Doren didn’t say anything, but I knew Seymour moving hurt. “I told you. I wasn’t supposed to kill you. I was assigned to kill the pharaoh.”

  “Like an assassin?”

  He nodded, his eyes carefully watching me. “Exactly. That’s what I was. That’s what the tattoos on my spine mean, it’s my creed as an assassin. And you knew, even then.” He immediately tightened his lips, almost sneering as he turned his face away. He’d let something slip.

  I lifted my finger. “Wait, you knew me then too?”

  “That’s what I’m saying!” He threw his arms up in the air. “Okay? You and I, we knew each other all those years ago. I was an assassin, assigned to kill the pharaoh you protected. We were . . .” Again, pain flashed in his eyes. “You got in the way, and I accidentally killed you. Because you were an innocent, I was banished to an eternity of doing the bidding of someone else.” He got to his feet. “A djinn can only be freed by the person they wronged. The fact you’ve been reincarnated . . .”

  I felt my heart break for him.

  “I thought maybe you had finally been sent here to free me. To release me from my prison,” he finished softly.

  “Well, I’m not!” I blurted before thinking. I had a bad habit of shouting out.

  Pain lined Doren’s brows as if I’d just shot him myself. He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away. To think, just moments ago, he’d been teasing me about his shirt. Now, he looked like a wounded puppy.

  I put my hands on top of my head, my mind reeling. “An assassin?” I muttered out loud.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “How am I supposed to trust you?” I demanded.

  Doren folded his arms, his stoic expression returning. “You don’t have to. You own me, remember?” His voice was bitter, his body
unnaturally stiff, and he stared at me as if he were afraid to break eye contact.

  I narrowed my eyes in response. “What right do you have to be upset with me?” I demanded.

  “I’m not,” he said flatly.

  I shook my head, scoffing at him. “Whatever. Look, I’m not this sorceress okay?”

  “How do you explain the magic, then?”

  “It was . . . it was a fluke! You let some of your magic out when you protected me, and-and I somehow used that.”

  Seymour’s gaze followed me as I paced back and forth.

  “Not even you believe that statement.” He sighed. “It doesn’t really matter what you believe. I haven’t ever lied to you, why start now?”

  “Never lied? All you’ve done to me is lie!”

  Doren shook his head. “No, I avoided your questions. That isn’t lying.”

  “What about those men?” I stormed over and jabbed my finger into Doren’s chest. “Those men who showed up and shot at us, who broke into my apartment and likely stole whatever little I have? You’re supposed to protect me!”

  “No. Actually, I’m not.” He lowered his arms just long enough to push my finger off his chest. “No djinn law states we are supposed to keep our masters safe. If a master dies, so what?” His words were cold. “Someone else always finds us. We get summoned again. And then a new master orders us around. Why the hell should I protect any of them?”

  I felt my breath hitch and tried to swallow. “But you protected me.”

  He nodded once.

  “Why?” I asked softly.

  He shook his head and looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, jaw tight, clearly trying to find the right words.

  I stepped forward and put my palm on his chest. “Please tell me?” I asked.

  Finally, he dared a look at me. “Because . . . I hoped. I hoped you’d remember you were Zenja. I hoped you would . . . you would be the one to set me free.”

  I looked up at him. “You kept me safe so I could set you free?”

  “Yeah.”