Curse of a Djinn

by Lichelle Slater

  I stepped back and rubbed my temples. “Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?” I heard him shift his stance and looked up.

  Doren ran his hand over his face. “A lot. You sure you want to hear it now?”

  “Well, you might as well!” I threw my arms up in the air, exasperated. “What could be worse than you thinking I’m your reincarnated lover from thousands of years ago? That I’m here to set you free from a prison you clearly deserved?” I knew my words were sharp, yelling had always been my defense mechanism, and I immediately regretted yelling at him. I hadn’t expected him to flinch.

  His eyes narrowed on me, but he didn’t move. “Those men work for my previous masters.”

  I needed to sit, but the couch was right next to Doren. So I leaned against the wall and swallowed hard.

  Seymour hurried over and leaned against my side, leaning his chin up and licking the air.

  I put my hand down so I could rub his nose. “The men who were at my apartment used to own you?”

  “They work for the men who did.”

  I shook my head. “How can you possibly know that?”

  He rubbed the back of his head, and his voice lowered. “My duty as an assassin didn’t end when I was imprisoned as a djinn.”

  I blanched. “You mean . . . you’re still an assassin?”

  “Not with you.” He looked at me.

  I felt the weight of the pain in his eyes. “All of your masters?” I whispered.

  He shifted to his other foot. “I was sort of . . . an heirloom, I guess you could say. I was passed down from father to son for years. I caused many deaths because my masters wished it of me. Remember your conspiracy assignment? I was hinting toward Robert Kennedy? That was actually me. And now they want me back.” He held out his left arm. “This.” He pointed to the middle of his arm. “This is a tracker. They embedded it into my arm years ago. Before I went into hiding. I’d forgotten about it until I saw them.”

  “You hid from them?” I asked.

  “I didn’t want to kill anymore,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes. “I was tired of taking the lives of others. Whether they were bad or good, I didn’t get to decide. I had to do what my masters ordered. I can’t refuse. So I convinced one of the goonies he was taking the wrong painting to auction. He took mine instead. My painting got removed from their hands, and . . .” He stopped.

  “And you were dormant until I found you in the attic,” I finished.

  He opened his eyes again.

  I’d never seen Doren look so vulnerable. The entire time I’d known him, I thought he was a strong, invincible being with weird social habits because djinn didn’t need to know how to communicate. I had no idea he’d been through this hell for years. What does that do to a person? Forcing them to kill for centuries?

  No wonder Doren wanted to hide.

  No wonder he had issues communicating his feelings.

  “Think of me however you will,” he said softly. “I’m only here to do your bidding. If you wish for your safety and protection, I will do whatever it takes. If you wish me to . . . go away, I’ll do that as well. I don’t want you caught up in my mess. It’s-it’s not your fault.”

  For a long time, we stared at each other in silence.

  I took my time digesting the information.

  Alive, Doren had been a hired assassin, paid to end the lives of others, one of which had been my own life. He was stuck somewhere between life and death, stuck as a djinn being used by others.

  I realized his entire existence had been only to appease the needs of others. Even I had fed into that.

  No matter how I looked at it, I knew one thing for certain.

  My feelings for him had changed.

  “I never thought of you as a person,” I said just when he went to turn away.

  Doren tilted his head.

  “I mean, I know you’re a being, but I didn’t . . . think of you having a real life,” I said stupidly. “I never thought about how you came to be. I never bothered to ask.”

  “No one ever does.”

  I shook my head. “But I should have. Because . . . you’re not an object to me, Doren. Not someone to make my wishes come true.”

  His brows shifted downward. His arms slowly relaxed at his sides. “What?”

  “You’re a mystery,” I confessed. I smiled as confidently as I could, but I knew it was a small one. “I do want to know you better. I don’t want you to lie anymore, to hide anything. I understand why you did it. And . . . I can’t be mad at you for that. You didn’t know me, you didn’t know how I would react, and you certainly couldn’t trust me. Whatever I can do to help earn that trust, I’ll do it.”

  Doren blinked several times. “O-okay.”

  I grinned fully this time. “Okay. I guess it’s impossible to wish us invisibility from them?”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I know there are precautions we can take to start.”

  “Like?”

  He held out his arm. “Getting this tracker out of me, for starters.”

  Chapter 12

  Doren

  I watched Gwen pace the floor in front of me.

  “I’m a sorceress?” she repeated for the millionth time.

  “Yes,” I replied for the same number of times.

  She stopped and faced me. “Then teach me what to do.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I don’t know a lick of magic.”

  Gwen planted her hands on her hips.

  “I meant true magic,” I quickly explained. “I have magic only because I’m cursed to be a djinn. I didn’t have to learn how to use it.”

  “Then I wish that I can understand magic,” she said.

  “Not sure it works that way.” I scratched my head.

  “You’re my djinn! You make my wishes come true!”

  “I suppose . . .”

  She raised her eyebrows and leaned forward.

  I ran my hand over my chin as I contemplated. “Well, I suppose the fastest way for me to make that happen would be to wake up your memories of your old self.” I wasn’t sure if she would go for it, but it really was the only way I could think of making her wish come true.

  Gwen looked me up and down. “Back when I really was a sorceress?” I was sure the look was skeptical, but she cut me off before I could say anything. “That’s brilliant!”

  I wasn’t so sure it was. “It’s also potentially dangerous,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because . . . it’s possible I could also wake your past lives, however many you’ve lived. It would also return your memories of that entire life, and it’s possible to overwhelm your mind with all of that information. And if we do that, we could—”

  “Make it explode?” The corners of Gwen’s lips drew down in a disgusted look.

  “Not literally.”

  She tapped her toes on the dusty wooden floor. “What’s the point of having a djinn if you can’t make my wishes come true?”

  I scowled. “Well forgive me for being cautious.” I held my hands out to her.

  “Wait, I was kidding!” She waved her hands at me, stopping me. “You need to get a sense of humor. Didn’t you see me smiling?”

  Looking back, I had seen a little grin on her lips. “Oh.”

  “People skills. You lack them.” Gwen patted my shoulder, then plopped down on the couch. “I guess I could go to the library and do some research into basic magic. Clearly, I also need to learn about reincarnation.”

  “Or you could go talk to your magic friends,” I said. “Julene and Collin and whatever her name was.”

  “Niera.” Gwen sucked at her teeth. “You think I’ll be okay to go out?”

  “Those men don’t know who you are,” I said. “Granted, they likely asked your landlord for your name, but even then it would take a few days to track down your information, right? They don’t have any way of tracking you, so they shouldn�
��t be able to find you.”

  “Except you have no idea what technology is capable of these days,” she pointed out.

  I shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you should go talk to your friends. They’re your best resource right now. I only ever saw you practice when you were alive, but since I couldn’t use magic, I didn’t really pay attention.”

  “Wait, your tracking. That’s got to go first, right?” She jumped back to her feet. “I’d almost forgotten. Maybe you shouldn’t be out right now.”

  I felt my lips tighten. “Or you could get a dagger and dig it out.”

  “Dagger.” Gwen snickered and then stopped. “It’s just funny because humans don’t typically carry daggers around.”

  “I’m learning more every day that you’re not an ordinary human.”

  She grinned, crouched, and pulled a dagger from a holster on her ankle.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I chuckled.

  Gwen held out her hand, and I set my wrist in it. “How big is it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How deep?”

  I shrugged.

  “Okay. Okay, I can do this.” Gwen licked her lips and put the tip of her dagger against my skin.

  “Or I could,” I offered.

  She looked up at me. I loved feeling her this close. I was more than grateful she had recovered so well from the barrage of information about me being an assassin, even if she had stayed well enough away from me since then until this moment.

  “There’s an easier way,” Seymour interrupted. He dropped the bone he’d been chewing on.

  We both looked at him.

  The dog shook his head. “Just wish it out, Gwen.”

  Gwen laughed nervously, quickly letting go of my arm and stepping back. “Duh. I’m stupid. Doren, I wish you to remove your tracker.”

  I hovered my hand over my arm. The magic glowed blue around my fingertips, and I shifted my hand back and forth, slowly moving the tracker through the layers of muscle. “I need you to allow me to dispose of it,” I said, glancing away from my task and to Gwen.

  “Fine. I wish that you can dispose of it. What are you going to do?”

  “Hopefully, I can mislead the men.” I pulled the device from the new wound in my arm and left the room without saying anything to Seymour or Gwen. The energy from Gwen’s wishes tingled across the wounds still on my back.

  I appeared at a nearby bus station, dropped the tracker into someone’s bag, and returned to the house. A big weight lifted from my shoulders, and I scooped Gwen up into a hug before I could stop myself.

  She laughed. “What is this for?”

  I set her down. “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . I know it’s not perfect, that we still need to be cautious, but I feel like maybe we have a chance.”

  Gwen put her hand on my arm. “I’ll call Julene and see if she can meet up with us on campus. Will you come with me?” I didn’t miss the pink hue to her cheeks.

  “I would like that.” The panic was gone. Gwen had calmed down and still looked at me like she had when she’d seen me without my shirt on.

  Gwen turned on her phone and slid her finger across the screen.

  “Phones have changed,” I observed.

  “You have no idea.” She smiled at me. “Everything. Record players changed to cassette tapes, CD’s, now music is digital. Same as movies. They’re all color, some are even in 3D!”

  “No kidding?” Impressed, my mouth drew into an exaggerated frown, and I nodded slowly, my head tilted back.

  Gwen chuckled and put her phone to her ear. “I’ll take you to a movie when this blows over. Oh, hey, Julene. Can you meet me on campus? The practice rooms? Uh, I’d rather say in person.” She made eye contact with me. “Yes, please. Oh, perfect! You’ll get there before us, so just wait up. Yeah, bye.” She hung up but looked down at her phone. “I need to look up the bus schedule.”

  I chuckled. “At some point, you’re going to realize what’s standing right in front of you.”

  She smacked the base of her hand against her forehead. “Wish, right. I wish us to campus, then.”

  I was definitely being selfish. I still hadn’t told Gwen that her wishes were giving me energy, restoring me to full power again, but that would have to be a conversation for another time.

  We appeared beside the Practice Arena, between two garbage cans, which didn’t please Gwen at all.

  “I can’t control where we end up,” I argued.

  She threw me a playful scowl. “Still, garbage cans? Is that what was on your mind when we traveled through that magical vortex?” She squeezed out into the alley and headed for the front of the building.

  “That isn’t . . . that’s not how it works,” I said, chasing her down.

  “I’m teasing again, Doren!”

  We met Julene in front of the building. She greeted me with a tight hug, like normal, but she’d calmed down since it hadn’t rained in a couple of days. She led us inside the huge building. I understood why they called the building an “arena” immediately. There was a central, indoor arena rather like the Pantheon, but several small practice rooms ran along the outer wall.

  Julene took us into one of the small rooms and faced Gwen. “Why am I here?”

  “Long story short, it appears I can use magic,” she answered.

  Julene blinked. “What kind of magic?” She glanced at me as if I had something to do with it.

  I suppose I sort of did.

  Gwen took a breath, and I thought for sure she was going to tell Julene to forget how or why, but instead, she launched into the entire story of getting off the bus at her apartment, getting attacked by the mafia, and Seymour running to protect her.

  “And then Doren went full-on djinn! You should have seen it! He glowed blue with all of these markings, and his eyes glowed too, and then he made this magic sword and stabbed it into the ground, all while he was being shot by these other guys!”

  Julene gasped.

  “I wanted more than anything to help, and somehow . . . lifted the guys up in the air,” Gwen finished with a shrug.

  Julene’s eyes stared widely. She finally blinked. “Yeaahhh, I don’t think I can help you. Not with that.”

  Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “Why not?”

  “Magic is different for every race of magical creature. The way I use magic is going to be different than you. I pull my magic from nature and use only magic related to that. If you really are a sorceress, which means you can use all kinds of magic, it’s going to be more powerful than mine, and you’re going to likely use spells, not just energy.” She shrugged her small shoulders. “But because you’re a magic wielder, you need to register with the government. They track us. It’s against the law to not be registered.”

  I watched her turn and look at me. I, however, saw something in that expression that caused me to remember one of the times I watched Zenja practice.

  The palace had a building off to the side for Zenja to practice in. It had no walls, only pillars holding the roof above, and sat atop a platform rising over the sand, which allowed her to use whatever elements she needed.

  “I just had a thought,” I interjected. I blinked, returning to Gwen and not Zenja. “I just remembered. When you . . . uh . . . Zenja used spells in the past, she used to use hand symbols to create them. Something like this.” I gave a pathetic attempt of curling the last three fingers of my left hand, then pinched my index finger with my right and slid down.

  “Oh, that’s finger tutting,” Julene said.

  Gwen and I both looked at her.

  “It’s actually dancing for non-magical people, but for some wizards and sorceresses, it’s how you cast your spells. I think Niera knows someone who uses that.”

  “I wish she was here to teach me,” Gwen muttered.

  I didn’t bother getting clarification or making sure Gwen didn’t mean it. I needed to help her however possible, espe
cially with magic. We didn’t need her causing something because she couldn’t control her magic. I promptly disappeared from the practice room, envisioning Niera, and let the magic guide me to her.

  I didn’t expect to appear in a lavish sitting room with a large couch and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side. The sheer curtains were drawn, and the glass-top, claw-foot coffee table had books open on it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I turned around and found Niera staring at me, standing by the front door with her hand on the handle. “Ah. Glad I found you. Gwen wished for me to find you, so I did. She needs your help teaching her finger tutting magic?”

  Niera’s eyes narrowed, and she lowered her hand. “How did you get in my house?”

  “I suppose we never got around to that.” I straightened only to bow at the waist. “I am a djinn. She wished for your help, so I’m here to get it.”

  “You know I don’t know how to use that kind of magic,” she answered flatly, not even phased by my revelation of being a djinn.

  I nodded slowly. “I understand. But Julene said you might know someone who does.”

  Niera’s lips thinned into a line. “A witch.”

  I felt the corner of my lip tug in empathy. She didn’t need to explain a thing. “She’s the one who holds your contract.”

  Niera looked away. “Look, I’m busy. I was on my way to work. I’m not going to ask—”

  “I understand,” I said quickly. “I would never ask you to do that. But is there anyone you know?”

  “Why does it matter?” She held her hand up to the side.

  “I suppose I should back up a little.” I shifted my weight to my other foot. “Gwen is a reincarnated sorceress from thousands of years ago, only she can’t remember how to use her magic.”

  Niera twitched a brow—she masked her surprise well, and who could blame her?

  I made sure to remain relaxed, waiting patiently for her to talk first.

  She finally rolled her eyes and sighed, lowering her arms to her sides. “Finger tutting is a dance form. The magic is Sahar. It’s old. Most people don’t use it anymore because it’s difficult to control and takes years to perfect. You have to dedicate your life to it.”