by Pat Esden
I glanced at Grandfather. He held his hand up for a second, gave the room one more scan, then nodded for me to go on.
Quietly, I hurried to the lamp’s case. Opening the messenger bag, I took out the signet ring Grandfather had given me and pressed its stone against a dime-size indentation on the case’s base. The glass case unfurled, like a time-lapsed video of an opening tulip.
The real Lamp of Methuselah was deep brown and embossed with a woman’s face and three symbols, such a simple vessel to hold a substance that would allow one race to invade another’s world. Genies into our realm, or us into theirs.
I put Grandfather’s ring on my thumb, then took out the fake lamp and set it in the display case next to the real one. Luckily, they were almost identical in size. The case would close perfectly around it. This was great.
I turned toward Grandfather to ask if I should take the real lamp with me or stash it somewhere in the treasury, but he wasn’t looking at me. His entire focus was on one of the mirrors, like he’d heard something.
My hands trembled as I bunched the cloth around the real lamp and shoved it into the messenger bag. It was most likely nothing. Chase would have picked up on any sounds and warned us if there was something to worry about. Nevertheless, the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach made me deeply uneasy.
I rushed to Grandfather and tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go,” I whispered.
He nodded. But as we turned to leave, a low burbling sound made me look over my shoulder. An oily-black human shape seeped out from one of the mirrors, another one followed close behind. Shit!
“Hurry.” Grandfather started toward the passageway.
A loud hissing sound came from behind us. I glanced back.
Holes riddled one of the shadows. It writhed and dropped to the floor.
“Look,” I said to Grandfather. “The salty air’s burning it.”
The next thing I knew, the shadow rose up and transformed into blue smoke. It streaked across the floor toward us, like a snake on fire. Damn it. I’d spoken too soon.
“Run!” I shouted. Too late.
The thick smoke lassoed Grandfather’s legs, yanking him to his knees. Invisible claws shredded his jacket. I kicked at the smoke, but a second coil snagged my legs, trying to drag me down.
Grandfather drew his handgun. The shadow lashed like a whip, sending the gun flying. I pulled out my flashlight and trained its beam on one coil of smoke, then the other.
The smoke hissed, retreated, and circled around us like wolves planning their next attack.
To protect the lamp, I shoved the messenger bag around so it hung against the small of my back. “I thought salt weakened them,” I said, helping Grandfather to his feet.
“This is weak.” He nodded to where Chase hopefully waited. “Get your light ready. We need to get out of here before—”
A low laugh echoed in the room. “Daughter of these loins, and this body’s dear sweet father. What a pleasant surprise.”
I whirled around to face the sneering voice, which sounded years younger than Dad and totally pissed off.
Dad stood near the mirror the shadows had come out of, freshly shaven and dressed in chinos, his flight jacket, and a ton of gold jewelry. He had one arm hooked around Kate’s neck and the other fisted on his hip. An involuntary gasp escaped my mouth. The Kate before me was not the imposing woman I was used to seeing. Blood drizzled from a slash in her throat and down the front of her blouse. Her bruised eyes were swollen shut. Her arms dangled at her side, ragdoll-limp. Only her wheezing breath told me she wasn’t dead.
I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him. “I’m no child of yours,” I said.
Grandfather stepped between me and Dad. His voice rumbled. “Take the damn lamp. And take me to help you get out of here. Just let Kate go.”
The circling smoke hissed, like rain on a hot tin roof.
Dad gave a one-shouldered shrug. “As you wish.”
He let go of Kate and she crumpled to the ground, moaning.
Then Dad strode toward the lamp’s display case. “Sorry I interrupted your little plan,” he said.
I swallowed hard. I’d forgotten to close the lamp’s case. But Dad thought I hadn’t had time to remove the real lamp, so he couldn’t steal it. Hopefully, Chase would shout his challenge before Dad had time to realize his mistake.
“It is quite lovely”—he picked up the fake lamp and sniffed it—“and smells exactly how I remember it.” He smiled coldly at Grandfather. “My own father devotes his time to spawning an army of half-blood slaves to conquer this pitiful world. But with this, I can create an army overnight. Real genies, like myself. A continuously renewing legion of solid, full-bodied djinn that do not need to writhe like smoke or possess frail human bodies. We will kill, conquer, and rule mankind with fists, sword, and magic.”
Dad stared off into the distance, like he was imagining himself ruling the world.
My grip tightened on the flashlight. When was Chase going to call Culus out?
A flicker of worry nudged the back of my mind. Something had happened to Chase, I was sure of it. Otherwise he would have been here by now. Or maybe, I bit my lip. No. There was no way he could have deserted us. Not in a million years.
“My own father”—Dad came back from his imagined kingship—“will learn to respect his real son. He will grovel before me, as you will now do before your own son. You see, I keep my promises. Your son—this body I inhabit—wished to see you kneel and beg his forgiveness. He wished for another thing as well, the return of his bride, the human slut who taints my father’s mind and harem with idiotic human beliefs of sanctity and peace.”
Kate groaned. “Take the damn lamp,” she said to Dad.
Dad tucked the lamp into his belt line. “A little late with that suggestion, my dear.”
“Culus!” Chase’s voice suddenly filled the treasury.
Dad’s gaze whipped around, and he cackled with delight. “Half-breed slave, come out where I can see you, or are you too much of a girl to face me.” He pointed his fingers like a gun. “Ah, there you are.”
Like Grandfather, I glanced back.
Chase stood outside the treasury’s doorway. With a casual flair, he sliced the air with his scimitar. “Father’s right, you’re as weak as a gelding, a pale-skinned maggot hiding in a human skin. The only thing you can make cower is an old man and women.”
Dad sniffed with disdain. “Says the boy who let a woman take the punishment for his escape.”
“I would have thought you’d approve of that.”
For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes locked in a ferocious battle of wills. Then Dad’s eyes sliced toward the circling smoke. “Get him!” he shouted.
The smoke streaked toward the doorway.
I shoved the flashlight in my pocket and grabbed Grandfather’s arm. “Now! We have to get out.”
He pulled against me. “We can’t leave Kate.”
“We can’t save her if we’re dead!” I shouted.
As we took off running, Grandfather’s hand went into his pants pocket and came out clenched. The poison ring. He was readying for Culus to emerge.
Ahead of us the smoke passed under the marks. Once on the other side, it rose up and transformed into shadows, black cutouts of lanky, muscular men.
We bolted between them. A wave of hot air and the stench of bleach choked the breath from my lungs. Grandfather coughed. Behind us I could hear Dad’s laughter.
Chase waited, the scimitar drawn back and ready. His focus didn’t waver as we passed.
When we reached the wardrobe, Grandfather waved me on. “Keep going. Get out of here. Keep it safe.”
I flew past the sarcophagus and the skeleton with the dog head. I knew what he meant: Use the lipstick and get the real lamp to safety.
But when I reached the stacks of rugs, I stopped. No matter what Grandfather wanted—or even if I had the lamp, I couldn’t desert them.
I whirled back around.
Under the arch of symbols, Dad stood with snarling shadows on each side of him.
“Come on,” Chase said. “Shed that human skin. Face me, sword to sword. Or are you afraid a half-blood will kick your full-blood ass?”
Dad laughed. “This body is no mere skin. It is my finest weapon, my shield. Would you kill the girl’s father to get at me?” He licked his lips. “Filleting you will be fun.”
My stomach lurched. Shit. Culus wasn’t going to leave Dad. This was bad, very bad. Even partly hidden by the wardrobe, I could see Grandfather take a step back. He was afraid too.
A sword appeared in one of the shadows’ hands. He tossed it to Dad, a sword as black as the onyx in the poison ring.
“I’m betting your heart will taste as good as your sheep’s did.” Dad cut the air with the sword.
I crept forward, keeping out of sight. Grandfather had lost his gun in the treasury. I had my flashlight and the razor. If only I could get my hands on one of Chase’s real knives. It couldn’t kill the shadows, but it could slow them down.
Chase raised his scimitar in a mock salute. He stepped toward Dad, every muscle flexed, every movement measured.
“To the death!” Dad launched himself at Chase. “Get the old man!” he shouted to the shadows.
The shadows dove at Grandfather. The clang of scimitar meeting sword rang out. Grandfather punched a shadow in the face. It howled and grabbed him by the throat. The other shadow punched Grandfather in the stomach. He groaned.
Running, I pulled my flashlight from my pocket and trained it on one of the shadows’ eyes. It hissed and shot toward me.
Chase shouted, “Son of a bitch!”
Dad pulled his sword back and swung again.
The shadow’s darkness engulfed me in a wave. It clamped my wrist, forcing the flashlight from my shaking hand. Its other hand seized my throat. The air wheezed from my lungs. I gagged. My flailing arms slammed into the dog-headed skeleton. Its bones clattered to the ground.
I closed my eyes against the darkness, the shadow’s darkness, the shadow’s heat, the lung-searing stench smothering me. Cold sweat kissed my spine. In the distance, Grandfather moaned. I heard the sharp ping of a small piece of metal hitting the floor. The poison ring. Grandfather had dropped it.
“Leave the old man,” Dad bellowed above the clank and slide of the swords.
The hand around my throat tightened. I could smell the shadow’s breath, rancid as spoiled meat. My ears rang. Stars swirled behind my eyelids. Grandfather. Chase. Kate. The family. They’d risked their lives for Dad, for me.
“Two against one?” Chase laughed. “You don’t have the guts to finish this by yourself?”
“Guts, yes.” Dad said. “And a desire to see your guts on the floor before me.”
A thump sounded. Chase grunted in pain.
My free hand found my pocket. Dad’s straight razor, impossible to open in such a tight space. But I had to do it. My thumbnail bent backward as I struggled, pain running up my arm. I had to do this. Had to, before I blacked out.
The blade released.
Opening my eyes, I yanked the razor from my pocket and slashed its blade across the shadow’s throat.
The hand released me. The shadow screeched and recoiled. I ripped the blade along its side. Hot fluid drizzled over my fingers. The shadow swung at me. I ducked, scooping up the flashlight. The shadow tripped over Grandfather’s hunched body.
BANG! A gunshot rang out. The shadow slumped to the floor, its dark form writhing into smoke and vanishing.
In the doorway to the treasury, Kate belly-crawled with the gun in her hand.
In one stride Dad stood over Kate. “You bitch.” He kicked her in the ribs, and then kicked the gun across the floor. “First the slave dies, then you.” He sneered.
Dad whirled back around and marched to where Chase knelt, his arms pinned behind his back by the other shadow. The scimitar was on the floor, so was Malphic’s knife along with another one.
Dad raised his sword over Chase’s neck.
“NO!” I screamed. “I have the real lamp. I’ll give it to you. Don’t kill him!”
Turning toward me, Dad let the sword fall to his side. “Interesting, I could have sworn I had it.”
As I stepped closer, Grandfather’s hand brushed my leg. “Don’t do it.”
“I have to or he’ll kill all of you.” I took a deep breath, trying to slow my raging pulse. There was a way out of this. It wasn’t what we’d planned to do—but if I was lucky, it might just work.
Chase glared at me. “He’ll kill us anyway.”
Folding the razor closed, I tucked it into my sleeve and shoved the flashlight into my pocket. I pulled the messenger bag around and took out the lamp. “He can’t kill both Kate and Grandfather or he’ll never get out of here. Genies can’t undo locks.” I took another couple of steps toward Dad. “He won’t hurt the rest of us or I’ll destroy the lamp. You do promise we’ll be unharmed, right?” I asked Dad.
I knew it sounded stupid. I knew he wouldn’t keep that promise. I knew even if being inside Dad somehow prevented him from killing me, his shadow would kill me for him. They’d kill Chase in an instant too.
But I had to get close to Dad, real close. The oil of Methuselah turned genies solid in our world. And I was betting the oil would do the opposite to a human, namely turn a person into a shadow in this world.
Dad smiled. A sickly grin that made my stomach lurch. “Of course, daughter of these loins. All I want is the lamp. I will even forgive you for trying to trick me.” He held his hands out, palms up, like he intended only peace. “Give it to me, so I can compare the two of them.”
The shadow holding Chase raised its head to look at the lamp. I could see its grip loosen ever so slightly. Chase had one more knife. I was sure of it. The one in his boot that he’d used at the party to open the clamshells. More than that, he’d had a chance to regain his strength.
I took another step and another until I was right in front of Dad. I held the lamp out to him.
Smiling, he took it and cradled it against his chest.
I whipped out my flashlight. Holding it with the wrong end forward, I pulled my arm back like I was going to throw it at him.
Dad laughed. “What are you doing, child?”
Before he could move, I brought my arm down. A crack sounded as the flashlight smashed the lamp in his hands. Another crack rang out as I hit it again. The shattered lamp fell to the floor, chunks of my flashlight falling with it. The smell of cabbage, cloves, and lanolin filled the air.
Dad shoved me away. “Stupid girl.”
“Your knife,” I screamed at Chase. “Kill him. Now!”
Chase yanked free from the shadow that held him. He rolled to his feet, a knife in his hand. “No, Annie, I can’t. Your father.”
“Do it!” I shrieked.
The lamp’s oil glistened on Dad’s hands. It drizzled down his clothes.
And as the glint of steel flew from Chase’s hand, Dad’s body shimmered into a shadowy shape. The knife passed through the shadow and into the shoulder of a deeply tanned man with wild black hair and eyes as dark as night—solid and real as only the Methuselah lamp’s oil could make a genie: Culus.
Culus clutched his hands around the knife, yanking it out.
In an instant, Chase threw another knife. I saw the glint of moonstone. A thwack resounded as it penetrated Culus’s gut.
Culus staggered backward and dropped onto all fours. Curling up, he groaned. “I’ll cut out your heart for this, bastard slave.”
“Yeah, right.” Chase yanked Culus’s arms behind his back and secured them with plastic handcuffs.
My pulse leapt. One of the shadow-henchmen had vanished, but the other hadn’t. Pulling the razor out from my sleeve, I wheeled around.
Grandfather was back on his feet with the gun in his hand. The shadow streaked up from the floor and zinged toward him. Grandfather pulled the trigger. BANG!
With an ear-pi
ercing shriek, the shadow exploded into a million pieces. Then it re-formed, spinning wildly like a cyclone of black sand. Grandfather fired again. The cyclone disintegrated into an oily black mass and splattered to the floor.
Grandfather waved his gun at the wardrobe. “In there,” he growled at the oily mass. It did as he commanded. Then Grandfather flipped the latch to lock it in.
“What happened?” Dad’s voice came from behind me.
I turned to see what he was talking about.
His shadowy form knelt next to where Kate lay with her eyes closed, her face and clothes muddied with blood. All around them black droplets of Methuselah oil snaked toward each other, pooling and humping into a clinging mercury-like puddle, then flowing into the lamp that had reassembled.
Kate wheezed. “Secrets—secrets happened,” she mumbled.
“James.” Grandfather glanced at Dad. “Apply some pressure to the wound and see if you can get the bleeding to slow down. We’ll get her upstairs in a minute.”
As Dad reached out to press his palms against Kate’s sliced throat, his shoulders stiffened. For a second, he sat back. “My hands. My body. I’m—I’m—a shadow.”
“Dad,” I said. “Don’t worry. You won’t be like that forever.” I looked at Grandfather. “He won’t, right?”
Grandfather nodded. “The oil will wear off at sunrise. After that, he’ll be as solid as you and I.” He glanced to where Chase was dragging Culus to his feet. “On the other hand, I don’t think it would be wise to wait until our genie friend returns to his natural state before we test the ring’s inscription.”
Culus sneered. “You’ve got the brains of a dung beetle, old man.”
“Is that so?” Grandfather smiled wickedly. “I suspect you don’t believe I can force you into the ring as long as you’re solid. But, at the molecular level, a solid body and smokeless fire are more similar than one might imagine.” He sanded his hands. “Enough talk. We need to get this done.”
“Wait a minute.” Chase’s voice rose. “We need to use the memory oil first. Annie, I saw Culus tuck the fake lamp into his sash. Can you get it?”
Culus fought against Chase’s grip as I wriggled the lamp from his sash and unsealed it. Chase was right. Even if Culus was trapped in the ring, it was smarter if he couldn’t remember what had happened or who had imprisoned him.