Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

to say something that made me look like I knew what I was doing. Her presence radiated power and imposing strength, the same way her coven did. The last thing I wanted to do was look like an idiot in front of her.

“Yes, it has, which is cause for great concern.” Nayla beckoned us closer. “It is heartening to have more minds on the problem. Perhaps we will help each other.”

I swallowed and passed over a stone bridge to the central island. “My father is currently suffering, and we’re eager for a cure.”

“Your father? Leonidas Levi, if I am not mistaken?” She rested her hand on her desk.

“That’s right.”

She pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. “You do not seem to be suffering, though if your father is experiencing the complications of this djinn sickness, I would expect it to affect you.”

“You know about me?” I looked to Santana, who gave me a worried glance.

“Of course.” She smiled serenely. “I am well-versed in the Levi family’s unusual relationship with the djinn. Perhaps I didn’t phrase it correctly—how are you still standing while your father is in the infirmary, in the grip of this pestilence?”

I folded my arms to look more casual. “My djinn is very young and isn’t connected to the wider djinn network. I think that’s why I’m not having the same problems as my father. His djinn is much older than mine.”

“Ah yes, so very few people understand the intricacies of djinn lineage,” Nayla said thoughtfully. “There are many categories of djinn, and their variances are so much more complex than outsiders realize. Even magicals struggle to distinguish between types of djinn, though they walk through a world with countless kinds of magicals and have little trouble understanding that concept.”

“There are different types of djinn?” Santana found her voice.

Nayla smiled sympathetically. “There are. This one, for example.” She took an old, dusty brass lamp from a concealed pocket in her abaya and whispered into it. “Anst elie. Tadhar. Hanak haja lek.”

Listen to me. Appear. You are needed. My Arabic wasn’t as rusty as I thought. As soon as she spoke, the symbols etched into the lamp began to glow, casting the shapes onto the wall like a candle carousel. Black smoke poured from the spout, and limbs and a body extended until they were almost solid. I hadn’t seen a djinn without a human host before, but it didn’t look too different from Kadar’s red-fleshed form when he took the reins. Aside from the fact that it stood over seven feet with shoulders three times broader than Nayla’s and ruby-red eyes that burned with flames.

“This is Al-Abdhi. His name means ‘everlasting,’ though you may refer to him as simply ‘Abdhi.’ He has been in the service of the Dubai Coven for centuries,” Nayla explained.

“I’d prefer ‘indestructible,’ but it’s a mouthful.” The djinn chuckled, his voice high-pitched. Not what I’d expected from someone so terrifying.

“Everlasting, indestructible—they are almost synonyms,” Nayla retorted with a hint of a smile.

“Fine and majestic are almost synonyms, but I know which I’d rather be called.” He gave her a nudge in the arm, his demeanor taking me aback.

Santana eyed him. “Does looking scary come as part of the deal, but you make up for it by acting like a pussycat?”

“I find no reason to be threatening unless I am threatened,” Abdhi replied. “Do you intend to threaten me?”

Santana shook her head. “No.”

“Then I have no reason to put on the fire and brimstone. It’s exhausting, in truth. I find it so much easier to be peaceful and enjoy my existence. Perhaps because I’ve been here so long—youngsters are all fire and brimstone.” He grinned, flashing sharpened teeth. “Hot-tempered and always ready for a fight. Usually, it ends with them being knocked down and humiliated, though it never deters them from acting out when the next opportunity presents itself.” He sighed. “It is the gift of age to see the futility of violence and learn the art of calm. These days, I’m a connoisseur of tranquility.”

Santana mustered a curious smile. “If it’s not a rude question, how come you speak English? If you’ve been here so long, shouldn’t you speak Arabic?”

“Are you Arabic?” he replied.

“No.”

“Then what use would it be for me to speak Arabic?” He had a bit of sass to him, as well as being a connoisseur of tranquility. “I adapt to those in my care. I don’t find the English tongue nearly so musical or satisfying, but we have to understand one another. Otherwise, I’d be playing an endless, infuriating game of charades with you, and that’s something neither of us wants.”

I frowned. “Those in your care? What do you mean?”

Nayla looked up at Abdhi. “I am assigning him to you. He will take you where you wish.”

“To the oldest djinn in the world?” I needed clarification. I hadn’t mentioned the Storyteller to O’Halloran, so I doubted the message had been passed on.

“The Storyteller, yes. Let’s not beat around the bush,” Abdhi replied. “It is my firm hope that she will be able to resolve this issue, and I am pleasantly surprised that you newcomers have just suggested it. I enjoy it when the West takes an intellectual interest in the East.”

Santana pointed at him. “How come you’re not all pale and sickly?”

“Why, thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Abdhi snickered. “Alas, I have also been suffering this recent malady, though I am not quite full djinn, so I am less affected. My lamp gives me a steady flow of additional energy, dulling the effects of this sickness somewhat.”

Nayla made a noise of agreement. “Yes, that is what I meant to tell you. Thank you for the reminder, Abdhi. He is a genie rather than a full-blooded djinn. It means his power is less than an ordinary djinn’s.”

“Being shoehorned into a lamp will do that to a creature,” Abdhi said with a dramatic sigh. “The binding of a djinn to a physical vessel restricts their abilities.