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

throughout, and whispering voices drifted up on the wind. Not the kind of place non-djinn would want to find themselves.

I really wish you hadn’t come, Santana. It would have done no good to flog that dead horse. She was here, and she wouldn’t go anywhere. I just had to hope that, between Kadar and Abdhi, we could keep her safe from errant Ifrits and Ghuls.

“I wouldn’t say that in their presence.” Abdhi’s eyes glowed like beacons in the darkness. “And no, they aren’t. These beings have a thousand or so years left to live. The Storyteller is the only djinn I know who has lived so long, though you wouldn’t know it from what I’ve heard of her.”

I turned the book to its final pages. “Older than two thousand years? It says here that djinn only live that long, which makes sense if you’re similar to Purge beasts.”

“There is some leeway, if the Storyteller is anything to go by—perhaps because we are far superior to the everyday Purge beast. Some say she may be over ten thousand years old, though none know her true age.” Abdhi’s voice filled with quiet reverence.

“Ten thousand years old?” I jabbed at the book. “It says here, in black and white, that djinn only exist for up to two thousand years. Is she like an exception to the rule or something?” I may have been retreading old ground, but I wanted proper clarification.

“The Storyteller is unique in many ways. Not everything must be black and white, Raffe… and there are always exceptions.” Abdhi gave me a pointed look, making me wonder if he was talking about more than the Storyteller. “Come, we mustn’t linger, in case they decide we are a threat.”

Abdhi descended the slope to the broken gates of the city, and we had no choice but to follow. He was our guide and defender here, on djinn turf. I stayed close to Santana and took her hand. I braced for her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, she gripped my hand tight and cast me a sideways glance, filled with sorrow and a million things she didn’t say.

As we reached the gateway, my instincts screamed to run in the opposite direction. Out of the darkness, smoky forms swept up to block our entry. Innumerable burning eyes flickered to life, red and wrathful and trained on us.

Twenty

Raffe

No one said a word, a stalemate stretching between us—the outsiders—and the resident djinn. Even Abdhi stood in silence. Nayla had put us in his care, but he hadn’t made any assurances as to how this might turn out. And the longer we stood here, the more djinn materialized to stare, each more menacing than the last. I felt their anger surging from their fiery eyes and slamming me in the chest, sending roots of terror deep into my heart.

We’re not welcome here… I didn’t know if that was me or Kadar, but the fact remained.

Emphasizing my fears, a howling wind tore through the ruined city, screeching between the broken gaps in walls and shattered windows. It extended toward the sand dunes into the night, conjuring black storm clouds that masked the starry sky overhead. Thunder growled in the near distance, and my nose stung with the metallic scent of oncoming rain. When I looked over my shoulder, my stomach churned at the sight of a wall of sand rising and rushing toward us like a tidal wave. Abdhi had informed us of the djinn’s abilities, and it seemed every power had come out to play in defense of their refuge.

“Calm yourselves, before you draw attention to our location. These are my guests, and you will treat them with due courtesy!” Abdhi finally spoke, his voice booming across the horde of ruby-eyed hostiles.

The djinn jostled nervously, giving hints of their true forms as they phased between wispy smoke and solid appearances. Some monstrous individuals stood toward the back of the gathered army. At first, I’d thought they were shadows cast by the city’s remaining towers, but they moved fluidly and were clearly sentient. I understood then that Abdhi’s description of un-subjugated Marid was no exaggeration.

That wasn’t the only thing I came to understand through being closer to the city. Thanks to the incendiary glow sizzling from the djinn, I could see more of Salameh. Bioluminescent pools glowed inside the fortifications, with palm trees swaying and lush greenery growing at the water’s edge. From within dilapidated structures, delicate tulle drapes billowed from windows. A secret paradise in the middle of the Arabian desert—an oasis, quite literally. Their sanctuary.

And we’d shown up unannounced.

“Abeq fe al-khalaf!” Abdhi bellowed, switching to Arabic as a few shadows slithered forward. It meant “Stay back,” which didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, considering they paid no attention.

I decided to attempt some Arabic of my own, in hopes of extending an olive branch. “Nahin la naani ei darar lek.” Basically, I told them we meant no harm. Whether they’d listen or not was another matter.

The encroaching djinn paused in surprise. The winds died slowly as the sandstorm sank into the desert, and the clouds rolled away to reveal the clear night again.

“Did you do that?” Santana whispered.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back.

“Al-salam maak.” A strange voice lifted above the mutter of furious djinn. A feminine voice, saying, “Peace is with you.”

I squinted into the gloom, watching a figure part the smoky sea. Scarlet-skinned and clad in a red silk robe, she approached us. Her dark garnet eyes burned with a strange white flame. Abdhi had been right about something: she didn’t look ten thousand years old. She walked without a hunch, or any sign of age, and had very few lines and wrinkles on her mesmerizing face. I couldn’t tell if she was beautiful or not—she was beyond those parameters. But she had a regal quality about her, in the strength of her jaw and the high cut of her cheekbones.

I bowed to her, on impulse. “Al-salam maak.”

“I will