Of Wish and Fury (Seven Kings of Jinn)

“He killed a lesser jinn,” Azazil answered, his booming voice echoing around the transformed room. It was bare, the walls rock and dirt, the floor loose dirt beneath their feet. Dropping the knife on a bench that held an assortment of torture devices, Azazil strode toward his son. Few people or jinn towered over him, but even in his human form, Azazil was a giant. “The lesser jinn was his neighbor. She killed his daughter for some minor infraction against her vegetable garden and so the human killed the jinn in retaliation. This,” he gestured behind him to the brutalized man, “Is my retaliation.” When he turned back, his smile was pure wickedness.

Confused and a little curious, the Red King said, “You usually leave punishment of the convicted to the shaitans, Master.”

“Yes, well, today I was bored.”

“You’re about to be un-bored, Father.”

“Oh?” He grinned at him, a wet towel appearing in his hand from thin air. He wiped the towel over his torso, washing away the blood. “Has this anything to do with my Gleaming son’s greedy little half-breed and my granddaughter?”

Too busy trying to maintain a bland expression to even think about commenting on the fact that his father referred to Gleaming’s child as a half-breed and White’s as his granddaughter, the Red King replied, “You know he is after her then?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, what is to be done?”

“Nothing,” Azazil growled, throwing the towel into the air and turning it to ash that glittered like tiny jet pieces in the low light. “Let it play out as it should.”

“Do you know of this poison as well? This harmal concoction the sorcerer procured?” From there, he explained exactly what had happened to Jai.

Silence ensued, interrupted only by the whimpers of the awakening human on the cross. Finally, stroking his chin in thought, Azazil sighed. “It is par for the course. Do nothing. I do not harm family, you know that,” he proclaimed silkily.

Well, we all know that’s a lie, the Red King thought bitterly before mentally berating himself. Now was not the time to be angry at his father. He worked for Azazil. He was loyal to Azazil and no one else. But then there was Ari…

“By 'do nothing', Master, can I assume you mean do nothing with my own hands?”

His father smirked at him knowingly. “You wish to aid her?”

Thinking it better to remain silent, the Red King let Azazil draw his own conclusion.

“Fine.” Azazil waved an agitated and heavily jeweled hand at him. “However, I want a personal update.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “We shall talk soon I think, my son.”

Chapter

Eleven

SHE NEEDS A CONSTANT IN THOSE EVER-CHANGING EYES

The sitting room seemed tiny, so tiny there wasn’t enough oxygen to go around. Jai shifted uncomfortably, wondering how he found himself in such a position. The tension between the three of them, especially between Charlie and Ari, was unbearable. Jai hadn’t been able to help overhearing part of the discussion between the two of them upstairs. So Ari had finally come to her senses. He couldn’t help but feel relieved at that, but, on the other hand, he worried. Jai eyed her surreptitiously as she picked at a loose thread on the cushion of the chair she was sitting on. Her features were tight and pale, her entire body tense. Her dad’s death had changed her. What Derek had said to her before he died had changed her, and Jai found himself in the uncomfortable position of being angry at a dead man. Why did Derek have to tell her those things? Even if it was the truth, what purpose had there really been in being honest with Ari? Sure, Derek might have felt unburdened by it, but he’d left Ari hurt and broken. She deserved better than that. And she deserved better than Charlie, which she finally seemed to have grasped.

In a twisted way Jai couldn’t help wondering if the hurtful truth hadn’t been exactly what Ari needed? Finally, she could see how destructive Charlie’s need for revenge was, and she saw she would always play second string to that revenge. Whatever happened upstairs between those two, Jai could only guess by the strain between them that Ari had broken whatever romantic chord had held them together. He shouldn’t be happy about that… but he was. Jai scowled, dropping his gaze. He was becoming too undisciplined for his own liking.

It didn’t matter, anyway. He flicked Ari another quick look. Ari was still mad at him for ordering her around. He felt that earlier mixture of fear and anger burn in his chest. Well, he was mad too. She’d nearly given him a heart attack earlier. She could have been taken, those men could have done anything to her, and Jai would have just sat there under that intense drug, not able to do anything but watch. It had been sickening. He’d felt impotent, and his terror over losing Ari and how it would have been his fault had made him lash out a little. But he wouldn’t take it back. She had to learn to obey him in those situations or she’d get hurt. And if she got hurt… Jai clenched his hands into fists, his eyes lifting to her again for reassurance that she was there and in one piece. She still wore the black dress she’d worn to her father’s funeral. It was a simple shift dress that came to mid-thigh, but with her long, slender legs, Ari somehow distracted from its purpose as a symbol of mourning. Or maybe just distracted him. Jai mentally cursed himself even as his gaze lingered on her legs. His blood heated and he swallowed hard, fighting down the want churning low in his gut. She’s only eighteen, she’s only eighteen. Nah… that didn’t help. She’s the seal, she’s the seal. Not that either.