“That,” Jai replied, his breath on her neck as he stood close behind her, “Is very special. My grandfather paid a fortune for that.”
“Why?”
“Well, first I need to tell you something about Azazil.”
Ari twisted around to look at him warily. “Azazil?”
Green eyes glittering, Jai nodded. “Azazil has always taken an interest in the arts. He’s watched over and directed the lives of importants such as Euripides, Aristophanes and Chaucer. When Shakespeare was born, Azazil took a personal interest in his journey. Of course, The War of the Flames was already in play, so to spite his father, the White King insinuated himself into Shakespeare’s destiny when he shouldn’t have. Lo-and-behold, the playwright contracted syphilis and died before his move to London, where he would have fulfilled his destiny as one of the greatest playwrights that ever lived.”
“Is this for real?”
“For real.” Jai nodded and glanced back at the hourglass. “You know Azazil is powerful, Ari. You know we have no way of knowing how powerful exactly. But we do know Azazil is powerful enough to change the events of the past.”
Her eyes widened as his meaning set in. Azazil could mess with time? Could change events? Was Jai serious?
“I’m not kidding,” he replied. “There have been a few occasions where the sultan has felt so strongly about a destiny that has been manipulated, that he’s delved back into the past and righted the course of that important’s path.”
“Just gone back in time? Just like that?”
“No. Not just like that. Legend tells us that Azazil becomes completely drained by the task. So weakened he’s almost human. Think about it. He has to make sure that every other path connected to the one he’s changed doesn’t ripple into another important’s and change the course of theirs. Now, no one knows if Azazil can see the path a destiny is supposed to take or if he just knows when a destiny veers off its proper course. I think many would prefer to believe the latter because it means Azazil is less powerful. But whatever his ability, Azazil knew Shakespeare was meant for more. So he changed the history the White King put into motion. When jinn that powerful use that much energy on an important, it leaves a mark. Shakespeare is among only a handful of importants that Azazil left a mark on. Can you imagine the face of literature without Shakespeare’s influence?”
“True, but still… that’s… insane.”
Jai shrugged. “So is Azazil. A mercurial being none of us can ever hope to understand. Anyway, Azazil keeps these hourglasses as trophies, if you like, for each destiny he’s re-written. Each glass contains sand from the alternate world he re-righted. It’s believed the sand itself has magical properties. Shakespeare’s hourglass was stolen from Azazil’s palace and put on the black market.”
Understanding dawned and Ari’s eyes widened even more on the hourglass. “Are you saying this is it?”
Smirking, Jai nodded.
“But it must have cost a fortune, and your dad just keeps it in a glass cabinet. What if someone tried to steal it?”
“He’d stop them.” Jai pointed to the corner of the room and Ari followed his gaze to the long-necked red bottle sitting on top of a black cabinet. An energy she’d presumed was Ms. Maggie’s pulsed around the bottle. She was really going to have to learn to differentiate between different jinn energies, otherwise it might end up getting her killed.
“There’s a jinn in there?”
“Yeah. Teruze. Our tribe helped him out a while back, but he’s still in hiding. He protects treasure. In exchange for getting to hide out here, Teruze protects our treasure.”
“Sweet deal,” Ari murmured, her brain on information overload. Trying to hide how unnerved she was to be in a jinn household, Ari let her eyes wander over the paintings. Then the breath just sucked right out of her. Disbelieving her eyes, Ari stumbled away from Jai and came to a stop in front of the image, her neck cricked back as she looked up at it. “Who is that?” she asked, her eyes traveling over the semi-erotic painting of a beautiful woman with long, dark hair. She was naked and she crawled sensuously and animal-like along a male body that seemed pinned to the floor with invisible hands. His eyes were glazed with lust as he looked at the stunning figure draped across him, seeming to miss the dark violence in the female jinn’s expression.
Jai cleared his throat, coming to a stop beside her. “My dad put that up there as a reminder to never let your guard down.”
Hearing the hoarseness in his voice, Ari tugged her gaze from the painting to look up at her guardian. His features were tight with some unnamed emotion. She had to stop herself from reaching for him, knowing he might not like that.
“It’s a painting of the first succubus jinn. Lilif. From where the succubus jinn took their name. From where my mother took her name.”