Chapter 2
“I’m just going to go and put this on the shelf in the living room,” Trey said, bouncing away with his newest acquisition.
Azhim tried hard not to roll his eyes behind his Master’s back. Trey had quite a collection of insipid or downright ugly ceramic things proudly on display in their living room by now; the djinn had taken to not looking over at that corner of the room, because the affect of the entire collection was enough to turn even his iron stomach. Sometimes he wondered about Trey’s taste. Or lack thereof, anyway. Still, if it made the human happy to collection kitschy ornaments, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Anything that made Trey happy was good with Azhim.
He reached up to lightly pet the cat perched on his right shoulder, and Cara purred at the touch of his claws ands rubbed her face against his cheek lovingly. The djinn had finally come to accept that the wretched cat adored him, and had started to rather like the feline himself in return(although he’d never admit that aloud to anyone) as the months had gone by. Cats were a good deal like djinni, actually. Selfish and cruel when they wanted to be, but still with an innate wish to please their master at the heart of them.
Trey reappeared with empty hands. “What should I make for dinner?” he asked. “Do you have anything that you specifically want, Azhim?”
“Perhaps we should order out,” the djinn remarked, thinking of that odd incident earlier in the afternoon. While Trey had come up with a clean bill of health at the hospital, he still didn’t want Trey exerting himself any more than he had to today.
“Maybe,” Trey conceded. Just as he spoke, the front doorbell rang. He turned toward it. “I’ll get it!” he called.
He walked down to the front door and swung it open. A man was revealed standing on the step, a handsome older man with wings of grey in his black hair and a slightly cruel set to his thin mouth. “Can I help you?” Trey asked this stranger.
The man smiled, enhancing that slightly cruel set into an outright evil expression. “I believe you can, yes,” he told Trey is an incongruously pleasant voice. “Are you the new Master of Azhim Bakhal?”
Shock rippled through Trey, and his mouth dropped open even as his eyes widened. The man’s dark eyes went lidded with satisfaction. “I see that I am correct,” he purred. “I wish to speak with the djinn. You will let me in now.”
“I don’t think so!” Trey snapped, stubbornly refusing to move out of the door. “I don’t know who you are, or how you know about Azhim, but this is my house and you can’t come in!”
The man laughed darkly. “You have spirit,” he said. “But a mere human is no match for one such as I.” then he snapped his fingers, and Trey gasped and grabbed his chest as his heart began to do something very, very strange - it literally felt as though it were being wrung in his chest. He fell to his knees, panting in fear, looking up at the man with wide, terrified eyes.
The man grinned devilishly, leaning over. Trey saw that his eyes had gone red. “Foolish little creature,” he said. “Never try to get in my way again,” then he raised his voice and called out more loudly over Trey’s head: “Azhim Bakhal! Come here to me!”
Azhim appeared behind Trey, his eyes narrowing when he saw his master kneeling on the ground. “Trey! What has happened?!” he cried, then his eyes fell on the man standing on the front step. “Azarael,” he snarled furiously, his voice full of disbelief.
The man’s cruel smile widened perceptibly. “Azhim. Long time no see, my friend,” he purred.
“You are no one’s friend, Azarael. What are you doing here? And what have you done to my Master?” Azhim demanded as he stooped to put his hand on Trey’s shoulder.
“A simple spell,” the man replied with a casual wave of his hand. “But an insidious one. It has burrowed into his heart, Azhim. I can give him a fatal heart attack whenever I so choose…and unless you cooperate with me, I shall do just that.”
Azhim’s free hand curled into a fist at his side, and his lips lifted off his fangs in a silent, deadly snarl. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice coldly furious.
“Invite me in, and we shall discuss it,” the man said.
Azhim looked down at Trey, whose eyes were full of fear and bewilderment. Hatred coursed through him, but he had no choice but to rise to his feet, pick Trey up in his arms, and say over his shoulder: “Come in, Azarael,” before leading the way into the living room where he could put Trey down on the couch.
“What’s going on, Azhim?” Trey whispered as the djinn leaned over him. “Who is he?”
“Yes, Azhim, tell your pet human who I am,” Azarael commented from behind them.
“Is he a djinn?” Trey asked, looking at the horrible man over Azhim’s shoulder.
“No, Trey, he is not a djinn,” Azhim replied tightly. “Although he and I are cousins of a sort. Azarael is an afreet, a desert demon. I have not seen one of his kind in many centuries.”
“I can say the same myself,” the demon remarked coolly. “I was quite surprised to see not one but TWO djinni on the street today when my driver stopped the car so that could stretch my legs. I had thought all of your kind lost over the centuries after your God imprisoned you in those bottles, Azhim.”
“I could wish that all of YOUR kind had been lost, Azarael,” Azhim remarked, stroking Trey’s cheek with his clawed hand.
“Tssk. Such a way to talk to family. And when we are having such a pleasant reunion,” the man said with a chuckle.
“You hurt my Master. If I could, I would tear your black heart out and feed it to you,” Azhim replied savagely.
“Ahh, but you cannot. Your magic does not work on me, any more than mine does on you. Of course, I have the advantage since my magic works on your little human just fine,” Azarael said in satisfaction.
“Yes, it does. Now what is it that you want from me? You didn’t put this spell on Trey just to torture me. You want something. What is it?”
“How clever of you, Azhim. Yes, I do want something from you. Over the years, I have perfected a human persona. So much so that I live among them freely and they are never the wiser. I am a wealthy man, and since these wretched creatures worship wealth above any other deity, I have become rather god-like over time. But I have decided to expand my reach, as it were - I have decided to go into politics.”
Silence. Trey’s brows had drawn together. “A demon wants to go into politics?” he asked at last. “Why?”
A laugh. “Oh, you are quite naïve, human. Politics is an arena that will suit me down to the ground. Think of all the misery that a politician can create with the stroke of a pen! New, oppressive laws at my fingertips, and if any oppose me I can simply cause gridlock and partisanship to keep the few who realize my intent from being effective in stopping me. It is a demon’s dream come true, politics.”
“If that is so, why are you involving me? Cannot you get elected to office all by yourself?” Azhim ground out, glaring at the afreet over his shoulder.
A dazzling smile. “Well, perhaps not. Unfortunately, my opponent is that rarest of beasts - a politician who cares about the people he is supposed to serve. He is well liked in his district, and will easily win a second term. Unless…something is done to derail his campaign and make him appear to be a hypocrite, a man who pretends to care but really does not.”
“And again I ask, what does this have to do with me?” Azhim demanded suspiciously.
“Only this - my opponent owns a construction company. Their most recent project was a bridge spanning the Ohio River. An extremely solid and well-built structure, which should last for many decades to come. For now, that is. Because I intend that you should use your magic to weaken the metal of the supports on the bridge, causing it to crumble under the weight of the vehicles passing over it. The bridge will plunge into the river on a busy midday afternoon, causing chaos and many deaths. My opponent’s construction company will be blamed for the disaster, for using poor materials in place of the higher-grade steel that they billed the state government for. He will be seen as a crook and a murderer, which will advance my campaign immensely.”
Trey gasped in shock and distress, while Azhim’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you need my magic for this, Azarael? Why not just use your own?”
“Ahh, well. The truth is, I would need to be standing nearby to cause the disaster that I envision, as my powers have faded somewhat over the centuries. And I wish to be far away when the bridge goes down, at a political gathering where I can act suitably shocked and outraged when the sub-standard bridge takes so many lives. I do not wish anyone to associate my name or face with that structure in any way, and some who saw me there that day would wonder why I was there. They might suspect that I had done something to sabotage the bridge. And with their fascinating new technology, who knows what the humans might discover if they did very involved tests on the metal of the bridge? If they find any anomalies, which they are sure to when you use your magic on it, I do not want them to have me on their minds in any way. I am simply a human, a concerned and grieving man who is horrified that his opponent would cut corners where human lives are at stake.”
“But that’s too awful!” Trey cried, pushing up from the couch in his distress. “You can’t do it, Azhim! You can’t!”
“Oh, but he will, little human,” Azarael replied in a silky tone of voice. “He will have no choice, in the end. Because if he does not do as I require, he will lose his precious master. I will make sure of that. And Azhim does not care about any human other than you. He will not concern himself overmuch about those who die when the bridge is destroyed. If it comes down to the life of his master versus those of a few miserable mortals, Azhim will not hesitate. Will you, Azhim?”
Trey stared up into his djinn’s face, seeing the answer there. “You just can’t,” he whispered miserably, tears welling in his eyes. “Azhim, please…”
“Trey, if I do not do as he says, then he WILL kill you,” Azhim replied flatly. “I will not allow that. I cannot.”
“Good, good. I knew how it would be when I saw you this afternoon,” Azarael said in satisfaction. “I shall give you all of the details before I go. When it is done, you have my word that I shall remove the spell from your Master’s heart. And you know that my word is binding, Azhim, just as yours is. Your Master will live as long as you do what I wish.”
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“I’m just going to go and put this on the shelf in the living room,” Trey said, bouncing away with his newest acquisition.
Azhim tried hard not to roll his eyes behind his Master’s back. Trey had quite a collection of insipid or downright ugly ceramic things proudly on display in their living room by now; the djinn had taken to not looking over at that corner of the room, because the affect of the entire collection was enough to turn even his iron stomach. Sometimes he wondered about Trey’s taste. Or lack thereof, anyway. Still, if it made the human happy to collection kitschy ornaments, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Anything that made Trey happy was good with Azhim.
He reached up to lightly pet the cat perched on his right shoulder, and Cara purred at the touch of his claws ands rubbed her face against his cheek lovingly. The djinn had finally come to accept that the wretched cat adored him, and had started to rather like the feline himself in return(although he’d never admit that aloud to anyone) as the months had gone by. Cats were a good deal like djinni, actually. Selfish and cruel when they wanted to be, but still with an innate wish to please their master at the heart of them.
Trey reappeared with empty hands. “What should I make for dinner?” he asked. “Do you have anything that you specifically want, Azhim?”
“Perhaps we should order out,” the djinn remarked, thinking of that odd incident earlier in the afternoon. While Trey had come up with a clean bill of health at the hospital, he still didn’t want Trey exerting himself any more than he had to today.
“Maybe,” Trey conceded. Just as he spoke, the front doorbell rang. He turned toward it. “I’ll get it!” he called.
He walked down to the front door and swung it open. A man was revealed standing on the step, a handsome older man with wings of grey in his black hair and a slightly cruel set to his thin mouth. “Can I help you?” Trey asked this stranger.
The man smiled, enhancing that slightly cruel set into an outright evil expression. “I believe you can, yes,” he told Trey is an incongruously pleasant voice. “Are you the new Master of Azhim Bakhal?”
Shock rippled through Trey, and his mouth dropped open even as his eyes widened. The man’s dark eyes went lidded with satisfaction. “I see that I am correct,” he purred. “I wish to speak with the djinn. You will let me in now.”
“I don’t think so!” Trey snapped, stubbornly refusing to move out of the door. “I don’t know who you are, or how you know about Azhim, but this is my house and you can’t come in!”
The man laughed darkly. “You have spirit,” he said. “But a mere human is no match for one such as I.” then he snapped his fingers, and Trey gasped and grabbed his chest as his heart began to do something very, very strange - it literally felt as though it were being wrung in his chest. He fell to his knees, panting in fear, looking up at the man with wide, terrified eyes.
The man grinned devilishly, leaning over. Trey saw that his eyes had gone red. “Foolish little creature,” he said. “Never try to get in my way again,” then he raised his voice and called out more loudly over Trey’s head: “Azhim Bakhal! Come here to me!”
Azhim appeared behind Trey, his eyes narrowing when he saw his master kneeling on the ground. “Trey! What has happened?!” he cried, then his eyes fell on the man standing on the front step. “Azarael,” he snarled furiously, his voice full of disbelief.
The man’s cruel smile widened perceptibly. “Azhim. Long time no see, my friend,” he purred.
“You are no one’s friend, Azarael. What are you doing here? And what have you done to my Master?” Azhim demanded as he stooped to put his hand on Trey’s shoulder.
“A simple spell,” the man replied with a casual wave of his hand. “But an insidious one. It has burrowed into his heart, Azhim. I can give him a fatal heart attack whenever I so choose…and unless you cooperate with me, I shall do just that.”
Azhim’s free hand curled into a fist at his side, and his lips lifted off his fangs in a silent, deadly snarl. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice coldly furious.
“Invite me in, and we shall discuss it,” the man said.
Azhim looked down at Trey, whose eyes were full of fear and bewilderment. Hatred coursed through him, but he had no choice but to rise to his feet, pick Trey up in his arms, and say over his shoulder: “Come in, Azarael,” before leading the way into the living room where he could put Trey down on the couch.
“What’s going on, Azhim?” Trey whispered as the djinn leaned over him. “Who is he?”
“Yes, Azhim, tell your pet human who I am,” Azarael commented from behind them.
“Is he a djinn?” Trey asked, looking at the horrible man over Azhim’s shoulder.
“No, Trey, he is not a djinn,” Azhim replied tightly. “Although he and I are cousins of a sort. Azarael is an afreet, a desert demon. I have not seen one of his kind in many centuries.”
“I can say the same myself,” the demon remarked coolly. “I was quite surprised to see not one but TWO djinni on the street today when my driver stopped the car so that could stretch my legs. I had thought all of your kind lost over the centuries after your God imprisoned you in those bottles, Azhim.”
“I could wish that all of YOUR kind had been lost, Azarael,” Azhim remarked, stroking Trey’s cheek with his clawed hand.
“Tssk. Such a way to talk to family. And when we are having such a pleasant reunion,” the man said with a chuckle.
“You hurt my Master. If I could, I would tear your black heart out and feed it to you,” Azhim replied savagely.
“Ahh, but you cannot. Your magic does not work on me, any more than mine does on you. Of course, I have the advantage since my magic works on your little human just fine,” Azarael said in satisfaction.
“Yes, it does. Now what is it that you want from me? You didn’t put this spell on Trey just to torture me. You want something. What is it?”
“How clever of you, Azhim. Yes, I do want something from you. Over the years, I have perfected a human persona. So much so that I live among them freely and they are never the wiser. I am a wealthy man, and since these wretched creatures worship wealth above any other deity, I have become rather god-like over time. But I have decided to expand my reach, as it were - I have decided to go into politics.”
Silence. Trey’s brows had drawn together. “A demon wants to go into politics?” he asked at last. “Why?”
A laugh. “Oh, you are quite naïve, human. Politics is an arena that will suit me down to the ground. Think of all the misery that a politician can create with the stroke of a pen! New, oppressive laws at my fingertips, and if any oppose me I can simply cause gridlock and partisanship to keep the few who realize my intent from being effective in stopping me. It is a demon’s dream come true, politics.”
“If that is so, why are you involving me? Cannot you get elected to office all by yourself?” Azhim ground out, glaring at the afreet over his shoulder.
A dazzling smile. “Well, perhaps not. Unfortunately, my opponent is that rarest of beasts - a politician who cares about the people he is supposed to serve. He is well liked in his district, and will easily win a second term. Unless…something is done to derail his campaign and make him appear to be a hypocrite, a man who pretends to care but really does not.”
“And again I ask, what does this have to do with me?” Azhim demanded suspiciously.
“Only this - my opponent owns a construction company. Their most recent project was a bridge spanning the Ohio River. An extremely solid and well-built structure, which should last for many decades to come. For now, that is. Because I intend that you should use your magic to weaken the metal of the supports on the bridge, causing it to crumble under the weight of the vehicles passing over it. The bridge will plunge into the river on a busy midday afternoon, causing chaos and many deaths. My opponent’s construction company will be blamed for the disaster, for using poor materials in place of the higher-grade steel that they billed the state government for. He will be seen as a crook and a murderer, which will advance my campaign immensely.”
Trey gasped in shock and distress, while Azhim’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you need my magic for this, Azarael? Why not just use your own?”
“Ahh, well. The truth is, I would need to be standing nearby to cause the disaster that I envision, as my powers have faded somewhat over the centuries. And I wish to be far away when the bridge goes down, at a political gathering where I can act suitably shocked and outraged when the sub-standard bridge takes so many lives. I do not wish anyone to associate my name or face with that structure in any way, and some who saw me there that day would wonder why I was there. They might suspect that I had done something to sabotage the bridge. And with their fascinating new technology, who knows what the humans might discover if they did very involved tests on the metal of the bridge? If they find any anomalies, which they are sure to when you use your magic on it, I do not want them to have me on their minds in any way. I am simply a human, a concerned and grieving man who is horrified that his opponent would cut corners where human lives are at stake.”
“But that’s too awful!” Trey cried, pushing up from the couch in his distress. “You can’t do it, Azhim! You can’t!”
“Oh, but he will, little human,” Azarael replied in a silky tone of voice. “He will have no choice, in the end. Because if he does not do as I require, he will lose his precious master. I will make sure of that. And Azhim does not care about any human other than you. He will not concern himself overmuch about those who die when the bridge is destroyed. If it comes down to the life of his master versus those of a few miserable mortals, Azhim will not hesitate. Will you, Azhim?”
Trey stared up into his djinn’s face, seeing the answer there. “You just can’t,” he whispered miserably, tears welling in his eyes. “Azhim, please…”
“Trey, if I do not do as he says, then he WILL kill you,” Azhim replied flatly. “I will not allow that. I cannot.”
“Good, good. I knew how it would be when I saw you this afternoon,” Azarael said in satisfaction. “I shall give you all of the details before I go. When it is done, you have my word that I shall remove the spell from your Master’s heart. And you know that my word is binding, Azhim, just as yours is. Your Master will live as long as you do what I wish.”
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