Tales of the Djinn: The Guardian (2 page)

The bedroom was square, very boringly
furnished, and carpeted in more beige Berber. Arcadius wouldn’t
have paid it much attention except the vibes he’d sensed outside
the building had just increased. The hair on his nape prickled—a
reaction Joseph shared, to go by the way he rubbed his neck. They
left the bedroom without comment, the three of them crowding back
into the small corridor. Arcadius and Joseph both dwarfed their
slim escort.

Arcadius sensed Joseph forcing himself not to
withdraw farther. Fitting in among the locals was important.

“What’s behind that door?” Arcadius asked
politely.

He thought this a natural question. The thing
was right next to them . . . and padlocked. Probably original to
the building, it was older than the unit’s other entrances, with
layers of dark chipping paint. More importantly, waves of magical
energy beat through it, sure sign that here of all places the veil
between the planes was thin.

Being human, the landlady should have been
oblivious to this.

She looked at him. The ceiling light above
them shone in her young pale face. She was too thin for his taste,
but her eyes
were
green—as he’d supposed.

“That’s off limits,” she said flatly.

Arcadius fought a smile. To be told he
couldn’t do something had always been a spur.

“It’s just a mechanical room,” she added,
seeming aware she’d been too emphatic. “The heating system and junk
storage. Only the repair guy needs access.” She changed the
subject, gesturing in a new direction. “This hall here goes to the
courtyard. Whoever rents this unit has their own outdoor
space.”

She led them down a short draughty passage to
the outside. Weather notwithstanding, the small walled garden they
emerged into was enchanting. Crooked bricks paved the sheltered
area, which had room enough for a table and beds for growing
things. The neighboring buildings loomed around it but didn’t block
the sky. The snow fell softly, like feathers and not ice
shards.

Compared to the closed-in apartment, here he
could breathe easily.

“This is lovely,” he said honestly.

The woman sighed. “Yes,” she said. “It’s like
another world.”

She sounded sad, as though she had no hope of
experiencing any circumstances except the ones she lived in.
Arcadius didn’t see how that could be true. She had different
freedoms from those he knew, but she certainly had them.

He didn’t share his thoughts. Her mental
state wasn’t his concern. After a moment, she sighed once more and
retraced her steps inside. They stopped in the oppressive living
room. The landlady was facing them.

“That’s it, I’m afraid,” she said. “The whole
enchilada.”

She put her hands on her waist, the
out-of-place wedding ring tilting on her too-thin finger. Arcadius
shook himself and looked into her eyes instead. He could tell she
wasn’t expecting a positive response.

“May we take possession of the unit now?” he
asked.

Her soft pink mouth fell open. “Now?”

“If that’s acceptable to you. You mentioned
it isn’t occupied.”

“I—” She blinked, her lashes unexpectedly
thick and dark. “We haven’t discussed rent. Plus, I should run a
background check.”

A background check would be problematic,
considering they didn’t officially exist—an inconvenience they’d
have avoided if possessing humans weren’t against their own
edicts.

“Will cash do?” he asked, having used it to
smooth out a similar wrinkle at the hotel. “Perhaps a year
upfront?”

Her mouth formed another
O
. Arcadius
nodded to Joseph to open the briefcase. With the grace that was his
nature, he set it on the clear coffee table and flipped up the gold
latches. Stacks of neatly banded hundred dollar bills appeared.
Arcadius thought the green color dull, but the amount ought to
cover whatever she cared to charge.

“Jesus,” she breathed, gaping at it. “Are you
guys criminals? If you are, I’d rather you didn’t set up shop in my
building.”

“We’re not criminals,” he assured her. “We
simply like privacy.”

This was true as far as it went. The laws of
her city weren’t designed to regulate magical beings. He wondered
how to allay her fears, which might not be the same females he knew
were prone to.

He relied on instinct to guide his speech.
“I’m sure you understand the desire to be left alone.”

Her gaze rose to his and stayed. He’d guessed
correctly. She understood perfectly. Beneath the black turtleneck,
her lungs expanded with a breath. Her breasts were small, mere
oranges under the stretchy cloth. He sensed her teetering on a
decision.

“We’d be most grateful,” he said softly.

His old self would have swayed her with no
trouble. It was confident, powerful, and catnip to most women.
Fortunately, he hadn’t lost all his charm. She frowned at his
gentle plea for sympathy. “All right. But I’m not signing a lease
agreement. You two cause problems, I’ll toss you out.”

“Agreed,” he said, his lips curving in a
smile.

She crossed her arms beneath her modest
breasts, her green eyes slitting suspiciously.

“What sum would be sufficient?” Joseph asked
to distract her.

She named one and he handed the cash over.
She didn’t count it. She must have concluded he’d be honest.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Joseph said, “we’d
like to settle in. Do you suppose we could have the keys?”

She stared at the hand the manservant was
holding out. “I don’t even know your names.”

“I am Arcadius,” Arcadius said, “and this is
Joseph.”

His answer seemed to amuse her. Shaking her
head, she worked the necessary keys off her crowded ring. “I’m
Elyse. Solomon. I live in 6A if you need anything.” She scribbled a
set of numbers on a small notebook page. “Here’s the code for the
alarm. Instructions for how to set it are on the control
panel.”

Probably due to his relief at accomplishing
their first important goal, Joseph forgot himself. He bowed deeply
from the waist. “Thank you, Elyse Solomon. You are a shining
diamond of graciousness.”

These were traditional words of courtesy,
used to smooth social interactions rather than coming from the
heart. The landlady scratched her smooth cheekbone. “Uh-huh,” she
said. “You two enjoy yourselves.”

As soon as she was gone, Joseph turned to him
as if he were about to burst. “Master, I know you’re glad we’ve
obtained this place but it is terrible! Look at the furniture! And
the travesty she calls a kitchen! You are the Guardian of the
Glorious City. I will die of shame if we stay here long.”

“I
was
the Guardian of the City,”
Arcadius corrected. “And if you die of shame, how will I survive? I
don’t know what stack laundry is.”

“They are machines for cleaning and drying
garments. They sit on top of one another and—” He broke off as he
noted the laughter in his master’s eyes. “You are pulling my
legs.”

“A little.” He squeezed his companion’s
shoulder. “Think what is at stake. We can both stand a bit of
humbling if it saves our people.”

“The church on Fifth Avenue—”

“—was far too public. We cannot do what we
must in front of witnesses. You know this place is more
practical.”

Unable to counter his argument however much
he might wish, Joseph hung his head.

“There is another consideration,” Arcadius
continued, wanting his servant fully in agreement. “The longer
we’re absent from the Qaf, the greater the consequences to
ourselves. Perhaps it’s not the most important issue, but I, for
one, would like to wrap this up as soon as possible.”

“Forgive me,” Joseph said. “You are correct,
of course.” He lifted his head again. “Might I make your sleeping
quarters more comfortable?”

“Certainly,” Arcadius said. “If you feel up
to it.”

Pride pulled Joseph’s shoulders straight.
“Tramping around in the snow for days cannot make me forget my
trade.”

Though Joseph was his all around
aide-de-camp, his original training was in magic. Grabbing their
precious briefcase, he strode to the drab bedroom. This time when
he opened the case, the stacks of cash were gone. In their place
was a colorful array of small cloth bags. Joseph pursed his lips
and selected one sewn of blue brocade. Once he’d loosened the
drawstring cord, he dumped the contents onto the bed’s quilted tan
coverlet.

Furnishings for a Lilliputian dollhouse
tumbled out. The items were almost too tiny for Arcadius’s slightly
better than human vision to identify.

“Perhaps you should stand back,” Joseph
suggested.

Arcadius retreated to the door.

Joseph checked to ensure he was far enough.
Satisfied, he removed and folded his winter coat, then braced his
feet wide and closed his eyes. The bright red scarf still looped
his neck rakishly. Paying it no mind, he spread both hands above
the miniatures on the bed. He didn’t touch them, just let his
energy radiate downward like heat fumes. He murmured a quick,
nearly silent prayer that he immediately repeated.
Almighty God,
the abundant, the merciful, creator of all beauty: allow your
servant to manifest your riches into this present space. Allow your
servant to bring the old world into the new.

His focus was impressive. No muscle moved in
his body unless you counted his chanting lips and furrowed brow.
The items on the bed began to tremble. A tiny scroll-like roll was
the first to jump. It bounced onto the floor, expanding into a
Persian rug that ran like water under the servant’s feet. Two more
bits flung themselves to opposite walls, turning into exquisite
tapestries. A table blinked into being along with a tea samovar and
service to sit on top. Blue and white Iznik tiles laid themselves
on the ceiling, and silk pillows swelled up heaps. So many objects
were appearing Arcadius couldn’t track them all. A moment later, he
smelled incense and heard potted palm leaves rattle.

“Good Lord,” he gasped as a large cedar
wardrobe suddenly filled a cramped corner. “Perhaps you’d better
stop.”

Joseph opened his eyes. He was breathing
harder than before. “As you wish, master. This is nearly all I fit
in the bag anyway.”

Arcadius couldn’t resist stepping into the
transformed space. Even he was amazed by his servant’s skill.
Allowing for the limits of the apartment’s architecture, Joseph had
come close to reconstituting his master’s bedroom in the
palace.

“My books!” Arcadius exclaimed, running his
fingers over the fat old tomes. “And my favorite chair! I had no
idea you brought all these things.”

“I thought it would help,” Joseph said. “I’m
sure we’re both homesick.”

His former possessions made him ache for the
people he used to see among them. He couldn’t say that. Joseph’s
act had been too thoughtful.

“Thank you,” he said with stinging eyes.

Joseph blushed a tiny bit, causing Arcadius
to wonder if he didn’t say those words enough. Joseph held one last
item: a shining silver hoop five feet in diameter. “Where should I
put the door to the mirror space?”

Arcadius considered. The formerly stark room
was now crowded with luxuries. “Behind that tapestry perhaps, where
it’s hidden but easy to get to.”

The tapestry depicted Sindbad’s adventures
upon the sea. Joseph lifted the hanging from the bottom, exposing
the wall beneath. As he pressed the silver ring upon it, it sank an
inch into the plaster, embedding itself in the smooth surface. The
part of the wall the circle encompassed began to shine, as if the
white paint within it had liquefied.

Joseph watched the fluid waver, then dropped
the tapestry. “We must leave this portal alone for now. Nothing
will manifest accurately for a while.”

Given time, the mirror space would echo
everything in the room—though the copy would be more beautiful. As
Joseph fed more power into the ring, the duplication would expand
to include the brownstone and maybe the entire street. The enhanced
version would be an isolated piece of their world, a bolt hole no
human would suspect was there. Many such mirror spaces existed,
sometimes to give traveling djinn a safe place to stay but just as
often for amusement. Ever since their controversy-riddled creation,
the children of Adam and Eve had fascinated their djinn
cousins.

Djinn spied on humans like humans watched
TV.

This city wasn’t as familiar to their kind as
some. No counterpart to Manhattan existed in the Qaf—though one had
the potential to. New York shared the same latitude as Rome and
Istanbul. Both those metropolises had Qaf sisters.

Before he gave himself a headache trying to
calculate the proximity of places that were more vibrations than
actual locales, Arcadius turned his attention to his servant.
Joseph had worked a good bit of magic. To Arcadius’s surprise he
seemed tired but not exhausted.

“That didn’t take as much out of you as I
thought,” he observed.

“There was extra energy to draw on,” Joseph
said. “Someone died here recently.”

Arcadius’s brows shot up. “Here in this
apartment?”

“Somewhere in the building’s cellar. The
death was violent. A reservoir of psychic runoff was left
behind.”

“Was the death related to the nexus?”

Joseph shrugged in his business suit. “I
cannot say. It may be there was a fight for control of it.”

Arcadius didn’t like the sound of that. He’d
chosen this city to avoid competition for resources. This was a
modern place: Western, for the most part. Humans here might believe
in ghosts or angels. Djinn, however, were figures from cartoons for
them.

“Shall I investigate?” Joseph asked, seeing
his perturbed expression.

“Let’s leave that until our position is more
secure. You need rest and I ought to procure a meal.”

“Master,” Joseph scolded.