name their djinn when they appear.” She turned to me and continued.
“Once named, a djinn becomes djemon, servant to their human master until released. By your laws, anyone with a named djemon becomes a demon master. Under the new anti-terrorism act, anyone proven to be a demon master may be sentenced to death. I cannot imagine what your government’s actions would be if they discovered an entire community of demon masters here in Shore Haven. You understand the threat, no? The anomalous community cannot risk exposure. The djinn must be resealed inside the cavern quickly.”
“How many are we talking about,” Rhys asked.
I fought to keep my rising panic under control. “Hey, what exactly is a djinn, anyway?”
“A djinn is a spirit without a master.” Rhys said. “It is not a creature of the flesh. It resides on the astral plane, imperceptible to most humans. They are attracted to paranormal activity, and can, on occasion, be perceived by humans with certain extrasensory gifts such as yourself. They possess no inherent qualities for good or evil. They exist to serve a master.”
A missing piece clicked into place for me.
“So these things I’m seeing are djinn? How come it didn’t show up when I took the FBI test?”
Madame Coumlie convulsed into a new phlegm seizure, and I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or coughing this time. The handkerchief reappeared, and she was able to get control of herself.
“The FBI doesn’t know everything, Mattie.” Rhys smiled, and his features softened. “And we’re not about to correct them.” In the back of my mind, I guessed the old lady had been laughing.
“Once a djinn is named, chere , it becomes a djemon. The first time a named djemon is given a command by its master, the creature materializes on the physical plane. Once a djemon attains physical form, it becomes most dangerous. The djemon gains power and strength and grows by obeying its master’s commands. Over time, a djemon can become extremely powerful; even more so than the master. This is the reason your FBI wishes to regulate psychics, no?”
“How do you get rid of them?” Now we were getting somewhere. “I mean, after they manifest?”
“You die.” She started to laugh, and the choking horking spasm drowned out the rest of her words.
“She means to say djinn and djemons can’t be killed,” Rhys said. “They’re not alive. They don’t eat or sleep as you would expect. They don’t breathe. All they do is wait for the next command from their master. A djinn is harmless, but once manifested, a djemon made flesh can become a powerful creature.”
The import of agent Porter’s words came to me with a chill. “They’re a loaded weapon.”
Rhys nodded. “They defy the very laws of nature. Tell me, Madame, how many djinn we’re talking about here?”
“In 1930, I returned four hundred and twelve into to the cavern, but thousands more never escaped. If the portal is open again,” she shrugged. “Perhaps only a few have been named or made flesh.”
“I’ve got six trapped already.”
“If the seal is broken, mage, you will need to repair it. Take the girl with you. She must be the one to fix things.” Madame Coumlie’s face had gone ashen. Her fit had taken a lot out of her. “My time grows short.”
“No way,” I said. “No can do. I don’t want to get involved in any of this. As a matter of fact, I’m leaving. Right now.”
Rhys and the old woman looked at each other and she grinned that creepy, lipless smile at me again.
“Oneiri,” she called. “I summon you.” She clapped her hands.
Out of nowhere, Madame Coumlie’s djemon materialized out of thin air into the middle of the room. Charcoal in color, Oneiri appeared to be about the size of a large pony. Heat radiated from its solid body like a furnace, and the floor reverberated with the echoes of
“Once named, a djinn becomes djemon, servant to their human master until released. By your laws, anyone with a named djemon becomes a demon master. Under the new anti-terrorism act, anyone proven to be a demon master may be sentenced to death. I cannot imagine what your government’s actions would be if they discovered an entire community of demon masters here in Shore Haven. You understand the threat, no? The anomalous community cannot risk exposure. The djinn must be resealed inside the cavern quickly.”
“How many are we talking about,” Rhys asked.
I fought to keep my rising panic under control. “Hey, what exactly is a djinn, anyway?”
“A djinn is a spirit without a master.” Rhys said. “It is not a creature of the flesh. It resides on the astral plane, imperceptible to most humans. They are attracted to paranormal activity, and can, on occasion, be perceived by humans with certain extrasensory gifts such as yourself. They possess no inherent qualities for good or evil. They exist to serve a master.”
A missing piece clicked into place for me.
“So these things I’m seeing are djinn? How come it didn’t show up when I took the FBI test?”
Madame Coumlie convulsed into a new phlegm seizure, and I couldn’t tell if she was laughing or coughing this time. The handkerchief reappeared, and she was able to get control of herself.
“The FBI doesn’t know everything, Mattie.” Rhys smiled, and his features softened. “And we’re not about to correct them.” In the back of my mind, I guessed the old lady had been laughing.
“Once a djinn is named, chere , it becomes a djemon. The first time a named djemon is given a command by its master, the creature materializes on the physical plane. Once a djemon attains physical form, it becomes most dangerous. The djemon gains power and strength and grows by obeying its master’s commands. Over time, a djemon can become extremely powerful; even more so than the master. This is the reason your FBI wishes to regulate psychics, no?”
“How do you get rid of them?” Now we were getting somewhere. “I mean, after they manifest?”
“You die.” She started to laugh, and the choking horking spasm drowned out the rest of her words.
“She means to say djinn and djemons can’t be killed,” Rhys said. “They’re not alive. They don’t eat or sleep as you would expect. They don’t breathe. All they do is wait for the next command from their master. A djinn is harmless, but once manifested, a djemon made flesh can become a powerful creature.”
The import of agent Porter’s words came to me with a chill. “They’re a loaded weapon.”
Rhys nodded. “They defy the very laws of nature. Tell me, Madame, how many djinn we’re talking about here?”
“In 1930, I returned four hundred and twelve into to the cavern, but thousands more never escaped. If the portal is open again,” she shrugged. “Perhaps only a few have been named or made flesh.”
“I’ve got six trapped already.”
“If the seal is broken, mage, you will need to repair it. Take the girl with you. She must be the one to fix things.” Madame Coumlie’s face had gone ashen. Her fit had taken a lot out of her. “My time grows short.”
“No way,” I said. “No can do. I don’t want to get involved in any of this. As a matter of fact, I’m leaving. Right now.”
Rhys and the old woman looked at each other and she grinned that creepy, lipless smile at me again.
“Oneiri,” she called. “I summon you.” She clapped her hands.
Out of nowhere, Madame Coumlie’s djemon materialized out of thin air into the middle of the room. Charcoal in color, Oneiri appeared to be about the size of a large pony. Heat radiated from its solid body like a furnace, and the floor reverberated with the echoes of
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