The Djinn (19 page)

Out of the
original thirteen of Gerard’s men, only three now remained to fight. The odds
were decidedly unfair. She felt a sudden surge of sorrow for the mercenaries.
The
Djinn’s
wrath could no longer be sated. His rage
at the sight of
Tufic
and her own kidnapping had
undoubtedly stripped him of any compassion he might have once had.

The Djinn stood
in the center of the room, his blade clutched tightly in both hands. Two soldiers
attacked as one, swinging their swords in unison in a frontal assault.
Crouching low, the Djinn rolled to the right just as their weapons came down.
Before they had time to recover, he came up, whirled around with a blinding
sweep of his scimitar striking the nearest soldier across the back of the head.

The second
soldier ran out the door screaming in terror.

Sensing the
final combatant behind him, the Djinn spun, unleashing three of his throwing
knives into the man’s chest. He crashed to the ground in a pool of blood.

It was over.
The Djinn turned to Isabella and then to
Tufic
.

“Take care of
him,” he commanded, his usual soothing voice replaced with cold fury. “I’m
going after Gerard.”

“Don’t,” she
said. “He’s beaten. There’s no need for more death.”

“He must pay
for what he has done.”

“And he will.
Trust God. Let Him bring about His own justice.”

The Djinn stood
silently, staring at her. He clutched his abdomen tightly as he
heaved
for breath. Isabella noticed a tiny stream of
crimson flowing between his fingers.

“You’re
injured,” she said.

“It is nothing
for you to worry about.
Tufic’s
wounds are more
serious than mine.”

He was lying.
He had always been a poor liar—especially when it came to her. She could now
see by his gait that he was in severe pain.

“You’re dying.”

His head sunk
low in response and he turned toward the door.

“I have work to
do,” he finally said, turning to glance at her one more time. “I haven’t much
time left. Get
Tufic
to the chateau. I’ll meet you
both there soon.”

He bolted
through the door before she could protest. It all made sense now.
The ferocity of his attack…the guttural snarls during battle.
He had been doing all he could to continue the fight.

Fear wormed its
way into her mind—fear that she may never see him again. May never be held in
his arms again or feel the pure love he had for her. It threatened to overwhelm
her as she moved swiftly to free her uncle’s physician.

“Dear Lord,”
she prayed. “Watch over him and keep him. Bring him back to me, please.”

He had to keep
running. No matter what, Gerard knew that if he stopped for even a second, he
would die. Every muscle screamed and his lungs cried out in protest, but he
pushed on. The demon would not be far behind.

 
As he fled the guardhouse, he heard the cries
of his men as the Djinn tore through them like a malevolent wind. He had
encountered the creature on several occasions, but now, it was different. He’d
never seen so much fury emanating from any living creature before. Despite his
feelings about it, the Djinn had never attacked with hatred before, as he had
this evening. On the contrary, he usually had shown a great deal of compassion
by treating the wounds of his injured foes. But now…now the mercenary ran from
something completely devoid of mercy. Gerard now ran from vengeance incarnate.

His feet
pounded the stone walkway as his brain raced to find its bearings. This
infernal city was nothing more than a giant maze and at night, in the downpour
that gushed from the heavens, the mercenary realized he was hopelessly lost. As
a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember ever being in the section of the quarter
in which he currently found himself.

Gusts of wind
bombarded him with a torrential wall of rain, blinding him. It was as if the
weather itself sought to drive the running man back toward the demon. How could
he have been so wrong? The Djinn could not possibly be a man. No human he’d
ever seen moved the way the creature did; as if he were made of nothing more
than some dark, baleful vapor.

He had to stop.
The world around him spun uncontrollably as his blood pumped feverishly through
his veins. He heaved for breath, gulping in as much oxygen as he could during
this short reprieve. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been running and in the
maze of short, squat, identical buildings he found himself in, there was no way
to tell how far he’d run, either.

Bending over,
he clutched his knees as a sharp pain burned at his sides. He couldn’t rest
long. It would be suicide. But to not give himself a short respite, he would be
dead soon anyway.
 

A scuffled
sound above brought his attention to the roof of a nearby shop. A dark shape
slithered out of view just as his eyes drifted upward. He had to press on. The
creature was obviously nearby—toying with him—and Gerard was no one’s
plaything.

Sucking in one
last gulp of air, the mercenary burst forward in a full sprint. He rounded the
corner to his right into a darkened alley, slid to a stop. His mouth dropped as
if a team of oxen were tugging at his jaws.

The Djinn
hunched over in the alley, its shadowy form fading in and out with every
flicker of lightning that streaked across the sky. A guttural chuckle escaped
the demon’s covered lips as Gerard wheeled around and bolted in the opposite
direction.

He ran faster
than he ever believed possible. The creature had caught up to him so easily.
How it had managed to navigate the city maze was beyond him, but somehow it
had. The only thing Gerard knew was that he had to put as much space between it
and himself as he could.

As his boots
pounded against the stones, his keen ears strained against the roar of the
deluge for sounds of pursuit. He could hear none. It appeared that the creature
was not following him. Though he couldn’t quite believe the demon would give up
that easily.

Gerard bounded
past two more alleyways, pausing only briefly to glance back.
Nothing but darkness and rain.
A streak of lightning hurled
across the sky, blasting its way to the ground, striking something nearby.
Thunder boomed overhead, causing the mercenary to jerk involuntarily. That was
too close and the metal armor he wore did nothing for his confidence. He had to
find shelter.
A place to hide—a place to regain his bearings
and come up with a plan.
But where?
He had no
idea where he was. With the maelstrom lashing down at him from all sides, there
was no way to discern even the east from the west. He was completely blind.

A scraping
noise in front of him pulled him from his musings. A figure materialized from
the shadows before him. It had come from nowhere. The Djinn had once again
found him! What was more, it had somehow made its way in front of him and now,
the demon glared silently at its prey. A low hiss exuded from the dark confines
of the creature’s hood. Its scimitar inched slowly from its scabbard.

This is impossible
, Gerard thought,
wheeling around and darting toward the last alley he had passed. He careened
around the corner, stumbling on a loose stone, and crashed to the ground. Blood
and rainwater streamed down his face, burning his eyes as he lifted himself
from the street. He had to get moving again, he knew, but his body rebelled
against him. It wouldn’t move. Several seconds passed before he could figure
out why. It had taken that long for his brain to register what his eyes had already
seen—the Djinn once again hovering before him, its black robes whipping at the
howling wind cascading over the city skyline.

The mercenary
fought desperately to remain upright, as dark splotches swirled in front of his
eyes, a warning sign of an imminent blackout. He could take no more of this.
The demon was everywhere at once. Gerard’s body swayed in the wind, as the
Djinn glided silently toward him.

As his mind
teetered on the brink of madness, the mercenary felt a gentle brush of fabric
against his right shoulder. His head slowly turned and looked up; a silent
scream filling his paralyzed vocal cords. The Djinn now crouched low upon the
wooden beam on the roof of a shop just above him, leaning forward to peer at
the mercenary from under his darkened hood.

The mercenary’s
eyes snapped straight ahead once again. The apparition of the demon that had
only moments before stood in front of him was not there. He had seemed to just
to have disappeared, only to rematerialize on the roof above.

Spinning around,
Gerard’s eyes scanned the haze behind him. The rain had tapered off and now,
only a light drizzle obscured his vision. A hiss from above reminded him of his
current predicament and he bolted once farther into the labyrinth of alleyways.

He ran several
more blocks before coming to a little leather shop that he had visited the day
before to fix the strap to his iron greaves. He now knew where he was. The
walled fortifications of the city lay to his left, only yards away. There, he
would find soldiers, help, to battle the creature that now doggedly pursued
him. To his right, only four buildings away, sat the church—a place he loathed
more than the heathen Saracens.

Gerard veered
to the left, never letting up his pace. The drizzle had now completely stopped
and steam arose from the city streets like wisps of a spectral net rising up
from the ground. The mercenary’s heart was nearly exploding in his chest with
each pump, but he was elated. He was nearly free. He only needed to run a few
more feet and…oh no. He skidded to a halt, as the vision of the creature
emerged from around the corner of the next building.

The Djinn
strode silently, unhurried, toward him. It said nothing as it moved to a nearby
lamppost and stopped. Gerard found himself once against unable to move, unable
to scream for the help that was only a block away. The creature leaned casually
against the lamppost, arms folding across its chest and a hideous, low chuckle
streamed from under the cloak. The mercenary’s pulse pounded violently at his
temples as his eyes grew dimmer with each mind-rattling thump.

He had no
choice now. The church was his only sanctuary. Surely a creature of hell could
not enter such a sacred place. Finding strength to power his unsteady legs,
Gerard turned and dashed toward the safety of the church. Once again, no sounds
of pursuit followed him as he closed the gap, leapt into the church, and
slammed the heavy oaken doors shut behind him. Gerard pressed his back against
the door as added security and heaved in the air that had eluded him since
running from the guardhouse.

He was safe
now. His heart struggled to slow itself with that realization as if unable to
believe the news. It was safe. It could slow down. It could finally rest.

A pathetic cry
of terror wheezed from Gerard’s contorted lips, as a pair of footsteps plodded
down the staircase to his right. He was once again relieved when he turned to
see the gentle robes of a monk hurrying over to him.

“My son,” said
the monk, “What is the matter? You’ve been injured?”

“I’ll be fine,
Father. I just need to rest a bit…at least until sunrise.”

The monk smiled
from under his cowl and bowed his head slightly.

“Certainly, my son.
If you’d like, I can show you to a room
and then provide a hot meal and drink for you.”

“That won’t be
necessary, Father. If it’s all the same, I’ll rest here—in the sanctuary—for
the night. But some food and ale would definitely be nice.”

The monk’s
smile faded. The mercenary knew he wouldn’t like the idea of a soldier sleeping
in so sacred a place, but there was no other choice. He had to keep his eyes on
the door—he had to be prepared for anything and sleeping soundly in a monastic
bed would be a sure way to be caught off guard by the demon.

“Tell me, my
son, what troubles you this night?” asked the monk after careful consideration
of Gerard’s request.

There was no
point in lying. If you couldn’t trust a priest, who could you trust?

“It’s a demon,
Father. I’m being chased by a heathen demon.”

“Ah, the Djinn.
It is the Djinn who
pursues
you,” the monk said calmly as he backed slowly away into the shadows of the
sanctuary. “And you thought coming to this church would protect you, did you?”

Gerard looked
down at his shaking legs, willing them steady. When he looked up again, the
monk was nowhere to be seen.

“Father?”

Silence.

The mercenary
stiffened, drawing his sword and inching forward into the dimness of the
church. He absently made his way into the center of the sanctuary and turning
three hundred and sixty degrees, his eyes scanned every nook he could find.

Nothing
.

“Father?
Are you there?”

“He’s here, ‘my
son,’” hissed a horrid whisper from the darkness of the rafters. “And he’s
safe. He has nothing to fear from me. But
you
do.”

A hideous
cackle arose, reverberating off the arched ceiling and cascading over the
trembling mercenary with a symphonic ferocity. Gerard backed away, inching his
way back to the church door.

“You should
have never taken the girl, Captain,” said the Djinn, still hidden from sight.
“Nor the physician.
They were innocent. They are good,
decent folk and you will suffer for your sins against them.”

The mercenary
turned toward the door, but stopped himself when he saw the Djinn standing
behind him. In desperation, he swung his sword wildly, lashing out with all his
might. The creature easily parried with his own blade, knocking his grip loose.
Gerard’s sword flew harmlessly away and out of reach. The demon’s backhand
smashed against his jaw, sending him sprawling headfirst to the floor.

The mercenary
quickly recovered, turning
himself
over and sitting up
to see his tormenter looming above him. His head craned to the right, as a
noise in that direction caught his attention. Two shadowy figures emerged from
behind the giant pillars that supported the church’s ceiling—they were also Djinn!
Three of them?
How was that possible? His eyes
returned to the creature crouching down in front of him,
then
back to his right. Yes. They were both still there, standing as still as
statues.
Neither saying a word.

Movement from
the rafters above caught his attention. He looked up to see two more
djinni
materializing from nowhere, glaring down at him like
dark sentries from hell.

Suddenly,
Gerard found himself surrounded by an entire army of the demonic creatures. The
djinni
crowded in around him. They leered at him,
perching from the rafters above. To his right and left, more of demons
sauntered in from the shadows to envelope the mercenary with their icy, green
stares. There had to be at least fifty of them.

Gerard backpedaled,
crabwalking
across the cold stones of the church’s
floor to the northern wall. He had to get away, but there was no place to run.
He needed to scream for help, but knew that none would come in time. He was
doomed.

One of the
djinni
, the one that had backhanded him at the church’s
entrance, walked toward him in slow, deliberate steps, then stopped and looked
down at its prey. For several long moments, nothing happened. The terrified
mercenary’s brain searched feverishly for any prayers he had long ago
forgotten, but none immediately came to him. The creature’s blade inched its
way to Gerard’s constricted throat, teasing the air as a serpent’s tongue
flickers.

“No,”
came
a hoarse voice from the midst of the demons.
A second
djinn
stepped from the
crowd, glowing green eyes illuminating the darkness of its hood. Gerard knew
from the creature’s posture and voice that this was the same that had wiped out
his men in the safe house. This was the same beast that slaughtered his
soldiers in the baron’s tunnels. This was the leader.

The lesser
djinn
moved to the side as its captain made its way to
stand over their captive.

“You need not
die here tonight,” the Djinn whispered. “You could walk away from here, your
head in its proper place. All you need do is
perform
a
small service for me.”