hand of hate 01 - destiny blues (12 page)

“Listen, lady I’m a parking control officer for the City of Picston. You’re talking crazy.” I had lost complete control of the conversation.
 

“Hear me, mage.” She waggled her finger at Rhys, ignoring me completely. “The situation is clear to me now. Someone has unleashed the djinn from their sealed cavern beneath Sentinel Hill. They must have been loose for some time. They will attach themselves to sensitives, such as young Mattie here. With every passing moment, she is attracting more djinn to her, but she is not the only one at risk. There are many unsuspecting people in Shore Haven who will be tempted to 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 its fury as it snarled at Blix and Larry.   
 

I gaped in disbelief as adrenaline surged through every fiber of my being. “What the hell is that?” I already knew the answer. Oneiri looked like Blix on steroids. Madame Coumlie’s djemon was unmistakably a sphinx.  
 

CHAPTER 15
 

The sight of Oneiri in the flesh thrilled my breath away. He turned his yellow eyes on me, and the menace of his gaze had me shaking where I stood. My cell phone rang, but I switched the darn thing to vibrate without answering. I sidled around the perimeter of the room for a better view.  
 

“Voila; you see? Everything is so simple,
chere
. Oneiri here was a djinn once, like your petit pets. He came to me in my dreams, so long ago. Like you, I did not know about naming such a thing, and yet here he is made flesh.”
 

Another low growl rumbled and Oneiri gave a loud snort before sitting back on his haunches to await his mistress’s command. His resemblance to Blix was undeniable, but where Blix resembled a scrawny, hairless kitten, Oneiri projected raw power and predatory elegance. The difference between them defined unnatural versus supernatural. A near-human face glowered at me from behind leonine features. He vibrated with the force of barely contained energy and danger, a fantastically scary combination.
 

Awestruck, I could barely speak. “He’s real.”   
 

His paws were the size of trike tires. I had no doubt that Oneiri would be as deadly as he appeared.  Oddly, I had no fear of him, merely a healthy respect for Oneiri’s size and obvious lethal capabilities.  
 

“
Oui
.”
 

“He doesn’t smell.”
 

“A big bonus, non? Manifestation has many advantages.”
 

I ached to touch him, but didn’t dare. “How did he get so big?”
 

Oneiri shook himself, and the slithering of his ebony wing feathers sounded like the shuffling of cards. A genie on a flying carpet could not have enthralled me more.  
 

“Where do you keep him?” I couldn’t contain my amazement. “He’s just so big.”  
 

“Once named, everyone uses them,” Rhys said.  
 

“The life force energy of their masters sustains them, chere, but they can also grow powerful from absorbing the life force of their victims.”
 

My heart skipped a beat. “He’s killed people?”  The phone in my pocket vibrated, but I paid no attention. A million questions flooded my mind, and I desperately wanted to know more.  
 

I edged my way around the sphinx until I stood next to my great-grandmother. Blix paced back and forth, intensely agitated. Even Larry seemed distressed, licking his eyes repeatedly with a long blue tongue. The rest of my herd remained motionless. I noticed two more fanged toads had joined the party.   
 

Oneiri’s eyes were at the same level as mine, as big as tangerines. I raised my hand to pet him. “Hey guy.”
 

Oneiri lowered his head and laid back his pointed ears, each of which sported a single gold ring at the tip. I snatched my hand back and bit my lips. Better not.
 

“So this is what Blix will grow into? What about Larry? What about the rest? Why do I have so many?”
 

Rhys said, “Pay attention, Mattie. This is important. Every time you speak or think their name, they grow in power.”
 

Chastened, I realized Rhys was right. Blix had already moved away from the herd, and seated himself on my left side. Larry too, had taken a few steps closer. He stamped his stubby little feet and stared at me with new intensity.    
 

“So how do I get rid of my djinn?”
 

“The unnamed ones can be compelled to return to their chamber, as I did long ago. Rhys, in the cupboard behind you, you will find a volume labeled 1930. Bring it to me.”
 

The opened armoire revealed dozens of dark green, leather-bound books; each marked with a hand-lettered date along the spines. Rhys selected one from the shelf, and handed it to her. She appeared to know what she was looking for, and flipped right to the correct page.  
 

“Here.” Her gnarled hand smoothed the page as if to caress the words written. “Times were difficult, the summer after the stock market crashed. No visitors came to Shore Haven that summer. Old Master Russ closed the Amusement Park, and the employees struggled to fend for ourselves. I was newly married to your great-grandfather Dirk Coumlie. He worked as a carpenter, but there was no work. We took boarders into the house, to help make ends meet, but there was no money.”
 

“The townspeople became desperate; waiting in long lines for every scrap of food, we subsisted largely on handouts, rumors, and hope. For some, suicide became the antidote to despair, as people who lost everything could not imagine a better future. Misery drove others to take what they needed, and robberies, muggings, and break-ins became commonplace. Shore Haven gained a reputation as a rough area; a place of seedy characters and illicit activity. Those of us fortunate enough to have a place to live turned our homes into armed camps. And then the killing started.
 

“People began to disappear. Sometimes the bodies would be found days later, with the flesh shredded from their bones, sometimes they wouldn’t be found. The rumors spoke of creatures prowling the streets on the darkest nights, in the company of a hooded man. In The Sentinel, the killer became known as the Lakeside Lurker.
 

“Shore Haven descended into a state of siege. The police refused to accept the truth, and were too afraid to dig the killer out of hiding. Curfew laws kept all but the most foolish inside their homes between sundown and sunup. Neighbors banded together for safety and stood guard over each other after curfew.  Tales of the old Senequois legends surfaced, of evil spirits imprisoned beneath Sentinel Hill.  Letters to the editor begged the mayor and governor to do something. I felt I had to act, but I did not know what to do.  
 

“Oneiri was with me even then, and Dirk and I came to suspect supernatural forces at work. We came to believe the perpetrator was using djemons to rob and murder the citizens of Shore Haven, and if we captured this demon master, perhaps we could end the madness.
 

“Dirk and I went into the caverns beneath Sentinel Hill. We found where a crevice had been hacked open, and I saw many, many djinn gathered within. Whoever had broken the seal had done so with purpose, and was now a demon master.
 

“Every night, we scoured the streets, looking for both victims and the master. With Oneiri’s help, we eventually found a man hiding in the shadows. As soon as I saw him, I understood we had found the master. His vile aura revolted me. He surrounded himself with several unnamed djinn, and a large djemon.”   
 

“Who was he?”
 

“By the time we found him, his demon had become so powerful, he no longer controlled the demon.  The demon had become the master. He had lost his humanity.   
 

“I could not understand the mindless fervor I found burning within him. I had never seen so many djinn before, and I had never been in the presence of such so large a djemon. The Lakeside Lurker’s djemon had evolved into an energy parasite, existing only to feed on the soul energies of his victims. The more it fed, the more powerful it became. By the time we cornered him, the master’s mind and morality had vanished, leaving only the brutish shell of a human behind.  
 

“We fought with hammers; the only weapons we possessed. Oneiri and I held off the djemon while my husband fought the master. We held them until the police arrived, but Dirk was wounded.”
 

“What happened to the guy?”
 

“He died, but not before his djemon delivered my Dirk a mortal wound. There was nothing to be done.”
 

“What happened to the djemon? And all the escaped djinn?”
 

“I compelled most back into the cavern, and resealed the breach. I documented everything here in my journal.”
 

“You did all that?”