tried.
“ What is your wish? ” The words came automatically from the jiniri ’ s full lips, because such words were always what she was required to say, being jinn. She held no expectations for hearing his wish, although release would be nice.
“ I wish... ” the vudu priest said in his own grating language, which grated in its simplicity as compared to the mellifluous languages the jiniri yearned to return to.
“ I wish... ” the priest repeated.
The jiniri held her breath, sucking in the new mango-scented breath that came along with this manifestation. It was not myrrh, but still. Was this the day?
The vudu priest laughed, an evil sounding guffaw. “ No, genie, I will not release you. ”
The only way she could be released was by granting her captor ’ s wish. But said captor had to express said wishes before a displaced jinn could grant them, earning release.
“ But I have won her, ” the challenger said, gaining control of his shaking. “ Fair and square. Hand her over. She is mine now. ” He rose to his feet and knocked the domino board to one side.
The priest ticked his tongue at the challenger and shook his head. “ What do you want with a woman genie? ”
The challenger lifted his eyebrows and waggled them as his gaze outlined the jiniri ’ s curves.
“ Eh, that, ” said the priest. “ Will do you no good. ” He plucked a cigar off the altar table beside him, turned it over in the caked dirt of his palms, inspecting it slowly, holding the moment. “ What you want is real power. Not this. A woman genie. Only half as good. ”
Half...?!? The jiniri twisted and pulled and strained and raged, but her tether would not break.
The challenger glanced nervously over his shoulder, but traffic whizzed past, ignoring any shadows in the almond grove, not wishing to interfere with any exchange. These shores were where boatmen landed, bringing in their catches from the sea, melding straightaway into the out-of-control traffic of the city.
“ No one is coming to your rescue, ” the priest said as he lit the cigar and held the smoldering stick between them. It came alive with the vudu spell he kept in his smoke.
The challenger coughed in the poisoned cloud and lifted one arm to reach inside his shirt. He scratched his chest, trying to draw the knife from its sheath that he kept hidden next to his heart—the jiniri knew. Being jinn, she could see what lay inside.
But the vudu priest could not. He snickered with his misplaced confidence.
Slowly, sluggishly, the challenger pulled the knife out, catching the last rays of the sinking sun. He pointed the tip at a crooked angle before the priest. “ You will pay me for what is mine, ” the challenger said. “ You wish to pay with your life? ”
“ I wish you ’ d put that away, ” the priest said.
He wished. He wished ! The jiniri soared with a mighty leap. The tether binding her splintered apart as the challenger ’ s shaking arm slid his knife back into the sheath. Too late, the vudu priest realized his mistake. Swarthiness drained from his face, and the slash of his grin collapsed into an ooooh of dismay.
Late!
Too late.
The vudu priest abandoned his altar in the almond grove and darted for the street, dodging the buses, the taxis, the trucks, this way and that. Across the street, he was as good as gone, disappearing into the cracks and holes of the rebar city.
Along with the jiniri ’ s wings.
If she were winged, as she was meant to be, he could not escape. But she wasn ’ t complaining. At least she was finally free. She picked up the vessel that had contained her for countless time and glared at the challenger. Sweat beaded on his lip. His eyes darted past her, behind her, to the sea, where a sputtering rumble sounded. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw a fishing boat approach, flirting with the rocky edge of the malecón.
In that instant of her distraction, the challenger thudded into her, crashing her to the spongy
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