Read Online Tales of the Djinn: The Double by Emma Holly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Holly
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the place he touched. Curious, he slid his fingers down the thick ridge to his testicles. Because massaging the hanging sac was enjoyable, he pulled his hand away. This caused his turgid penis to throb more intensely.
Why did denying oneself a pleasure make it twice as alluring?
The question was better suited to a philosopher. Ignoring his body’s urges, he stepped to the sitting area of his rooms. Here, a line of windows opened into a small courtyard, one of many in the complex. Joseph’s favorite armchair was positioned next to the view. He lowered his weight to the firm cushion, poured a glass of brandy from the decanter that sat nearby, and opened the heavy book he’d borrowed from the absent sultan’s personal library.
The volume’s title was Creating Doubles with Magic .
Everything he’d read thus far was useless.
The book contained spells to copy every item under the sun, including items invented by humans. It related stories of doubles throughout history. Humans who were the spitting image of djinn. Djinn who impersonated humans by imitating their appearance. Cloned works of art and mirror spaces. Incantations for playing back events on the basis of the vibrations they’d left behind.
In Arab countries, humans who were afflicted by their djinn twins were called majnun or crazy.
What the book didn’t tell him was how to fix split duos who wouldn’t reunite. Truth be told, Joseph couldn’t remember precisely how he’d doubled himself and the others in the first place. He knew he’d put the spell into a design: twin overlapping suns their artist friend Philip had tattooed inside their right ankles. Joseph’s current body no longer had ink there. Possibly reapplying the tattoo would help, but he couldn’t say for sure—nor did it matter since Philip’s whereabouts in the human world were unknown.
The question of why their souls had reacted the way they did to being split was another mystery. Cade’s double, which had the smaller fraction of his spirit, seemed equally a person. But souls were special—ineffable even. If Joseph had to copy himself again, to breathe life into a replication of his body, he didn’t think he could have done it.
His original, the him who was locked in stone, was the sole possessor of the secret.
That shamed him as deeply as his reaction to the priestess. Though he was whole in his sexual parts, in power he was less than he’d been before. His city was counting on him to solve this problem, and he seemed doomed to fail.
Overcome by despair, he leaned across the book with his hands covering his eyes.
A tiny mrrp jerked him up again.
It was the bloody cat from the garden, the one who’d yowled at him like an ifrit. Its silver eyes blinked at him from the shadows.
“How did you get in here?” he asked.
The cat ran to him and jumped into his lap.
“Stop that,” he scolded, because the creature seemed likely to tear the valuable tome. He shoved the feline off, then closed the book and rose. Its footing swiftly recovered, the cat looked up at him from the floor as if he’d insulted it.
“Fine,” he said, picking it up and draping it over his shoulder. Though small, the cat was heavy. As he petted its ruffled fur, it went limp and began to purr.
This was more endearing than he was prepared for.
“You should be chasing mice,” he said, distrusting the appeal of the animal’s languid warmth. Dumping the cat in the corridor, he shut his door again.
If only he could have shut the door on his other problems as easily.
Thunder rumbled outside his windows, a late spring storm rolling in. The electricity in the air tingled across his skin. Was the naked priestess gazing out her window too? Had she brought herself to climax? Was she, perhaps, interested in doing so again?
Joseph pulled the doors to the courtyard open, willing the cool damp air to buffet his body. Despite the drop in temperature, his erection didn’t subside. Maybe it wouldn’t until he saw to
Why did denying oneself a pleasure make it twice as alluring?
The question was better suited to a philosopher. Ignoring his body’s urges, he stepped to the sitting area of his rooms. Here, a line of windows opened into a small courtyard, one of many in the complex. Joseph’s favorite armchair was positioned next to the view. He lowered his weight to the firm cushion, poured a glass of brandy from the decanter that sat nearby, and opened the heavy book he’d borrowed from the absent sultan’s personal library.
The volume’s title was Creating Doubles with Magic .
Everything he’d read thus far was useless.
The book contained spells to copy every item under the sun, including items invented by humans. It related stories of doubles throughout history. Humans who were the spitting image of djinn. Djinn who impersonated humans by imitating their appearance. Cloned works of art and mirror spaces. Incantations for playing back events on the basis of the vibrations they’d left behind.
In Arab countries, humans who were afflicted by their djinn twins were called majnun or crazy.
What the book didn’t tell him was how to fix split duos who wouldn’t reunite. Truth be told, Joseph couldn’t remember precisely how he’d doubled himself and the others in the first place. He knew he’d put the spell into a design: twin overlapping suns their artist friend Philip had tattooed inside their right ankles. Joseph’s current body no longer had ink there. Possibly reapplying the tattoo would help, but he couldn’t say for sure—nor did it matter since Philip’s whereabouts in the human world were unknown.
The question of why their souls had reacted the way they did to being split was another mystery. Cade’s double, which had the smaller fraction of his spirit, seemed equally a person. But souls were special—ineffable even. If Joseph had to copy himself again, to breathe life into a replication of his body, he didn’t think he could have done it.
His original, the him who was locked in stone, was the sole possessor of the secret.
That shamed him as deeply as his reaction to the priestess. Though he was whole in his sexual parts, in power he was less than he’d been before. His city was counting on him to solve this problem, and he seemed doomed to fail.
Overcome by despair, he leaned across the book with his hands covering his eyes.
A tiny mrrp jerked him up again.
It was the bloody cat from the garden, the one who’d yowled at him like an ifrit. Its silver eyes blinked at him from the shadows.
“How did you get in here?” he asked.
The cat ran to him and jumped into his lap.
“Stop that,” he scolded, because the creature seemed likely to tear the valuable tome. He shoved the feline off, then closed the book and rose. Its footing swiftly recovered, the cat looked up at him from the floor as if he’d insulted it.
“Fine,” he said, picking it up and draping it over his shoulder. Though small, the cat was heavy. As he petted its ruffled fur, it went limp and began to purr.
This was more endearing than he was prepared for.
“You should be chasing mice,” he said, distrusting the appeal of the animal’s languid warmth. Dumping the cat in the corridor, he shut his door again.
If only he could have shut the door on his other problems as easily.
Thunder rumbled outside his windows, a late spring storm rolling in. The electricity in the air tingled across his skin. Was the naked priestess gazing out her window too? Had she brought herself to climax? Was she, perhaps, interested in doing so again?
Joseph pulled the doors to the courtyard open, willing the cool damp air to buffet his body. Despite the drop in temperature, his erection didn’t subside. Maybe it wouldn’t until he saw to
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