A knock at the door sounded and Dalí ducked back inside his airy room. It was part of the building that wasn’t built into the rocks of the mountains, so his walls were bright and emerald free. The four poster bed in the room was made of solid, dark mahogany and comfortable armchairs and sturdy furniture decorated the space. The bed was covered in cushions he’d have to bury through to get to the actual mattress. His duffle bag lay slung at the bottom of it. He wouldn’t unpack. His father usually only required his company for a few nights. Anyway, he had his growing criminal organization to get back to. Without him they’d forget they even were an organization. “Yes?”
The door swung open and a Shaitan with blood red eyes walked into the room. Dalí felt a frisson of fear slither down his neck at the sight of the Shaitan that was so much more powerful than he’d ever be. Not powerful enough to walk away from serving his father, he reminded himself, straightening the cowardly curl in his spine. “Master will see you now.”
Dalí could have sworn the Shaitan was sneering at him as if he knew how much he’d frightened him. Reminding himself that he was a grown man, and not just any man, but a hybrid, a sorcerer, Dalí touched the emerald talisman around his neck and drew out its power letting it pulse into the room. The Shaitan just smiled at him condescendingly, his eyes saying, ‘yeah, yeah, you’re Master’s son. I’m trembling in my boots.’ Trying not to flush at the unspoken condescension, Dalí felt a growl purr out from the back of his throat. “Lead the way,” he snapped and the Shaitan laughed, his red eyes glowing brighter before he turned. Dalí followed the short demon out of the room, noting how his bare feet never made a sound on the cold flagstones. They passed through bright, cream-colored hallways with bronze sconces and bronze-framed portraits and landscapes. Moving through a light, vast hallway, a number of Shaitans stood on guard, their eyes staring straight ahead, ignoring Dalí. They continued up into darker corridors as the home became part of the rock. More sconces lit the dark, emerald glittering halls and Dalí couldn’t help himself from reaching out and touching one of the gems, feeling a shot of energy shoot into him and sizzle in his blood waiting to be used in magic. Like a junkie needing another hit, he touched another emerald.
“Stop that,” the Shaitan snarled without turning around. Dalí snatched his hand back from another stone, although his throat burned hot it felt so dry with want.
Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking, the Shaitan knocked on a door before opening it and stepping aside to let Dalí pass.
“Son,” a deep, smiling voice called to him from the other end of the room. It was a small throne room where a dozen Shaitans stood in formation along the walls and dancing girls giggled at his father’s feet, offering him wine and food. His father sat on his tall white-gold throne and smiled at him, standing to his feet as he made his way through the perfumed air towards his father’s position on the dais.
“Father.” He smiled back up at The Gleaming King despite himself, love for this man warring with his envy at first sight of him. The Gleaming King had the hardest, blackest eyes Dalí had ever seen and yet when they looked upon his son, they always glittered with warmth and humor. His hairless head gleamed even under the moody candlelight, the gold in his ears and on his fingers giving credence to his name.
“It is good to see you.” His father stood up from his throne, his massive figure causing the shadows to reform in the low candlelight. He walked slowly down the dais and came to a stop before his son who stood only a few inches shorter than him. “You have been doing well. Channeling your heritage into something… productive.”
If you called pulling off the perfect bank jobs anyone had ever seen, with a little help from his talismans and magic, then yeah, he was channeling his heritage into something productive. “Thank you, father.”
“I have news.” The Gleaming King put an arm around him and began to lead him away from the dancing girls.
“If it’s anything to do with the delightful Jinn female that’s been bestowed upon you I already saw her. Very nice.”
The Gleaming King laughed; there was a hard-edge to the sound that caused the hair on the back of Dalí’s neck to rise. “No. That is not my news, although I am very happy with my latest acquisition. No. I thought you might like to know that the war between my brother and father has escalated.”
“The White King?” Dalí frowned. His father had told him about The War of the Flames, how Azazil had caused the Seven Kings’ world, whose job was to manipulate and form the destinies of Importants, to crumble into chaos. He knew The White King was trying to change things back to the way they had been, that he was trying to usurp the Sultan Jinn. That sounded crazy to Dalí but he kept his mouth shut considering his father was on The White King’s side.
My brother has found a way that may gain him some headway, The Gleaming King spoke to him telepathically so the others in the room would not hear.
How?
He kept a secret from me. An important secret. About the Seal.
Dalí’s eyes widened. The Seal of Solomon, the ring that hung around a strap of leather around Asmodeus’ neck, was famous. It was said to gift the wearer with the ability to command all Jinn, good and evil. What about the Seal?
His father grinned at him. There is a girl…
And from there he began to tell Dalí a story that sounded preposterous but if true, so very, very intriguing.
3 - The Truth and its Last Chance
Her heart was pumping her blood around her body so fast Ari felt nauseous — like she had been running for miles instead of chasing her father through town until he skidded to a stop in a random spot at the edge of Vickers’ Woods. Clearly knowing she was tailing him, Derek had dashed out of his car and into the woods, shouting over his shoulder as Ari pulled up behind him that he just needed some time alone.
Well he’d had time alone. Days of it!
Stomach unsettled at the notion of finally facing up to her dad for the first time since he’d learned the truth about her, Ari had to force herself to chase after him into the thicket of woods. To her surprise, he had stumbled to a stop in the exact same spot she’d told Charlie the truth about her heritage. Twisted coincidence, she thought wryly, exhaling as she circled him.
Derek glanced up at her warily, a frown wrinkling the skin between his eyebrows. “I told you I needed some time alone.”
“You’ve had time, Dad. Lots of it. Why did you come here?”
He shrugged, looking around him as if he were lost. “I used to come here a lot after my parents died. It seemed to be the only quiet place in town.”
Ari came to an abrupt halt, his admission surprising her to her very core. He’d never spoken about his parents willingly before. He seemed to notice her surprise and smiled unhappily. “Yeah. Mom and Dad.” He slumped down onto a nearby log and for the first time, Ari noticed the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and touches of grey in his hair that hadn’t been there before. When his eyes seized hold of her she froze under his gaze, terrified by the unbearable sadness in them. “My dad wasn’t around much when I was kid and when he was, he was always drunk. My mom was a quiet woman, meek even, and she couldn’t cope with my father’s behavior. So she shut everyone out, including me. I pretty much raised myself. You know my dad was drunk when he was driving the car that killed them both?”
A soft gasp escaped her open lips before she could stop it. “No, I didn’t know that.” You never told me.
Shaking a little, Derek shrugged and then shoved a hand through his hair, pulling it back in frustration before letting go into a deeply weary slump. “I never knew how to be in a family, Ari. I never had that. It was always just me. And I didn’t know how to create one. Or if I even wanted to. Sala was the first woman I ever loved.” He nodded at her and Ari straightened at the mention of her mysterious mother.
“What was she like?”
“You look a lot like her. But it wasn’t just her beauty… she was fun and passionate and she believed in the impossible. Being around her was like being on the ultimate high all the time. I was addicted to her even though she was always coming in and out of my life whenever she felt like it. When I tried to ask her where she went when she wasn’t with me, or ask her about her life or her past, she’d grow distant and that scared me. So I stopped asking. I just wanted her there with me. But not asking didn’t stop her from leaving me and when she disappeared for nine months I was heartbroken. Her showing up on my doorstep pregnant and about to pop was like winning the lottery. I thought she’d stay, Ari. If not for me, then for you. But as soon as you were born she just… disappeared. I heard little whispers in my head telling me I should get a paternity test, make sure you were mine, but I was terrified… terrified you weren’t. And I really wanted you to be mine. I really wanted to have a piece of Sala.” He glanced up at her, tears shimmering in his eyes and Ari sucked in a watery breath, feeling her own eyes start to sting with unshed pain. “I really do love you, kid. I guess I just never loved you enough.”
It was like a knife in the gut. Or a bullet in the heart. Or an arrow in the chest. Something sharp. Something painful. So painful. It hurt so much, and for a moment Ari couldn’t breathe from the impact of his words.
Seeing how destructive his words had been a tear slipped down Derek’s cheek. “Sweetheart, I never meant to hurt you but you know I’ve been a shitty father. It was fine when you were a kid but you started getting older and you started looking more and more like her and it was hard… hard to be around you. I’ve always been alone, Ari. I don’t know anything else. I was never meant for anything else. It was selfish to keep you.”
“Dad…?” she was sobbing quietly now, the tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I wish I was a better father. I wish I was a better man. I wish I loved you the way that you deserve to be loved. I’ve been angry for years, Ari. And it wasn’t until I discovered the truth about you and Sala that I realized how angry I am at your mother.”
She clutched her stomach, not sure she wanted to hear anymore. “Dad, please…”
“I wish a lot of things, Ari. And I regret them all too. But discovering the impossible truth, that these beings are real — who you are, what they want from you. It took me a while to get my head around it but,” he paused, taking a breath, “What I’m trying to say is — despite it all, despite my shitty attempts — I will never regret keeping you safe, even if I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.”
The bittersweet confession was the most honest conversation they’d ever had and it was also the most painful. Not sure what to say or where to go from there, Ari opened her mouth to speak. It was then that the woods erupted into fire, stalling her. She jumped to her feet, her body registering the threat before her brain did but by then it was too late. Something solid connected with her head and Ari barely had time for a last thought before all the lights went out.