Murphy nodded. “Or part goblin, part gremlin, part elemental. Part something. But not true djinn, like the original four, who’ve been around forever. Literally. In fact, that’s part of the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
He folded the top of the beef carton closed and dropped it into the bag. “Djinn aren’t actually evil. At least, by not by nature. Just like any species, they come with the full spectrum of moral inclinations. They’re just…well,bored. And spoiled. And what do bored, spoiled children do?”
“Cause trouble.” EvenIknew that one.
“Exactly.” Murphy dropped a handful of empty sauce packets into the bag, followed by his chopsticks. “Take Aura, for example. She can control the air. Her name means ‘gentle wind,’ and that’s essentially what she is. She doesn’tset outto kill hundreds with two-mile wide tornadoes and straight wind speeds of over 120 miles per hour. She does it because it amuses her, when little else holds her attention anymore. But the result is no different than if she’d done it on purpose.”
I arched one brow at Murphy, letting my skepticism show. “I’ve never heard of a two-mile wide tornado, and I’m pretty sure the National Weather Service has never clocked 120 mile an hour straight winds.”
“That’s because Aura’s been locked away since long before the equipment existed to monitor or measure her little games.”
Oh. “So, Xaphan, what, sets bonfires to amuse himself?”
“Um, no. You know how every now and then you run across a kid who seems to have been born rotten? Not just mischievous, but truly malicious?”
I nodded. I’d run across several of those little bastards in my time.
“Well, Xaphan is like that. Times one million. He dabbles inlarge-scaledestruction like Mozart dabbled in music. You ever hear of the Great Fire of London?”
“Yeah. Sixteen sixty-six, right? The flames took out more than thirteen thousand homes and a bunch of public buildings.”
“That’s the one.”
Horror settled into my stomach like bad meat, heavy and nauseating. I knew where his tale was headed… “Let me guess, that baker’s oven story was bullshit, right? Xaphan the fire djinn started it all?”
Murphy’s head bobbed. “And kept it going, devouring whatever caught his fancy. He also started the great fire of Rome, in 64 A.D. And the one that burned half of Constantinople near the beginning of the twelfth century. The Royal Library of Alexandria, though…. My mother said he did that one in a fit of anger. He didn’t like something written about him in one of the scrolls, so he torched the whole damn place.”
So, mad djinn equals flames, ashes, and mass destruction. Not good. Still…
“Okay, I understand that this Xaphan isn’t a guy we want running around Memphis unchecked. But let’s talk worst-case scenario. Say Devich does find him and let him out, for whatever mad-cap bad-guy scheme he has in mind. What’s the worst the djinn could do? Commercial buildings are made of concrete, steel, and glass now, and most houses have smoke detectors in every room and a fire department on speed dial. He’d pretty much be limited to forest fires today. Which would still be bad, but nothing we can’t handle, right?”
Murphy shook his head. “You don’t understand. Xaphan can burn anything he wants. Rock, metal, glass, even dirt. His isn’t a natural flame like we think of fire. It’s his own special brand of hell, and he sends it where he chooses.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, as chills overtook my entire body.
“Yeah. He thrives on chaos. On pain. On wreaking havoc. He could burn down the entire state of Tennessee in the blink of an eye if he thought it would make for a fun Saturday night. And considering that he’s been locked in a box for the past four hundred years, he’s probably gonna want one hell of a coming out party.”
I rubbed my forehead with my good hand, trying to wipe away exhaustion and an encroaching tension headache. But it did no good.
“You can’t let Devich find that box, Lex.” Murphy’s voice was at once pleading and commanding. “You don’t want to be responsible for that much death and destruction.”
“And I won’t be.” The only death and destruction I planned to be involved in was Troy Devich’s.
I pushed my chair back from the table and glanced at the bathroom, ready to shower, then sleep for a couple of hours. Murphy’s twenty-minute crash course in djinnis had been enough to make my head spin, and I’d need some rest before I’d be able to form a new plan. “Beat Devich to death” was a good starting place, but it lacked the panache of a truly skilled revenge plot.
Or any sense of realism, considering he could heal bullet wounds instantly.
“Don’t you want your fortune?” Murphy asked as I pulled shampoo and conditioner from my duffle.
“Sure.” He tossed me the last cookie and I caught it one-handed. I pulled open the cellophane wrapper and dumped the thin, crispy pastry onto my palm, then broke it open with a single quick snap. I dropped the edible part onto the nightstand and pulled the paper straight, ignoring the bolt of pain streaking through my bad arm.
You’ll soon find new excitement in life.
Yeah. Like I needed any more ofthat.
NINETEEN
