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Here is Chapter 2 of Allie & The Djinn, a fantasy novella in the subgenre of magic realism. I would also categorize it as an action-adventure romantic thriller. So, bring your suspension of belief, make yourself comfortable and find out what Allie really thinks about her new situation!
ALLY & THE DJINN - CHAPTER 2: WTF!
Allie was alone, washing her hands, squinting at herself in the mirror, thinking what a mess she was and wondering when she last washed, when she heard the voice.
What the f***? She glanced around. Nobody. She’d definitely heard someone speak. Oh, no. Was she hallucinating? This was bad. She checked her feet, legs, torso, and arms. Other than the need for a super-hot shower—because, boy, she stank—she felt surprisingly well. Healthy, even. Saliva pooled under her tongue at the memory of the coffee and pastries she had just consumed. Her belly and brain hadn’t experienced such delights for a while and decided that, for breakfast, they’d been sensational. She shook her head as if to dislodge—or deny—her senses’ gratification.
“I said, greetings, O fair one. Perhaps I should introduce myself first. I am Quareem Min Alsahra, the most powerful djinn in all the known kingdoms.”
She screamed long and loud.
***
Allie blinked. She felt wonderful. Light as air—or more like a delicate cotton-wool ball floating across a gorgeous blue sky. She took in the white walls and sheets, a small window up near the ceiling, the patient gown she wore. She was in a hospital, drugged up and safe. The hallucination had disappeared. She closed her eyes and slept.
When she woke again, reality returned. For some unknown reason, she’d experienced an auditory hallucination, started screaming, and hadn’t stopped until the medics arrived and jabbed her with a needle. After which, everything had gone dark.
She scanned the room. Yes. Same pale walls as before, and whatever they’d shot her up with, she sure wouldn’t refuse another dose. What she didn’t understand was why she no longer craved oblivion.
“Hey, hot babe!”
What the f***? She was hearing voices, which meant the delusion was real. She wasn’t imagining it. Strange choice of words, though. The only person who’d ever referred to her as a hot babe was a skinny kid with braces she’d gone on a couple of dates with when she was fifteen. This must be what a psychotic episode was like—odd memories from her past come back to haunt her.
“My dear Allie, fear not, I am as alive as you.”
“Prove it. Why can’t I see you?”
A tidbit of information surfaced. Names had power. “What’s your name?”
“I am the one and only, the great Al Quareem Min Alsahra, a very powerful djinn, and I am at your service.”
“Whatever. So, you’re the greatest… er… what did you say you were? A djinn? Is that a genie-in-the-bottle kind of thingy?”
Christina Aguilera came to mind. Would he dance for her, or was she expected to show him some moves? She sucked in a deep breath, but before she let rip a second earth-shattering scream, his hand was around her throat, a vise-like grip rendering her silent and immobile. Frozen except for the ability to blink, always an advantage—dry-eye syndrome and all that.
A vague memory of someone telling her about this sense of being paralyzed that often happened when people were falling asleep. She’d understood this was a ghost trying to take over your body.
“I. Am. Not. A. Ghost! Now, if you promise to behave and not scream, I will explain who I am and why you are able to hear me. Can you do that?”
The grip around her neck tightened, not quite cutting off her oxygen supply. Allie gave a mental nod. If this creature wasn’t a spook, it had to be a demon.
“I. Am. Not. A. Demon!”
Allie managed a few more twitches, hoping he got the message she understood he wasn’t a devil, and he relaxed his hold.
“Okay, okay. I understand. Not a ghost. Not a denizen of hell. Not a human either, so who or whatever you are, get out of my head.”
“My name is Quareem al Mustapha, the greatest of all the djinn known to mankind. Genies are the lesser wish-granting branch of our species. Djinn are much more powerful.”
“I don’t understand why I conjured up a djinn, and I certainly didn’t give you permission to move into my head.”
“My darling Allie, you did not conjure me. I chose you. Would it reassure you if I showed you how I am as real as you?”
“Sure. Why not?” This should be fun. Maybe she could have a career as a TV magician?
“You are foolish. Watch.”
Right in front of her, a whirling, golden-tinted cloud appeared, thickening as she watched, transfixed. Her jaw fell even more when a shape became visible inside the mist, solidifying into a drop-dead gorgeous young man with black hair curling down over his shoulders, bright blue eyes twinkling at her, and a lush pair of smiling lips.
“You approve?”
Allie’s belly heated, a flush rising through her chest until her cheeks were rosy. She coughed. “Mmm… I suppose so.”
“Apologies for the absence of my extremities.”
Allie’s gaze dropped from the enticing face, skimmed broad shoulders and six-pack, slid past the bulge in his pants to muscular thighs and below… to a golden swirling mist that hid his calves and feet.
Quareem sighed and waved at the billowing mass. “Part of the curse my race are compelled to endure when we manifest in your world.”
“I guess it’s better than no dick or minus your head.”
“You are rude and not funny.”
“How do I know that this”—she jutted her chin at his gleaming physique—“isn’t also an illusion?”
The djinn glided toward her, an action that didn’t involve his thighs and was oddly disturbing, and held out his right arm. “Touch me.”
Allie reached out, her fingertips grazing his warm, golden-brown skin. The heat emanating from his body made her skin tingle. With a swift yank, she grabbed his wrist, pulled him close, and sank her teeth into his hand, expecting her upper and lower teeth to connect—because a phantom couldn’t be real—shocked as she met an obstacle, his flesh, and, as she bit down harder, bone.
“Aagghh!” Quareem yelled, flicking a flash of lightning at her.
Once more, she found herself nailed down and unable to move, her lips glued to Quareem’s skin as he inserted two fingers from his left hand into her mouth, pushed down on her jaw, and extracted his hand.
He studied her, meeting her dismayed gaze, amusement creeping into his eyes. “Ha! You continue to think I have sprung fully formed from the depths of your addled brain?”
He flicked his fingers, and relief at being able to move once more loosened her limbs. She massaged her jaw.
“Accept your fate. We have bonded.” He rubbed the spot she’d bitten, and the indentations of her bite faded. “You accepted my gift and proved to yourself that I am real.”
What gift? What had he given her? Before she could question him further, the sharp tattoo of quick footsteps sounded along the corridor, coming closer.
Quareem flicked out of existence as a nurse, her nut-brown hair in a bun at the nape of her neck, her uniform starched to within an inch of its life, marched in.
“Good morning, Alicia. I’m glad to find you awake.” She picked up the chart attached to the rail at the foot of the bed. “How are you today?”
“Great. Hunky-dory. How soon can I leave?”
The nurse’s alert gaze told her the woman wasn’t easily fooled, so she summoned the energy to give her a genuine smile.
“After Dr. Fox gives the okay.”
“I was supposed to meet a friend, and she’ll be worried.”
Not a single friend’s name came to mind, except an echo of two high childish voices singing Liar, liar, pants on fire flickered through her mind. In this case, she told herself, the end justifies the means.
“How long will I have to wait?”
“Until we have the results of your blood test from the lab, and if they’re clear, we’ll discharge you. Are you hungry?”
Allie’s stomach grumbled. “No use in pretending otherwise, is there?”
“An orderly will be along shortly with your breakfast. Anything else?”
“I want to have a shower first. Where are my clothes?”
“Oh, they’re in the cupboard in the bathroom.”
Allie pushed aside the question about who was paying for the private room and walked into the bathroom, her legs shaky.
She couldn’t believe the dirt that flowed down the drain and how sweet she smelled after stepping out of the shower. Her dreadlocks had disappeared, and her waist-length copper tresses fell in smooth waves. In the cupboard, she found a brand-new lacy black silk bra and matching panties.
A pair of mischievous blue eyes twinkled at her. She growled, pushing him away. As she had no choice, she put them on, annoyed at the perfect fit.
Next, she pulled on the bright pink sweatsuit and pants—not her first choice of color—the material sliding cashmere-silk soft against her skin. She was cleaner and perkier than she had been for some time. Bathing and hair washing had fallen down her priority list because of the intense craving for… something… she couldn’t remember what… she took to ease… ease what?
Before she could follow the trail of perplexing vague images, an olive-skinned, dark-haired man—possibly the most good-looking doctor she had ever seen—entered the room.
“Ah, I’m Dr. Fox, and I’m glad to see your condition has improved this morning, Miss O’Reilly.”
Allie nodded. He sized her up, from her damp hair to her bare toes. She shivered as the sensation of being internally scraped ran through her body, and she caught the barest hint of a crimson spark in his eye as his gaze left her and returned to her chart.
Dr. Fox might be dishy, and he was also someone—or something—more than he appeared. She cleared her throat, breaking the trance he’d cast.
“So, I can leave?”
“Yes. There’s a form for you to sign at the nurses’ station at the end of the hallway. Your lab results show you are a healthy young woman, Miss O’Reilly. I see your notes mention you had a recent bereavement; therefore, my advice is you should see a grief counselor. Undealt-with sadness and despair cause unforeseen and destructive effects on the psyche and could have contributed to your recent episode.”
He searched his pocket, his eyebrows drawing together when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. “I was sure I’d put the card in my pocket. Wait here. I’ll return in a tick.”
He flashed a row of sharp, pearly whites that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Bereavement? Grief counselor? What was he talking about? Whatever he meant, she didn’t care. Hospitals were places where a lot of bad karma went down, and she needed to leave and get far away as soon and as fast as possible.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
She watched him stride out, slumping in relief as he closed the door behind him.
Five minutes later, in her new matching pink sneakers and feeling as if she was walking on air—those ads really were true—she marched down the hallway, signed the release forms, and started for the exit.
Thank you for reading and I hope you are enjoying the story so far. As I'm currently focusing on my writing and taking a sabatical from social media, if you want to find out what happens next between Allie and Quareem, Ally & The Djinn is FREE at my Shopify store: teagankearney.com and on all major retail sites such as Amazon, Kobo, B&N, etcetera.
Stay safe and well,
Warmest wishes,
Teagan. 😊
