“Possessed by the Jinni?” King Baha repeated.
“Yes.”
All three royals drew back in shock.
“That cannot be true,” King Baha protested. “It's not possible for a Jinn to possess a Beneather; I assure you. Unless your consort is human?”
“No, he's a Gargoyle, but I assure you, Your Majesty, he is possessed. There is no doubt in my mind. The Jinni confirmed it himself, speaking to me through Slate.”
Queen Sabah gasped, her hand going to her full lips. “No, it can't be.”
King Baha cooed and hushed his wife gently but it was apparent that he was disturbed as well. Even Saif, seated to his parents' right, had gone grim and silent, his eyes wide with horror. I didn't ask what precisely about my words had upset them, only waited for them to recover and offer the answer. Again; royal politics can be a bitch.
The King, with one arm still around his wife, finally spoke, “There is an old prophecy; one about the end of our race. Most religions have such scenarios and, similar to some of those, our legends tell of a man who will usher in the cataclysm. He will be a Jinn with great abilities; powers that none of our kind possess.”
“Such as the power to possess a Beneather?” Declan lifted a deep auburn eyebrow.
“Just so,” King Baha confirmed. “I've always assumed the prophecy was simply a way of encouraging our people to treasure their lives; you can't appreciate immortality if it's never endangered. I never once considered that it could be true.”
“What else does your prophecy say about the Jinni?” I asked.
“The Jinx,” King Baha corrected somberly. “He will be called the Jinx, Bringer of Curses.”
“Lovely,” Gage muttered.
“He will be an evil man,” Prince Saif took over for his father. “Full of hatred for all that's good. His tongue utters only curses and his hands can only destroy. He is said to be born unremarkable—a normal Jinn—but a tragedy changes him and awakens his power.”
“A tragedy.” Darcraxis grimaced at me.
“Once transformed, the Jinx will amass an army of people not of our race and bring that army to Zuja to destroy the Jinn people and claim the planet for his own,” King Baha concluded.
“An army of Beneathers.” The blood shivered in my veins. “He already has that through Slate; an army of Gargoyles.”
“Don't forget the zone Slate rules,” Torin said to me. “He has the power to conscript every Beneather who lives in his zone into his army.”
Queen Sabah made an exclamation in another language but the fear in her words needed no translation.
“If we can get the Jinni—the Jinx—out of Slate, maybe we can stop this,” I said urgently.
The King ran a hand over his face, upsetting his gold and ruby crown. “The prophecy says he is unstoppable. Once the Jinx rises, the end is assured.”
“Excuse my language, Your Majesty, but fuck the prophecy,” I growled. “This is about genocide and the man I love. I'm not giving up. Will you?”
Prince Saif squared his shoulders. “I'm with you, Elaria. I will fight to my last breath to save my people.”
King Baha looked at his son, unblinking, then nodded slowly. “There is only one way to stop the Jinx.” He looked back at me.
I nearly groaned. Please, don't say I need his name. Please, don't.
“You need to discover the Jinx's true name. With that, you control him and, therefore, the prophecy.”
I cursed under my breath.
“That may not be quite as difficult as it sounds,” Saif said with a small smile.
“Why not?” I asked hopefully.
“You said that he gave his lover his name,” Saif reminded me.
“Yes, but we killed her,” Darc answered. “Dead Satyrs tell no tales.”
“Forgive me, but that is not true, King Darcraxis,” King Baha declared, sending his son an approving look. “The dead can speak, they just need a little help.”
“A little help?” I asked as another shiver rolled over me.
“You need a medium, Your Majesty,” Saif announced. “And although we only have prophets among my people, mediums abound in the Beneath.”
“Yes, I've had experience with one recently,” I murmured.
“Wonderful!” Prince Saif exclaimed. “Where can we find him?”
“Unfortunately, he won't be able to help us,” I said glumly. “He's dead. Murdered. And I've just now realized who must have killed him.”
The claw marks on the window ledge had been made to deliberately mislead us. It had been Slate who concluded that the scratches indicated that someone had scaled the wall, thus ruling out Beneathers who could fly. Slate who had focused on those scratches and demanded that they be analyzed, knowing full well that nothing would come of it. Slate who hadn't been in bed with me when I woke on the morning Daha was found dead. I had no idea when he'd gotten up; I'd been so exhausted from our patrol. Slate—correction; the Jinx—could have easily shifted into his Gargoyle form as soon as I was asleep and flown across the Zone to murder Daha.
Perhaps he'd heard us talking about returning to Daha. Who knows what a Jinn can hear while he's unconscious? Especially one as powerful as this guy. Or maybe he was just covering his tracks. Whatever the case, it had to have been the Jinx. That was why Daha wouldn't name Slate as his murderer; he knew that I would have confronted him. A memory of the seer rose suddenly in my mind; Daha's expression when he shook Slate's hand. He'd known. Even then, Daha had known that the Jinx would kill him. How hard it must have been to keep that knowledge to himself. He could have fled—the lockdown had been lifted at that time—but he didn't. Daha stayed to face his fate. To make sure he got one last message to me. Maybe he knew that his help would save more than the Zone; that it might save an entire race.
Which meant that it was possible
