Page 430 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

How…

Boris met her gaze and nodded, pleading for her to understand.

But what kind of monster didn't die when a bear decapitated it?

Absently, she sent a paralysis spell at the boy, like she had in the brambles, so he'd stay still without distracting her. If he was a boy, which she doubted.

Rossa closed her eyes, delving deep into the well of memories that weren't her own. Generations of spellcasters, all adding to the great store of knowledge she could access if she looked hard enough. Someone must have seen such a monster, put a name to it…

Djinn. This…thing…was a djinn, a magic user who had betrayed their king, and been sentenced to serve as a slave until the debt of disobedience was paid. Trapped in the form in which they were enslaved, unable to die, until their king released them from bondage.

She stared into the boy's furious eyes. How had she missed the magic in his blood, for only a spellcaster could be punished so? Yet as she searched his body, she found no magic at all, in his blood or bones or anywhere except for the djinn curse that lay thick upon him like armour.

Boris had not cast this curse. No wonder he'd been running from this deathless thing, which could not be killed, relentless…

Nor had he slaughtered an innocent, defenceless child.

Her mouth suddenly dry, Rossa didn't know what to say. Boris deserved an apology, if her memories were correct, but she had to be sure…

"Take him to the barn. We'll question him there," she ordered.

Boris bowed, scooped up the boy, and followed her to the now pigeon-proof barn.

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