Page 30 of The Chosen Two

Without a word, he walks past me to the shelves on the other side of the aisle. He traces the row of books, long fingers playing a silent piano made of leather, paper, and ink, until he pulls a navy-blue cloth bound book with silver embossed writing from the shelf. He flips through the almost sheer pages as he walks to me. Finally satisfied he’s found the right passage, he puts the book down in front of me and places the tip of his finger at the indentation where he wants me to begin reading.

He still won’t look at me, so I begin reading out loud.

Jinn, later referred to as genies: Like people, Jinn in general are not all good or all bad. They can change form at will because they have less matter than humans. They generally prefer to appear as snakes, lizards, and scorpions; however, over the years, they have come to enjoy masquerading as humans as well. This is believed to be because they can then seduce human women. Jinn were often called upon for protection; however, they are easy to anger and spite. They are mortal and as frail as humans, but because of their semi-corporeal form, they can also invade a human body through possession if they feel they have been wronged.

As I read, I’m freaked out, but not so much on a personal level but on a holy-shit-these-things-are-real level, once again. I wonder if that will just be my baseline state going forward.

“Okay, but what does this have to do with me specifically? Why is it so bad they know who I am?”

“Turn the page.”

I obediently do so.

Jinn are known to be summoned by sorcerers to possess and afflict their enemies. These afflictions often manifest as epilepsy, apoplexy, and hallucination, as well as many other mental illnesses.

“Oh good, more mental illness. How will I know if it is the fox, the Jinn, or just me?”

“Fox?”

“Didn’t I tell you about the kitsune in my yard?”

“Um, nope. You failed to mention that.”

“Oh, well, I’ve seen one with three tails a few times now. But I want to figure out this Jinn thing before we worry about that. Any more insight for me, or are you just going to tell me to keep reading?” I fight the urge to curse him out as he arches an eyebrow in response. “Keep reading it is, I guess.”

More than one Guardian has been incapacitated by Jinn summoned to remove them from power for the sake of a sorcerer or a god or angel, both fallen and heavenly.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, exactly. Now you know why I came to your house that day. When I saw him, I knew it was time you found out and started training. Since then, I’ve found out imps summoned him. I just don’t know why or to what end.”

“Well, that’s all scary as hell. Now, about the training… What is that, exactly? Us sitting around your massive library, reading old books, and hoping I get lucky that the next creature I encounter is one I’ve already studied?” My tone is harsher than I intend, but the stakes keep rising, and my knowledge and skills are still subpar.

“That’s only part of it. We also need to start physical training.”

I laugh. “Okay, so when’s that starting, so I know when to call in sick?”

He doesn’t look amused. “We need to start soon. It’s a miracle you beat that minotaur. You must have some memories from the karate you took when you were young.”

“Whoa there. You pit me against that minotaur, knowing fully well how behind in my training I am. It’s not like you can’t see how out of shape I am by looking at me. If I had died in there, that would have been completely on you.” Sometime during my diatribe I finally hear the other part of what he said. “Wait, what karate?”

George closes the book on Jinn and slides a different one in front of me. “My dad wanted to start training you when you were a child. He talked your parents into signing you up for karate, but I don’t think it lasted long. But you need to know this isn’t about your size. It’s about your mind. You need to know what you are capable of, because it’s a lot.”

This makes me roll my eyes.

His eyes open wide in response. “Really? I mean, aside from the fact you created four little humans, you did kill that minotaur. Without any help. All by yourself. Haven’t you notice your heightened senses? Your hearing and sight? Your reflexes? How can you still not see how amazing you are, the amazing things you can do?”

I don’t know how to respond to this. I’ve never been able to take a compliment or see the good things about myself. My parents didn’t exactly teach me how to. Suddenly I’m back in that house…

I was just a little girl. Eight? Nine? Too young to understand and yet I did, too clearly. He smelled sour, again. He slurred his words, unable to annunciate them fast enough to keep up with his anger. She sat at the kitchen table, her eyes swollen and red, again. And he couldn’t handle seeing the effects of his own actions. His face turned crimson as he screamed about how weak we were as he smashed mom’s dishes on the floor. I think he specifically meant her, but he included me in his tirade. Because I wasn’t good enough for him either. She was weak, and I was…I don’t know what.

He stormed out. He came back. He stormed out again. She blamed me each time. When the house was thick with sudden silence but for her sniffles, she told me it was my fault, that I shouldn’t have been such a bitch to him. But, I was nine. I was just trying to survive in a house where I wasn’t wanted. A house where words hurt the same as hands, and love was as elusive as Santa Claus. Even affection hurt in that house.

So, I took in the pain, in silence. The blame was all I knew. I was at fault. I wasn’t good enough to save us, to keep him happy. It never occurred to me until I was in therapy, years later, his happiness never should have been my responsibility. But by then, it’d become my driving belief: I’m not good; I’m not enough. And I never will be. Even if I’m perfect, I’m not good enough. And I’m far from perfect. So, I keep trying to be better.

“Miranda, where did you go?” George’s voice cuts through my memories, his tone soft with concern, and maybe fear.

I blink and then look into his eyes. They’re blue, like my mother’s, but his contain a kindness and compassion hers never had.

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