AUTHOR'S NOTE:

If you have not yet seen the 2014 supernatural thriller, "Jinn" yet, please do so before reading this fanfic. Otherwise, you'll probably either be lost or get mad that I spoiled some key things for you, k? Thanks, and happy reading!

Chapter One : The Two Visitors

Gabriel and Father Westhoff stood at the apartment door.

The jinn smirked. "217," he said. "Figures."

The old priest looked puzzled. "What's so special about 217? Some supernatural significance that I'm unaware of?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Nah ... well, I mean unless you're into Stephen King books about haunted hotels out in Colorado."

Westhoff mouthed "ohh," and knocked three times.

"Cominnnnnng!" A light, airy voice sang melodiously from behind the door.

Westhoff's brow furrowed, and he looked quizically at Gabriel. "A girl?" he asked.

"A woman," Gabriel replied.

The door opened. A tall, 40-ish woman with long, dark-brown and bright-red hair stood before them. She was wearing jeans and a Harry Potter/Doctor WHO crossover t-shirt. Her arms were crossed, and she looked skeptically at the two. "To be most accurate, gentlemen ... a witch! Well ... Pagan, anyway. And to what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Vatican? And for that matter, uhm -" She squinted at Gabriel and held up her hand in front of his chest, palm facing front. She raised and lowered it as if she were feeling some kind of aura. "A jinn? Or, are you still going by HOLY ANGEL OF THE ANNUNCIATION nowadays?" She put both hands in the air, wiggled her fingers, and gaped melodramatically.

Westhoff looked shocked, then smiled broadly. "I'm impressed."

The woman smiled back, never taking her eyes off of Gabriel. "Glad to meet you, Father Impressed. I'm Laurel Mars." She stepped back and gestured inside. "You fellas wanna come in?"

The priest entered, and Gabriel began to follow behind him. Laurel stepped forward quickly to block his way. "Now, now," she purred. "You know the rules. 'Speak friend, and enter.' Ante up, Mr. Jinn. Palm, or no entry!"

Gabriel sighed. "Oh, alright." He put out his hand. Laurel took it in hers, pouring water from a small vial she'd pulled out of her hip pocket into his palm. Absolutely nothing happened. Laurel smiled broadly and ushered Gabriel inside.

She shut the door and joined the two in the living room. "What's your poison? Coffee? Tea? Whiskey? Drano?"

"I think that water will be just fine, thank you very much," Westhoff offered. As Laurel headed to the kitchen to fetch the glasses, the two visitors took a seat on an oversized, overstuffed blue denim couch. Westhoff looked around at the myriad of plants, idols, pentacles, and stacks upon stacks of books. The priest leaned over to Gabriel and whispered, "Are you absolutely certain she's the one we're looking for?"

Laurel called out from the kitchen, "Oh, I'm definitely the one you're looking for, Father Paranoia. Although as I recall, the last time the world needed 'saving,' weren't there THREE visitors, bearing gifts or something? Gold's fine with me. But as a witch, I've got frankincense coming out my ears. And as Monty Python said, 'Don't worry too much about the myrrh, alwight?'" She brought out two tall glasses of ice water and set them on a large wooden coffee table, crossing the living room to sit on an equally-oversized wooden rocking chair so large that she looked almost like a little girl. "So ... please tell me I'm not going to have to get knocked up or something. I just had surgery a few months back and am a bit wombless at the moment. Although, come to think of it, that'd top that little Jewish teenager's miracle by a crap-ton, eh?"

The priest cleared his throat. "Uhm, no. We're not actually here to get you pregnant."

Laurel looked at Gabriel, with his close-cut ash brown hair, neatly trimmed goatee beard, and dark gray-blue eyes, and smirked wickedly. "More's the pity." Then suddenly she turned serious, her eyes glaring at Westhoff. "But really, Father, I'm getting a bit old to keep saving the world. Criminy, I've got grandkidlets now! So what's so gosh-darned important that a priest needs to bring a jinn into my house and looks like he just swallowed a bug? Spill it, Padre."

Westhoff frowned. "I would think from the past few moments that you should be able to tell us."

Laurel fidgeted in her seat and frowned back at him. "People are easy to read. Same with spirits for the most part. Angels and jinn glow for miles. Like a bunch of itty bitty Three Mile Islands walking around. But getting readouts on THE BIG WHOZIT AND/OR WHATZIT's plans? Not so much. May as well be written in UNIX." Her face suddenly lit up, and she giggled when she realized she was speaking to someone who had chosen to remain celibate. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say UNIX to a priest!"

Westhoff shook his head. "I'm not a -"

"Anyway," Gabriel chimed in, saving Westhoff from an extremely uncomfortable conversation. "There's a problem with the Shayateen ..."

Laurel looked exasperated. "Seriously? AGAIN? Jeez, didn't you people fix everything, like, a year ago or something?"

"Fifteen months, actually. You know about that?" Westhoff asked, shocked.

"Well, duuh! The next-to-next-to-last surviving member of a family cursed by a 10,000 year old jinn over a hundred years ago with a multigenerational death sentence slays said jinn, and it's not exactly something you can keep away from the spiritual blogosphere! Oh by the way, how's the kid?"

"He's fine," Gabriel answered.

Laurel sighed. "Good. I hate it when kids are in trouble."

"Anyway," Westhoff said this time, "as Gabriel started to say, there's a problem with the Shayateen. Over the past 15 months, they've been gathering together, joining their forces and growing more powerful. If what we are hearing is correct, the joining together of the Shayateen's powers could potentially envelop the entire Earth, hurtling everyone into what could only be described as a kind of 'perpetual hell.' It would be 'hell on Earth,' only the Earth would not technically be in this dimension anymore."

Laurel furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, thinking. "So ... like Supernatural, plus Wishmaster, plus Star Trek: Voyager (natch, since I'm a feisty female who's a born leader), plus The Exorcist, plus Charmed, then?"

"Yes. Pretty much," Gabriel sighed in exasperation.

She thought a moment more, then announced, "I'm in. So … what do I have to do?"

"We'll get to that in a moment," Gabriel replied. "But first ... has anyone ever told you that you watch entirely too much TV?"

Laurel winked at him. "Story of my life, fella."