A/N -
Some of you have wondered what a djinn is. From Wikipedia - In Arabic, a genie (also jinn, jinni, djinni, from Arabicجني jinnī) is a supernatural creature which occupies a parallel world to that of mankind, and together with humans and angels makes up the three sentient creations of God (Allah). According to the Qur'ān, there are two creations that have free will: humans and jinn. Religious sources don't mention much about them; however, the Qur'an mentions that jinn are made of smokeless flame, and they form communities just like humans, and, just like humans, they can be good or evil.[1]
I've taken the basic nature of a djinn (a supernatural creature of fire), and expanded it into my own little world. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate you all indulging me on this. Please, let me know what you think on this one. I love fantasy, so I hope I'm doing a good job here.
As usual, I own nothing but my OC, though, sometimes I think, she owns me ;-)
Thanks, and now, on to the show!
Chapter Three
Glimpses
It was all surreal. "You're a what?" he grunted out, his head throbbing.
"A djinn," she said calmly, though, he thought he heard a slight note of irritation in her cool voice.
He shook his head in disbelief, then scoffed. "I'm dreaming. That's it," he stood up, and he began to pace. "I'm dreaming. I took the Vicodin after the crane collapse, and now, I'm in some Vicodin-induced delusion." His heart was hammering in his chest. "I can't be dead," he said aloud, as if saying it would make it true."
She sat there calmly, watching him rant and pace. "You are correct," she said, her placid demeanor never changing. "Technically, you aren't dead."
He stopped dead in his tracks. "I'm not dead," he said, slowly, "on a technicality?" His voice rose on the last word. The situation had gone beyond belief. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to digest everything. "I'm not dead, on a technicality, but yet, somehow, I'm not in the real world, and I'm stuck with a Twilight-goth vampire wanna-be who claims she's a djinn?" Something in the irrational part of his brain snapped, and he began to chuckle." She watched him as he sank to the floor, descending into a wracking laugh worthy of a madman.
Sighing, she stood up, graceful in her movements. "I don't claim to be a djinn. I am a djinn." As he continued to laugh maniacally, she fixed her eyes on him, and he could feel the heat from her inner flame. "I am your guide, whether you believe it or not."
He stopped laughing, his chest heaving from the exertion. He felt the implied threat in her voice, and somehow, deep in the dark recesses of his mind, he knew, delusion or not, that she was dangerous. She didn't show any outward signs of malice, but, somehow, he knew, she could hurt him. The inner flame that seemed to burn within her flared, and he could feel the heat radiate from her. "My guide?" he latched on to her last words?"
She beamed at him, like a parent would do to their child. "Your guide." she repeated. She leaned against the wall, her gaze fixed on him.
"What are you guiding me to?" he asked, still disconcerted by the way she had said it. He was overwhelmed by the situation, and he still thought it was a drug induced delusion. "The Cullens? No thanks, I don't want to be enraptured by a sparkling vampire," he snorted.
Frustration broke through her placid demeanor. "I don't know about sparkly vampires," she retorted, keeping her voice deathly calm. She leaned against the wall facing his office, "but I do know of darker creatures that I can introduce you to later."
House sneered. "Why the hell don't you go back to your lamp, or better yet, back to your parent's basement."
She began to glow. He took a few steps back from her, as her visible skin turned from pale cream to glowing bronze. Her eyes flamed. "I am not a genie," she growled. "I am a djinn. A creature of earth and fire. I've watched your kind grow from apes, destroying everything in your wake, disregarding the Mother right and left. We do not give wishes; we do not live in lamps. We are not cartoons or caricatures for your enjoyment. We are children of the flame, servants of the Earth."
After spitting the words at him, she fell silent, fixing her stare on him. He blinked at her. "Gandalf know you stole his speech?" he snorted. From the look on her face, it was the wrong thing to say.
"Don't believe me?" she said in a low, angry tone. "Fine." She darted out a bronze hand, and she grasped his forearm.
The pain was immediate and seizing. Nothing compared to it, not even the infarction. He was waiting for the stench of burning flesh, but it never came. "What the hell are you doing, bitch?" he screamed, wanting to drop to his knees, but he couldn't. Whatever she was doing was freezing his muscles.
She didn't nod, or wink. She didn't say some strange, magic words, or make a cute facial gesture. One moment, they were standing in front of his office, and the next second, they were standing outside the ICU, two floors down. She let go of his arm, and he stumbled back into the bench across the hall. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, WOMAN!" he bellowed, grasping his searing forearm. "Why the hell did you do for," he gasped, doubling over. The pain still radiated up from his arm, and his hand had gone completely numb.
"Your hand will get its feeling back in a few hours," she said, calmly, but he could still hear the bite in her tone. She wasn't happy.
"Fucking harpy," he growled, rubbing the spot where she had grabbed him. It still hurt, but the pain was becoming tolerable. He stood up, and he looked around. "How the hell did we get here?" he grunted.
She gave him a wane smile. "We're technically not of the physical plane, and time and space are much easily manipulated here." She tilted her head to one side. "Are you beginning to believe?"
"You're glowing like Haley's Comet, we just teleported two floors and a wing over in a split second, and I can't feel my arm," he grumbled. "I think it's safe to say that I believe I either just took some primo drugs, or I'm not in the real world." He paused briefly. "Which I wouldn't be if I took some primo drugs."
She stared at him for a moment, but there was no anger or malice in the look. She then slowly nodded. "I'll buy that."
"I'm not asking you to buy it," he groused. Still holding his arm, he shakily stood up. "Why are we here?"
She took a step aside, and she gestured toward the window of the ICU. Her skin had stopped glowing bronze, having returned to her more natural pale cream color, but the green fire had not receded from her eyes, giving her an otherworldly appearance. He stepped up to the window, but he didn't look inside. Instead, he looked at her, and he rolled his eyes. He'd been a doctor for over twenty years; nothing she could show him could shock him. When it came to medicine, he'd seen it all, and he'd done it all.
But he wasn't prepared for what he saw.
His body lay in the bed, but it was nearly unrecognizable. His face was swollen and bruised, like nearly all his visible skin. There were tubes everywhere, and the body was hooked up to a respirator and several machines. He looked over, and Wilson sat in the chair in the room, looking at his body in guilt and disbelief. It was only then that he remembered their last conversation.
"He feels guilty." Her voice broke through his thoughts. "He feels that what happened was his fault."
"It wasn't," House said in a low monotone. He was still processing what he was looking at, and he felt like the world had been stripped from around him. He felt sick and clammy. "What am I doing here?" he asked, his voice numb. "Am I here?" He slowly turned to her, his face pale. "Is this real?"
She kept her gaze fixed on Wilson's face. "You're not George Bailey, and I'm not Clarence. This is not a glimpse of your life as it could be." She took a deep breath. "It's over, but something is anchoring you here, and it's my job to help you find out what it is, fix it, and move on."
"As my guide?"
She nodded. She put a hand on House's arm. He could feel the heat of her skin, but it wasn't as intense as before. There was no pain this time. It was actually reassuring. "I'm here to help you move on."
"Move on to where?" The question was automatic, like he was running on autopilot.
She gave him a soft smile. "To the other side, away from the physical plane." She shook her hair back out of her face. "To whatever life awaits you next."
"I still don't believe a word you say," he mumbled, finally lifting his hand to rub his face.
"You don't have to, now," she said softly. "But you will."
Now, it's your turn to tell me what you think!
