Do you see how Social Justice stuff I read about slowly sneaks into my fiction writing? And is that a good or bad thing?

Also, the cookie goes to Guest53! Duh who else :D

To Justreading, Rashleigh Khan was the villain in book 7! Forgetting him is absolutely normal, as he wasn't much of anything. He was the guy who wanted to steal all the chocolate or whatever. *Cough* all villains after book 5 were watered-down bullshit versions of Iblis *cough cough*

"So, what exactly are we doing here, uncle?" Philippa asked. Contrary to her uncle's reassurance that she had nothing to fear, Las Vegas made her deeply uncomfortable. Especially now that the sun was going down. There were too many people. And the neon lights sure looked pretty and exciting, but still…she couldn't shake her discomfort. She didn't even know why she felt that way. Something about this place was just…weird.

"As I told you, we're paying someone a visit. A visit that is long overdue." Nimrod looked at his niece walking besides him. She was nervously clutching her bag which contained the documents they were to deliver. Their get-out-of-jail-free-card. "So you noticed it" he said quietly. "Yes, this place is not exactly Marid-friendly. Iblis had a lot done."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been living here for a very long time, Philippa. The city basically belongs to him. And he has added his personal touch to it. That's very much how he works. I wonder how much of his power went into this city, and how many traps exactly this place holds for the unwary. If you look out, and in the periphery, you can just see it."

At first Philippa didn't know what he meant, but then, as she began to sneak more attentive glances at her surroundings as they walked, there were the stealthiest hints. Never out in the open, but…eyes in the shadows. People who stared for a second too long. A flashing green neon sign on a casino wall looked, for a second, like an attacking snake. When she turned around to look properly, it appeared to be an optical illusion that dissolved before her eyes. And Jesus, was that place there really called the "Kingcobra Club"? Was that where all the Ifrit hung out? But then Philippa corrected her thought as she realized that the whole of Las Vegas was where all the Ifrit hung out. They were surrounded by Ifrit power, and Ifrit pride. They controlled this place; this whole city was the jewel in Iblis's crown of depravity. There couldn't be a more hostile territory for two Marid, whatever uncle Nimrod said.

"I'm still not sure about this. What if Iblis finds us here?"

"Oh dear, Phil, I'm afraid you misunderstood me there. I intend to find Iblis."

"So so, Marid" a voice suddenly said. "And what do you want from me?"

Philippa looked around and found they were surrounded by Ifrit who had come out of seemingly nowhere. They had to have been around the whole time. Most of them were men in rather uniform dark suits with slicked back hair that made them look like stereotypical Mafiosi – but there was also the woman.

The woman was wearing a marine blue sundress, and one of her delicate hands was on her chest holding a gray scarf in place. Her hair fell down almost to her waist in soft waves that varied in color somewhere between honey blond and a really light brown. She could have been pretty, but her face… her face was of a sickly pallor, and her cheeks looked hollow like those of a woman of normal build who had lost an alarming amount of weight to illness. It was the woman who, in the whole bunch, drew instant attention, and as she stepped into the circle, all Ifrit turned to her, mind and body, as did Nimrod.

"Iblis" he said without error in his voice. "Is this your current body?"

"It is" the woman said in the voice of Iblis Teer. "Not what I'm used to at all, but I take as I find."

"You look…"

"Effeminate?"

"Malnourished."

"This body…yes. It's not strong. That's probably due to its having been in a coma for the last three years. I'm working on the issue."

"The poor thing."

Iblis shrugged. "To business, Marid. You came here to search me out about something. I want to know what it is."

"Well, what do you think it is? Them."

"The djinnhadists? If it's information you're after, I can offer you a tantalizing amount of absolutely nothing on them. I just know what everyone knows. Come on, Marid. Just because something appears to be evil doesn't mean it's automatically my jurisdiction."

"Actually, it's not information I'm after, at least not just that. I'm rather more interested in recruiting your help."

Philippa stared at her uncle in something close to disbelief. Why would he ask for help from an Ifrit? Iblis looked equally dubious, until Nimrod went on: "I know the only reason you haven't interrupted me yet is suspension of disbelief – but I also bring you – this – from Faustina, peace be with her." He nudged Philippa and beckoned her to take the manila folder he had given her earlier from her bag. Trembling only very slightly, she stepped forward and gave the folder to Iblis, who took it, opened it and started to read. Philippa could see her – no, his – eyes widen as they darted across the lines she couldn't see. There was a slight, almost unnoticeable tremor in the Ifrit's hands as he looked up.

"You've got to be kidding me, Nimrod. This can't be real."

"I assure you it is. It bears the blue djinn's personal seal, and I would never dare forging that."

"But…all three evil tribes? And peace talks?"

"And entirely justified. If those cultists get a hold on their treasured Artifact, they will hold power over all djinnkind, good and evil. In the face of this danger, we must unite or we will fall."

"But what of our…"

"Any questions you might have, you can ask Faustina. Please come with us to Berlin. And also mind the other document. It contains a prophecy made by…"

Nimrod fell silent, but Iblis, who was already busy reading the prophecy, did not notice.

"Hmm, what the hell is this now…behold, oh djinn of the world…blood upon the earth, bla bla, the typical prophet nonsense…listen to my blithering or else you will be doomed…the half-snake joins the stoking of the unholy fires of hate…hm-hmm…a weapon most ancient and powerful…when good and evil join hands over the abyss. Marid, I see where this is going and I'm not holding your hand."

"I'm sure the 'joining hands' is metaphorical" Nimrod said diplomatically. "I reckon it refers to a good and an evil djinn collaborating."

"And what's all this about Taranushi?"

"I'm not sure yet. You know…prophecies. They're always so vague that you only really get them the moment they come true."

"Huh" Iblis said and made a skeptical face. "I don't really know if this is all convincing enough for me to voluntarily go to Berlin. I was threatened with ten years on Venus once. I don't really think I want that again."

"I knew you would be hard to convince" Nimrod said. "Let me try anyway. I know that saving the world doesn't mean a thing to you. But I just think something else might: with the artifact, the cult can and will enslave all djinn – Ifrit too. Your associates and followers, all those families depending on you for guidance, heck, your kids. You have a responsibility to the tribe you lead – you are still the leader, are you?"

Iblis haughtily raised his head. "Of course I am. Who else?"

"Well, I heard that in your absence Jirjis ibn Rajmus took over."

"Hah. I will show Jirjis his place, just you watch. He's only in it for the power, he doesn't care."

"Oh? And I take it that you do?"

Iblis frowned in silence for a second. Then he sighed. "Yes. I suppose you've got me. I do care. But…still…what good would it do if I…"

"Listen. Faustina is not like Ayesha. She has an understanding demeanor, and her heart is not as hard. I'm pretty sure she will appreciate a favor done to her. And I'm just as sure it will be suitably rewarded. I might even put my voice out for it."

"What could you do?"

"Well, you my friend still have a rather impressive list of bad deeds done…but with my influence I could maybe work towards significantly lessening your punishment. Not making it disappear, of course, but…making it significantly less."

"You would do that?"

"For the good of the world? Absolutely. The end sometimes does justify the means…all means, Iblis."

Iblis came very close to Nimrod and gave him a long, hard to read look. Then he sighed and tucked a strand of hair back. "Alright, fine. I'll come with you to Berlin."

"Actually, we're going to have to take a slight detour over London, to collect Zadie and your son. But after that, it's directly to Berlin. I know you have the means of travelling by yourself, but I'd prefer it if you came with me. Just to make sure…you know."

Iblis shrugged. "Why not? But no flying carpets."

"How else are we supposed to travel?"

"You know, there is such a thing as airplanes…"

"I always thought you hated mundane means of travel."

"Not as much as I hate flying fucking carpets. They're clichéd, they look plain stupid, they're not really safe – people are prone to falling off – they're not even faster than an airplane, and besides, you always catch a cold when flying them. No stupid carpets or I'm not coming."

They agreed on meeting at the airport the day after, with no further mention of carpets.

Philippa had been a bit dubious whether Iblis would turn up. It had weirded her out a little that uncle Nimrod was suddenly willing to trust the Ifrit so much. She half-expected to run into some evil trap here. But as they entered the airport, Iblis was waiting for them.

"Top of the morning to you" Nimrod greeted.

"You are exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds late, Marid" Iblis replied with a glance at his watch. Out in public, he was using the female voice that had belonged to the body's original owner.

Nimrod grimaced at Philippa as he said: "I'm sorry, I got caught up."

"Well, let's go" Iblis sighed and laid a hand on Nimrod's arm. Nimrod seemed a bit startled at the contact.

"I told you this body weakens quickly" Iblis explained. "It hasn't gotten an awful lot of exercise lately. That's the downsides to possessing the comatose. I might occasionally require your assistance."

"Possessing the comatose…? That sounds like a horrible thing to do" Philippa threw in.

"It's not as bad as stealing a body off someone who is currently using it, I think" uncle Nimrod opined.

"Still. It's all a bit…spooky, right?"

"It actually isn't half bad" Iblis explained. "This body I'm in right now originally belongs to a djinn woman from the Jann tribe. I think you even know her, Nimrod. Does Petra Reese ring a bell?"

"You mean Petra Reese-Sutherland? The djinn doctor?"

"Djinn therapist, to be precise."

"Yes, I remember her. A very friendly woman, but wasn't her work…a bit unconventional?"

"Her work was highly renowned amongst my tribe. That's all I have to say to that. Naturally, she managed to make some very influential djinn quite angry with what she was doing. And three years ago, someone put a binding on her that made her fall into an artificial coma. And you know what the absolute worst is? She's been awake the whole time. She's in here with me, mind perfectly functioning, but with no access to her djinn powers and no way to move a single muscle. Imagine that, for three years! I have to get her consent for everything I do in here. She can talk to me telepathically, but not to anyone else. I can use her voice and all her bodily functions, but she can't. Horrible, innit? So we made a deal."

"Oh, let me guess. You get to use her body until you find something else, and in exchange, you have to seek out the bastard who did this to her…"

"…and force him to release her, yes. Or find another way, if there is one. That is the nature of it all."

"So, she's in there and can hear us?" Philippa asked.

"Basically, yes."

"In that case, hi Petra, I'm Philippa. It's nice to meet you."

"She says hello back. She also wants you to call her Perry, since everyone does."

Their conversation was interrupted by a man who talked at Nimrod from the side, proffering a cup with a few coins in. "Spare some small change for a meal, Mister?"

Nimrod, being the genuinely nice person he was, smiled at the man, took out his wallet and dropped a big bundle of bank notes into the cup. "I'm afraid I only have pounds. Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, good sir."

"Not an inconvenience at all, most obliged, Mister, thank you very much" the beggar said and then dropped the bomb: "And what a nice little family you have!"

Philippa did not dare to look at Iblis.

"Yes, indeed" Nimrod said earnestly. "Have a good day, sir."

And with that he half-dragged a fuming Ifrit away, probably saving the beggar's day from becoming so much worse.

"People think I'm your wife…god, I want my old body back" Iblis hissed. "As if I would ever marry someone like you. I'm way out of your league."

"It was just a humorous misunderstanding" Nimrod said diplomatically. "In hindsight we'll probably all laugh about it."

The next Humorous Misunderstanding occurred in the bathroom.

"Hey, lady, didn't you see the sign on the door?"

"Yes, this is a men's room."

Iblis bridled, it was so easy to forget what he looked like at the time. But he wouldn't retreat. Iblis never retreated.

"But I am a man" he defended himself. "I'm just in the wrong body right now."

One of the jerks by the washbasin snorted. "Yeah right, fucking tranny."

His friends immediately chimed in.

"We don't need none of you trannies prancing around the place."

"They should really kill all trannies."

"Hey, did you hear me? You're not wanted here, tranny."

As they noticed the "tranny" was not going to answer, they fell silent. And then "she" looked up and fixed them with a positively snake-like stare and said, very quietly, "TETRAGRAMMATONITIS".

There was a flash of light, a sudden smell of sulphur, and then Iblis bent down and scooped three distressed cockroaches into his hands.

"Roaches" he said. "As befits you."

Still fuming, he went into the next cubicle, threw them in and flushed them down.

"It's horrible, the harassment that trans people are getting" he later said to Nimrod. "Remind me to do something for them as soon as we're finished here."

"Do something? Did I hear you right? You want to do a good deed?"

"I do that" Iblis explained. "When it's due. And it is."

"That sure is good to hear, dear friend" Nimrod said softly. "But I can't help but think that all of this could be avoided if you just used the ladies' room."

"You don't understand anything, Nimrod" Iblis replied. "I am not, and will never be a woman. Sharing a restroom with a lot of them would make me as uncomfortable as…well, as a man using the women's restroom. Duh."

For the sake of diplomacy, they dropped the argument. Until their plane landed in London, nothing of note happened.

Yes, Iblis is a pretty lady now…don't worry, he'll sort that out eventually, I just thought this was a nice way to introduce this OC of mine. Also people tend to forget when writing about Iblis that he doesn't have his own body anymore. Which is a pity because they're missing out on all the shenanigans one can write with this scenario. Which of course will be shamelessly exploited by me in future chapters.