Book 08: Chapter 02

Hot Mug of Djinn


GM: Brad
Transcribed by: James
Date: January 09, 2022
In Game date: August 2012
Episode: 41 (116)

Part 01: Jack Youngblood

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_01.pngI really hate these new, so-called MacMansions that are being thrown up these days. Especially when they mar my neighborhood, Capitol Hill. They are tacky and really destroy the atmosphere of old school neighborhoods with their modern lines and stark design. Cold, merciless, and greedy. That is what they feel like to me.

I wanted to burn the damn thing down instead of just sneaking into it. But we needed to know what was going on with this Stuart Godfried fellow who had just won the lottery and was somehow involved in the magical stealing of dollar bills from the entire county. I wanted to look the place over and see if I could figure out what was going on. My Truesight and spiritual senses would hopefully help us figure that out.

I veiled myself with my magic and creeped toward the ugly home while Stuart Godfried watched a movie on the largest flat screen TV I had ever seen. The place was mostly unfurnished except for the bedroom and the living room which sported a comfortable leather recliner couch like you see in some of the more extravagant theaters. I could see Godfried through the window drinking a Rainier beer from a bottle while reclining on the couch. The bottle looked strange though. I found another empty bottle of it in his recycling bin on the side of the house and looked it over.

It was weird. At first, I thought it was a new product Rainier had just released. But no. That was wrong. I remember that this special brew had been discontinued before Black Monday six years ago. But this bottle looked brand new. Except it had no manufacturing symbols or other markings and no sell by date. In fact, the glass looked hand blown instead of manufactured. Why would someone go through the trouble of making a replica beer bottle for a discontinued and little remarked brew? It made no sense at all.

I was making my way around to the back of the house fuming about how ugly the place looked when I passed by the main fuse box. I let my hatred of the place get the best of me and a surge of magic erupted from me, frying the breakers in the fuse box with a flash of sparks and starting a small fire as all the power to the mansion went out. Dammit. I had to get control of myself.

“What now?!!?” Stuart Godfried cried in exasperation. He stalked through the patio door angrily and started marching right toward the fuse box where I was hiding. Crap. My veils were good, but they weren’t perfect. Especially with this thrice-damned rain falling. It was hard to maintain magic in running water, especially something as delicate as a veil. There was always the chance that he would be able to spot me through it. I was trying to decide what to do if I was discovered when I heard a voice call out into the night.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, sir! Seattle City Light!” the voice exclaimed.

Godfried and I both turned toward the front of the house and saw a figure wearing a hard hat brandishing a clipboard and wearing a safety vest calling out into the rain swept night. I am not sure which of us was more surprised.

Part 02: Fergus Mac Cormaic

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_02.pngDavid and I watched as Jack made his way to the patio, his silhouette just barely visible under his veil when he moved. I must admit that I was a little surprised that Jack was as good at concealing himself with veils as I was, but his magic wasn’t as versatile as my glamours in that regard. Also, my glamours don’t cause fuse boxes to explode in a shower of sparks. I knew Jack was in trouble when the box blew, taking out the power to the mansion and Godfried came stalking out into the night heading directly toward him. I didn’t have time to really think it through. I just improvised.

As I left our hiding spot in the bushes, I used my Fae glamours to give me a bland, nondescript appearance wearing a Seattle City Light hardhat complete with orange safety vest and a clipboard. Godfried was almost on top of Jack.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, sir! Seattle City Light!” I cried out into the rainy night.

“Seattle City Light?” Godfried exclaimed in surprise, turning toward me. “Holy crap. You guys are fast!”

“Good evening, sir,” I said. “My team and I were doing some routine maintenance on the trunk line for your neighborhood when a surge went down the line, into your home,” I stated making it up as I went along.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but I must ask that you not go back into your house until I give you the all clear,” I said hoping I was making sense. “There is a chance that another dangerous surge could occur, and we need to clear the charge.”

“Oh, wow,” Godfried said. “I am just glad you guys seem to be on top of this. I wondered if the contractors who made this home cut corners.”

“Cheap wiring certainly would explain the unexpected surge, sir,” I said. “It caught us all by surprise.”

I kept Godfried’s attention on me and could barely perceive Jack sneaking into the mansion through the patio door that had left open when he had stomped out into the night. I led the man over to a dry spot under an overhang.

“I hope all your boys are OK,” he said concerned.

“Thanks for asking, sir. We are all fine.”

“Well, I thank you for your hard work,” he said. “Here, a little something to show my appreciation,” he said as he pulled a c-note from his wallet.

“Thank you, sir,” I said taking the money. “That is very gracious. I need to get back to my team now. Your power should be back on soon. Please remain outside until the power comes back on.”

“Thank you for all your help!”

I waved acknowledgment to that as I marched away checking off imaginary boxes on my glamour-created clipboard, feeling slightly guilty for my deception. Jack owed me one for saving his ass.

Part 03: David Clay

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_03.png“I didn’t find much in that house,” Jack said as we spoke an hour later in the wizard’s workshop in his basement. "It looks like he just moved in a few days ago. From what I can tell he was a down-on-his- luck artist who was just evicted, living on the streets until he scored that Powerball win. "

“Winning the lottery seems remarkably fortuitous,” I pointed out. Jack nodded his agreement and continued the briefing.

“I also found some documents that showed that he had rented out the storage spaces where the money is being magically deposited the day before winning the lottery,” he said.

“That suggests to me that all of this was part of a plan,” I said.

“Exactly,” Jack replied.

“So, you think he is an artist?” Fergus asked.

“Yeah, a sculptor, looks like,” Jack replied. “But it seems he has turned his back on that since he won the lottery.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He had some old pieces of his art in the place, but I found some sculptor tools in the trash,” Jack replied. “I just get the feeling he is done with making art.”

“I also found this,” he said handing me a colorful flier for a homeless shelter sponsored by William West’s Hometown Heroes. The initiative that Fergus had been working on making the clothing lines for.

“Do you think William West has anything to do with this?” I asked, noting Fergus’s brow furrow in worry at the idea.

“Not sure,” Jack said shrugging. “We have to check it out regardless. We need to learn everything we possibly can about this Stuart Godfried.”

I said, “Fergus can you check with Gemtriax? See if she knows the man? She knows more about the Seattle Art scene than almost anybody.”

“That’s a good idea,” Fergus replied. “I will ask her about him.”

“Good. That sounds good,” Jack said. “I am going to do some research on the ward that was placed on that ugly ass mansion. See if there is anything I can learn about who cast it. But for now, we should get some sleep and we can track down these threads tomorrow.”

Part 04: Jack Youngblood

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_04.png“I almost feel bad about it,” I said smiling slightly as we met in my basement the next morning. “I went by the mansion on my morning jog and saw Seattle City Light was there still trying to get the power back on for him.”

“Oh man,” Fergus laughed. “He must be pissed.”

“I doubt he is going to be passing out any more 100-dollar bills,” I pointed out, and we shared a hearty laugh. It felt good. Things have been a bit too grim lately.

“I called the shelter that you found the flier for and scheduled us all to volunteer there later today,” David said, changing the subject and completely draining the room dry of any humor. Golem’s must not be created with a sense of whimsy.

“Sounds good. I will get Emmie to watch Abby while we are there,” I said, after a pause. “I did manage to learn a few things from my study of the mansion’s wards. First off, I can say definitively that this ward was not crafted by any human wizard.”

“What makes you say that?” Fergus asked.

“The ward itself is extremely basic with simple principles and mechanisms. However, it is also enormously powerful,” I said. “It uses esoteric water magic that only a spirit of water, a water elemental, Fae or perhaps a Fomor could replicate. It washes away mortal interest into the mansion.”

“Water magic?” David asked. “Is it similar to the one at the storage facility?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Exactly like that. In fact, it suggests to me that it is from the same source as the magic used to steal the dollar bills. I also figured out that the bird that the magic is transforming the dollar bills into so they can fly to the storage facility is a Chukar Partridge. A bird that is common to Asia & the Middle East, suggesting that the whoever is casting these spells might have their origin in that region as well.”

“That makes sense,” Fergus said. “I asked Gem about Godfried.”

“She know him?” I asked.

“She does,” Fergus explained. “She said he was a talented sculptor who had been drinking himself to death for the last several years. He hadn’t sold anything in over six months. He got evicted a couple of days ago and Gem offered to put him up at the Judd Creek Commune, but he turned her down. He won the lottery the next day.”

“Did he drink at a particular bar?” I asked.

“Not sure,” Fergus said. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said. “You can learn a lot about people based on their watering hole.”

“We will just have to make do at the shelter,” David said. “Maybe they will know where he consumes alcoholic beverages.”

Part 05: Fergus Mac Cormaic

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_05.png“Everyone I talked to mentioned a recent incident involving a regular named Mathew Schumacher,” I reported to Jack and David after we had spent the afternoon at the William West Hometown Heroes event at a West Seattle soup kitchen. “He apparently didn’t like the superhero theme at all and caused quite a scene before being kicked out of the place.”

“Hmm. Not much to go on,” Jack said, thoughtfully. “We can check that guy out when we get a chance, just to be thorough.”

“So, how about you, David? What did you learn while washing dishes?” I asked.

“There was a woman named Karen Garret, who had been volunteering for over a year, never missing a day, who hasn’t shown up for the last couple of days,” David replied. “She was well regarded by everyone in the kitchen despite being, and I quote, ‘Butt-Ugly’.”

“Not a very charitable thing to say,” Jack stated.

“Perhaps. Although, she had had a makeover a few days ago before vanishing and it had transformed her into a ‘Total Babe’ overnight,” David continued using air quotes. “The ‘Kitchen Krew’, as they called themselves, was amazed and spoke about it non-stop throughout the shift. It was as if her fondest Wish had come true.”

“A Wish?” Jack asked, his face scrunched in thought.

“Exactly,” David said. “A man who was in desperate need for money miraculously wins the Lottery just after being rendered homeless while a woman, who is described as homely is miraculously transformed into a great beauty. Both of their wishes came true. Which suggests to me that we are dealing with some kind of Djinn.”

“A Djinn?” I asked. “Like a Geni in a bottle? Those can’t be real?”

“I have found that all such mythic creatures often have a basis in reality,” David replied to me.

“They are as likely to be as real as a Golem,” Jack said pausing to smirk at me. “Or a Leprechaun.”

“Point taken,” I said, conceding the argument.

Jack held up a Rainier bottle and a bottle cap with a strange symbol on it. “It also might explain this. Whatever this is,” he said. “I found it in the trash while I was sneaking around.”

“Is that bottle cap made of lead?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is,” Jack said. “Obviously, no brewery would ever use a lead bottle cap. Especially with mystical symbols on it. And this bottle is odd. There are no brewers’ marks or a sell-by date. The bottle itself seems like it was handmade, not manufactured. We need to figure out where the hell these are coming from.”

“That is the Seal of Solomon,” David said quietly. “It was used by the great mage, Suleiman, to bind spirits and Djinn. It is said that Solomon had the power to bind Spirits, Demons and even Angels, but other sources say he sealed a thousand Djinn.”

I dropped my jaw in surprise.

“Solomon?” I asked, "You mean The Solomon? King Solomon? Old Testament Solomon? "

David nodded, “Also called Jedidiah or Suleiman. The son of David. Monarch of the United Kingdom of Jerusalem circa 950 BCE.”

“Every Wizard has heard of Suleiman,” Jack said deep in thought. "He was believed to be a contemporary of the original Merlin or something. Most of his biography was lost with the library of Alexandria, but he was one of the OG major spellcasters. He wrote major primers on the fundamental principles of summoning, binding and exorcising. "

“He was a Wizard?” I asked.

“He predates the White Council as an organization,” Jack confirmed, “That far back, there were no Wizards. Just wise Sorcerers.”

“Sorcerer is not the right word,” David said, “Solomon was blessed with wisdom by God and carried many artifacts of the Jewish people. He was also a King. He had an entire court of followers, servants, and soldiers assisting him in all manner of things.”

“Whatever word you use for him, he pioneered some serious shit. Guy wrote several books on magic circles that entered the public eye and that’s not even half of his library. The other half are only in Wizard libraries. Serious, ’Don’t try this at home’ stuff.”

“Holy crap,” I said. “Power like that in the wrong hands could tear up the whole damn city. It could destroy anyone who came across it.”

“Or save them,” Jack whispered under his breath. I don’t think he knew that I heard him with my Wylde enhanced senses. I could see the thoughts churning in his head. Could he use a Djinn to save Abby from her cancer? If so, at what cost?

Part 06: David Clay

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_06.pngWe went to Karen Garret’s shabby run-down apartment building, hoping to locate this djinn. When we got to her specific apartment on the ground floor, we were surprised to find that it had been condemned because of asbestos contamination.

“Oh gee,” Jack quipped. “That’s not ominous or anything.” He stretched out a hand and closed his eyes in concentration. “Whoa! I am sensing some powerful magical energies from inside there.”

“We should be cautious,” I replied, trying to focus my friends.

I tentatively knocked on the door and it fell off its hinges into the apartment. The unmistakable stench of death hit our noses causing everyone to flinch back. Looking into the apartment we could all see a body lying on the floor.

“I am going to stay out here and use my glamours to keep people out of our way and keep an eye on things,” Fergus said trying not to gag at the smell.

“Good idea,” I said as Jack and I entered the apartment. “This young woman had been dead for over a day.”

“There’s a needle in her arm,” I said. “It looks like she had some kind of horrifying allergic reaction to her make-up. Her body and face are…bloated. Distended.”

“What’s left of them anyway,” Jack replied. “It looks like rats have gotten to her. Not much left of her face. I can feel some powerful magic though. If I had to guess I would say she was killed by a powerful Entropy Curse.”

I know how terrible an Entropy Curse can be. Fergus had nearly been killed by one not so long ago. Fergus used veils to make himself look like a health inspector with a clipboard. A small crowd was gathering, and he was keeping them out. For now.

“So, a woman who gains great beauty dies because of the makeup she is wearing, causing that beauty to be distorted into a horror show and then has her face eaten off by rats,” Jack said.

“A monkey’s paw,” I said. “Be very careful what you wish for.”

“I found another one of those Rainier bottles with the lead cap,” Jack said holding them up.

“Guys,” Fergus said, using his glamours to conceal his voice from other listeners. “We might have a problem. You need to get out here but be casual about it.”

Jack and I came out of the apartment tentatively. Fergus used glamours to conceal our identities, making us look like fellow health inspectors. He pointed out a nondescript man in a hoodie in the growing crowd who was glaring at us and into the door with unnerving intensity.

“Please, if everyone could just move along,” I said. “We are investigating a possible contagion in this apartment. If we discover anything you will all be informed immediately. But we need you to disperse.”

I surreptitiously nodded my head at the glaring man. Jack turned to him, his eyes glowing a faint violet color as he activated his Truesight.

“That is not a Man,” Jack hissed under his breath. “That is some kind of construct shaped with earth magic.”

“As a golem, perhaps I can communicate with him,” I suggested. As the crowd broke up, I walked directly up to the earth construct and bowed deeply. “Greetings, brother. May I inquire why you are here?”

Saying nothing, the construct turned its back on me and began to walk away quickly.

“That’s not going to happen,” Jack muttered and extended his arm speaking strange words. A blast of cold air hit the construct freezing it in place. Jack smiled triumphantly just before it exploded in a blast of shattered ice and took off down the block at supernatural speeds.

“Well, shit,” Jack said as he ran toward his parked Indian Motorcycle, and I followed close on his heels. Not saying a word, Fergus took off after the target like he was shot from a canon, a gleeful smile on his face.

The hunt was on.

Part 07: Fergus Mac Cormaic

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_07.pngJack said this guy I was chasing was some kind of earth construct similar to David. He was a helluva lot faster on his feet though. No one is faster than me though. No one.

I used my glamours to blur my outline to make me harder to spot just before scaling the roof of a nearby building. Normally my magic would be grounded out by the heavy rain. But I was wearing a new water-resistant fabric that I was testing for my clothing lines, and it helped shield my glamour from the water. I continued following him, jumping from roof to roof under my veil and let my target believe he had lost me. As I hoped he relaxed his guard and slowed down to a quick walk.

He slipped into an alley out of sight of prying eyes, and I was astonished to witness his body morph and change into a completely new person. When he emerged from the alley, he was so different looking that there wasn’t a chance that he could be recognized with normal senses. In fact, Jack and David drove right by him without giving him a second look.

Or so it seemed. Jack was a wizard who had access to magic that enhanced his senses. He was canny enough not to give away the fact that he knew exactly where the construct was. He drove down the block before parking and following just out of sight from our target with David at his back.

The three of us were able to keep an eye on the earth construct without him spotting us and he led us back to an awfully familiar neighborhood. Jack’s neighborhood. In fact, the construct walked right up to Jack’s house and stood motionless, taking shelter from the rain at a covered bus stop across the street.

Jack must be freaking out. I know I would be if some inhuman earth creature made a b-line for my family.

The construct held up its arm and a small, pigeon-like shape grew out of his arm and flew off. I gave Jack a look and he nodded so I took off in pursuit of it. The bird form led me on a merry chase but did nothing to throw off my pursuit which I assume meant I was undetected. I was in the branches of an old oak tree in the backyard of an extremely old, but well-maintained home in Georgetown, Seattle’s oldest neighborhood when the bird landed on the arm of an older, balding man. A man I recognized instantly. The Patient One held up the construct to his ear, listening for a brief moment before crushing it to dust.

“I know you are there,” The Patient One called out, pouring some tea and savoring it with closed eyes, while under a covered back porch. My heart started racing as my fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive. “I would not come any closer if I were in your place,” he continued calmly. “The wards placed on this home would not react kindly.”

“Nor would my friend,” he stated softly, sipping more tea, as he languidly opened his eyes and looked right in my direction.

I started looking around fearfully, my breathing coming in terrified gasps. Where The Patient One went, The Knife of Hunger was sure to follow. Called Nôž Hladu in Hungary, the Knife was a deadly ghoul assassin that I had encountered more than once. He had all but eviscerated me not long ago and I had barely survived. I had to get the fuck out of here. I headed back to Jack’s house at full speed, concealed in my glamour.

Part 08: Jack Youngblood

No matter how infuriated I was I had to keep my cool. The earth construct, a cruder version of golem than David, went directly to my home. MY HOME!

The implied threat was not lost on me. A threat to me. A threat to my Family. I glared at the crude golem, resisting the urge to blast it into its component atoms with my magic and then track down whoever sent it and make them pay. No one threatens my family and gets away with it. No one.

The golem obediently stood unmoving, staring at my house from across the street under the bus shelter. I could see that the unending rain had damaged it and speculated that it would not long survive without refuge from it.

“I followed the bird to this address,” Fergus said quietly, appearing out of nowhere. He handed me a piece of paper. I recognized the address. It was for a house that had been owned by the White Council of Wizards ever since Artemis Miller had died several years ago. It was the home set aside for wizards who had moved to the city.

I knew immediately who had sent the crude golem. It could only be The Patient One. It was a statement of contempt. He was letting me know he didn’t respect me or my power. My mind was racing trying to devise a proper response when the golem spoke in a gravelly voice with The Patient One’s elegant English accent.

“Stay safe Warden. Eyes abound,” it said. “I am not a threat to you this day.”

The golem turned and began walking away.

“Are we just going to let that thing go?” Fergus asked quietly.

“We have other concerns,” I said quietly, clenching my fists. “For now.”

“I have to go,” David said as we walked back to my house. “I have an appointment with a client at the hospital.”

“I understand,” I said. “I am going to see what Adrian knows about these djinns. Hopefully, he can help us figure out what is going on. We can meet up afterward.”

“Don’t say that word out loud!” Adrian Huggins hissed in reply to my question about djinn. “If you set up a circle protecting us, we can talk about it.”

Adrian was an excitable and not overly brave librarian at the University of Washington. He was also a scion of Odin’s ravens, Hunin & Mugnin (Thought & Memory). I wasn’t clear on the details but what it meant was that he was a deep repository of mystical knowledge that was unsurpassed in the region.

Fergus and I went to Adrian’s office, and he cleared out an area for me to make a rudimentary magic circle. I empowered it with my will, mystically sealing us within the barrier. It wouldn’t offer much protection, but it should prevent entities from mystically eavesdropping on our discussion. The librarian picked up the “Rainier” bottle and bottle cap we had taken from the dead woman’s apartment and began looking them over with a magnifying glass.

“Satisfied?” I asked.

“Yeah, man,” Adrian said. “That works. It is good you came to me and not someone else.”

“Why is that?”

“Talking about Djinn out in the wild will bring you to their attention,” Adrian explained. “Once you have their attention things can get a little dicey.”

“How about that!” he exclaimed, holding up the bottle cap, “I was right!”

“Right? About what?” Fergus asked moving closer to get a better look.

“There is a whole contract engraved in micro-text on this bottlecap,” he said. “Neat! It looks like it’s written in more than one language.”

“Like the same contract in multiple languages?” I asked.

“No, it looks like it has been amended somehow. The main section seems to be in Hebrew, but I am seeing sections in Arabic, Latin, Greek, Plain English, and…Occitan. I think”

“Occi, what?”

“Occitan. An old language from Southern France.”

“What does it say?” I asked.

Adrian held up the cap and looked at the cap with a jeweler’s loupe. We’d need something like that if we wanted to read the whole thing.

“This vessel contains The Builder who has been punished by King Solomon for the crime of disrespecting God and His people on the Sabbath. Let whomsoever mortal willingly picks up this vessel have power over The Builder within and be gifted three labors.”

“OK, sounds just like the fairy tales,” I said. “Genie of the lamp or whatever, three wishes, and so on. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Right,” Adrian said, gathering his thoughts. “So, a Genie is a Djinn that has been cursed or bound into mortal service. A Djinn is a supernatural entity of both spirit and flesh that specializes in one of the four elements: Earth, air, fire, or water. They are limited to that single element, but they can do miraculous things with it far beyond the ability of any mortal wizard.”

“I don’t know man,” I said. “Some of the heavies on the White Council can do some amazing shit.”

“Suleiman is compared in power to Merlin himself and even he had to use Djinn’s, Ifiriti, and Marids to accomplish things that were beyond even his own magic.” Adrian rebuffed.


“In the stories, it is said that humans were made from clay, angels from light, and the Djinn from smokeless fire.”

I nodded, understanding.

“Smokeless fire is another way of saying Elemental Magic. Magic that doesn’t exactly follow laws like physics.”

“Pure Elemental Magic.” Adrian confirmed, “A Djinn’s elemental connection gives them full access to the most esoteric parts of their element.”

“Elements can be Esoteric?” Fergus asked.

I took over from here, regurgitating a lecture that my father gave me long ago in our first Evocation lessons.

“You think of the element of Fire as just flame. The kind you get from a bic or something. An element of destructive change. But Fire can also be an element of purification and of industry. The element that destroys status. The element of heat, comfort, and home. The fever that cleanses and the sunrise that warms.”

Adrian nodded now that I got it. “If we are dealing with a Marid, a Water Djinn, that could mean the Djinn has access to the powers of entropy.”

I nodded, conceding the point by thinking of other uses of entropy magic. Falling pianos…

“So, what about this Builder?” Fergus asked, “What else can Djinn do?”

“The stories said in addition to their elemental magic, Djinn are true shapeshifters, they can take the form of any living creature. They can also visit a mortal’s dreams without being detected,” he continued.

“They’re also invisible, it seems,” I added.

“Yes, Djinn are more than capable of making veils but they also have an inherent ability to be invisible to all mortals unless they want to be seen.”

“What about my ability to see spirits, you said they were beings of spirit and flesh?”

“Not enough information. You might be able to see them if they were in the same room. Definitely, if you touched them. I don’t recommend looking with your Sight. You might go blind.”

“And they can grant wishes?” I asked.

Adrian waved his hands to clear the air.

“The genie always says in the stories, ‘Your wish is my command’. What a bound Djinn can grant are Commands.”

“Or ‘Labors’ as the contract said.” Fergus picked up.

Adrian nodded furiously.

“The great news is that Djinn are not ‘snap your fingers and rewrite all of reality’ powerful. You ask a Djinn to do something, and they must go out to do the magic to accomplish the task. Depending on the binding and the wording of the command though, they might find some leeway. Djinn are also known in tales as tricksters.”

Fergus and I looked at each other in shock at that last word. That simple realization hit us both like a brick.

I think both of us buried our faces in our hands for a moment.

A Trickster. A fucking Trickster.

“An imprisoned trickster?” I said, “That explains the monkey’s paw bullshit.”

Fergus shook his head, “Look what Tad the Trickster did to my wedding for a grudge. But an even more powerful Trickster locked up for what, three thousand years?”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I said.

“And how you wish for it.” Fergus added, “How powerful are Djinn exactly? How fucked are we?”

Adrian thought for a second, “Although their scions, the Jann are not that powerful, your average adult Djinn is comparable to a full Wizard of the White Council. Like, they could pass the Council’s tests and do everything a White Council Wizard can do, but just with their one element. But an Elder like this one sealed by Solomon…”

There was silence as I took in what Adrian was saying. He could be right. But there must be some way I could harness the power of the Djinn to heal Abby. I just had to be careful about it.

“How do we track them?” Fergus asked, giving me a worried look. Clearly, I would have to learn to keep my thoughts off my face.

“You have to find their vessel,” Adrian explained. “It will be something that can hold water. A flask, a gourd, a canteen. Something like that. Since beer bottles didn’t exist back in 900BCE, the vessel probably has the ability to change shape to disguise itself. Plus, the Djinn is no doubt powerful enough to make identical decoys to protect itself. That’s why you’ve been finding Rainer bottles.”

“The vessel could look like anything,” I said.

Adrian shrugged apologetically. He shook and looked up to me with a grim determination.

“One more thing: For the love of Odin, don’t destroy the Vessel while the Djinn is still alive.”

“Yeah, we’d have an angry genie on the loose,” I said.

Adrian shook his head, “Mushroom cloud.”

The word created an eerie silence.

“A small one,” Adrian clarified. As if that made it better.

Fergus glared at the Librarian, “You don’t just say something like ‘mushroom cloud’ and not expect us to ask why. Why a ‘mushroom cloud’?”

Adrian kept talking, "A Djinn is bound to the vessel, and it is metaphysically impossible for them to escape it. But the Vessel isn’t just a prison, it is also a battery for magical energy and is connected directly to the Djinn. "

I picked up on it, “So, destroy the vessel and it will cause a chain reaction that will unravel the smokeless fire?”


“What does that mean?” Fergus asked, “It’s water magic.”

“Unbridled entropy. Bizarre accidents, random chaos, and massive deaths on a citywide scale,” Adrian whispered, looking faint. “Maybe even a record flood or a tsunami. An early winter freeze maybe.”

“Maybe everyone’s loans would be defaulted on at the same time.” I pondered.

“Thousands would die screaming.”

“Jesus,” Fergus muttered.

“I would get the hell out of the city if I could,” Adrian said, voice quivering in fear. “But I am all out of vacation days.”

“This is huge. We need to meet up with David, now,” I said, picking up my motorcycle helmet. “Come on. Hopefully, we can catch him at the hospital.”

Part 09: David Clay

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_09.1.pngI had just made it into the main entrance of the hospital when I was ambushed by a familiar figure. She moved like a predator, secure in her domain and completely aware she existed at the top of the food chain.

“Excuse me! Mr. Clay! Naomi Abara, Seattle Times reporter!” She cried out expertly cutting me off from the automatic doors into the hospital lobby. “May I have a few moments to answer some questions?”

“Mrs. Abara, due to an ongoing investigation, my client is unable to answer any questions at this time,” I stated in a businesslike monotone. “We have no comment.”

“I am not interested in your client,” the reporter stated, savoring my surprise at the revelation. “I am interested in you, counselor.”

“W-w-what?” I stammered, my thoughts racing.

“Mr. Clay, can you please explain why there are no records of your life until 10 years ago?” she demanded, holding a tape recorder up for my answer. “There is a record of your law degree and bar exams but nothing before that. Where did you go for high school and undergraduate degree?”

“My early education was private tutoring, hence the lack of records,” I replied.

“What can you tell me about the Green Man?” she demanded, changing tactics, trying to throw me off balance.

“I know that William West is promoting a Green Man character along with his Hometown Heroes initiative,” I stated.

“Do you think there is a connection with Mr. West and the vigilante actions of this Green Man?”

“I know of no such connections. I am a private individual and am not interested in my history being made public,” I stated forcefully. “Now please step aside. I have an appointment I must keep.”

With that, I stepped around the reporter and went into the hospital. This reporter could be a problem. We would have to be cautious.

DFA_ECR_Log_0802_09.2.png“Mr. Clay, I cannot thank you enough for representing my son, Greg,” Mrs. Wilcox said. “He may have gotten mixed up with a bad element, but he is a good boy at heart.”

“I am happy to represent Mr. Wilcox,” I said. “He has expressed a real desire to reform for his crimes and I look forward to helping him to do so.”

Greg Wilcox had been beaten brutally by a vigilante and suffered from several broken limbs.

“Ma, please,” Greg pleaded with his mother. “Let the counselor do his job.”

“It is not a problem,” I said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to secure some things from the checkpoint, and we can begin with taking your deposition.”

I stepped out to the hallway and went to the two officers at the checkpoint. They had finished searching my boxes of casework and my bag and handed them over to me. I was walking back to Greg’s room when I heard a crash. The two officers on guard duty turned and went into the room with their pistols drawn. I heard sounds of fighting inside. I dropped my boxes and charged through Greg’s door as the cacophony peaked leaving an eerie silence.

I was astonished at the scene I witnessed in Mr. Wilcox’s room. A large man wearing green body armor styled to look like a superhero costume stood over the unconscious bodies of the two police officers. The elderly Mrs. Wilcox also laid bruised and bloody at his feet. He held Greg Wilcox by his broken arm causing him to cry out in agony as he ranted insanely at him.

“You didn’t tell them, did you!?!?” He demanded. “You didn’t tell them about me?!!?”

“N-n-n-n-no!” Mr. Wilcox cried out; his breath stolen by the pain.

“You will stop this violence, NOW!” I called out, challenging the man in the costume. “This man deserves his day in court.”

“They won’t do anything,” he opined. “They will just slap him on the wrist and let him go.”

“This is madness,” I stated. “What kind of sadist are you? How could you hurt an old lady?”

“I can see his sins,” the muscular man replied with a manic intensity. “He is a thief and has committed many crimes, preying on the weak and less fortunate. This woman never discouraged him,” he all but yelled, spittle flying. “She enabled him and encouraged him and is just as guilty as he is!”

Moving with superhuman speed the green-clad man scooped up the elderly woman and threw her out the window before I could even move.

“Noooooooooo!” Greg Wilcox screamed, tears streaming down his battered face. The ‘Green Man’ backhanded him with a powerful blow knocking him unconscious.

“What the….” the ‘Green Man’ stammered as a rip in space and time itself appeared to my left in the room. Jack Youngblood and Fergus Mac Cormaic jumped through it into the room landing lightly.

“OK,” Fergus snarled. “Which of you assholes is throwing little old ladies out the window? Cause, I am going to kick your ass!”

The costumed man stared at Fergus and Jack in confusion, and I seized on the opportunity to try and reason with him. “You must cease this unlawful vigilante behavior. Your actions make you just as guilty as the criminals you hunt.”

“My cause is just,” The ‘Green Man’ replied. “The guilty must pay and I am the righteous bringer of Justice!”

“Wait,” Fergus said. “You think you are the Green Man?” he asked incredulously. “You?”

“Buddy, I know the Green Man,” His tattoos flared with the light of Wylde green power, and a brutal shillelagh manifested in his hand. His eyes glowed dangerously with green fire. “And you, sir, are no Green Man!”
The costumed figure flinched at Fergus’s predatory manifestation of power, a touch of fear in his eyes. Jack saw that Fergus had startled him and decided to try a non-violent approach himself. He drew his silver Warden’s Sword and brandished his wizard’s staff.

“I am Jack Youngblood, Warden of the White Council of Wizards, Protector of the Pacific Northwest, and I command you to surrender!” he cried out with authority. For a moment everything seemed to slow down, and I had hope that our entreaties had reached the costumed man.

But, he ground his teeth and said, “What’s a White Council?”

The Green Man lashed out with blinding speed, hitting me square in the chest. Luckily, I was prepared for him, and was able to absorb the powerful blow without being harmed.

Before I could retaliate Fergus roared a battle cry like some wild animal and the two began an exchange of blows that moved so fast that I could barely follow it. Jack gathered power and his staff began glowing with mystical fire. With a gesture, he unleashed a blast of energy and light so powerful that it nearly blinded us all. It struck the ‘Green Man’ full in the chest and tossed him across the room into some medical equipment, demolishing it.

It was hard to believe anyone could survive such a display of raw power. But the costumed man jumped up from the floor, the plates of his armor melted and distorted by the heat of the blast, and he charged across the room in the blink of an eye. Jack barely got his mystical shield up in time and it rang like a gong. The Warden would surely be dead without that shield, and it barely held against the vigilante’s fury.

I could see the strain on Jack’s face. He had channeled powerful magic in the hope of ending the fight quickly before anyone else got hurt and he had pushed himself to the very edge of exhaustion. He was vulnerable and would not be able to keep up such a pace for much longer.

I charged forward and grabbed the vigilante in an arm lock. attempting to contain him. Even using my full power, I had to strain with all my might. This man was strong!

I realized I would not be able to hold him for long. Just as I feared I would lose control of the ‘Green Man’, Fergus appeared in front of him and ripped his mask off. A cascade of water splashed us all as the vigilante’s muscular bulk seemed to instantly deflate on itself.

In contrast to his previous deep, imposing voice, the small man cried out in a high-pitched voice.

“Give me back my face!”

I heard a snap and the ‘Green Man’ collapsed, howling in pain. “My arm!” he cried incredulously. “You broke my arm!”

The powerful form of the vigilante had been transformed into a scrawny little man with a broken arm who was howling in pain. Fergus held the mask in shock, and we all realized that it suddenly appeared to have mystical symbols carved all over it like some mind of mystic focus object.

We all stood staring at each other in disbelief as police sirens wailed in the night. Jack was the first one to snap out of it. “David you are going to have to stay here and be a witness to this guy assaulting everyone,” Jack said.

“How can I explain that this small man was able to overcome fully armed and armored police officers and throw an elderly woman out a window?” I demanded.

“You don’t explain it at all,” Jack said leaving me confused.

“Just tell them that you don’t know for sure how he did it,” Fergus explained. “It is the truth. The cops will probably speculate that he was hopped up on PCP or something.”

“Right. But we need to clean up the evidence a bit,” Jack said, looking at the security cameras. “Fergus and I are going to go to the security office and erase those hard drives and then get the hell out of Dodge. We can meet up at my place after the police take your statement.”

“Come on, Fergus,” he said. “We’ve got some work to do.”

I saw Jack jump a little as he picked up what looked like a plain-looking water bottle on his way out. If the look on Jack’s face was any indication, I believe we just found the Djinn’s container. I just hoped the young Warden wouldn’t do anything foolish with it.



Book 08: Chapter 02

Dresden Files Accelerated: Emerald City: Requiem HumAnnoyd