The Bonehill Curse (7 page)

Azuli made to walk away but Jabalah bowed to Ness. ‘A thousand welcomes to Arabesque Alley, miss,’ he said, closing the gate. ‘You are safe, rest assured. We should get that head wound attended to quickly.’

‘Really, it’s nothing,’ Ness muttered, still stinging from Azuli’s comment about saving her. She winced as Jabalah pressed a handkerchief to the wound and tied a makeshift bandage around her head.

‘That should help,’ he muttered. ‘I will get my wife to treat it later. Now follow me.’

Ness nodded. Her head throbbed and a slight dizziness made everything seem even more distant and unreal. Jabalah reached to take the sack from her but Ness shrank back, hugging it to her. With a shrug, he turned and strode off. Ness followed and fell into step as Jabalah and Azuli pushed their way through the crowds. Jabalah limped slightly as he twisted and turned past people.

‘Bet you never knew about this place?’ Azuli grinned back at her as he led her through the narrow alleys. ‘Few people do.’

Rounded windows with brightly coloured shutters dotted the walls and, now and then, Ness glimpsed courtyards with potted palms and fountains through doorways. She shook her head and ducked under a rug that dangled from the lines hanging overhead. Copper pots, baskets and food stalls lined the alleyway. True, it was alien to the London she knew, but something troubled her. She couldn’t think what.

‘We have lived here for nearly fifty years,’ Jabalah said, ‘but we keep our presence as quiet as possible.’

A mouth-watering smell filled the air, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since that morning and that so much had happened since then. Giving her a sidelong glance, Jabalah laughed, tore a chunk of flatbread from a nearby stall and handed it to Ness. He threw a coin to the stallholder.

‘Hungry?’ he said, smiling and patting his pot belly.

Ness bit into the bread, barely pausing to chew. Jabalah held up a finger to stop her biting into it again. Instead he took the remaining bread from her and dipped it into a nearby cooking pot. Ness took the bread, now coated in sweet-smelling gravy, and continued to devour it. It tasted divine.
Is it meat or fruit I can taste? It’s definitely something sweet and yet . . .

Jabalah grinned. ‘It’s good?’

‘Delicious.’ Ness smiled back and nodded. Then, recalling the previous night, she turned to Azuli. ‘So why were you following me?’ she snapped, her voice thick with bread and gravy. ‘And why did you break into my dormitory and attack me in the middle of the night?’

Azuli’s face became stern. ‘Hafid will tell you what you need to know.’

They pushed on in silence. The crowd flowed past them, smiling and nodding. And then it struck her.
So many old people
, Ness thought. She glanced around. The crowd had grey hair and careworn faces. Their backs were bent under some heavy burden, something more than the sacks and baskets they carted around with them.

Jabalah stopped at another ornate door framed with tiles and flowing Arabic script. The courtyard beyond was decorated with symmetrical patterns that seemed to merge into one another. A palm grew in the corner of the yard. It was warm in there. Ness looked up to see that the yard had a glass roof. They passed through another doorway and clambered up several flights of stairs and through an entrance covered by a heavy curtain.

They stood in a large room, richly decorated with wall hangings and paintings. Ness’s shoes slid on the tiled floor. Daylight flooded through two doors that opened on to a balcony.

An old man rocked to and fro on a backless low sofa in the centre of the room. He wore black robes but his bald head was uncovered. Ness shivered as he stared in her direction with blind, white eyes.

‘We have brought the girl, Hafid,’ Azuli said, bowing low to the old man.

‘You are Necessity Bonehill?’ Hafid said. His voice sounded cracked and stretched.

‘Yes,’ Ness replied, giving a slight curtsy in spite of herself. ‘Forgive me, sir, but how do you know my name?’

Hafid gave a broad smile. ‘It is only fair that you understand. Sit.’ He pointed to a cushioned stool close to him. ‘We are the Lashkars of Sulayman.’

Ness settled herself on the stool, glad to rest as her head still throbbed.

The ancient man raised himself up and began in a reedy voice. ‘Once, Sulayman ruled justly over men, djinns and all animals. He could speak to the birds, such was the will of Allah.’ The old man planted his palms on the floor and dragged himself towards Ness, his white eyes staring at her. ‘But not all were happy to be ruled by Sulayman. The djinns, like man himself, have free will. They can choose to follow God or the devil. The djinns were a powerful race, full of magic and enchantment. Some were too proud to bow to a human king and they rebelled. An army of djinns rose up and lay waste to a third of Sulayman’s kingdom.’

‘Djinns?’ Ness said breathlessly. The thing in her dream had called himself a djinn.

The wizened old man gave a croaking laugh. ‘Creatures of fire and light. Beings of the most powerful magic. You might call them demons but they are more than that.’ Hafid rocked back and forth and continued with his tale. ‘With the help of Allah, Sulayman crushed the djinns. Those who would not repent were each trapped in a brass bottle sealed with powerful spells and plunged into the darkest chasms of the sea –’

‘But mankind is ever curious and self-serving,’ Azuli interrupted. ‘Kings and magicians from the world over sought the bottles, hoping to harness the power inside.’

Hafid nodded and chuckled, sucking at his toothless gums. ‘Sulayman created an order of holy warriors, or Lashkars, and set them to guard the place where the bottles lay. He charged them with ensuring that nobody ever disturbed the djinns inside.’

‘But someone did disturb them?’ Ness stared at the old man, spellbound by his story.

‘Years passed, decades rolled on,’ the old man said, his voice growing stronger. ‘The Lashkars passed their holy duty on from father to son, but they became lazy. They thought their job easy and fell into ways of luxury and decadence. One night, an evil magician of immense power stole the bottles, hoping to open them and release chaos into the world. Only Sulayman’s personal intervention stopped him but the bottles were then scattered across the four corners of the world. Lost.’ Hafid looked forlorn. He licked his lips and leaned further forward. ‘In his fury, Sulayman charged his Lashkars and all their descendants with finding every bottle and destroying the djinns inside. This we must do – or die trying.’ Hafid stared, lost in time, at the crows that crowded the balcony.

Jabalah gave an uncomfortable cough and continued for the old man. ‘Only a silver sword carved with the djinn’s name would kill it. Knowing this, Sulayman forged one such weapon for each missing djinn. When the djinn’s blood was spilled, the blade would melt like ice in the summer sun.’

Silence fell over the room as Ness tried to take in this story.

Jabalah heaved a sigh. ‘For almost three thousand years, the Lashkars of Sulayman have wandered the world, making for wherever a rumour of a bottle or a djinn sprang up. We have sacrificed everything for our holy duty. Wherever the merchants of the world met, there we would be. London has become the centre of the world, the hub of a huge empire. All news and rumours pass through here, so this has become our most permanent home. We are the last of the Lashkars. We have one silver sword left. There is only one djinn remaining.’

‘You unleashed it, Necessity Bonehill,’ croaked the old man, returning to them. ‘And you will be our key to finding and destroying it.’

Great souls have wills feeble ones only have wishes.

T
raditional proverb

Chapter Ten

H
ome
T
ruths

Ness stared dumbfounded at Hafid. ‘This is madness,’ she said, glowering at the men around her. ‘Djinns and Sulayman? The truth is that you’ve kidnapped my parents and now you want money for it, but you had to get me out of the way first. That’s right, isn’t it?’

Hafid sighed. ‘No, my child. Your father started all this many years ago – we suspect that the bottle came into his possession before you were even born – and we’ve been watching your family ever since. But we have been powerless to influence events until now.’

‘Your father,’ Jabalah muttered, ‘unleashed the djinn some thirteen years ago, but then managed to return him to the bottle somehow. No mean feat. By the time we’d tracked him down, the bottle was gone. He denied all knowledge of it.’

‘He nearly destroyed us,’ Hafid said, shaking his head. ‘He has friends in high places – he set the police on us, and when they’d finished his personal thugs tried to frighten us off too. He is a dangerous man to cross, your father.’

Ness thought of her father. Was he capable of such cruelty? She shook her head. ‘This is too much. I won’t believe it.’

‘Azuli was trying to retrieve the bottle before
you
opened it,’ Jabalah said, putting a protective arm around the boy’s shoulder.

‘I saw the man with a strange package at Rookery Heights and guessed what it was. I would have got it that night but you awoke,’ Azuli muttered, giving her a dark look. ‘And I had to flee.’

‘The fact of the matter is that first your father and now you have opened the bottle, Miss Bonehill,’ Hafid said, sounding like a hanging judge. ‘The djinn is loose and it is our sworn duty to destroy him. You will assist us.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Ness exclaimed, reddening as all eyes fell on her. ‘I can’t help you.’ Panic and anger swirled in Ness’s stomach. These men were propelling her into something she knew nothing about and wasn’t sure she even believed in. It was insane!

Hafid narrowed his eyes again. ‘I think you can, Necessity Bonehill,’ he whispered. ‘I sense that you are important to our quest. You aren’t like others . . . Do you feel that?’

Ness’s cheeks reddened even more. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she lied. Of course she felt different. She always had. She wasn’t like the silly girls at the Academy – or like anyone for that matter. She was a Bonehill. She was special!

‘Before we can take the silver blade into battle,’ Hafid said, sucking on his toothless gums, ‘we must locate the djinn.’

‘And then who will carry the final sword?’ a voice called from the door.

Ness turned to see another tall, old man, his silver hair emphasised by the darkness of his skin. Ness could tell he had once been a fighter by his poise and grace but he had thinned with age. He wore rich silk robes of purple and a red turban with a jewelled clasp at the front.

‘Father,’ Azuli said, hurrying to his open arms.

Ness felt a sting of jealousy as father embraced son. Although they both had fierce, glittering eyes, Azuli did not share Taimur’s sharp, hawkish nose.

‘I will carry the sword. Taimur, you know I am younger than you,’ Jabalah said, worry lining his face. ‘That honour should fall to me.’

Ness looked from one man to the next. They all looked ancient to her. Something troubled her. The same feeling she had had as Jabalah led her through the streets. As if she were looking at a picture and some obvious detail was missing.
What is it?

‘No, you fought the previous djinn,’ Taimur said, ruffling his son’s hair. ‘I am senior. I should carry the sword.’

‘Father, no!’ Azuli stepped back. ‘You can’t!’ He turned to Hafid and dropped to his knees. ‘Hafid, with the greatest respect, the Lashkars are old. The tragedies of the years have ravaged them. Give me the chance to lay the final djinn to rest!’

‘You do not lack courage, Azuli,’ Hafid muttered, shaking his head. ‘But you are not truly of our line. An adopted child never inherits the Lashkar blood.’

Azuli stood up. ‘I’m not good enough? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Azuli!’ Taimur snapped, grabbing his son’s shoulder.

Hafid swayed as if Azuli’s outburst would blow him down. ‘It is not a question of whether you are good enough. It is whether or not you understand our true calling. You are rash and impetuous. Nobody asked you to steal the bottle, yet you tried. And you failed.’

Azuli stood fuming but unable to counter the accusation.

‘I’ve heard enough –’ Ness began.

‘The djinn is free,’ Hafid hissed, grabbing her wrist with his withered hand. Ness could see the veins pulsing within, the bony knuckles and cracked nails. ‘I can smell his foul breath on the wind of the city. You know it’s true!’

‘Let go and find him then!’ Ness cried, snatching her arm from his grasp. ‘I saw a creature, smoke and then . . . the girls at the Academy, they . . . It was horrible . . . Now he has my parents too. And it’s all my fault.’

‘To find the djinn, we must think first, then act. Tell me, Miss Bonehill, why did you open the bottle?’ Hafid said, leaning forward in his seat.

‘I didn’t know what was in it,’ Ness sniffed, hugging the sack to her. ‘It was sent to me by Uncle Carlos.’

‘Carlos Grossford,’ murmured Taimur.

‘You know him?’ Ness gasped, staring at the stern-looking man.

‘Knew him,’ Hafid said softly and inclined his head. ‘He was murdered last month . . . his throat cut.’

‘Murdered? Last month?’ Ness’s eyes widened, her heart pounded. Tears stung her eyes.
Poor Uncle Carlos
. ‘But he only sent me the bottle a few days ago. Why would anyone want to . . . ?’