“I reckon you’ll be stuck with me for a while,” said the jinn after an hour of them being stuck in traffic. It sat with its legs crossed and lifted on the glovebox, much to her companion’s dismay, who, on the other hand, was relieved it had finally agreed on the subject of wearing a seatbelt.

“For better or worse,” said Michael, absentmindedly as he stared at the red light.

“You’re a strange man. I was left with the impression you would do anything for the sake of your late wife. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“I will do anything,” Michael asserted, clenching the wheel tighter. “That’s why we’re looking for a different necromancer. I’d rather spend another year with you than leave Maria’s body in the hands of that freak.”

“Do you think it will be that simple? How much do you know about sorcerers if anything at all?”

“I know they forged the daggers we carry and use to vanquish evil spirits. There isn’t much else that I need.”

“You’re correct. Humans shouldn’t stick their noses where they don’t belong,” said the jinn, coldly. The light turned green, allowing them to move a few meters in the sea of cars before once again switching to yellow. “Allow me to ask you one thing. This wife of yours, what was she like before she passed?”

Michael leaned back on his seat, tilting his head upwards with a sigh. The question took him by surprise, and knowing the jinn’s devious nature, he was reluctant to answer. His eye caught the holiday photo of them, tucked behind the rear-view mirror, reminding him of days gone by. It was taken more than a decade ago, celebrating their tenth anniversary at a quiet place near Mt. Zirkel. It ached him to know now there was a stranger under her skin.

“She was smart, kind, everything one might wish in a spouse. She had one of the warmest smiles that could make even the icy mountain tops melt away.”

“Be more specific. You’re describing a mirage. Someone whose existence you’ve idealized due to your grief. What did you dislike about her?”

“Nothing.”

“Be honest,” the being pressed.

“Perhaps her stubbornness,” Michael admitted. “Once she set her mind on something, there was no force on Earth that could stop her. That’s the reason we got together. I used to be a trainee at the police academy back in Toronto before we moved to the United States. I saw her one day, walking around campus, searching for a man named Tim Velvet. I still remember his name. I remember every detail about this fateful day. She told me it was her missing uncle. Imagine the shock I felt after I saw her that same night in that black uniform with silver buttons, with her face bruised and her dagger covered in blood from the man she had just slaughtered. Her foot was resting triumphantly on his chest, but her expression spelled nothing but sadness and worry. It was then that I learned what an evil spirit was. I, of course, didn’t believe her at first. In my eyes, she had viciously taken the life of a man, and it was my duty not only as a future policeman, but also as a citizen to report her to the police. She overpowered me easily, though she was half my size. Whatever training they put her through was far more sufficient than the two years I spent at the academy. I have no idea what she saw in me, but the next time we met, she suggested we should go out.”

“And you said yes?”

“No. I still thought she was a murderer. It took some convincing before I believed she wasn’t insane. I joined the Order shortly after, and after that, we got married.”

“I assume it was her stubbornness as well that led to her demise.”

The brief sense of ease on Michael’s face disappeared abruptly.

“Working as an exorcist has its risks. It’s the same as working for the police force or the military. You exist with the notion that you might not live to see another day, but a life spent in fear is worse than a life lost in honor. The strong must protect the weak to keep the balance in this world. Maria died doing what she knew was right. I miss her, but I can’t blame her for choosing her own path.”

“Do you blame yourself then?”

“I blame the brute that killed her,” he slammed the clutch, shifting the gear with more force than he had to, causing the wooden cross hanging from the rear view mirror to hit the windshield with a clang.

“Do you believe in God?” the jinn asked with a certain intrigue in its tone.

“I think I’ve answered enough of your questions,” Michael grunted.

“One more and I shall reward your honesty by revealing to you a secret.”

“I believe in intelligent design. A ‘God’ might not exist in the traditional sense, but, to my assumption, there must be a demiurge of some kind. A higher being that causes the sun to rise, the Earth to spin, the rivers to flow, and the flowers to bloom. There is too much beauty in this world not to be intentional.”

“Beauty can deceive even the blinded. That rave-haired necromancer we met, he was quite handsome, wasn’t he?”

“I’d rather not be reminded of that twisted little brat.”

“I would refrain from using insults if I were you,” the jinn’s voice dropped to a sinister low. Behind its sunglasses was a surplus of smoke spilling out, kissing the roof of the car. “In that boy’s veins runs the blood of a true demigod. The same is true for all sorcerers, descendants of Edmon, son of Rhea. Humans should know better than to refer to them with irrelevance.”

“How do you know any of this?”

“I’m a jinn. I know many things. We’re not supposed to reveal any of this to humans.”

“Then why are you sharing it with me?”

“In the hope of establishing trust between us. I believe we got on the wrong foot, you and I.”

“You don’t say…”

“We’re not enemies. I simply want freedom, and I want it as soon as possible. Our interests are mutual in a way.”

“You shall have your freedom, sooner or later, but certainly not at any cost. I cannot abandon my principles and work with the Pole. Guys like him are more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The vast majority of sorcerers live in their own separate world, unaccessible to humankind. Do you know how many of them live in this one? How many of them have the gift for necromancy? And how many are proficient in their craft? That boy might… no. He is your only hope for getting your wife back.”

“You’re only saying that for your own personal gain.”

The light turned green, and Michael switched lanes so he could make a left turn.

“Where are we going?” The jinn asked. That wasn’t the usual route to their home.

“I’ll be meeting with Kristen, while you wait for me in the car.”

“Who’s Kristen?”

There was concern in Michael’s eyes, revealing his reluctance to answer. He dreaded a day would come when he had to reveal the truth to her about Maria’s state, but even so, it would hurt him more to cut all contact until he found a solution.

“She’s our daughter.”