Tales of the Djinn: The City of Endless Night

By Emma Holly

When your boyfriend is a real live angel other men can’t compete.

Amateur magician Georgie swears this is true . . . until she and Connor leave everything they know to save the genie world. That’s where she discovers angels don’t have a monopoly on sex appeal.

Sultan Iksander would rather lose his smoke than fall for Georgie, no matter how smart and brave she is. The human race are rivals to genie kind—and angels are just traitors! His mission to help his people is what’s important, not getting tangled up in love triangles.

Only Connor believes in their chances for happiness. This angel knows love is worth fighting for, whatever form it takes.

Book 4 in the Djinn Series

“A great series. If erotic readers haven’t discovered it yet, they’re missing out . . . The City of Endless Night is simply amazing.”—Long and Short Reviews

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emma Holly
• Release date: Oct 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9780996771849

Emma Holly

Emma Holly is the award winning, USA Today bestselling author of more than forty romantic books featuring billionaires, genies, faeries and just plain extraordinary folks. She loves the hot stuff, both to read and to write!

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Tales of the Djinn: The City of Endless Night

Emma Holly

Digital edition

Copyright 2017 Emma Holly. All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission of the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. It includes sexually explicit content that is only appropriate for adults—and not every adult at that. Those who are offended by more adventurous depictions of sexuality or frank language possibly shouldn’t read it. Literary license has been taken in this book. It is not intended to be a sexual manual. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons living or dead is either fictitious or coincidental. That said, the author hopes you enjoy this tale!

Tales of the Djinn: The City of Endless Night is an approximately 90,000-word novel.

eISBN-10: 0-9967718-4-0

eISBN-13: 978-0-9967718-4-9

Discover other exciting Emma Holly titles at www.emmaholly.com

Cover photos: Bigstock—zastavkin, Bashkatov

Table of Contents

Title Page

The City of Endless Night

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Hidden Talents: Chapter One

About the Author

Other Titles by Emma Holly

The City of Endless Night

When your boyfriend is a real live angel other men can’t compete

Amateur magician Georgie swears this is true . . . until she and Connor leave everything they know to save the genie world. That’s where she discovers angels don’t have a monopoly on sex appeal.

Sultan Iksander would rather lose his smoke than fall for Georgie, no matter how smart and brave she is. The human race are rivals to genie kind—and angels are just traitors! Rescuing his people is what’s important, not getting tangled up in love triangles.

Only Connor believes in their chances for happiness. This angel knows love is worth fighting for, whatever form it takes.

Book 4 in the Tales of the Djinn

~

Praise for the Djinn series

FANTASTIC! [T]his may be the best thing she has written to date . . . an epic tale of romantic fantasy.—In My Humble Opinion

Addictive . . . should not be missed!—Long and Short Reviews

Prologue

—

Previously in the Tales of the Djinn

—

A sun the size of a soccer ball floated in the center of the doorframe Georgie had spelled into being. She stood in her childhood bedroom, her beat-up demolition boots planted firmly on oak floorboards. Assertive stance notwithstanding, she couldn’t deny being disconcerted by her success. As a human, she had a small gift for magic: to see things other people didn’t and devise simple rituals. This spell owed its existence to the expertise of an imp. Georgie only sketched out the final strokes. Still, the enchanted portal clearly accessed another realm. Cold air gusted toward her, carrying the strong scent of sodden stone. Nose wrinkling at the smell, she made out a large, dimly lit building. Immense granite arches disappeared in darkness high overhead. Water dripped, but the puddles scattered on the worn floor were ice.

The space felt monolithic but also industrial.

Directly ahead, a pair of towering arches framed a distant nighttime metropolis. Tiny lights shone from countless windows, the cityscape gently rising and dipping. Gleaming silver domes marked the highest points. Some reminded Georgie of cathedrals, others the onion-topped buildings of Russia. The sky above them was clear and star-strewn, the white snake of the frozen river indicating a fresh snowfall.

The beauty of Luna’s capital shocked her. Given the Empress's evil nature, shouldn’t it resemble a pit of hell?

Georgie didn’t voice the thought. She wasn’t alone here—or exclusively among friends. Actually, her boyfriend Connor was her only friend for sure. The rest who’d helped or watched her create the door were djinn. They were mainly dark genies or ifrits. The single light djinni, Iksander, was the distractingly handsome leader of a place he called the Glorious City. That morning, Georgie and Connor saved his life . . . which she guessed meant they were allies.

To call them friends would be stretching it.

The seven demons were a motley bunch, ranging from the bespectacled gargoyle who’d designed the door spell to three hulking bodyguards. Curious to check her results, their blue-scaled captain stepped closer to her side. Many masters, the last of which had been Georgie’s foster caretaker, had enslaved Taytoch and his crew. Luna was gone now, banished by a wish Georgie hadn’t known she had the power to make. The world Taytoch gazed into was closer to his home than he’d been in a century. Satisfaction flickered into his snakelike face.

Excellent, he said. You’ve connected your door to the spot we hoped. That’s the abandoned power plant.

In the Neva District? Sultan Iksander asked, apparently having heard of it.

Yes. It’s been decommissioned. The new facility in Hodensk is more efficient.

Well, the door looks sound. The attractive sultan leaned in to peer at it, his wavy golden hair tied back in a thick long tail. Why don’t you take your crew through first?

We’ve played no tricks here, the demon said haughtily.

Iksander smiled, unwilling to take the ifrit’s word. Nonetheless. We’ll wait to see you pass safely.

Despite acting insulted, Taytoch chose one of his foot soldiers to go first. As the ifrit crossed the threshold, the image within the doorframe rippled like a watery skin he was pushing through. Contrary to Georgie’s expectations, the demon didn’t immediately show up on the other side. Weirdly, it took a few seconds before the scene inside the door refreshed. Then they saw him standing beneath the arches, looking stolidly back at them.

It worked! Georgie exclaimed, which caused her boyfriend to squeeze her arm and smile. Connor’s blue eyes twinkled, their dreamy hue a hint of his true nature. He was a literal angel—not fallen, he swore, just experiencing life in a more material fashion than when he’d been a shining star out in the cosmos. Though Georgie was no saint, Connor was her best friend. He was her heart and joy, the most loving being she knew. No matter what, he always wanted the best for her.

His unshakable faith enabled her to accomplish what little magic she had thus far.

Whether Taytoch appreciated this she didn’t know. Good genies weren’t on the best terms with angels—and never mind dark ifrits like him. Though all djinn believed in a creator, they didn’t necessarily trust God’s divine servants.

Whatever the demon thought on the topic, he sent his remaining bodyguards through the portal, laboriously dragging Luna’s amphorae bags with them. Though heavy, the numerous brass containers couldn’t be left behind. Filled with life energy the empress had stolen from dying humans, they’d be crucial to powering the next door Taytoch’s crew needed to navigate.

As Georgie understood it, traveling in the djinn dimension was like riding the subway. Sometimes, to get where you wanted, you had to switch train lines. The ifrits’ next transfer point was in their former captor’s metropolis.

Taytoch’s valet-demon Fariel followed the bodyguards through the door. The female Pink went next, and finally Ishmael the library imp. Each appeared on the other side after the same delay. Once the imp arrived, he offered Georgie two thumbs up plus a congratulatory grin—which Georgie thought was nice of him. Of all Taytoch’s crew, Georgie knew and liked the cute gargoyle best. No doubt disapproving of their interspecies fondness, Taytoch rolled deep red eyes.

See you on the other side, he said and stepped briskly through himself.

His departure left Georgie, Connor, and Iksander alone in her old bedroom. Somewhat prepared for the trip, she and Connor donned winter coats and hauled on supply backpacks. The sultan wore a coat already but he zipped it.

The sound was uncomfortably suggestive, reminding her of a kiss they'd shared earlier. That had been the result of heightened emotions: hers at leaving everything she knew to help him return home, his at having to rely on a human who too closely resembled his murdered wife. Georgie couldn’t deny Iksander was handsome, or that the situation he hoped to resolve in his city was desperately pitiable. Pity aside, the sultan was no Connor, who was plenty attractive in his own right. Sexy, considerate, sweet right down to his bones, being true to him was no sacrifice.

More like a piece of cake, she assured herself.

The realization steadied her enough to focus on the hurdle in front of her.

I guess we’re next, she said, her pulse kicking higher with tension.

The sultan noticed she was nervous.

We can hold hands, if you like, he said, surprising her. From what I’ve seen of your abilities, I’m sure you’d make it fine by yourself. The only challenge is that the first trip through a portal is nerve-wracking.

Georgie debated but, truly, when it came to being sucked into a new reality, did it make sense to turn him down?

I’m not too proud to accept your offer, she admitted.

As she gripped his hand, she pushed aside her awareness that his fingers were strong and warm.

Hold mine too, Connor teased, though he least of all was prone to anxiety. Unless he were feeling concern for her, he barely knew what fear was.

Georgie squeezed his hand as well. Without warning, a laugh bubbled out of her. She had an angel on one side and a genie on the other. It should have been the start of a cheesy joke, but the two men’s grips felt bizarrely right. Her reaction wasn’t hysteria. When she weighed her emotion, she realized her blood fizzed with happiness.

What’s funny? Iksander asked.

She was too giddy not to answer. Me doing this with the pair of you. I ought to be terrified. Instead, I feel as if I’m about to live the craziest, most wonderful part of my life yet.

Connor beamed. Her joy was a joy to him. I love seeing you like this, Georgie. Coming into your power. Being who you really are.

Was that what she was doing? She didn’t know, but evidently her elation was infectious. The sultan’s eyes gleamed as he chuckled. When their light warmed her deep inside, fighting the effect seemed pointless.

Come, Iksander said, tugging her and Connor toward the door. I’ve seen your world. Now let me show you mine.

Chapter One

Breaching the barrier that skinned the portal was like pushing through a combination of clammy Jell-O and prickly electric current. Instinctively, Georgie sucked in and held a breath. A second later, she didn’t have breath to hold. Everything disappeared: light, sound, even physical sensation. No hands clasped hers. No angel. No djinni. Panic seized her dimly, as if her brain were blurred. Was she spinning? Falling? Was she even alive?

Connor! she thought.

You’re all right, someone said. She couldn’t tell who it was. For all she knew, she was talking to herself.

I’m all right, she thought, in case she actually was alone and had no one else to count on. I’m—

She reappeared, abruptly so solid in her body she felt twice her normal weight. Her backpack had made it through the portal too, and its continued forward motion unbalanced her. Her knees smacked the ground, making her glad she’d chosen heavier traveling clothes. She’d have ripped anything less substantial than her black buckled leather pants. Connor and Iksander caught her from either side, their tandem grips preventing her from pitching onto her face.

Neither man was unsteady from the journey. Not surprisingly, Iksander released her first.

Whew! Connor said as if he’d found the trip exciting. You okay, Georgie?

His grin of enjoyment was impossible not to respond to.

I think so, she said, smiling back. Her heart pounded crazily in her chest. She gazed around. Behind them, the door they’d come through seemed to have disappeared, its charge exhausted by the many travelers who’d just used it. Iksander glanced at the spot and nodded, so perhaps he sensed some remnant. Either way, she couldn’t fret over it too much. Their surroundings were interesting. Their scattered group stood on a broad covered portico. To her left was the abandoned power plant, the walls of which were black and featureless and curved. The giant columns she’d noted earlier didn’t block the arctic cold. Her breath came out in clouds, her muscles already shivering. Only the hand Connor held was warm. This place is realer than I expected.

Of course it’s real, Captain Taytoch snapped. As is our impatience to return home at long last.

Taytoch’s tetchiness would have stung if Georgie hadn’t wanted the demons safely off her hands. Back in her dimension, they’d have too many opportunities to cause trouble. Knowing how Luna treated them—no pay, no respect, not even a guarantee of their lives—reminded her to be tolerant.

I understand, she said. Do you want to go to the transfer point right away? I’m happy to help you unlock it if you’re ready to show me how.

It’s this way, he said, striding off abruptly.

Georgie wondered if he’d expected—or maybe wanted—her to argue. She bit back a smile as, caught by surprise, his crew jerked into motion to follow him. The bags the bodyguards were dragging clanked over the granite floor.

Mind the ice, her buddy Ishmael called cheerily over his shoulder. Feet without claws can slip.

Iksander hissed as his skidded, despite wearing sturdy work boots the same as her and Connor. Georgie recalled that his Glorious City was warm year-round, more Miami than Moscow. The sultan’s scowl didn’t lessen as Taytoch led them off the portico and down an incline of knee-deep snow. Georgie wasn’t used to that herself. Virginia had the white stuff, of course, especially the Blue Ridge area where she lived. This, however, was snow on steroids. She had to drive her feet hard into the drifts to break the crust on top.

On the bright side, the exertion warmed her up.

A few tramps later, Connor jolted to a halt.

Look how beautiful! he exclaimed, gesturing toward the sky. The stars are even brighter than in Black Bear.

The small town she and Connor hailed from didn’t suck for stargazing, but these skies were astonishing. Milky swaths of uncountable twinkling diamonds festooned the ebony void, like she’d only seen in photographs taken by fancy telescopes. Despite the urgency of their errand, she stopped in her tracks and gaped.

Possibly because he needed to catch his breath, Iksander paused as well.

We’re above the reach of the city lights, he explained. And djinn don’t have pollution like humans.

Being able to make the comment seemed to improve his mood. The sultan was a proud man. He’d been thrust into her world alone, stripped of the privileges he was used to, and forced to live under circumstances humble enough to be degrading. Though she hadn’t heard him complain, she suspected he enjoyed feeling superior again.

Taytoch didn’t appreciate their dawdling.

Could we get on with this? he called from ahead, his voice low but carrying. "Perhaps before some other ass-wipe sorceress senses our presence and tries to makes us her prize? There are only four million practitioners of the unnatural arts down there."

Four million, Georgie thought. That was a big city.

Sorry, Connor said, the grin he flashed contradicting his repentance. We’ll hurry now. Promise.

They did hurry, and caught up at a flat outcrop shielded from the city’s view by a scattering of evergreens. The valet-demon Fariel, whose main work for Luna had involved magically stealing luxuries off the internet, was waving his arms and spelling snow off the ground as efficiently as a snow blower. The removal of the frigid blanket revealed a five-foot-wide manhole. The cover wasn’t iron—to which djinn were allergic—but slightly tarnished embossed silver.

This is the spot, Fariel said once the space was clear. The valet sounded excited, and he wasn’t the only one. The girl demon Pink was biting her thumb and bouncing on her feet. Georgie supposed all Taytoch’s crew were looking forward to going home again.

With Connor’s help, she climbed the long step up onto the square platform.

What do I do? she asked Taytoch.

The question seemed to dismay him. That’s up to you. Luna set the lock that sealed this transfer point to our world, to prevent us from escaping. Normally, only she could remove it. Because you’re human, your magic outranks hers.

She’d heard this claim before. The story went that God created angels from air, djinn from smokeless fire, and lastly humans out of clay. Up until her race’s appearance, djinn were God’s favorites. For whatever reason, He moved the Johnny-come-latelies into the number two spot, demoting genies in the process. Angels agreed to the new pecking order but not djinn. For their stubbornness, God revoked their ability to speak to his winged choirs. More galling, humans who knew the right rituals and possessed sufficient faith could now command the djinn—King Solomon being the foremost example.

Knowing this would have been more helpful if Georgie could remotely imagine herself as that king’s equal. To her mind, she was basically a normal person. Luna, her former guardian and a supposedly inferior genie, had exercised more power than Georgie could wrap her head around. She’d turned the entire population of Iksander’s capital into statues. Hell, she’d freaking gone back in time to alter Georgie’s past! Georgie didn’t see how she was going to break a spell the empress set without assistance.

Ishmael’s small upturned face caught her attention. The gargoyle smiled calmly at her, his wire-rimmed spectacles glinting with starlight. He’d been a mentor of sorts when he’d run Luna’s library.

Could you teach me a chant that would work? she asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "My knowledge is irrelevant. You must speak from your heart. From your faith."

That word always made Georgie think of church, and she was no pew warmer. Unsure, she rubbed her upper lip with a gloved finger.

"You’re not that different from the other you," Iksander interjected, referring to the alternate timeline Luna had erased in order to—so she’d hoped—prevent Georgie from allying with Iksander. The strategy hadn’t worked, but Georgie no longer remembered the more traditionally spiritual person she’d been before.

Iksander is right, Connor said, giving her puffy coat sleeve a supportive rub. Belief is part of you, and impossible to remove. Ishmael could teach you all the chants he knows. It’s your conviction that makes them work.

The confidence in his eyes almost persuaded her.

Oh fine, Georgie surrendered.

Resigned to trying, though hardly brimming with self-assurance, she shrugged off her big backpack. That weight gone, she stepped to the edge of the silver manhole. Magical symbols marched in relief around a central glyph: Luna’s slender crescent moon. Under her coat, Georgie broke out in nervous sweat. Christ, she hated improvising. If she’d had her laptop, she could have cribbed something that sounded faith-y off Google.

Then again, she could look faithful if she wanted. Fake it till you make it, like people said. She knelt down, folded her hands together, and brought them to her mouth.

Heavenly Father— she began.

Though she hadn’t meant to alarm them, every one of the gathered demons took a step back.

She couldn’t help it. She coughed a short chuckle. Sorry, she said, trying to control her amusement.

That’s all right, Ishmael assured her. You go ahead. We’ll keep a safe distance.

Georgie felt Connor move beside her, his hand falling briefly to stroke her knitted cap. Connor was an angel. If he didn’t laugh at her half-assed attempt to pray, probably it was okay. She closed her eyes and quieted her thoughts.

Heavenly Father, she repeated. "Please look down and bless these demons You also created. They’ve been in captivity a lot of years, the same as other folks You helped out a time or two. They don’t want to cause trouble, only to go back home. I think they should be allowed to. If You’re okay with that, please help me unlock this door for them."

She didn’t feel anything in particular, but pulling off her gloves seemed like a good idea. Hands bare, she bent forward to place her palms on the outer rim of the manhole cover. The icy metal warmed instantly, which maybe was a good sign.

Unexpectedly, she recalled something Luna said in her role as Georgie’s fake guardian. There are two kinds of people in the world, she’d observed. Bosses and sheep. Georgie was a boss. Back home, she ran her own business. Black Cat Upcycle might be small but it was hers, no question.

I’m the boss, she thought. Fair to the djinn or not, God made me the boss of this.

Open, she said more commandingly. I am the instrument of justice. This barrier to passage has no right to exist. Break now and make a way.

She pushed the edge of the manhole with all her might, picturing it as a cracker snapping in the middle. She felt something then, a flash of heat streaking from her center and out her hands. A fissure of light crazed across the metal, whining like a mosquito. When the fissure hit Luna’s symbol, the cover cracked into two pieces.

Whoa, she said and sat back on her heels in shock.

Connor laughed and squeezed her shoulder. Georgie, you have to stop being surprised by your successes.

The ifrits weren’t surprised. They’d already sprung into action to perform the next task for their departure.

Thank you, Taytoch said, gesturing for his crew to drag the lumpy amphorae bags closer. Sensing she was no longer needed, Georgie moved out of the way to watch.

The ifrits must have thought time was of the essence. The bodyguards began uncorking vessels with great efficiency, pouring one glowing stream after another down the crack Georgie had opened. A faint frame of light shimmered into being above the manhole, soon topped by a graceful Moroccan arch. The arch grew brighter as they fed in more energy. Ghostly ornaments appeared around it: colored tilework and stone carving.

As soon as the first canvas bag was flat, the guards yanked open the second.

Wait, Taytoch ordered.

We’re not done, Captain, the female objected, her face dismayed. The portal is barely three-quarters charged.

Wait, Taytoch repeated.

He turned to Georgie and Connor. His expression said he didn’t want to delay any more than his underlings.

Yes? Georgie asked, wondering what the hang-up was.

Taytoch lifted his naturally haughty chin. I feel honor bound to warn you that if we continue, insufficient energy will remain to power your journey home. You and . . . the angel will be stranded here until you acquire an alternate supply.

Georgie looked at Connor, who shrugged at her. You know me, Georgie. I always think problems will work out. I’m willing to stay if it means Taytoch can go home.

Iksander had two cents to add as well. Taytoch isn’t wrong about his crew being vulnerable to exploitation by other sorcerers. Luna was a product of this city, not an anomaly. The longer the ifrits stay here, the greater the odds they’ll be discovered.

The sultan’s face was cool, as if stating facts that didn’t affect him. Logically, though, why would he wish to spend more time in her company? Georgie would be foolish to want him to.

She shook off the tiny awareness that she did.

I think we have to do what’s right. She turned to Taytoch. Use whatever power you need. Just— She hesitated, her inner junk salvager rising up. Please leave us the empty vessels. We might find a use for them.

The snake demon bowed to her from the waist. Your mercy shines as brightly as your foresight.

She wasn’t sure he was sincere. Taytoch was hard to read. Whatever he meant, he didn’t waste further time. He joined his underlings in tipping out the shining contents of the remaining jars. When they’d finished, not only did the tiled arch look solid, but it possessed a small spinning sun.

In, he ordered his associates.

They went one at a time but in quick succession. In contrast to the portal she’d helped create, this door seemed to plunge those who entered down some hole. Finally, only Taytoch and the gargoyle were left.

May I go last, Captain? Ishmael asked politely.

Taytoch shot him a hard look. Georgie had once seen the enraged ifrit kick the smaller demon across a room. Despite this, Ishmael didn’t flinch.

I wish to say goodbye, he explained. I promise I won’t linger.

You have two minutes, Taytoch warned. After that, I’m locking this puppy down.

He jumped before she could laugh at his use of human slang.

Ishmael, she said, eyes stinging as she realized how much she would miss him.

The gargoyle held out gray hands to her.

Georgie had to crouch to take them. She’d never touched him like this before. Though his skin felt like granite, it was as warm as hers.

Georgie, the gargoyle said. I have greatly enjoyed our association, even though—a time or two—you made me sad I wasn’t born to be good.

I hope this doesn’t insult you, but to me, you’re plenty good enough.

Ishmael’s glasses flashed as he shook his head in amusement. He squeezed her hands once and then let go.

Remember me, he called, leaping into the manhole like the others.

As soon as he disappeared, the silver cover resealed itself. Interestingly, Luna’s moon symbol shifted to an intertwined hammer and measuring tape.

Georgie stood up and wiped her cheeks. I guess that’s that, she said through the lump in her throat.

Connor, who always understood what she was feeling, pulled her against his side. Ishmael will remember you too, he said.

~

Until he’d traveled to Georgie’s world, the only humans Iksander knew were those he’d watched on pirated TV shows. Though the sultan wasn’t as jumpy as an ifrit, watching Georgie do magic was unnerving. Seeing the symbol the universe apparently considered hers appear on the portal cover made him uneasier still. He supposed a human would have felt the same in proximity to a wolf.

Even if the beast were friendly, you knew it could eat you.

He was pinching his lower lip when the angel cleared his throat and caught his attention. Connor was shoving empty brass amphorae back into the carrying sacks.

Help me with these? he asked, flashing his habitual sunny grin. It’s cold out here, and these bags are too heavy for Georgie to lug up that slope in addition to her backpack.

Of course. Iksander flushed over needing the reminder. As a rule, sultans weren’t packhorses. They were, however, supposed to look out for females.

Can we shelter in the power station? Georgie asked, seeming not to have noticed his lapse of manners. There won’t be wards against intruders?

There might be, Iksander said, but I doubt they’ll have been set by Luna. Fortunately, I’m not such a magical dolt I can’t get through them.

He hadn’t intended to make her laugh, but he didn’t mind that she did. Georgie’s resemblance to his dead wife was eerie, but her laugh was one of the things that didn’t remind him of Najat. Najat had laughed like a princess, cultivated and delightful. Georgie, he noticed, had a tendency to snort.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until they’d surmounted the slope again.

That sobered him. Indulging his attraction to the human wasn’t a smart idea. For one thing, she was a human. For another, she and the