This Cursed Flame: This Curse, #1

By Selina J. Eckert

Janan has been on the run for years. But her true nature may just force her to confront the very evil that created her.

 

Genie Janan is a misfit in two worlds: not human enough to live with humans, but not djinn enough to be a djinn. She's spent years running from the evil djinn who created her—and from her own magic—until a djinn revolution threatens what little safety she's managed to find. Even worse, she soon learns her powers are much darker than she'd ever imagined.

 

Laurelin dreams of being the world's next great chemist, but a rejection from the college prep program of her dreams sends her into a tailspin. But when Laurelin finds a glass bottle, she uncorks more than a genie. She is thrust into a world of myth and fairy tales… and surrounded by an impending magical war.

 

Can genie and human work together before time runs out? Or will the djinn conquer them and shroud both their worlds in death and dark magic?

 

This Cursed Flame is the wished-for first YA urban fantasy novel in the This Curse series. If you like imaginative fantasy, unlikely companions, and fast-paced action, then you'll love Selina J. Eckert's enchanting book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Cranes, LLC
• Release date: Apr 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386940395

Selina J. Eckert

Selina is a biologist-by-day, writer-by-night native of Pennsylvania. She lives with her husband, dog, and two cats and spends her time writing, reading, creating art, and dreaming about fictional worlds. Besides writing and sciencing, Selina also runs an author support business, Paper Cranes, LLC, that provides editing, consulting, and mapmaking services to authors, writers, and students. She has written two fairy-tale retelling short stories that were both finalists in Rooglewood Press short story contests and a fantasy short story, “Queen of Mist and Fog,” available through her newsletter.

Book preview

Chapter One

Janan

Fuego, Djinn Realm

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Janan couldn’t breathe.

Tiny white dots floated in her vision as her heart pumped blood faster than her brain could use it. They obscured the beige and white masonry of the city, the multicolored throng pushing through the cobbled streets like strutting peacocks. All four types of djinn surrounded her: the ifrits with their fire magic, marids with their water magic, sila with their air magic, and ghul with their shapeshifting and electric magic.

And she stood here, alone in the crowd, unprotected, probably the only genie in the city. A half-breed of magic forever caught between worlds. Her human life still colored her memories, her behavior, but the djinn who had turned her into this had robbed her of her natural life.

And the djinn could tell, could sense her other-ness, as they gave her a wide berth or cast vicious looks in her direction. She thought eventually she would be used to it, but even an errand out to fetch groceries was enough to send her into a panic, even after six years.

She hurried to the side of the road, trying to hide herself from their prying eyes. Her breaths were shallow, and she wheezed as she tried to pull enough oxygen into her lungs. She could almost see his gaze everywhere she turned: the hate in that marid’s face, the same crimson tint in that ifrit’s skin. Like he was everywhere. Would she ever be free of this fear?

She drew her hood lower on her forehead and pulled her cloak tighter around her, trying to hide the raspberry color of her hair, a sure sign of her genie status, and her violet dress with the gold embroidery. She had loved it when her adopted father, Mahtab, brought it home for her birthday, but now it seemed like too much, too flashy, like it drew the attention of too many.

Janan! A voice rang out over the roar of a thousand voices.

Janan cringed, her head snapping toward the sound. Several nearby djinn craned their heads, also searching for the source of the voice. Her eyes landed on a small, beige feline with ebony spots. If she didn’t look directly at the animal, she could almost see the form of the woman beneath the spell.

Safiyya! Janan, still breathless with fear, pushed her way back through the people still separating them and knelt in front of her friend.

Safiyya of the House Grimalkin studied her face. Everything okay?

Janan almost laughed. No, everything was not okay. It hadn’t been for some time. Not since before, when she was still human, when she still belonged.

But he wasn’t here, at least not as far as she could tell. It was only her brain running away faster than reason, again, her terror resurfacing after months of dormancy.

Her terror had almost been gone when he returned only a few months ago, like an angry ghost from her past, wishing to exact some terrible vengeance on her for her very existence. Her Turning had been a mistake. And now it was a hurdle to him, to his plans, to the very future of the Realm.

At least that was what he had said. Right before attacking, driving her from her home to flee to Fuego with her adopted family. She had brought him down upon them, and now she saw him everywhere she turned.

Yes, of course, she found herself saying, rising to her feet and refusing to meet Safiyya’s bright emerald gaze.

She couldn’t tell her what was going on. Safiyya had her own problems. She was djinn, one of the shapeshifters, but she’d been stuck as an ocelot for as long as Janan had known her, much like the way Janan was stuck halfway between djinn and human. One day, maybe Safiyya would tell her what had happened, why she was stuck, but for now Janan didn’t see a reason to draw the cat into her imaginary nightmares. It was enough to share this unspoken bond.

Safiyya continued to study her, doubtful eyes traveling across the old scars marring Janan’s pale skin. There were no new injuries for her to see, but her friend’s gaze burned across her skin, and Janan tugged the cloak tighter still. If she kept pulling at it, soon she’d be a diamond from the pressure.

The cat dropped her gaze, returning her attention to the writhing mass of djinn in front of them. Have you heard from the others yet?

No, nothing. Janan touched the shining gem that hung around her neck, a simple piece of Torrebon technology carried by almost every djinn and genie in the Realm. It not only allowed them access to the human and djinn internets but also provided a simple means of communication with just a small spark of magic.

It was all the magic she could bear to use. She had almost convinced herself that if she didn’t use any genie magic at all, maybe she could be human again. Still seventeen, still awkward and scared, but human, with a family and a life and human problems. As it stood now, she didn’t really fit anywhere, and she felt the weight of it every time she set foot outside.

Safiyya nodded her head at the crowd, and they wove through the scores of temporary stalls lining the sidewalk for the weekly farmers’ market. Vendors on both sides hawked their wares: fabric bolts here, jewelry there, tiny carved statues from the ifrit city of Prinnyn, mechanical toys from the ghul city of Torrebos. The road had been blocked off from automobile traffic for the day, allowing the thousands of pedestrians to browse freely without fearing oncoming cars.

Janan tried to focus on the market and push her fear out of her mind. It was uncontrollable, arising unbidden and unwanted, but sometimes she could stuff it back down and ignore it for a while.

At least until the next memory took her.

Her bag bounced against her thigh as she walked. It held only a few coins and her single purchase of the day: a bright glass bottle to add to her collection. To her, it had become a joke, a way of coping with what she was. A genie collecting bottles. Some form of control over the prison of her existence. And this bottle had felt particularly special, but she couldn’t say why. Perhaps some subconscious ghost of memory. Heavens knew there were enough ghosts flitting around in her skull.

The sun was rising higher in the sky as the morning dragged on, but Janan still shivered with cold. He wasn’t here, she was sure of it—sure that her mind was just playing cruel tricks on her again—yet she couldn’t shake the way every djinn in a cloak, every turned back, every sideways glare made her feel like prey. What if he really was here, somewhere in this mass of bodies?

She glanced sideways at Safiyya. The ocelot was small, but she made a formidable foe. Surely Janan would be safe at her side.

Safiyya stopped walking and looked up at her expectantly.

I’m sorry, Janan said, blinking herself back to the present. What did you say?

I just asked if you wanted a drink. I’m getting a bit thirsty. They were stopped next to a vendor selling cold fruit drinks.

Oh. Sure.

Safiyya rubbed her head against a picture of a lemon below the counter. This one, please.

Janan pointed to the lemon drink and a grape drink in the displayed pitchers, trading a silver coin for the two glasses. They walked a few steps away before she placed the lemonade on the sidewalk for Safiyya, out of the way of trampling feet, and sat down on the curb. Her own straw halfway to her mouth, she suddenly froze, feeling the pressure of a person standing just behind her.

Her heart began pounding all over again. Sweat shone on her pale skin, and she wheezed for breath, unable to take a sip of the refreshing drink. No longer thirsty, she set the glass down next to Safiyya and turned to face the presence, ready to run or strike if needed.

A man in a cloak stood hunched behind her, eyes bright yellow against his pale blue skin, even shaded as they were under the hood. They seemed to glow with their own light, like a harvest moon on an otherwise black night.

As she saw the man, her heart began to slow its furious pace, and she forced a shaky smile. Mahtab.

Her adoptive father stood with his arms full of packages from around the market, grinning a sharp-toothed smile. She crossed her arms and pressed her hands against her body, willing the shaking in her fingers to subside. Her adoptive mother, Irina, reached a hand down to help Janan to her feet.

Irina, Mahtab’s wife of nearly a century, was the opposite of him in every way. Where he was blue-skinned and stood with a permanent bend in his spine, she looked like she was cut from the finest alabaster, her hair fine-spun gold and her posture tall and proud.

Janan allowed herself to be drawn up next to them. Is it time to go home?

Did you find everything on your list? Irina asked.

Janan blushed with guilt. In truth, she’d forgotten about the list after the vendor with the bottles. She had been so distracted with the bottle that she had missed half of the family’s produce, still on her list.

I’ll take that as a no, Mahtab said. He studied her, quiet for a moment. But perhaps we can drop you at home and finish the errands ourselves.

Janan closed her eyes. He had seen her fear, had made the decision that she had done enough for the day. She would remain a burden, unable to fulfill her duty to their small family.

She opened her mouth, intending to say no, to say that she could push through and finish their trip, but no words left her mouth, and she nodded in defeat.

All right, then, Mahtab said, nodding back. His face was kind, but Janan couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

They turned in the direction of home, a small apartment on the west side of the city, and began pushing their way through the crowds. She was buoyed by the presence of Mahtab and Irina, feeling her confidence replace her fear with every step they took. Maybe she could make it after all.

She opened her mouth to say so when a small trio of smug-looking djinn leered at her.

Filthy genie, one of them spat.

Don’t worry, another snarled. They’ll be gone soon.

Then Safiyya was at Janan’s side, baring her sharp teeth. Keep walking, she growled low in her throat.

The third djinn rolled her eyes before following her friends. Her sighed words were soft, meant only for Janan’s and Safiyya’s ears. Genie sympathizers. Just as bad as the genies.

Janan dropped her eyes to the sidewalk and trailed after Mahtab, already several yards ahead of her. Perhaps going home was for the best.

Chapter Two

Laurelin

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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Laurelin froze, one hand on the mailbox, eyes on the stack of mail in her hand. Laurelin Orender glared up at her from the top envelope, calling her name silently. Her eyes flicked to the return address in the corner. It was from the Summer Chemistry Institute, a summer program for high school students hosted by the community college intended to prepare them for entering college with a chemistry major. She had applied a month ago, planning to build up her applications before senior year started, but she hadn’t heard back from them.

Until now.

The envelope was thin—why was it so thin? Shouldn’t it be thick and heavy with welcome materials and information packets?

Unless...

She paused the music on her phone and yanked the earbuds out of her ears, hurrying toward the house. The sun shone brightly above, the sky a cloudless azure, birds chirping happily all around.

But she heard none of it, saw none of it, felt none of it.

As soon as she was inside the door, she dumped her backpack onto the floor, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her keys in the white ceramic bowl on the entry table.

Is that you, Linny? came her mother’s voice from the kitchen down the hall.

Yeah! Laurelin called back, already dropping the extra mail and tearing into her letter.

A woman with Laurelin’s strawberry blonde hair and bright green eyes stepped into the hall, stirring a bowl full of mashed potatoes. Laurelin could smell the butter from where she stood, but it wouldn’t distract her.

Is that from the camp? her mom said, approaching.

Yeah, Laurelin said, pulling a letter from the envelope.

She scanned the letter. As her eyes traveled down the page, her heart sank into her feet. After all her hard work, after being accepted for AP chemistry the next fall, all the high marks in her junior science classes, the nights out she passed up to study... it still wasn’t enough. Should she have given up soccer last spring? Would that have given her more time to study, sharpened her edge?

Her mom looked over her shoulder, hand no longer stirring butter into the potatoes. Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.

Laurelin just nodded, still staring at those words. Sorry to inform you...

I’m... Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat to try again. I’m going to go do homework.

Without waiting for her mother’s reply, she darted for the stairs as she blinked back tears, letter half-crumpled in her fist and backpack forgotten by the door. Not that there was any homework. Today was the last day of school, the students out for summer break. But whether or not her mother realized this, she said nothing as Laurelin disappeared into her room.

She collapsed onto her bed, letting the door swing closed behind her, and pulled up messaging on her phone.

I didn’t get in, she typed. Her thumb hovered over the arrow for a moment, afraid to share her disappointment, before she finally tapped it, releasing her message into the ether.

A moment later, her boyfriend’s response flashed onto the screen. Aww, I’m sorry, Linny.

She let the phone droop onto the bed, ignoring the next three messages buzzing her phone in her hand. She hadn’t wanted anything more than this program, proof to herself that chemistry was a viable major for next year when she started submitting her college applications. Her chemistry teacher had brought her the application in the first place, encouraged her to submit. The same teacher who had accepted her into AP Chem. And Laurelin had let her down. If she couldn’t get into this program, perhaps chemistry wasn’t a good career option for her after all.

Should she withdraw from the class?

She glanced back at the letter, her eyes glazed over. She barely saw the words again, flowery phrases meant to lessen the blow. Higher than average number of applications... does not mean your application was weak... apply again next year.

Except there was no next year for her. Next summer, she would be packing up for college. Maybe. If she was even accepted.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away, finally glancing at the phone. Another two messages from Cody.

She turned off the screen and set the phone face-down on her desk, waiting for her mom to call her for lunch. Her summer was suddenly wide open.

Chapter Three

Janan

Fuego, Djinn Realm

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Janan and her small family were only a few blocks from their apartment when the crowds began to thin. To their left stood a wide plaza with a brass fountain featuring each of the four types of djinn standing in a circle, surrounding the source of the water that rained down into the blue-green pool. The cobblestone street was quickly emptying of people as various djinn of every type hissed and pushed them away. As they did, the very sun itself seemed to grow dim.

Candrani? Here?

This doesn’t look good, Safiyya said, eying the sun, the disappearing crowd.

I agree, Mahtab said, his eyes sweeping across the plaza. Let’s get home. Quickly now!

Janan knew the Candrani too well. He was Candrani, one of those djinn who used negative emotion and darkness to fuel their magic. Where they went, the sun grew dark, the shadows grew long, and joy depleted.

Janan blinked, and before her eyes she was seeing his face, shrouded in shadow. His hand reaching toward her head. Suddenly she no longer stood in the plaza, but in that place where he had ripped away her humanity.

She shook her head, trying to banish the image, and stutter-stepped to catch up with the others. The hand faded, and the plaza took its place again.

It wasn’t real. Only a memory.

Where do you think you’re going, half-breed?

The voice froze her in her tracks, and she flinched back, hugging herself tightly. A diamond, she would become a diamond, and then no one could hurt her.

You keep your dirty mouth shut, you worthless pile of ash! Safiyya snarled, springing into a defensive position between Janan and the djinn. Her tail twitched, and her snout wrinkled as she exposed her teeth. Even though she stood at only knee height, her gleaming teeth were intimidating enough that one of the three djinn took a step back.

It was the same three djinn who had taunted them earlier: an ifrit, marid, and sila. Fire, water, and wind.

One of them laughed at Safiyya’s defensive posture. And just what are you supposed to be?

The ifrit glanced over his shoulder into the plaza, his eyes flashing dangerously. What do you think? Is it time?

A terrified scream cut through the crowd funneling away from the fountain.

The marid smirked. Close enough.

The djinn advanced toward them, and Janan shrank backward until a wall hampered any further retreat. Safiyya prepared to pounce, growls of warning sounding low in her throat.

A voice boomed over the chaos erupting around them, and Janan’s heart nearly stopped.

Brothers and sisters, the time is now!

She peered past the approaching djinn, seeking his face even though she wanted nothing more than to forget he had ever existed.

There. Next to the fountain. An ifrit in a cloak, his crimson skin gleaming with gold highlights in the dimmed light of the sun. Eyes like fire. And a temper to match.

Ahriman.

The fire djinn who had turned her from human to genie in a fit of anger, an impulsive bid to destroy her father, who had made the mistake of borrowing from the djinn... and then failing to repay. And so Ahriman had taken the most precious thing the man had: his only daughter.

Janan.

She had only been home once, too ashamed of what she had become, afraid to see how her parents would react, afraid she would somehow hurt them with her newfound magic. And she had, by starting a fire with power she didn’t understand.

It had been six years now.

Cold sweat broke out across her skin, and she laughed mirthlessly as she realized the man standing on the fountain scared her more than the three djinn ready to kill her. Her vision was turning gray at the edges as she struggled to breathe.

Ahriman turned his head, scanning the crowd until his eyes locked on Janan, as if he knew all along she cowered there. His mouth quirked into a malicious smile, baring sharp, fanged teeth.

She was trembling in earnest now, sure he was about to catch her, to kill her, to destroy her found family.

His gaze flicked to the three approaching djinn, and his smile grew. He returned his attention to the crowd, holding a black gem up to his lips—amplifying his next words so they boomed over everything, every scream and cry. It is time to take back the Realm! Take what is rightfully ours, what was stolen from us!

Why would he dismiss her? He chased her down, lost her in Fuego, and now that he found her he was just going to... ignore her?

A wad of spit hit her cheek from the marid next to her, and she flinched. Maybe Ahriman just thought these djinn would finish her off first.

The sila raised a hand toward them and closed his fist. The air shimmered between him and Safiyya.

Just as the air had shimmered between Ahriman and her father, when Ahriman had stolen her away.

She shook her head, holding a hand to her temple. Now was not the time!

The sila was bolstered by his theft of Safiyya’s energy. He was Candrani, there was no doubt. Safiyya’s eyelids were drooping, her muscles going slack.

Safiyya! Janan cried.

Safiyya barely moved, simply swaying on her feet as if in a trance.

Janan tried to step forward, balling up her fist with the intention of sending it straight through the sila’s face. But it was like she was glued to the ground. Her knees shook, but her legs refused to carry her forward.

Mahtab appeared behind the sila, his arms empty of packages, and shoved him to the side. Safiyya shook her head weakly, her energy no doubt drained by the attack. Yet still, she mustered her strength and sprang at the sila, digging sharp claws into his flesh and reaching her bared teeth for his neck. But before they could find their mark, the ifrit shot a stream of superheated air at her. She screamed in pain, and Janan could almost feel the heat of the blow herself. She screamed along with her friend as Safiyya dropped to the ground, sides heaving, fur singed and smoking.

The sila glared at the fallen cat, stepping away from Mahtab as the ifrit and marid both stepped between them, fists raised. Mahtab raised his own fists, electricity sparking around him as it collected from the static in the air.

Janan jumped as Ahriman’s voice filled the air again. We must reclaim this land! Destroy the impurities and claim our birthright as djinn of the Realm!

She met his eyes again, felt them bore into her with the word impurities. She shivered. Why had he bothered making her if she was such an impurity?

The sila moved so