Nuë and the Djinn

Hey, everyone--I have to frontload when I submit the chapters so there are no gaps, so I won't have read your reactions to Chapter 1 when I write this. It's just a timing thing. To get around this and address an issue, sometimes I'll leave a comment. I hope you like it. -Harp

Chapter 2

Nuë had braided her hair. She was dressed. The ifrit was either gone or he was invisible. The door was right there, her thin gold maiden collar on her lap. But she wasn't wearing it anymore and the men of her tribe couldn't avenge her, not against a demon.

Her fingers rose to her throat, feeling its loss, there since she had started bleeding. She felt even more naked to go out into the village without it than she had last night with the demon. For a keen moment, she wanted him to take her her away from here now so she didn't have to face this.

She rose, walking to the door and through it, trying to ready herself. Levsa would take her collar from her. It had been Nuë's mother's collar. It would have been given, eventually, to Nuë's daughter. But Nuë was a punal now, and any children of a punal went to the nearest female relative.

Nuë wanted to get some things from Levsa's tent anyway. She didn't even know if the demon would allow her to have any possessions of her own.

The people of the tribe didn't look at her or greet her. She passed through them like a ghost, like smoke, as invisible as the ifrit. She felt her eyes prickle again, breathing through it, her heart sore in her chest. She had known they would do this, even if they didn't really blame her. That didn't change the fact of it.

She found Tahon in front of her, blocking her path, his eyes on her throat, on her missing necklace. Nuë stopped. She felt like he was staring at her naked body. His fists were clenched. Tahon was disappointed. People wouldn't intervene while he shamed her. They were only words, she reminded herself. She would endure it.

"Where is this demon you spread your legs for, punal?" Tahon spat.

He stopped, his eyes shifting upward and behind her, widening, fear flashing across his features. Nuë didn't have to look behind her to know the ifrit was there, that he had made himself visible. He disappeared and reappeared in front of Tahon, towering over him. The demon's hand landed a moment later on Tahon's throat, lifting him into the air. Tahon cried out in fear, twisting and struggling, his hands trying to pry the ifrit's fingers away.

"I'm here, coward," the ifrit said. "Your spirit is full of fear and cruelty. Don't speak to her."

Levsa had come out, watching. Nuë met the mechi's eyes. Levsa's were impassive. Tahon had been ready to shame her, and Levsa wouldn't intervene. The ifrit opened his hand, releasing Tahon, who fell to the ground at his feet.

Levsa ignored both of them, coming to Nuë. She arrived and Nuë leaned into her warmth, her smell, the mechi's hand stroking her hair. Nuë felt tears coming.

"Come have food with me, sutka," Levsa said. "I've kept it warm. Forget your pain."

"Thank you, auntie," Nuë said, wiping at her eyes.

#

The ifrit sat inside the tent he shared with Nuë, at the fire, not moving. He had sat there in the morning, too, across from Nuë, although she hadn't been able to see him. The feel of her when he had woke had been too arousing, her small and soft form. He had missed lying with her. He had left the bed before that became too much of a temptation, breathing through the sight of her rising from the bed and dressing. She had braided her hair.

But then, instead of leaving, she had come and sat across the fire from him. He had thought she would get up and visit Levsa. But she had stayed there, sometimes touching the place her necklace had been. Beautiful and sad, all of her brightness muted. The ifrit had sat across from her, invisible to her, watching her spirit, feeling a rising sense of dismay.

He admitted it to himself. He had been impatient. Impatient to touch her, to bring her to himself again. And he had been impatient with the idea. A human ceremony. But he could have waited one more night to give this to her. By the time she had gotten up, he knew he should have.

He had accompanied her out of the tent, looking around as she walked. He realized. The other Sideans wanted her to feel this heaviness in her spirit. They were encouraging it. They were shaming her, her spirit clouding more. The ifrit wanted to take her away then. He never would have agreed if he knew they were going to torment her. And Tahon. He'd had to restrain himself from killing the Sidean.

She wouldn't care about the necklace soon, he reminded himself. She had forgotten him. She would understand, and then they would be joined again.

The ifrit waited in the round tent that day. When it was night, Nuë came in, not looking at him. She brought food and she also brought a secret. She came and set wood bowls by the fire next to him. Her light was still dim and clouded, but now it was streaked with black.

She didn't sit across the fire, but rather sat near him on his side. Her lips were set like they always had been when she was doing something difficult, a familiar expression to him in a face that was new, her eyes shadowed. He watched her graceful hands. Beautiful and sad still. She handed him a wood bowl with food in it.

"You keep something from me," he said quietly, not taking it yet. "Is there poison in the food?"

Her hand immediately started to shake. "No," she said, holding it out still, the truth.

He took it from her, feeling a pang that she would fear him. He set the hurt aside. It was to be expected.

He had been sleeping a long time and had been alone for longer, and he was slow to remember things. Even talking seemed a little strange. The food was good. He didn't always have to eat, but the more time he spent in his body, the more he would hunger. She ate next to him.

The ifrit glanced at her when they were done. "I realized when I saw your light this morning how much the necklace meant to you."

"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice husky, the lie clear. "What light?" she said.

"Your spirit, Nuë. What your body holds in itself for life."

"You can see my spirit?"

"Yes."

The glance she gave him was alarmed, suspicious, like he might hurt it. Guarded. He reminded himself that she just didn't remember him yet.

"Where are your parents?" he said, changing the subject.

"My father was a trader from Heltas," she said. "He saw my mother when he came to trade horses. She left with him. She returned with a child in her belly but no husband. She lived on the edge of the village as a punal. When I was born, I was given to my aunt to raise. She died."

"What did she die of?"

"Shame, Fada tribe says," Nuë answered tightly.

He reached and touched her cheek, caressing, as he always had. Nuë started to lean away and then endured it, he saw. He didn't let it bother him. "I want to show you something." He stood up, holding out his hand.

She hesitated and then put her hand in his. He raised her to her feet and stepped without moving, shifting, bringing her with him. She drew a sharp breath, looking around. "Where are we?" Lights pulsed around them. She looked down at herself, passing her free hand through her shape, her light yielding and returning. "What's happening?" She sounded scared, her light drawing in on itself, trying to pull her hand away from his. "Am I dead?"

He brought her back and dropped her hand. She stepped away from him, bringing her hand to herself, feeling her solidity.

"You're not dead," he answered, holding out his hand again. "You can't be hurt there, but if you let go of my hand, you might be lost for a time and it would frighten you."

She slowly reached and put her hand in his. She gripped it tightly.

He smiled at her, her eyebrows going up to see it, like she hadn't realized he could do so, and he stepped without moving, bringing her. "I won't let go of your hand."

#

Nuë slowly put her hand in his. First the ifrit had immediately known she was keeping something from him, scaring her badly. At least he hadn't forced her to tell him. Now she walked in the world of the dead with him. At first, she had thought maybe he had killed her. But he'd brought her back and she was herself, in her body.

He had smiled at her. In that moment, he hadn't looked like a demon at all, his smile warm and oddly familiar. She experienced that strange feeling again, like remembering a dream, gone almost as soon as it came.

Here, she was a shape full of light. She had never imagined the underworld would be so beautiful. It was filled with many lights. She felt herself expanding here, like a part of her could breathe in ways she couldn't in the world of flesh and solid things. Like she had always been compressed, somehow, into a container just a little too small for her. It felt good.

Something changed and she realized it was her own light getting brighter, larger. She still held his hand tightly. She didn't want to get lost here with the dead, everything beautiful like him. Odd, like him.

"What are the other lights?" she said.

"The spirits of the people here. Fada tribe," he answered.

The living people? As they passed Levsa's tent, white tendrils of light reached out for her. Nuë stopped. Her own light went from her form, doing the same, the two lights meeting and caressing the other, touching. "What is that?" she said.

"Levsa. She's thinking about you. Her light touches yours and you answer. When you were singing together picking the pears, I watched your lights dance together before I approached you."

"Levsa is here? With the dead?" Nuë said.

"The dead aren't here, Nuë. This place is for life. It's a part of the world you see, as much as the seed is a part of the fruit even when you don't see it from the outside. It's the well from which the light is drawn that animates the world you know. Our spirits go to another place when our bodies die. Ifrit don't know it."

"But ifrit are of the dead," she said. That was what Sideans said, that the ifrit were demons of the underworld, but she heard it right away. Nuë's free hand rose and went to her mouth, so surprised. "It's not true. What I just said. I can hear it's not true."

"You hear falsehood here. Your spirit hates deception, even self-deception."

She turned to look at him and was shocked again. He was just as beautiful here. Her light was white, but his was blue, strong and steady, that same deep cobalt, here a color so brilliant and deep it almost hurt her eyes. Not evil, he had said. Just different. He was of this place, closer to it than she was. She could feel how much he belonged here. She could see it.

Many blue strands wove from him, all reaching for her. She looked down, seeing her light shrinking to avoid his light, escaping, sometimes frantically, dancing away. None of his blue tendrils touched her. They couldn't, she realized.

"I can't touch you here until you allow it," he confirmed.

"Do you know my thoughts?" she said, alarmed.

"No," he said, sounding sad. "I see what you do."

They were back in the world. She was in her body. He reached and caressed her cheek, his blue eyes intense. She tingled where he touched her. She didn't move.

"I have missed you so, my light," he said, his voice husky.

She didn't know what he meant. He leaned down and touching her lips with his.

Nuë drew back, surprised again. "What are you doing?" she said sharply.

"You don't have a word for it," he said. "Sideans don't do it, I think." He bent, doing it again, gentle.

She frowned lightly when he came up. "No, we don't do that," she agreed.

He suddenly grinned, looking at her face. "You have always been so stubborn, little incora." He reached down and she gave a small cry when he lifted her into his arms. He brought her to the bed, laying her down. He sat on the bed and began undoing the laces of her boots. She saw his sex in his loose pants, large and hard. A wave went through her. She wasn't ready yet, her heart pounding.

"I want to bathe," she said desperately. "I don't feel clean."

There was a pause, the ifrit looking at her face. She knew he would hear her lie. She looked back at him, willing him to allow it.

"We'll go to the pool where I first met you this time, Nuë," he said. He began to unfasten her tunic, lifting her and drawing it off her shoulders. His hands reached for her shirt.

She put her hand on his, relieved when he did stop. "I can't walk through the village naked, ifrit."

"You can if I take you. Nobody will see you."

"I'll be invisible like you?"

"Yes."

She dropped her hand. She wouldn't be entirely invisible. He would still be able to see her. He raised her to her feet to get the rest off, undoing her hair last, running his hands through it. He offered his hand. She took it.

In a moment, she was in the other world. He walked and she followed. She thought she would feel shamed to walk through the village naked, watching their forms of light, but she knew they couldn't see her.

They went to the grove by the river. She saw small lights when they entered, different hues. Animals, she realized. Even as they approached the pool, she saw the lights of fish in their depths. But it wasn't just them. The whole pool was lit with green light.

"Is there so much life here, ifrit?"

"Yes. Almost all water carries life in it. The lives are often so small that we don't see them as single things, although I imagine they seem single to one another."

"Will we hurt them?"

"No, Nuë."

He didn't seem to move or do anything, but she was standing in the world she knew. The moon was bright, the pool reflecting it. It was just as it had always been. He was in front of her, untying his pants, his sex visible, huge and erect. She turned away, going to the edge and out onto the rocks, shaking.

They kept soap at the pool. She went and found it, beginning to wash herself, her hair trailing in the water. It was summer, warm. She delayed, trying to find her courage. She finally glanced at him.

He was sitting on the shore, watching her, his hands with the blue markings limp on his knees, his eyes shining a little like he looked out of them from the other world he had shown her. He disappeared, appeared in front of her, just suddenly there. She startled, her foot going sideways, and he caught her. He slowly pulled her close, his arm around her. She felt like a leaf caught in a great hand, shaking. His body was huge and warm, his sex hard against her belly.

"I waited for you so long," he said, his great echoing voice husky again. "Your light calls mine as it always has. Let me help you to remember." He was speaking, but his left hand had found her hair, grasping it, holding her, tilting her head back.

She couldn't move, breathing fast. He was huge, looming over her. His other hand landed at the base of her throat, tracing down, his fingers light, between her breasts. He cupped one in his large hand, touching her nipples, tugging and squeezing. Everywhere he touched was sensitive, her breathing becoming rough. The pleasure went between her legs. She had felt this way every time he touched her.

His hand flattened on her belly, following its curve to the hair there. He held her eyes, waiting. She could do this. She began to breathe faster and then she opened her legs a little, breaking his gaze, not looking at him as he took her invitation, touching her sex.

It felt so good that her head dropped back, limp in his arms. He made a sound, his head dipping to nuzzle her neck, her sex pulsing on his fingers. She was coming closer to the most intense sensations. When she was almost there, his fingers drew away.

She cried out just like she had before. His answering sound was deep and urgent. He took her waist and lifted her out of the water and onto himself, effortless. She hadn't imagined anyone could be so strong. Her hands went around his neck, her legs clinging to him, his large hand under her bottom. His other hand dropped to himself and she felt him at her entrance. She tensed.

"Iyivim hosça, Nuë," he said, his voice full of need. "Let go of your fear. I don't mean you harm."

She looked into his eyes. Her passage yielded and his eyes held hers, pleasure in them as she sunk onto him slowly, his sex opening her. She hitched and he stopped, holding her there. She felt herself adjusting to his size, taking him more. He was so large in her. She adjusted and he lowered her more. Too much. He was too much. She was shaking. He was going to hurt her.

He leaned, putting his forehead against hers, his breathing rough. She began to relax as he didn't move. Then she felt it, felt a touch, but it wasn't his body. It was like a caress, so gentle that she relaxed. She leaned back, surprised, looking at his face. He released her body a little, and she slid down more. Pleasure came.

#

The ifrit held his breath. Nuë was slowly sinking onto him. Most of her light still avoided his, but a single strand, tentative, had reached out for him. His cock was partly encased in her tight warmth. She began to tremble, looking overwhelmed, the strand of light withdrawing. He leaned, putting his forehead against hers, trying to breathe steadily. He didn't move.

The ifrit waited as she began to relax, the tendril returning. He ignored the pleasure in his body, sending out a single blue strand, moving gently all around hers until they finally touched. The ifrit was suddenly awash in memories that were more feelings than events, flashes of images. He had touched her for hundreds of years, and he knew his incora's light when he felt it.

This time, her name was Nuë. Her name had been different before. Since he had first met her so long ago, she had been three names and had ridden three bodies, all of them beautiful. When she returned to him from wherever she went, she didn't remember him at first, but her light was always the same.

He had been so lonely without her that he hadn't wanted to continue his existence. Waiting. She would remember him, he reminded himself. She had before. She was his incora. But he had been so long without her.

He caressed her light with his, such profound relief to finally touch her spirit, the contact no more than a breath. She leaned back a little, staring into his eyes like she hadn't seen him before. It was a beginning. She would recognize him soon. He released her a little, helping her to take more of him. He felt a thrill go through him, her light touching his for the first time as he opened her passage, a slow penetration, his heart pounding.

"I don't even know your name," she said, her eyes on his face.

He released his breath. She had known his name once, but she had forgotten it. Unlike her, his name didn't change. He was an ifrit. "Call me Ciel," he said, which was not his true name. It wasn't time yet.

But he felt it. What he said wasn't a lie, but it was a withholding, and she sensed it while their spirits were touching. She immediately withdrew her light, his chest aching sharply without her. Four hundred years waiting for her return and he needed to touch her spirit. Her eyes were searching his, her spirit looking out of them, right there.

"Mihel," he said softly, releasing it, giving her everything, just as he always had.

Something moved in her eyes. He reached out for her gently with his light and hers met his, the relief of it going through him again as he kissed her. She began to respond, his mouth moving over hers. When their tongues touched, she pulsed on his cock, a long spasm.

He broke the kiss, controlling his desire. He began to move in her, dragging in and out of her tight warmth, small motions. She shivered, her eyes getting heavy. Her hips were meeting him, his cock burying deeper with every movement of her hips.

Thrusting gently, he watched her face, seeing her pleasure. She was sore, wincing sometimes. He put his arm behind her, urging her backward, his other hand still supporting her below. She wasn't afraid, trusting him, sending a thrill through him, her arms dropping from around his neck. He could hold her like this forever. He began to thrust deeper, shuddering with the sensations, very much so in his body right now. Her knees gathered on his chest as he fucked her softness, her hair draping back into the water.