Iblis Of The Djinn

The sun rose over the City of Toronto, Ontario, bathing the largest metropolis in Canada with its ghastly light. I don't normally sleep but after last night's events, I just lay in bed with my eyes closed, dreaming of days gone by. In case you're wondering who this is, the name is Iblis. The Lord of Shadows. My kind are known as the Djinn, and I am by far the most powerful one you'll ever meet. I'd like to set the record straight about me. Nothing worse than bad PR, man. It's a career killer. I'm not going out like that.

I get out of bed, and handle my business, as they say. I'd tell you more but I'd like to keep some mystery between us. Fifteen minutes later, I'm freshly showered, my teeth are brushed and I smell good. I select my clothes for the day. Clothes make the man, as they say. I don't entirely agree with that but whatever. I believe in dressing well. Black Jacket, blue silk shirt, black silk pants and dark gray silk tie. That's my attire for the day. Got my badge hanging around my neck on a lanyard and my shield on my belt buckle. I am a detective with the Toronto Police Service. I joined the force seven years ago, and life hasn't been the same ever since.

Before leaving the house, I check my reflection. A six-foot-three, lean and athletic young man with curly black hair, light brown skin and amber eyes looks back at me. I look like a male model rather than a cop. An asset I use every day in my job as a policeman. Detective Alexander Jabir Mahmoud, at your service. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I created this alias for myself more than thirty years ago. Has the most solid background of any Avatar I've used in recent centuries. Offspring of immigrant parents from Morocco. University of Toronto Law School graduate. Cricket club captain. The devil is in the details, you know? Of course, in the old days I wouldn't have bothered with all that because people asked fewer questions.

If you were to ask the average person living in the western hemisphere what a Djinn is, they'd shake their heads or stare at you blankly. If you go to the middle east, they'd give you a funny look and ask you why you're inquiring about evil spirits. I don't like that term, by the way. I don't think that anyone is one hundred percent good or one hundred percent evil. I believe that most of us live in the gray area in between. That's where I reside. Of course, many would deny this. They'd say that I am a master of evil. In many ways I am, but I also have my days when I feel jolly good...that's when I bake cookies and kiss puppies. I guess that makes me good, right?

If you're at all familiar with the Judeo-Christian faiths or with Islam you'll no doubt know names like Lucifer the Morningstar, Satan, the Devil and so on. Whenever someone is referring to the Lucifer or Satan from the Jewish and Christian stories, they're talking about someone else. I am no Angel, fallen or otherwise. Should they mention the Iblis from the Arabian myths, they're talking about me. I am the dark one, the spirit from above who was sent down below. All because I rebelled against God by refusing to bow down before mankind, and all that jazz. In the movies and poorly written novels many blame me for all the evil in the world. Folks, you give me too much credit. I've certainly got a busy schedule but I couldn't do all the crap people associate me with. Not by myself.

We the Djinn came into being after God made the Angels but before He created mankind. Like the Angels, we are immortal. I've been around since the Beginning, and I cannot die. Even if I wanted to. You cannot kill that which is immortal. I have done many wonderful and terrible things in my time and I shall many more before it is all over and done with. In my day, I've tormented kings and queens, laid entire kingdoms to waste, and also fought against Angels, lesser demons and monsters. As one of the most powerful members of Djinn society, I fought for what's mine. And at some point, I grew tired of The Game. I left the Djinn world, and stayed on the planet Earth, among the mortals.

I get in my car and speed away, toward the downtown precinct where I work. I listen to the radio while driving. I only live fifteen minutes from downtown but in Toronto traffic can be murder. A certain female radio host's smooth voice chimes in, informing me of The Mayor's latest foible. So far he's had his picture taken with thugs, got caught doing drugs and also insulted one of Canada's most beloved authors. Dude's a creep and he's got to go but hey, people in Toronto seem to love him. What a joke. I make my way through the precinct building's lobby, well aware of everyone looking at me. As a tall man of Afro-Arabian descent, I attract attention everywhere I go, even in racially diverse Toronto.

I could have left the car at home and simply willed myself to the precinct by means of Teleportation but I loathe to use my powers. I've grown accustomed to functioning in the mundane world of the humans. Besides, I believe in keeping a low profile. I make my way to my office, and I run into my partner, Detective Jonathan Tartaglia. Third-generation Italian-Canadian. He's fifty four, and one of the least corrupt members of the Toronto Police force. He told me that, back in his younger days, he liked to nap in squad cars in empty parking lots while on duty. He's been married and divorced three times. Tartaglia's also gay or bisexual, though he makes a lot of homophobic jokes. I pretend not to know. The tubby old-timer greets me with a smile. Hello GQ, he says with a smirk. I roll my eyes and pretend to be annoyed. Still breathing Jon? I chime in. We shake hands, and report to Captain Janice Chang's office for our daily briefing.

Captain Janice Chang, age forty nine, is a tall, athletic woman of Asian and Irish descent. Dark-haired, dark-eyed and frosty, she'd be pretty if she smiled more. Greetings gentlemen, she said, eyeing Tartaglia and I coolly. Captain, I said, nodding respectfully and clearing my throat as Tartaglia moves to sit down without being prompted to do so. The old man shrugs and smiles, and I shake my head. On your feet old man, the Captain says in her bitchiest tone. Shoulders slumped, my partner rises to his feet.

You can always count on Captain Chang to throw in some good old-fashioned humiliation with your morning briefing. When she locks eyes with me, I silently warn her not to try me. She doesn't know it but though she looks fit, her heart looks all wrong. Congenital issues. She won't be around for long. Her smoking won't help matters either. I smile politely, and allow my eyes to glow and smolder from within. Her eyes widen in surprise, and I continue smiling. Right now I know exactly what her mind is doing. Convincing itself that she didn't see what she thought she saw. Mortals way of dealing with the supernatural since time immemorial.

We've got another body, the Captain tells us at last. Left drained of blood, like all the others. Great. Just what we needed. Inwardly I bristle. There are lots of things that go bump in the night, a fact unknown to most mortal minds. Demons, werewolves, vampires, and monsters of various origin. As a denizen of that dark world, I worry whenever someone breaks the rules and attracts attention to all of us. The only rule in our universe is that anyone who exposes who and what we are to the humans has to be destroyed. Or banished, in the case of immortals.

Let's get to it, Tartaglia said, and we left the Captain's office. Throughout our ride from the precinct to the tenement where the last body was found, Tartaglia chatted incessantly. I didn't really listen. I was thinking about someone I once knew, a long time ago. When you've been around for as long as I have, going down memory lane can prove really interesting, and not always in a good way. I was wandering around what is today known as central Ethiopia, around 1170 A.D. or the Islamic year 548. I've wandered across the globe for eons but hadn't set foot in that part of Africa in centuries. That's why I was so surprised at how much it had changed.

The place I came to was called Badme, and it was a fairly small town. The town leader was a tall man named Ammanuel, and he was a widower. He lived with his young daughter Amina. When I rode into town disguised as a warrior on horseback, they asked me for my help. Apparently the town was besieged by an evil which only came out at night and left its victims drained of blood. Vampires, I thought. I stayed in the town for a bit, enjoying the Ethiopians fine cuisine and hospitality. My main concern wasn't dealing with vampires but banging as many of the local ladies as I could before leaving and meeting up with some friends of mine in the Arabian Peninsula. Little did I know that Fate had other plans.

I was in bed with a gorgeous young Ethiopian lady named Adina when shouts and screams from outside roused us from slumber. Instantly I leapt to my feet, and went outside, sword in hand, wondering what the commotion was all about. Everywhere I heard shouting and screaming, along with something altogether inhuman, growls and roars that could only have issued from the throats of beasts. Everywhere I looked, men and women were running, chased by living shadows. The undead. I saw a man, whom I recognized as Malik the innkeeper, battling two of them with a scabbard. The poor sap fought bravely but they made short work of him. They dragged him down, and tore him apart.

As I pondered whether or not to teleport to safety or join the fray, a vampire came face to face with yours truly. The fiend looked like a slender young African man, only its eyes were yellow and it had sharp white fangs. It lunged at me with a clawed hand. I grabbed the beast and hurled it twenty feet into the air. Howling, it crashed on the ground loudly. Its cohorts glared at me, surprise in their golden eyes. Another one stalked toward me, a plump, dark-skinned female. Fangs bared, she came at me. I willed myself to resume my true form, that of Smokeless Fire. I reduced the female vampire to ashes, and did the same to several of her kind before they got idea and fled.

The vampires left, and the town was safe. Adina was gone, however, and so was the Medallion of Aeshma Daeva, a minor league demon prince I'd done work with in the past. It grants its wearer the ability to open dimensional portals. I'd gotten careless and left it behind while in bed with Adina. And it looks like the vampires abducted the Ethiopian chick and she must have grabbed the Medallion before they took her. Great. It looks like I was going to spend far more time in Ethiopia than previously thought. I can't go home without the Medallion. Oh, well. Time to hunt some vampires.