The words came from the mouth of a woman. She had an ageless quality about her which made it hard to discern her age. Her hair was pure white while her eyes were cherry red with black slitted pupils. She was dressed in some sort of slinky purple evening dress which left her left shoulder bare. That coupled with her rather sizable cleavage made it rather hard for him to look away from her. But to Michaels trained eyes she also appeared to be a fighter. It made him settle instinctively into a neutral combat stance (Feet slightly spread apart, Muscles relaxed.)
"You can relax young one, if I wanted you dead; I could have done so last night."
Michael started to speak, but was cut off before he could begin.
"As things stood, I almost did kill you last night. But your little scuffle with the Djinn has impressed me."
Michael opened his mouth but was cut off. "I have decided to let you live for now. And this is yours by the way."
The woman tossed something long and thin at Michael who caught it out of reflex. When he looked up again, he was suddenly pinned between the woman and the table. "I can already smell your power." She kissed him thoroughly leaving him breathless and disappeared taking a step back. He took a closer look at the long thin something only to see that it was a katana. The hilt was engraved with etched skulls and other unrecognisable things. The joint between the hilt and the blade was shaped like a raven's head, with the sword blade protruding from its open beaks.When he drew the blade, he saw that it was black just like the sheath. There was something written on one flat side of the blade in a strange script. The meaning of the words suddenly appeared in his mind and said it out loud.
"May the dammed serve for eternity"
As soon as he said the words out loud Michael was suddenly aware that he had spoken in a language unknown to him. The words unlocked something in him that had always been there unnoticed. A rush of cold power spread outward in a ring with him at its centre. The power reminded him of a graveyard at night. It left him gasping for breath like a fish out of water. His vision and other senses suddenly sharpened. The ring of power faded away but left him with an awareness of something (he had no idea what.)Michael sheathed the sword and then drew it again with a speed born of skill and practice. An old man had just appeared out of thin air, at the same place where the white haired woman had first appeared. He looked just like an old Chinese man.Tiny, bald, heavily wrinkled face and wearing a bowler hat. He was dressed in an oversized gi. His Voice was unlike what Michael had expected-sonorous and clear.
"Greetings young master. My master the Caliph of the North apologises for the misconduct of the warrior Eriyenes.He says that the Djinn nation is willing to make any reparations you might wish for in recompense."
Having said his peace the Chinese man disappeared.
Michael sheathed the katana and sat back down on the chair. He almost put his head down on the table when there was a flicker of movement just outside the kitchen window. The glass shattered and a transparent sphere filled with swirling black mist came rolling in. The sphere shattered and all hell broke loose.
