and he and the attendant walked off
elsewhere.
The table the men sat around was curtained
off from the rest of the establishment by elaborately detailed
Persian rugs hung around them. They sat on an enormous rug with a
red field and scrolling golden vine ornaments. The rugs muted the
sound of the other men in the Oasis, men who drank tea, smoked the
shisha and played narde.
Jay, Bowie and Gossitch took turns drawing
tobacco smoke from the pipe.
“I missed this,” noted Santa Anna after his
second inhalation. “Nothing like the Oasis.”
“This has class,” said Bowie. “Should bring
my ma here sometime.”
“Raheem done this place right.” Gossitch
approved.
Santa Anna inhaled, closing his eyes and
holding the smoke. When he’d exhaled he opened his eyes and Raheem
was there, seated across from them on the cushion.
“ Sobh Be Kheyr ,” the
genie wished them a good morning. “It is truly good to see you
again, my friends.” Raheem beamed as he placed his bottle on the
table next to the hookah.
“Rah,” Santa Anna smiled back, “you don’t
look a day over two thousand years.”
The genie laughed, a hearty echoing
reverberation that belied his diminutive size. Raheem, Santa Anna
knew, could appear to different people as different things and in
different guises. This morning his appearance was that of some
westerner’s vision of a sultan, decked out in black baggy pants, a
crimson sash under his vest, and a plumed turban. Santa Anna
wondered if the genie appeared this way to play it up for the
customers or if he really liked the fashion.
“You look well, Carter,” said Raheem.
“ Allah akhbar .”
“God is great,” agreed Santa Anna.
“Seriously, Rah, you look like you haven’t aged at all.”
“You are too kind to this humble Ifrit .” Santa Anna knew there were different types of genies
and that the Ifrit were known for their strength and
guile.
“Frank,” the genie turned his attention to
Gossitch. “Your people, always how you say? Buttering me up? But I
must admit, the bottle has been good to me.”
They all laughed.
“And how are you my friend, how are you?”
Raheem asked Gossitch.
“I am well.”
“And this is good,” Raheem noted, his voice
lowering. “For there is trouble about this city.”
“What have you heard?” asked Gossitch.
“Something kills,” noted the genie.
“Something kills with vehemence.”
“That body in the water?”
“Was but one…”
“The bloodsuckers maybe?”
“Unlikely,” the genie shook his head, his
whole body shimmering. Santa Anna knew if he reached out to touch
Raheem his hand would go right through the being. “Such moves draw
attention, and it is not attention the children of the night
seek.”
“True Rah,” conceded Bowie, “but there’s
always warring factions within their ranks, no?”
“In the past, yes. However, there has been a
general truce for the last year.”
“Then what?” Gossitch asked, referring to the
murders.
The genie held up his palms to the ceiling.
“I am a simple proprietor of a smoke shop. I have no inside
knowledge of these events.”
The attendant returned with a tray of fruit
juices, placing one before each man.
“No-no-no, not that one for him,” Raheem
waved away the glass the attendant went to place before Santa Anna.
“Try the pomegranate, trust me. Anti-oxidants. A cancer
fighter.”
Santa Anna sipped the juice he was given and
nodded his approval. “Delicious.”
“Splendid!.” The attendant had disappeared
with the tray. “May I ask you about your stay as a ward of the
state?”
“Shoot,” invited Santa Anna, wondering what
kinds of questions a genie would have for him about prison.
“Was it like this HBO program I see, Oz ?”
“I wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen it.”
“Your quarters were a dayroom with cells and
guards inside the unit?”
“No,” said Santa Anna. “Guards would come and
go, up and down the halls.”
“Many terrible things could happen
elsewhere.
The table the men sat around was curtained
off from the rest of the establishment by elaborately detailed
Persian rugs hung around them. They sat on an enormous rug with a
red field and scrolling golden vine ornaments. The rugs muted the
sound of the other men in the Oasis, men who drank tea, smoked the
shisha and played narde.
Jay, Bowie and Gossitch took turns drawing
tobacco smoke from the pipe.
“I missed this,” noted Santa Anna after his
second inhalation. “Nothing like the Oasis.”
“This has class,” said Bowie. “Should bring
my ma here sometime.”
“Raheem done this place right.” Gossitch
approved.
Santa Anna inhaled, closing his eyes and
holding the smoke. When he’d exhaled he opened his eyes and Raheem
was there, seated across from them on the cushion.
“ Sobh Be Kheyr ,” the
genie wished them a good morning. “It is truly good to see you
again, my friends.” Raheem beamed as he placed his bottle on the
table next to the hookah.
“Rah,” Santa Anna smiled back, “you don’t
look a day over two thousand years.”
The genie laughed, a hearty echoing
reverberation that belied his diminutive size. Raheem, Santa Anna
knew, could appear to different people as different things and in
different guises. This morning his appearance was that of some
westerner’s vision of a sultan, decked out in black baggy pants, a
crimson sash under his vest, and a plumed turban. Santa Anna
wondered if the genie appeared this way to play it up for the
customers or if he really liked the fashion.
“You look well, Carter,” said Raheem.
“ Allah akhbar .”
“God is great,” agreed Santa Anna.
“Seriously, Rah, you look like you haven’t aged at all.”
“You are too kind to this humble Ifrit .” Santa Anna knew there were different types of genies
and that the Ifrit were known for their strength and
guile.
“Frank,” the genie turned his attention to
Gossitch. “Your people, always how you say? Buttering me up? But I
must admit, the bottle has been good to me.”
They all laughed.
“And how are you my friend, how are you?”
Raheem asked Gossitch.
“I am well.”
“And this is good,” Raheem noted, his voice
lowering. “For there is trouble about this city.”
“What have you heard?” asked Gossitch.
“Something kills,” noted the genie.
“Something kills with vehemence.”
“That body in the water?”
“Was but one…”
“The bloodsuckers maybe?”
“Unlikely,” the genie shook his head, his
whole body shimmering. Santa Anna knew if he reached out to touch
Raheem his hand would go right through the being. “Such moves draw
attention, and it is not attention the children of the night
seek.”
“True Rah,” conceded Bowie, “but there’s
always warring factions within their ranks, no?”
“In the past, yes. However, there has been a
general truce for the last year.”
“Then what?” Gossitch asked, referring to the
murders.
The genie held up his palms to the ceiling.
“I am a simple proprietor of a smoke shop. I have no inside
knowledge of these events.”
The attendant returned with a tray of fruit
juices, placing one before each man.
“No-no-no, not that one for him,” Raheem
waved away the glass the attendant went to place before Santa Anna.
“Try the pomegranate, trust me. Anti-oxidants. A cancer
fighter.”
Santa Anna sipped the juice he was given and
nodded his approval. “Delicious.”
“Splendid!.” The attendant had disappeared
with the tray. “May I ask you about your stay as a ward of the
state?”
“Shoot,” invited Santa Anna, wondering what
kinds of questions a genie would have for him about prison.
“Was it like this HBO program I see, Oz ?”
“I wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen it.”
“Your quarters were a dayroom with cells and
guards inside the unit?”
“No,” said Santa Anna. “Guards would come and
go, up and down the halls.”
“Many terrible things could happen
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