He stretches a leathery hand out to me, palm facing up. His face is wrinkled and lined with welts.
His skin is tan, like wet soil, and two short horns stab out from either side above his mouth.
I fling the steaming cloths in his face and dash around him, snatching the knife off the table. I’m by the door, but he shoots forward, faster than a breath, and blocks my way.
“Not so fast, jinn,” the ghoul says. All trace of his human facade has vanished, and his face is covered in thickened skin, the teeth long and rectangular.
“Leave, ghoul,” I say. “Only the living belong here. Your place is a cemetery; go, there is one behind the house, and there is a stream there, the one fed from death itself. Go there.”
“Not without my wolf, jinn,” he argues, stretching his hand out to me again. “I watched you turn my beloved into clay; I want it back, in flesh and blood.”
“I threw it into the fire,” I lie, hoping he will leave if he believes his wolf isn’t around anymore. Or he will be angry and kill you for it. “Now go, leave!”
The ghoul eyes me, then shoots his hand out, catching my neck.
His grasp tightens until I am gasping for breath and pounding at his arm with my fists. He doesn’t let go, and I know he will squeeze the life out of me and not feel a touch of remorse. I choke, struggling for breath as I slice the knife at his arm layered with skin as thick as bark.
Then I do what Illyas once taught me: pinch the soft flesh between the thumb and forefinger and keep pinching until the attacker lets go.
It seems the ghoul is no different than a human and, in a few breaths, he howls in pain and his hand shoots away from my neck.
“Jinn!” he spits through clenched teeth, as if cursing my kind.
“Here, take it,” I say, flinging the clay wolf at him. I swing open the door and step aside. “Now leave.”
“I said, in flesh and blood. You have given me clay earth instead. Bring my wolf back to life.”
I eye the ghoul, then dart my chin in the direction of the table. “Set it there and step outside. I will bring it to life, but then you must leave.”
“Yes, yes,” he says, his eyes blazing. He moves to set the statuette on the table, but he doesn’t budge from it.
“Outside,” I repeat, “or I’ll take the wolf and shatter him into a thousand pieces.”
Fear, then anger, flashes across the ghoul’s face.
“I can kill you like that,” he says with a snap of his fingers. “Then what will happen to your precious daughter, Hakawati?”
He knows about Layala? “Touch a hair on my child’s head, and I will make sure you find yourself in Jahannam.”
The ghoul rears back its head and laughs. “Pretty words from a jinn. But hurry up and bring the wolf back. I’ll be on my way once you do.”
I grab the wolf and dash outside. Just as I expect, the ghoul follows, eyeing the statuette in my hand. I circle around him until my back is to the house and his back is to the woods beyond. My hands hover over the wolf, my magic commanding it to life.
It grows warm under my touch, clay becoming skin becoming fur. And before it grows to full size, I fling it at the ghoul and dash back into the house. I slam my door with enough force that it rattles the window, and I slide the table against the door.
Looking through the eyepiece, I know both ghoul and wolf are gone now.
But ghouls have long memories, and they don’t take kindly to jinns. This one will be back, and he may not come alone.