“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. He raised the collar. Higher, higher—and then he threw it away. He refused to be possessed again.
Many things happened then. The humming ceased, the collar started screaming, and the sea of bones surged up in a wave, howling with rage. Mazen saw flashes of reanimated bone, severed skin, and flashing blades. The ghouls formed so quickly he didn’t realize they’d come to life until they stood before him in all their gruesome glory.
If you will not succumb to me, then you will serve me, the humming voice said.
The fear was immediate. It shot through Mazen’s veins like lightning, pulsing at his fingertips as he reached for his knives, which were slippery in his sweat-coated palms.
By the time he’d finally grabbed one, the ghouls were close enough to stab him. They smelled like dirt and rot and decay—a scent that made bile rise in Mazen’s throat. He swallowed it down as he tried to focus on anything beyond the ghouls’ mutilated faces. But he could not stop looking at the sharpened teeth. The sunken eye sockets. The crushed noses.
One of the ghouls growled deep in its broken throat and reached for him. Mazen’s body jerked in reaction. He swept the blade forward in a wild, desperate arc.
Amazingly, the ghoul backed away, hissing at him through cracked teeth.
That blade! The voice lanced through his mind, sharp as a knife. Abomination! Jinn killer! Each word stabbed Mazen in the heart. How many times had they been hurled at him when they were not even the truth?
You are not worthy of being my servant. Mazen had the distinct impression the voice was turning away from him. Kill him, it said. Destroy everything, even his bones.
This time, the ghouls did not hesitate. They rushed him, and Mazen’s only instinct was to desperately swing his blade through the air in the hope it would keep him alive. In Omar’s body he was faster, stronger, but fear still scrambled his mind.
The ghouls were relentless. Though they lacked the coordination for an organized attack, they came at him from every side. An arrow whistled past Mazen’s ear as one ghoul rammed into him. He stumbled, only to have another ghoul slam the flat of its blade into his stomach. One sword tore through his sleeve while another just barely missed his leg.
Mazen staggered back. Landed hard on his heel. Pain shot through his ankle, making him cry out. He clenched his teeth against the ache as he sidestepped one blow and swerved to stab another ghoul in its eyeless sockets.
He startled when it burned to white ash and fell to the ground.
Mazen glanced at Omar’s blade. Vaguely, he recalled the Midnight Merchant’s comment about the knives being enchanted. But he had no time to think about what that meant. He readied himself for the next wave of ghouls.
That was when he saw a blur of color in the landscape of white. He glanced to the entrance of the room and saw nondescript brown robes. Loulie al-Nazari glowered at him from a distance. Moments later, she was joined by Aisha bint Louas, who sighed when she saw him.
Her exhale shattered the eerie silence. The ghouls scattered, some heading for the doors, others for the pedestal where Mazen was still standing. Mazen focused on staying alive. He sliced his blade through the air, sometimes hitting flesh and bone. Whatever he touched disintegrated to ash, and he soon realized all he had to do to destroy the ghouls was nick them with the blade.
The knowledge did not make him invincible. Nor did it stop the trembling in his hands or clear his head. But it was better than being helpless, so Mazen leaned desperately into every strike, hoping it would carve out an escape. An end.
Moments or minutes or hours passed. When Mazen finally looked up and beyond the ashy carnage in front of him, he saw the merchant and the thief. Aisha was relying on speed rather than power, knocking down ghouls and severing their limbs before they could give chase. Loulie al-Nazari was at the opposite end of the room, using the curtains as cover. She had just disappeared behind one of them when he heard a snap.
When the merchant reappeared, her knife was on fire. She was grinning triumphantly as she swept the blade through the air and set the ghouls aflame. Mazen watched as one of those ghouls collapsed with a wail, its hands outstretched as if reaching for something. He tracked its gaze and cursed when he saw the collar lying on the ground.
The Midnight Merchant paused to look at the relic. For moments, she was absolutely still, head cocked as if she were listening for something. Mazen approached her on shaking legs.
“Al-Nazari.” He forced her name out through cold lips. She ignored him. “Midnight Merchant!” She began to walk slowly toward the collar, fingers outstretched.