34. The Gourd
{Uriel}
A firesword.
It wasn't the first time in his life that Uriel had seen one. They were barbaric, arcane weapons that only the rarest and most brutal sorcerers kept in their possession. It was one thing to own a firesword. Having the skill to wield one was something else altogether.
Judging by the way the collector swept the enchanted blade clockwise around his wrist, he was not bluffing about his familiarity with it. This was not good. The more Uriel relied on his fire, the more he burned through his human exterior. Losing the shell meant dissolving the contract and trapping Naya in a djinni vessel forever.
<Don't worry about your precious human costume. We can handle this collector.>
Uriel found that he had no chance but to listen to his inner fire. There was no telling what Naya was going through alone in that hookah bowl with the ifrit. If Uriel was lucky, Ritsu would figure something out.
<Forget about her for now! Focus with me.>
Uriel shrugged away the urge to disobey his flame. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed his human disguise to sink just enough to make room for his suit of fire. An unexpected shudder passed through him as his fire elbowed its way to the surface. Uriel bent forward, his head automatically collapsing into his hands. If he gave the fire too much control, his horns would return. If that happened, he might never be able to look like a human again.
<Look up, boy.>
Uriel obeyed to see that the collector had made the first move. He had found a path through the sizzling ash, bringing the firesword down and across in a slashing motion. There was no room for Uriel to dodge and no time for him to conjure a spell.
The suit of fire cloaked Uriel in an armor-like heat right before he jerked his chin forward and caught the sword between his teeth. The collector grimaced at the ease with which the djinni made his swing come to a halt.
Janus grunted and gripped the hilt of the sword with his other hand. He jerked and tugged, but the blade didn't so much as wiggle between the changeling's brimstone-like teeth. Beads of sweat formed along his hairline as Janus carefully talked himself out of panicking.
But when blood began to bead in the corners of Uriel's mouth, Janus grinned. The sword's flame may not be able to burn him, but it didn't stop the edge from cutting into delicate human flesh.
From where he stood, Uriel saw the formula for a change in plan work across his adversary's face. He had to act now.
The djinni allowed his human disguise to slip even further as he called more and more upon his fire. He waited for Janus to reestablish his grip before loosening his teeth. The collector gave a giddy cry, mostly likely believing that the upper hand was his. Then his face dropped when he saw a blackened tongue snake forth and wrap around the blade of the firesword.
With one swift jerk of his neck, Uriel deprived Janus of his advantage in the fight.
The collector put as much distance between him and the armed djinni before whispering, "How?"
The smile never left Uriel's face as he transferred the firesword from his mouth to his hand.
"You made two mistakes. One was assuming that I've never dealt with a weapon this ancient before. Your second mistake was thinking that this human form would limit me from defending myself."
Janus noticed that the sword's flaming blade started to shift in shape. Its craftsmanship morphed from a Medieval to a Persian design. Once the sword had become something more akin to a scimitar, the djinni moved it around his body, displaying his own comfort with the new weapon.
From across the room, Uriel noticed his opponent's shoulders slump in an underwhelming surrender.
"Well, shit."
+++
{Naya}
I screamed as loud as my brain would let me.
Ritsu! If you don't stop groping me, I'm going to stuff you in the garbage disposal, turn it on, and watch it turn you into monkey tartare. Then I will scoop you out, smear you onto a cracker, and EAT YOU!
Ritsu giggled at the threat and continued to squeeze my breasts, with my hands, in my body. All the while, I was forced to watch on in helplessness.
Please, I wanted to tell Sabur, please just kill me now.
"Oh, right," Ritsu squeaked in my voice. "The ifrit. We should probably take care of him."
And how do you plan to do that?
Ritsu was already busy writing an incantation in the air. Meanwhile, Sabur hovered not too far away. Ever since Ritsu possessed my body, Sabur didn't look too sure if he should try to attack. By the way he was licking his lips, he was struggling between going against his master and ripping Ritsu out of me so he could have a tasty snack.
"There we are!"
Ritsu's spell had produced a heavy, round clay vase with two chambers. As if reading my thoughts, he said, "It's not a vase. It's a gourd." He situated the object firmly under my armpit and wedged the cork from the opening.
Whatever. How is it going to help us – and what the hell is that smell?!
Ritsu chuckled as he brought the gourd to my nose and whiffed the stringent contents sloshing around inside. "It's been so long since I've had a proper drink."
This stuff smells awful. There's no way you're going to force me to drink that!
The demon giggled again. "Bottoms up, Mistress."
I wanted to retch as soon as the contents of the gourd splashed onto my tongue, but Ritsu had complete control over my gag reflex. He carried on like a baby cow drinking straight from the udder.
By now I had a fair idea what was in that gourd. It burned as it went down and even though I'm no stranger to the hard stuff, I took no pleasure in this.
After he had his fill, Ritsu smacked my lips and released a satisfied, "Aaaah."
The spiced gourd juice was unpleasant enough to inhibit me from making threats. I simply cringed and waited for it to make its way to my digestive system. To my disgust, I could feel its path down my esophagus and into whatever organ came after that.
Ritsu purred. "Oh yes, it's working."
I never got a chance to ask what he meant. It seemed that the path the gourd juice took was not to my stomach, but rather to the tiny blue flame that lingered somewhere inside of me. Once the liquid and the flame connected, I could feel a sudden burning all over. The fire's growth was rapid and explosive, like a dying star. The sensation was pretty much the worst freaking thing I've ever felt in my life.
But to Ritsu, it was like a drug.
He inhaled deeply, loosened the muscles in my shoulders, along my spine, and even my hips. Then he tucked the gourd under my left arm and sank into a low stance. My ignited flame seemed to finally reach some kind of stability as it responded to Ritsu's alien presence.
While I had always known that there was a little fire living inside me, until now I had no idea what it was for or what to do with it.
I watched and felt as my flame and Ritsu engaged in a kind of cosmic-infernal conversation. She (let's just assume the fire is a girl) was hesitant about lending Ritsu her power. She claimed it belonged to me and no one else (I was flattered).
Ritsu communicated back, explaining to her that I was in trouble and I didn't know how to ask for help. He convinced her to trust him and that he had been chosen to protect this vessel. (I wanted to remind him of the difference between protect and molest, but I figured that could wait until later.)
In the end, my fire gave him permission to use her. Ritsu took another sip from the gourd to spark the flame again. While I was suffering through another burning dose, Ritsu was leaping out of Sabur's way, who had just about enough of all the stalling.
After another bout of internal retching, I returned to the action only to realize that my body was upside-down with my feet planted firmly on the ceiling.
Ritsu, this is not the most ideal position to take after drinking that crap . . .
"Trust me," he whispered. Since I literally had no say in the matter, I simply watched as he poured alcohol on the ifrit below. At first, Sabur started to go crazy for the stuff. It seemed that he had temporarily forgotten about getting his hands on a demon.
The monster tossed his head back and guzzled all that he could. Naturally, most of the alcohol did not make it into his mouth. Soon the gourd was nearly empty, the ifrit was covered in its contents, and so were my authentic cushions . . .
"Watch, Mistress. You aren't going to want to miss this."
I pushed through the pain of my burning limbs, the nausea of being upside-down, and the overall discomfort of not being in control of my own body. For that moment, I ignored it all and aligned my gaze with Ritsu's.
Once he could sense that I was paying attention, Ritsu raised the gourd up, sipped the last of its contents and held it in his mouth. He lifted two fingers to my chin as if in concentration. Then I felt an abrupt jerk in my abdomen – the result of Ritsu using my diaphragm to force the fire up and out.
Moments later, swirled, tempestuous flares channeled across my tongue and down my nasal cavities. The heat dispelled my nausea and invigorated me. So much so that I shoved Ritsu's spirit out of the way and took over, blanketing the ifrit below in a tumbling, turquoise inferno.
I'll never forget the joy it brought to watch that bastard burn.