Spreading his long arms along the top of the cushions, Idrak leaned his head back, his tall horns bowing back with the movement. "As I said before, I was not taught nor was I raised, I simply came to be as I am now. Other djinn that I have encountered all appear different. Unlike the mostly homogeneous human race, djinn are completely different in shape, size, and color. Some have physical bodies some do not. Some are so vastly unfamiliar most humans would probably not understand nor process mentally what they are seeing."
"So, there aren't any others that you've met that have your horns?" her eyes traveled up to the curving shape.
"I have met no one that resembles me, no," his eyes watched hers as she stared up in silent awe of his horns. She liked them, she had no idea why, but for some reason, she liked his horns. Looking back at him, she felt her stomach knot at the telling look he gave her, knowing he had read her thoughts from her expression again.
"Even our power is different," he thankfully went on to explain. "Some can only create illusions. Some, just as your books stated, feed off souls of the living to conjure. I, however, need only a thought to make my will so, though I govern most of it with logic."
He looked at her and most likely read the confused but fascinated expression on her face.
"Although I can make objects manifest from nothing or impose my thoughts on the living, I have learned over the centuries that my mind craves logic and order when doing so. The food lining the pantry shelves was taken from a source," he gestured casually to the kitchen. " The money in the drawer upstairs was a part of a much larger stack sitting neatly in a vault somewhere, the vehicle which sits outside was arranged by the manager of a storeroom in the dead of night making sure to follow my instructions to the letter as he deposited the money into their coffers and put the vehicle in your name."
"In my name?" she repeated, dazed by everything he was saying. Her mind still pictured a vault stacked with money and a portion of it missing. Whose money was it?
"Why would I," he paused. Fading away like a handful of sand in the wind, Idrak's body disappeared before her eyes. "Need a vehicle," his bodiless voice spoke from all around the room.
Blinking, Nadira looked around in the sun-soaked room before spotting a tiny smoky cloud drift high above near the rafters towards the kitchen. With another blink, Idrak was whole again standing near the counter, casting his bright, empty white eyes her way with a mischievous grin as he began to tinker with the silver fruit press.
So that was how he did it. She remembered he had mentioned flying through the skies, though she supposed she never really thought much about it before. How could she? From the moment she met the djinn in the stone, he had taken over her life on his terms, leaving her thoughts miles behind in a race she could never seem to catch up to.
"Is that how you travel the world?" she asked, resting her head on her forearm on the back of the sofa, watching him.
"Sometimes, not always," he answered vaguely as he fiddled with the juice press. White eyes narrowed at the tall metal contraption as if he lightly toyed with the lever. Seemingly coming to some sort of mental decision, he cast his sights on the nearby grapefruits looking at them with an excited gleam of premeditated murder.
Smirking, she watched him slice the fruit with his elongated black claws before placing each half between the press.
"So, how do you traverse longer distances?"
Not looking up from his task, Idrak started on the next glass as he answered simply. "With a thought."
Mulling his answer over, Nadira wondered what it would be like to have such powerful thoughts. Of course, all of the wondrous possibilities came to mind first but the analytical side of her mind soon dissected those thoughts. Was there a learning curve for making your thoughts reality? If he said he simply came to be one day, did that mean he already knew how to control his power? Or did it take him years to harness and control it?
Feeling the pressure of his gaze, Nadira looked back up to see Idrak's empty white eyes staring at her.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Would you like for me to show you?" he asked, coming around the long counter, his clawed feet clacking gently against the wood flooring.
"Umm," Nadira wasn't really sure what he…
Light flickered around her, stealing her focus. Still sitting on the cushions of the sunken-in sofa, she watched as the entire room dimmed. Light shuttering like a warbling film roll, Nadira gasped as sudden images—no—scenes of elsewhere flickered around her. It was if she was caught in some sort of projection reel. Fields of bright yellow wheat and expansive blue skies shimmered in and out of focus before changing to what looked like a French village sitting at the base of snow-capped mountains. Back and forth, the scenes flickered until Nadira realized they weren't just scenes at all, it was real. Cool wind rolled through the tall wheat, bowing it all in one direction as her hair swept up into the breeze. Sounds of people talking and laughing drifted from the wooden house nearest to her in the French village while smells of cooked meat drifted in the air. Fascinated and fearful, Nadira kept herself completely motionless, one hand clutching at the couch cushion beneath her. As the reality around her shifted back again to the sea of tall golden wheat, Nadira jumped as she felt the brushes of the wheat's broom-like top glide against her arm.
What if he just left her here? The errant thought came from nowhere and filled her with sudden cold fear. Only risking turning her head, Nadira looked around for the horned demon, but he wasn't there, just miles and miles of endless golden wheat swaying in the wind. Panic began to claw up her throat as her hand that clutched at the cushion beneath her began to sink into the cool soft dirt.
"Idrak!" she cried.
Like a light switch being flicked, the field around her disappeared and the soft cushion of the sofa was back beneath her grip. Letting out a deep breath, Nadira's pulse began to slow as she looked back towards the kitchen to see Idrak standing silently in the same spot, looking directly at her. There was a charged tension in the air as if her sudden cry of his name still echoed in the air like a painful gong of shame.
Nothing needed to be said. Nadira knew from the demon's hard unreadable face, his sharp fae-like features closed and watchful that he already knew what she had feared.
"What would I need to do?" he began evenly as he crossed his muscular arms over his wide bare chest. With the slightest cock of his head, tilting his long curving horns a few inches to the right, his glowing white eyes narrowed. "What would I need to do to gain your trust?"
Although the question was not entirely beyond the realm of expected, it startled her nonetheless. Trust, she let the word tumble through her mind extracting it letter by letter, examining its meaning and origins until she concluded she never really knew the word. Had she ever trusted anyone in her life? An image of her grandmother's kind face sprang to mind, which caused a tear to form in her eye. She had trusted her, the kind and patient matriarch had always let Nadira be herself in her house, sheltered her from the abuse of her parents just by letting her be happy.