A competitive salary, private medical care, company cars... The list of benefits seemingly never end, and yet, no one wants to work for the Court. Of course, that was to be expected from a profession where the average life expectancy was just under twenty-six years old. Dying early was typically considered a rather important drawback for most occupations, but to the eccentric and desperate few, it wasn't worth much thought.

  Naturally, most job adverts were ignored -regardless of how large of a signing bonus was offered. So, it made sense that Donner, Director of the western province, took extra precaution not to chase away what little staff they had managed to retain. The man made sure that he always carried himself with an air of approachability when interacting with his employees, which was admittedly impressive, considering his body was entirely shaped from flame.

  As Donner drummed his fiery hands on the documents sitting before him, he forced himself to stifle a groan. The young woman before him had been a new hire straight out of the academy and was praised by her instructors as a prodigy in combat, unfortunately she shared a trait found often in the highly intelligent, a complete and total lack of common sense.

  "Do you know how much a top-of-the-line sports car would cost, Junior Agent Lupe?" Started Donner, careful to not let his voice sound aggressive. He had developed a habit of exaggerating his tone in order to make up for the lack of 'body language' he could demonstrate.

  The agent scratched the back of her neck, in thought. Brushing aside a stand of black hair that had fallen over her face, Lupe’s intelligent green eyes tried to meet Donner’s. She struggled, largely due to his lack of a face, and ended up settling on where she estimated his forehead to be.

  "... five thousand credits?" Responded Lupe, blinking slowly. The walking campfire struggled to keep a stern expression, which despite his visage not existing, proved to be surprisingly difficult.

  Five thousand credits was the equivalent to one months’ worth of groceries for a small family, and a gross underestimation made by Agent Lupe. Not that the steely eyed girl seemed to care, as she was now busy observing a small fly hovering around the trash bin in the corner. Donner coughed once, regaining the aloof woman's interest.

  "Does it really matter?" Asked Lupe, absent mildly "Jinn corpses are worth millions considering all the technology R&D can make from them, the one I killed should cover all the costs."

  Each 'Jinn', as they're referred to, holds a rank from 1 to 9 based on how much of a threat they posed to the average person. The Jinn Lupe neutralised was ranked at number 4, implying it was dangerous enough to destroy a building... and yet the dark-haired agent decided to engage it in a car dealership. A rather prestigious one at that… The western quadrant was struggling with it’s local economy as it was, driving away business was not ideal. Donner shook his head- understaffed, underbudget, and in the poorest quadrant of New Europe- things could definitely be going better.

  "...Hundreds of thousands in property damage," Donner started, "-and this isn't even the first time you've done something like this..."

  Lupe didn't say anything, but seemingly growing uncomfortable under the directors’ harsh gaze, begun to sheepishly scratch the back of her neck. It was worth noting that, despite Donner's flames intensifying in response to his annoyance, that the young woman wasn't even sweating... So, she couldn't have been too concerned.

  The director paused for a moment, studying Lupe's expression, "Do you have anything you want to say for yourself?"

  Lupe was a special case, Donner knew that, after all there weren't many rookie agents who could fight a rank 4 and come back alive, let alone uninjured... So, he hoped that despite her bored appearance, she was smart enough to comprehend just how much paperwork he now had to do. And if he was lucky, demonstrate proper empathy.

  "...My bad?"

  The talking flame glowed an electric blue for just a moment, before quickly settling down to a warm orange as the Director reeled in his emotions.

  He couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh. "That doesn't quite cut it, Agent Lupe," he said, his fire fighting between the scorching azure and the warm gold. "You need to understand the consequences of your actions. We can't afford to keep cleaning up after you like this."

  He leaned back in his chair, running a gloved hand through his non-existent hair, trying to collect his thoughts.

  "From now on I'll have you working under a supervisor who will oversee your missions and ensure that you're following correct protocol," Donner continued, his tone firm. "Your skills are valuable, but they're wasted if you can't exercise caution and judgment. I need to know that you can handle yourself responsibly out in the field."

  He paused, observing Lupe's reaction once again. Despite her occasional recklessness, he saw potential in her, she was cut from their cloth after all. But potential alone wouldn't suffice; she needed guidance and discipline to channel her abilities effectively.

  "I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself, Agent Lupe," Donner said, his gaze steady. "But understand that this is your last warning. Any more incidents like this, and there will be serious consequences."

  He hoped his words would sink in, that Lupe would realize the gravity of the situation. The Court was not a playground for reckless behaviour; lives were at stake, and the organization couldn't afford to tolerate mistakes.

  ---

  "Of course he had something to complain about," Lupe muttered as she fumbled with her keys. "Next time I'll just let the Jinn eat someone and we can all go home happy that there wasn't any paperwork poor pencil-pusher Donner had to worry about.”

  She had neutralised the Jinn, which would have otherwise demolished several buildings, so what was the problem? She even kept the corpse in one piece for the lab coats, which was above and beyond for the usually apathetic agent, and yet Donner insisted on incessantly whining about car costs.

  Every single time that she brought something in, Donner had a new issue he was complaining about... Back at the academy, Lupe had found things so much easier. All she had to do was put in a little bit of effort and the various instructors would shower her with praise.

  Clicking the door behind her, Lupe steeled herself, "I'm back."

  Anyone who'd spent more than five minutes talking to Lupe might assume she slept in abandoned warehouses or maybe prowled the night in search of Jinn. Those who lasted ten would know about the cats, and her infatuation with them. These rare, patient few would find themselves nodding in understanding upon seeing her residence.

  The cat café was a quaint store tucked between two apartment blocks, and despite the gruff nature of the western quadrant, made a modest living off of its few loyal customers. It certainly helped that its owner was very charismatic, and he did a good job attracting all sorts of people.

  Not looking up from his newspaper, the chestnut-haired man chuckled. "You seem to be in a mood... Did that Donner guy chew you out again?"

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Lupe kicked off her boots with more force than necessary, one of them skidding slightly across the floor before being pounced on by a curious tabby. She ignored it, dragging herself toward the café counter with the grace of a terminal patient.

  "He's such a pain," she groaned, slumping into the stool. "I take down a rank 4, that's four levels higher than the last Jinn he brought in, but I'm the villain because I sacrificed a few windows and maybe a car instead of innocent lives."

  The man lowered his newspaper slightly, revealing a pair of warm amber eyes and an amused smirk. "A dealership this time? What was it just last month... A bank?"

  Lupe waved him off. "Collateral."

  One of the cats, a fat grey one named Baron, leapt into her lap and immediately began kneading her protective jacket. Lupe absently scratched behind its ears, letting out a long sigh as her shoulders visibly loosened.

  The man folded his paper, setting it aside. "So, what's the verdict this time? Suspension? Desk work? Forced meditation?"

  "Worse," Lupe muttered. "I'm getting a supervisor."

  "Ouch."

  "Mhm. Some protocol freak, probably. Can't wait to spend my days being told that I shouldn't do my job." She squinted suspiciously. "You're enjoying this."

  He grinned, reaching under the counter to pull out a fresh mug of tea, already steeped just the way she liked it.

  "I enjoy seeing you so worked up," he said, placing the cup in front of her. "It's a nice reminder that even the soulless Lupe has emotions."

  Agent Lupe groaned and let her forehead fall onto the countertop with a thud.

  "I do try, you know? It's just that sometimes, the fastest way to stop a Jinn is also the most dramatic."

  "You mean the most destructive."

  "They’re not mutually exclusive."

  Baron meowed loudly in protest as Lupe shifted, clearly unhappy about being jostled. She gave him a guilty pat.

  The man chuckled again. "Well, whoever this new supervisor is, maybe they'll teach you how to do your job without making the Court file for insurance."

  "Y'know, Jeanne" Glared Lupe, her face twisting into a snarl, "For someone who charges rent as high as you do, I'd expect a little empathy."

  The chestnut-haired barista named Jeanne, despite the name, was very much a guy. And it was hard not to gleam this little gemstone of a factoid from his neatly trimmed stubble and broad shoulders that you’d find on a mafia boss, not a barista.

  The barista/owner could only chuckle in response. "When you're making as much as you do, I'm practically doing you a service only charging what I am."

  After finishing her tea and tolerating a few more of Jeanne's smug comments, Lupe finally took herself upstairs into her apartment. It was a compact space that smelled faintly of catnip and lavender, with a window overlooking the alley and a shoebox-sized balcony that several neighbourhood strays had claimed as their nap spot.

  The moment she stepped through the door, three cats scampered to greet her like she was royalty returning from war. Which, in her defence, wasn't far from the truth.

  With a frustrated sigh, Lupe set her feet in motion toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, her exhaustion quickly pulled her under, the last thought lingering in her mind being how much she hated how easy it was for her to break things.

  ---

  Location: The Courts Western Headquarters – Director Donner's Office

  Oz stood still, posture stiff, as if moving might provoke death.

  Across the room, Director Donner leaned against his desk, arms crossed, flames licking harmlessly along the edge of his shoulders. The office had no lights; he didn't need them. The air shimmered faintly with heat.

  Grudge.

  The mother of Jinn and the source of their powers, it was what gave Jinn the edge over humans for the past millennia, up until just nine hundred years ago when the mortals started figuring out how to use Grudge to fuel their own supernatural powers.

  Lortum always thought humans were clumsy in their attempts at manipulating grudge, yet It poured off this one like light from a star. Not visible to the naked eye, no, but Lortum wasn't human. He could feel it. Taste it. The density was maddening. A swirling inferno of grudge thick enough to feel in the air, which was supposed to be impossible.

  Thank goodness that despite his overwhelming strength, 'Director Donner' hadn't yet noticed that Oz has been dead for little more than a week now, and his corpse was only being puppeteered by Lortum.

  "You're quiet today," Donner said. His voice was low and slow, like crackling embers. "Still not thrilled about the babysitting assignment?"

  Oz swallowed.

  Careful. Don't stammer. Don't twitch.

  "I read her file." He started, his throat dry. "She seems reckless, I don't think the jobs for me."

  "Reckless, huh?" Donner chuckled. "That's one word for it. Another would be insane."

  Donner laughed a little, seemingly enjoying the conversation with Oz. The director was oblivious too how stressed Lortum seemed. Which was good, all things considered.

  The late Oz was a grizzled veteran of the Court, and many believed him to be something of a local legend. What they didn't know was that he'd died on his last assignment, when faulty intel dropped him into a nest of two dozen Jinn.

  To his credit, Oz was able to kill almost all of them before succumbing to his injuries.

  Luckily, he died first, and the mortally wounded Lortum successfully bound his soul with Oz's corpse without resistance, possessing him...

  Back to the present, Lortum repeated the same mantra through his head as he stared face to face with Donner. He doesn't know. He doesn't know.

  Lortum had lived a hundred lives. He had worn the skins of desert kings and whispered into the dreams of conquerors. He had never felt fear like this.

  Donner's chuckle faded, replaced by the sound of a flexing flame -whatever that sounded like- as he turned to grab a tablet off his desk.

  "You'll manage," he said. "I need someone with experience. She needs a leash. You're not my first choice, but you're what I've got."

  Oz inclined his head in a gesture that resembled obedience. It wasn't. It never would be.

  Experience. That's what they called it. These humans, so fragile, so short-lived... Scrambling to categorize things they barely understood.

  Lortum had walked this earth when fire was new. He had watched civilizations rise, flicker, and die out like sparks. He had fed on kings. Whispered madness into holy men. Sure, he was only classified as a rank 3 Jinn, but that was in raw power alone... He didn't have experience.

  He was experience.

  Still, he played along. Only because of how terrifying this 'Donner' was.

  Oz clasped his hands behind his back... Calm, respectful. A soldier's poise. An illusion.

  This charade. This skin. These clipped words and clipped thoughts. It was like squeezing himself into a coffin and calling it a suit.

  But he couldn't afford to act otherwise. Not with this human.

  Donner radiated too much grudge. The Director wasn't merely saturated with it; he had become it. There was no human alive who should've been able to function with that much malice burning under their skin.

  Not without unravelling.

  And yet here he was. Standing. Speaking. Probably smirking under that hood of fire.

  Lortum narrowed Oz's eyes slightly, just a sliver of emotion he could justify as weariness.

  Of all the bodies to possess, Lortum just got unlucky enough to end up as a subordinate for this monster! The Jinn was positively fuming, after all a mere human was ordering the superior species around... He couldn't fathom the feelings of disgust that boiled up in his chest.

  But still, Lortum was experienced. For now, he would bide his time, play it safe and re-gather his power. Then, and only then, would he retaliate for the shame this 'Donner' was putting him through. The Jinn supressed a smile as he thought about how the karmic boomerang would soon strike this director.

  The standard techniques of causing pain and suffering would probably prove ineffective against the flaming man, but Lortum had other ways of-

  "Oz." said Donner, his voice suddenly cold, contrasting with his fiery form. "I'm detecting a faint trickle of bloodlust from you..."

  Suddenly breaking into a sweat, Lortum stammered into an excuse of some kind, but as he opened his borrowed mouth the Jinn found his body suddenly uncooperative. The grudge swirling around Donner suddenly seemed suffocating, like it was trying to swallow Lortum up.

  This man's skill in Goetry was remarkable, and if responding to Donner's thoughts, the grudge was scanning Oz for any possible fluctuations in his own soul.

  No, that wasn't it. Oz doubted Donner was intentionally attempting to restrain him. It was just that the grudge energy leaking off his body was so tightly connected with the director, it naturally came to his aid automatically, restraining any potential threats. The Jinn didn't know whether to cry or to laugh, after all, the world itself was bending to a mere human will.

  "I understand now," Started Donner, his flaming form flickering. "I can see right through you, Oz."

  The Jinn could have sworn he felt his heart rise into his throat.

  "You- You can?" He stuttered.

  "You're a different man than the one I was expecting to walk into this room." Donner nodded, "How embarrassing... I thought I knew my agents better."

  Lortum watched his vision go blurry. He didn't know if it was because of the sweat running down into his eyes, or just from the stress. Either way, it certainly wasn't a good condition for a battle.

  Yes, a battle. Even if it meant certain death, the Jinn refused himself to just roll over and die. He would make sure to land at least one fair blow onto the inferno the humans called their leader.

  "I get it," Donner continued, voice mellowing, "You're just frustrated."

  A pause.

  "Bloodlust like that? You're itching to be back in the field, not stuck babysitting some reckless rookie."

  Lortum blinked. The words hit like a bucket of cold water.

  He doesn't know.

  "I-uh, yes." The Jinn swallowed. "Exactly that."

  Donner nodded sagely, stepping away from the desk. The fire dimmed ever so slightly around him, like a sun behind thin clouds.

  "You're a soldier, Oz. You've got the instincts for war, not day-care." It was tough to tell, but a grin creeped into the director’s voice. "But Lupe's not just some fresh blood with a death wish."

  "She's the only child of the Shadoll Clan."

  Lortum's borrowed jaw clenched.

  Shadoll.

  Even he knew that name. One of the ancient bloodlines, the kind that didn't fade even as empires fell. If the girl was truly born of that stock, she wasn't just some loose cannon with poor impulse control. She was a loaded weapon with a lineage older than most countries.

  Except the Shadoll were supposed to be gone. Massacred by a rank-eight Jinn. One of humanities three pillars disappeared in one night. This tip in power was precisely why the Jinn had been so active lately, and why creatures like Lortum had become more confident after lying in wait for centuries.

  Lortum had met the Shadoll's once. Long ago, when he'd worn the face of a prince and danced through burning cities. They were difficult to kill. Dangerous.

  But this one?

  She was young. Unshaped. Reckless to the point of idiocy.

  Perfect.

  The beginnings of a smile ghosted over Oz's borrowed face, carefully timed to match what a tired veteran might show in response to Donner's words.

  "I didn't know," Lortum said slowly, adjusting his tone to carry a mix of resignation and buried intrigue. "That changes things."

  Donner nodded, satisfied. "Thought it might. She's raw, but she's worth the effort. The right mentor could make something extraordinary out of her."

  Extraordinary, yes.

  Possessable, even.

  She would never see it coming. He would mould her, polish her, make her strong - strong enough to contain him without breaking apart like a sack of meat and bones. And then, when the moment was right…

  He would shed this decaying puppet of a man, and take her instead.

  Not just for the body. For the power. For the lineage. For the future.

  Lortum, born from the echo of tyrants and bound by ancient rites, would walk the world again in a vessel of true promise.

  "Understood," he said aloud. "I'll handle it."

  Donner turned his back, satisfied. "Good. I'll have her meet you at dawn. Be gentle, if you can. She's… difficult."

  Lortum's eyes glinted.

  "Oh," he murmured, "I'll be exactly what she needs."