Zahid
Zahid had enough trouble trying to balance his life as a Muslim immigrant in America,
but things got really complicated when fire started shooting out of his hands.
That was only the beginning, however, as Allah had appointed him to be a raqi
- a Muslim exorcist - battling the unseen jinn and shayateen in his small town.
Can he, with the help of his two friends - one Christian and one - thwart the evil designs of
Iblis and his wicked underlings, whispering dark thoughts into the hearts of unsuspecting humans?
Learn all about this often-misunderstood religion while you follow Zahid
on his own journey, burning away the impurities of the jinn and of his own soul.
Preview:
“Okay,” Zahid said
with a nod. “Here we go.” He cleared his throat and started singing in Arabic,
quoting surahs from the Qur’an. “Say, ‘I
seek refuge in the Lord of mankind, in the Sovereign of mankind…”
“Come on,” he thought. “This is so embarrassing. Besides, what help will prayers really do?”
Zahid was
surprised by the thought. After all, he knew first hand what prayers could do.
Then a strange
cold washed over him and all the hair on his arms stood on end as he realized
that his thought had not been his
thought, but the whispering of a shaitan.
THWACK!
Zahid flinched
just in time.
Conor had picked
up the scissors and stabbed the desk. Zahid gaped at the dent in the desktop –
right where his hand had been resting.
“What the…” he
started.
Then he stopped
when he saw the sinister grin on Conor’s face. It was unlike any expression
Conor had ever made. His eyes were nearly sparking with malice.
“So the stray dog wants to play?” another voice
spoke through Conor’s mouth. “This will
be fun.”
Zahid sprang to his feet, suddenly forgetting how the rest of the surah went.
It was one thing
to recognize the whispers of a shaitan, but speaking to one face to face was
quite another thing entirely.
“C-Conor?” Zahid
stammered. “It’s not Conor anymore, is it?”
Conor – or the
jinni – also stood, stalking Zahid with an intensely focused gaze.
“Purify him in the Name of Allah,” Hamasail
whispered in his ear.
“What? Me?” Zahid
said in a shrill voice. “How?”
“Speak the words,” Asheil instructed.
But before he
could, the jinni raised Conor’s hand – the one still holding the orange-handled
scissors. The hand snapped. The scissors flew at Zahid’s head.
He hollered and
jerked to the side. A sharp pain struck his cheek as a blur of orange and
silver whirred past.
THWACK!
The scissors
pierced the drywall. As they glinted in the light, Zahid realized that they had
been meant for his head.
And although it
should have scared him, anger sparked within his chest. Not anger at Conor, but anger for Conor. He would not let this shaitan use his friend like a
puppet, to do countless acts of evil. The jinni would destroy his friend’s
life. and he was already in enough pain. Conor thought that no one cared about
him.
But I do, Zahid thought.
Suddenly, a sharp,
searing heat ignited in his chest and exploded through his arms.
Acting on pure
instinct, Zahid reached out, touched Conor’s forehead, and declared, “In the
Name of Allah, be purified.”
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