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“Matar slowly approached the coffee and picked it up carefully, like it might bite him. He removed the lid and sniffed. "It's not poisoned," I said. "What are you? You conjure things from nowhere." "Perhaps I'm an afrit, a genie. Perhaps I'm an angel." Cox watched this exchange with interest. "Perhaps you are Shaitan," said Matar. I raised my eyebrows and Cox obligingly said, "Satan." I smiled a smile that didn't touch my eyes. The blood drained from Matar's face. "Perhaps," I said. "Welcome to hell.” — Steven Gould
Matar slowly approached the coffee and picked it up carefully, like it might bite him. He
removed the lid and sniffed.
"It's not poisoned," I said.
"What are you? You conjure things from nowhere."
"Perhaps I'm an afrit, a genie. Perhaps I'm an angel."
Cox watched this exchange with interest. "Perhaps you are Shaitan," said Matar.
I raised my eyebrows and Cox obligingly said, "Satan."
I smiled a smile that didn't touch my eyes. The blood drained from Matar's face. "Perhaps," I
said. "Welcome to hell.