Circle of Jinn (36 page)

“It wasn't me,” Austan says. “It was Gamal.”

“Semantics, really?” I grit my teeth. “Just undo it.”

Austan shakes his head. “I can't.”

“Can't or won't?” Zak says brusquely.

“Can't, Cousin.” Austan reaches into the pocket of the black leather vest he's wearing over his tunic, and I magically swat his hand away.

“Nuh-uh,” I say.

He raises his hands in the air. “Go ahead. I told you I wouldn't try anything.”

“Azra, let me,” Zak says, getting up.

“No. Stay with her.” I then use my powers to open Austan's vest. Tucked inside the left-hand pocket are three vials and one syringe. I levitate all three, including the one that's empty, toward Zak, setting them down on the side patio table beside him.

“Do you know what these are?” I ask.

Zak picks up a full one and studies it. It has no label. “No. Father never mentioned anything about weapons such as this.”

Austan sighs. “Xavier doesn't know. One of Qasim's pet projects. He's become fond of taking human diseases and having them manipulated so they can actually affect Jinn.”

I didn't hear that right, did I?
“‘Affect'? What do you mean by ‘affect'?”

I begin to enter Austan's mind. I have to know if he's telling us the truth.

“
Min fadlik
,” he says, covering his head with both hands. “Please don't infiltrate my head again. I'll tell you whatever you want to know.” He unfolds himself and says matter-of-factly, “If I return without you, Qasim's likely to inject me with one of those himself. I'm stuck with you all whether I like it or not.” He looks to Zak. “Which I do, Cousin, no matter what you think.”

“Prove it,” Zak says. “Fix Laila.”

“I can't.” Austan sighs with defeat. “Qasim's mixing a little of this and a little of that. Some things are merely intensified versions of the humans' common cold, which knock Jinn flat out for a few days, sometimes weeks.”

“And this one?” Zak asks, holding up the vial.

“That one does a bit more. That one knocks Jinn out for more than a day.”

“More than a day?” Zak's half laugh has an undercurrent of fear. “Why bother with a disease? A hefty spell could do that.”

He's right. Even the sleeping spell I just did on Gamal will last at least twelve hours. But the pain I felt from Laila when they injected that vial into her was way too intense to be merely inducing sleep.

Matin backs away to allow me to sit on the chaise beside Laila.

“Whatever was in that vial does more than knock a Jinn out, doesn't it?” I say.

Austan's chin, pointy under the goatee, juts out. “It's eating away at her insides.” His tone is full of disgust. “Like some perverted version of a flesh-eating virus. No Jinn's healing powers can stop it. And it acts fast.”

“How fast?” I say, my voice tight.

“If she doesn't get the antidote, it'll be over in twenty-four hours.”

“Over?” Zak asks, his eyes blinking rapidly and his lower lip trembling.

It's like my heart's being devoured by a pack of wolves. I already know what “over” means. I couldn't stop myself. I slipped into Austan's mind to read his thoughts.

“Dead,” Austan says out loud. “She'll be dead in twenty-four hours if she doesn't get the antidote.”

My lungs strain for air. “And where is this antidote?”

“Janna,” he says, just like I knew he would.

Laila. Poor Laila. I inhale, deeper and deeper, as I realize what this means. Of course it means we have to enter Janna now, not in three days. But that doesn't mean the uprising is over before it began. With one more breath I finally suck down enough oxygen to fill my lungs, to expand my chest. I hold it in, relishing it. All this means is that the uprising has hit warp speed—and been downsized.

Because the uprising doesn't need forty Jinn. All it needs is two: me and Zak. We are my father's backup plan. We are not the key to the uprising. We
are
the uprising. I've just accessed enough strength to employ hadi on the Afrit. Something not even they can do.

I exhale in one long, slow breath.

Though Matin telling the council about the portal means we've lost some of our element of surprise, they don't know the where and they don't know the when. Zak knows his way around Janna. If we go in now, we can free Xavier, get him to help us find the antidote for Laila, and then, after she's safe, we can show the council what we can do—what I can do.

Xavier always intended for us to stave off an uprising, not start one. If Zak and I go in alone, no other Jinn need risk her life.

We do everything he wanted and more.

I breathe in and out again as the color continues to drain from Laila's round cheeks. I lift her hand to my lips and give the smooth skin a soft kiss. I rest it against her side and stand, pausing to brush a blond curl off her forehead.

“We should get ready, Brother,” I say.

 

35

I tear through the clothes in my closet. I couldn't even conjure pants.

How am I supposed to save Laila if I can't even conjure pants?

Fifteen minutes. Zak and I said fifteen minutes to do everything we needed to do before leaving. For me, that everything is Henry.

I peel off the sweater I borrowed from Yasmin and toss it on the floor. I knock hanger after hanger aside, searching for the cargo pants I know are in here somewhere.

I fling a pair of jeans too hard, and its wooden hanger flies off the rod, clattering against the floor.

Khallas!

I need to be more careful. If my mother finds out that Zak and I are going in alone, now, she'll try to stop us. Or insist on coming with us. Neither one is an option. I want to protect her, but I also can't afford to be slowed down by
having
to protect her or anyone else once we enter Janna.

Calm down, Azra. Calm down.

The next hanger has my cargo pants.
Good
. That's a start. Off goes the romper.
Very good.
Now put those pants on, one leg at a time
. Excellent.
Now, a shirt.

Deep breaths. My chest puffs in and out as I stand in front of the mirror and braid my long hair. I sweep the finished braid off my shoulder and take one final look at my Jinn—at my Afrit—self. I hope it's enough.

I slip the silver tinsel from Laila in my pocket and turn to leave. The last thing I see before I flick off the light and everything goes dark is the photograph on my nightstand of me, Jenny, and Laila from when we were little.

I have to be enough. Because, like my mother, I've lost too much. I'm not losing anything else.

*   *   *

“Azra?” Yasmin calls from inside Zak's bedroom, where, I assume, Raina still is.

Damn that hanger.

Because I'm down to ten. Ten minutes to do everything I need to do.

Though it twists my stomach, I'm about to app away without answering her when she appears in the doorway, her gold eyes red.

I swallow hard as I murmur condolences. She waves her hand, saying it's okay, saying she knows I need to go, that what she needs will only take a minute. But she does need me.

And so I follow her into the bedroom, even though a part of me would rather face the Afrit in Janna than Raina here, like this.

The air in the room is, as I knew it would be, heavy with sorrow, but also, to my surprise, with lavender and cloves and streaks of light. Candles flicker from every surface. The room and everything in it glow a beautiful gold, the color of Jinn.

I stand next to Yasmin at the foot of the bed and force my eyes to look upon Raina. Her hip-length black hair has been woven into three long, thick braids that rest together along one side of her body, which is shrouded in a crisp white linen sheet. Left free of the cloth, her bare hands and feet are no longer covered in scrapes and scratches but in burnt umber henna tattoos, painstakingly drawn by hand by my mother's Zar. A simple winding vine outlines Raina's beautiful face, peaceful in death in a way I never remember it being in life.

The secret she kept about Yasmin and Qasim weighed on her in ways she probably never even realized. It made her overprotective of Yasmin. But for Raina, overprotective translated to demanding and hard to please. It made Yasmin hard, strong enough to not just accept but to stand up to her Afrit heritage. But it also made her hard in other ways, like in opening herself up to those around her, to humans, to Jinn, to her Zar. Our sisters broke through her front. Just as they did for me. Yasmin and I always have been more alike than we wanted to admit. Now we know why.

Our Afrit blood connects us. Our Afrit blood endangers us.

I thought my father was bad for forcing me into saving the Jinn world. Yasmin's father wants to force her—us—to destroy it.

“I should go with you,” Yasmin says.

“You can't,” I whisper.
Is this what she needs me for?
I don't have the time to talk about this
now
. Not to mention how disrespectful it feels to talk about this
here
.

I can't look at Raina's face any longer, so I stare at a lilac drawn along her ankle, most likely by my mother. My foot taps against the floor. “You're better with spells. Between you and my mother…” When Yasmin doesn't flinch at the mention of her, I continue, “You'll be able to protect the Jinn left here. To prepare the Jinn who will follow me and Zak if we can't…”
Tap, tap, tap.
“If we aren't able to…”
Tap, tap, tap.

She folds her arms across her chest. “Fine, I get it. But with Matin's betrayal, there's no telling what's waiting for you. You need to … What I mean is, just be safe, Azra.”

This is as close as Yasmin and I have ever been to showing each other affection.

And right now, Yasmin needs affection. Lately, the one she's been most willing to accept it from hasn't been one of our Zar sisters. She needs to forgive Matin. I check the clock. Eight minutes. There's no time for a long, drawn-out plea, so I simply say, “He was wrong, I know that. But it's not like he meant for this to happen. He was just trying to protect his family.”

“By hurting ours,” Yasmin says curtly.

“But he didn't know that. What would you have done?”

“I'd have fought.”

“We're not all as strong as you.”

Yasmin turns to me. “You're stronger. At least you better be.”

Her eyes, whose distance apart has always made her look edge toward the exotic, betray her controlled exterior. The grief in them takes a slice out of my heart.

“Because…” Her nails dig into the flesh of her upper arms. “Because you can't let this happen to Laila.”

Another slice, gone. “I won't.”

Her nails leave red indents on her skin. “Now there's one thing you need to do before—”

“I know,” I say, cutting her off to move this along. “Henry—”

“I didn't mean that.” She tilts her head toward her mother. “I don't want her tied to them.”

She then surprises me by taking my hand. Her grip is firm. Her intentions more so.

Though Zak isn't here to help, I draw on Yasmin's strength, on all the Jinn strength I now have, as I recite Xavier's spell. The two halves of Raina's bangle pop open like a clam. The gold shines even brighter against the backdrop of the white sheet. Yasmin walks to her mother's side and gently snaps the bangle back together, securing it around her wrist.

“You're free now, Mother,” Yasmin says. “Your magic belongs to you.”

Raina spent her life raising Yasmin to be strong. And not just magically. She has the strength to withstand the worst. Just like my mother. Raina would be proud. I'm proud.

But I'm also sad. I'm so damn sad. For Yasmin, for my mother, for me, for Raina. For Laila.

I can't let this happen to Laila.

I force myself to look at Raina's face again.

She's so … still. I didn't approach Nate's father's casket during his funeral. And I didn't even go to Jenny's. That was more my mother's decision than mine, but I've always been grateful. I wouldn't want that to be my last memory, my final image, of Jenny.

But Raina … I'm kind of glad this is my final image of her. Beautiful, tranquil, and … and home. Cared for and loved by her Zar sisters. This image of her, right here, reminds me why I'm doing this.

Suddenly, Yasmin says quietly, “I have no more family here.”

Family? How could I forget?
Did it even fully register before now?

“Yes, you do,” I say.

“Our Zar sisters, I know. I didn't mean to disrespect—”

“No, no. I mean, I know. But you do have family here. Your grandfather.”

“Grandfather?”

“On the Afrit side. But still…”

“Grandfather?” she says again. “As in white-haired and frail?”

“Depends on his mood, I think. And how much he wants to toy with you.”

For the first time in days, she smiles. Her traditional condescending smile.

I've missed it.

“Sounds like we're going to get along,” she says.

*   *   *

Henry. I need to find Henry.

I rush out of the room and am already starting to apport when I catch a glimpse of my mother in her bed, lying flat, just like Raina.

My heart seizes in my chest.
She's sleeping. My mother's just sleeping.
But I can't leave with this image—this resemblance to Raina's current position—in my head.

And so I tiptoe into her room and make sure her chest is indeed rising and falling in a calming rhythm she surely wouldn't feel if she were awake. Her hair, the same espresso color as mine, is bundled atop her head. Pieces are splayed out on her pillow and around her face. The soft lines around her eyes and full lips speak to her strength, making her even more beautiful.