Circle of Jinn (38 page)

After I stole her locket, after my actions threatened to destroy our friendship, I vowed to never let my happiness be at the expense of hers again. Which is why if it's a choice between Zak returning with the antidote or me, I'll make sure it's Zak.

Find something she loves and give it to her.

That's exactly what I intend to do.

I bend to kiss Laila's forehead, and the apricot scent I've always associated with Samara envelops me. When did Laila start using Samara's shampoo? Like mother, like daughter, generation upon generation.

I breathe in the aroma that has soothed me my entire life, imprint the curve of Laila's butterscotch waves of hair in my mind, and remember the delicate sound of her voice.

As I move away from the bed, I smile softly at Mr. Gemp, who's standing guard over her from the nightstand. I flick open the lid and reach in to pull out the rolled-up photograph that I found inside on my birthday. When Hana passed Mr. Gemp to me, there was a single picture of the six of us tween Jinn standing in a line with Laila in front, her arms stretched wide to encompass us all. That photo's still here, along with more added by Laila. One of us from my birthday, all of them dressed in genie costumes and me in my white pants and purple tunic; one of us from our last gathering, all of them dressed in normal clothes and me in my gold bra top and harem pants; and one of us from the night of our Zar initiation, when the six of us became one.

I have to make sure the six of us remain one.

My own heartbeat echoes in my ears as Zak silently moves into the room. He's wearing the same brownish-beige leather waistcoat, white tunic, and baggy pants he arrived in. The only thing new is a satchel hanging across his chest. Surely filled with illegal goods.

I step back and give him my place at Laila's side. His shoulders round as he hunches over to caress her cheek. His lips softly graze hers before he whispers something I can't make out. He then stands next to me and entwines his fingers with mine.

And it is this, this gesture full of warmth and sympathy and knowing, knowing what it feels like to have one's heart shredded, that begins to unearth the resentment at being Jinn I've worked so hard to bury these past few months.

I can't let it. If there is one way to honor Laila, who always saw the good in being Jinn, it is this.

A shy Matin, mumbling apologies for interrupting, appears in the doorway. In his arms is a length of lush cloth in a rich, deep eggplant purple so dark it's almost black.

“It belonged to Raina,” Matin says, unfolding the long, hooded garment, similar to those our mothers like to apport in. “I recalled seeing it when Yasmin and I…” He clears his throat. “When we were searching their old house. Hana was kind enough to apport me to retrieve it.”

He drapes the cloak around my shoulders and helps me slip my arms through.

The sleeves billow out, and the collar stands straight up, squared in each corner an inch below chin level. The cloak's slit from its fitted top to its delicate bell-shaped bottom. Though the only adornment is a gold toggle closure in the center right under the bustline, it's the most stunning thing I've ever seen.

“It's a jellaba,” Matin says, “so you'll blend in.”

And then, into the room come Hana, Mina, and Farrah. Each in a matching jellaba. Though theirs are fully black. Mourning cloaks. And while I feel their sorrow, I also feel their hope. And their belief. In me. I couldn't ask for anything better to take with me into Janna.

I kiss Matin's cheek and thank him. Because the time for resentment has long since passed.

It is now a time for change.

As Zak comes to my side, Matin stops him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck,
habib
.”

Zak nods but doesn't say good-bye.

Sometimes change requires baby steps.

 

38

This change starts with one. One step toward the archaeological wonder called Najah.

Zak and I stand in awe of the temple carved into the desert mountain before us, a true hidden gem, deserted in this predawn hour. Thousands of years old, the rounded columns surrounding the narrow entryway tower over us. The size and scale dwarf us but somehow empower our cause.

Here, in a place of such grandeur built by human hands, magic seems to pale in comparison. We are doing this for Laila, for our father, for our fellow Jinn, but ultimately, this is why we are doing this. Because we have a responsibility to the humans. Nature made a deal with us to help them, not hurt them. We must uphold our end of the bargain not just so that we keep our magic and our legacy, but because it's the right thing to do.

I will the tremble in my knees not to travel to my voice as I say, “Well, Brother, are you ready?”

“N-n-not yet,” he says. Apparently my will is a touch stronger than his. He broadens his shoulders and firms his stance. He then pushes up the sleeve of his tunic to reveal his “Always. But not forever” tattoo. “I think you need one of these.”

He's serious, being all poignant and profound, and all I can think is:
On my arm? But what will that look like when I'm in my bikini?
A bikini? Really? That's what I'm thinking about now?

I smile. I may be a Jinn, but a part of me will always belong to the human world, to Nate, to Henry, to the beach I so love.

Before Zak's furrowed brow becomes permanent, I swish Raina's long cloak aside and uncover my ankle. Zak bows in front and a warmth tickles my skin.

He's drawn an identical tattoo of curled lines and shapes that conceal the phrase “Always. But not forever.” But something's missing.

Inside the design, I add two sets of initials:
HJC
and
NAR
. Henry Jeffrey Carwyn and Nathan Adam Reese. I then do the same with Zak's tattoo. Except for him, I slip in just one set:
LM
. Laila Malak.

As I do, I'm hit with a wave of emotion that I can only identify as love. Laila's love for Zak. And for me. She's still with us. And we need to make sure she stays that way.

Side by side, Zak and I squeeze into the slit in the mountain. In two short steps, we're blocked. It's too tight for us to penetrate further.

A stream of sunlight filters through the crevice, highlighting the wall directly opposite us. As we turn to retreat, we have to shield our eyes. And that's when I see it before us: a line of Jinn carved into the sandstone, linked arm in arm.

I loop my arm through Zak's. We each place our free hand on the Jinn. And we disappear.

My vision blurs and I stumble back against the cool, smooth rock of the cramped nook into which the portal releases us. My lungs fill with the smell of dirt and chalk and sea and grass and roses and cinnamon and sun. It's some mix of the scents of everything I've ever known, amounting not to a muddled mess but to a soothing pleasantness.

Zak's grip pulls me taut. “
Rahmah!
It worked!”

It worked.
I can barely hear him over the jackhammering of my heart. We …
thump thump thump
 … are …
thump thump thump
 … in …
thump thump thump
 … Janna.

Janna.

I step forward, out of the shadow cast by the wall of pale-salmon slab encircling us.

We are underground?
This
is all underground?

A stone landscape of muted pinks, corals, reds, creams, tans, and browns spreads out under a sky of iridescent aqua the color of island oceans. Across from us, a flat, raised platform surrounded by a low stone wall acts as a central hub, from which long, winding paths fan out like spokes on a wheel. Down each passageway are tall two- and three-story rectangular dwellings with carved arched entryways, squat structures with fat, rounded footprints, and rows of slender columns, one after the other, topped with what looks like aqueducts from the history books, all made of the same striated, rosy-tan-hued stone.

Monochromatic. Speaking of a time and place of the past. And beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful.

My mind tries to reconcile what my eyes are seeing with the facts I know. A place this beautiful should not house so much pain. Or cause it.

“Excellent,” Zak says, pulling me back though no other Jinn are in sight. “A perfect entry point.”

He must recognize our location.

Like clearing cobwebs, I sweep all other thoughts aside and concentrate not on the fact that I
am
here but on the
reason
why I'm here. Laila. And concentrating on Laila means finding Xavier.

“Do we need to app?” We debated whether we should apport, and risk possible detection, once we arrived.

“If I'm right about where we are, there's no need.” Zak lifts my hood and fastens it tight around my face before doing the same with his. “Now follow close.”

He then darts diagonally across the open area in front of the stone platform. I match his pace, trying not to marvel at how soft the pink sand is underfoot or how the fine grains refrain from being displaced and kicked up by our heavy tread.

I shadow Zak as he travels through a wide, squared-off passageway that takes us down an increasingly constricted alley. The stone darkens and begins to radiate not cool but cold. Icy cold.

We reach a fork, and Zak hesitates.

He inches to the right, rotates, and then moves to the left. I follow, first right, then—
ping!
—left. All of a sudden, that mix of Pop Rocks and Coke that exploded in my veins upon first touching Zak jolts through me.

I tread another foot.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

“Definitely left,” I whisper, to which Zak nods and rubs his forearms.

We slink down the dimly lit corridor built of gray rock covered in dirt and grime. The farther we go, the harder it is to take in oxygen and the less my eyes can make out what comes ahead. A blackness permeates everything.

Just as we're about to reach the end, Zak pauses. “An Afrit guard,” he whispers.

This is my cue. This is why I'm here. This is why I came just with Zak, without waiting for any other Jinn. Because I can do this.
I can do this.
Just like with Austan and Gamal.

I breathe in the rotten sulfur smell emanating from what lies ahead and draw on the female Jinn power we've released. My thoughts turn to Raina and what she gave up for all of us, and instinctually, I reach for my brother's hand. His confidence ignites mine.

Before the guard's eyes land on us, I'm inside his mind. We approach, right under his nose, but I convince him he doesn't see a thing. Under my command, he opens the gate, the first thing made of metal I've seen here. He uses a spell only a few Afrit know—now including me. He closes the gate, turns, and resumes his post, none the wiser.

Zak and I are in tortura cavea. My skin crawls from the knowledge of what this place is, of what it represents, and my heart aches from the misery I feel from the Jinn trapped behind the thick walls.

I can't believe I once thought this was just a tale my mother told me to ensure I behaved. My wish, more than anything, is for that to have been true.

Trying to warm my insides as much as my outsides, I lean closer to Zak. “Just the one guard?”

Zak shrugs. “One guard and one spell no one could possibly know? Maybe.”

Maybe. I don't like “maybes.”

I keep hold of Zak's hand as we travel side by side through the dark entryway that leads to a fully enclosed tunnel. My eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of light. But the farther we go, the more the path widens and the rays of light trickling in from the end grow longer and brighter until they finally reach us. We spill out into a half-moon opening lit with torches, whose unnaturally bright flames that refuse to flicker must be made by magic.

Before us lie six arrow-straight halls lined not with stone but steel. Each guarded by a hooded figure in a long black cloak. This time, they see us just as we see them.

They drop their hoods. All twelve eyes fixate on me and Zak. Without even glancing one another's way, they begin to chant.

Though Zak and I have lost the element of surprise, we have another advantage. I know my enemy better than my enemy knows me.

As the spell nears completion, I project into Zak's mind:
Act surprised.
And needing all the confidence I can get, I squeeze his hand and add,
But don't let go.

Gathering strength and volume with each syllable, the six Afrit finish with a resounding “
Eftah
” that echoes off the walls.

My body stiffens, and I feign shock as I use my powers to release my silver bangle and Zak's beaded necklace to the ground.

The fear radiating from me I don't have to fake.

An Afrit with the girth of a body builder and the face of a ferret draws closer. “Desperate for a room?” He acts as though finding two Jinn on this side of the cells in tortura cavea is an everyday occurrence, but his gold eyes that dart behind his furiously blinking lids give away his nerves. “I believe we have a vacancy.”

He stops directly in front of us and magically throws back our hoods. For the first time it must register that I'm a female. A female of wish-granting age. A female who shouldn't be here in Janna, let alone here in tortura cavea. And his eyes widen as they settle on Zak.

“Zakaria? But aren't you…” He swivels his too-skinny neck toward the hallways behind him. “Shouldn't you be…”

The Afrit milling behind him are confused. Distracted. This is my chance. And mine alone. Because without his necklace, Zak has no magic. I have to rely solely on my own to overpower them and to protect us both. But there are too many. Confidence is one thing, but am I really arrogant enough to believe I can employ hadi on all six of these Afrit at once?

I'm not strong enough.
The thought fills my mind and Zak's.