Circle of Jinn (14 page)

If he does, he doesn't care. He leaves the
X
without hesitation, shoves his hand into the front of his suitcase, and then tosses Zak a cell phone. “So we are to remain here?”

Zak scratches his chin. “Temporarily.”

“How very excellent,” Matin says. What I think at first is a bit of fear or nerves flitting across his eyes is simply excitement. “Maybe I'll engage in conversation with Hana, after all. She doesn't have to know my true identity. You didn't know about Zak, Azra, is that correct?”

“But I didn't know I had a brother. She does.”

He frowns. “Are you going to prevent me from speaking with her?”

Desperation oozes from his every pore.

“No,” I say. Zak starts to protest, but I cut him off by facing Matin directly. “You can talk to her, but you can't do it looking like that.” I conjure a pair of scissors and tap the suitcase. “Have a seat, Goldilocks.”

“Goldie? But my hair is red.”

“It's an expression.”

“An odd one.”

“Sit.”

He flops down on the carry-on, digging his fingers into the soft nylon with each snip.

Unlike on my birthday when I chopped off the long hair that sprouted overnight as part of my transformation to becoming Jinn, his hair doesn't automatically grow back.

*   *   *

We leave Matin with a box of brown contact lenses at the motel down the road from the beach where he and Zak have been staying. The protruding bones in Zak's cheek prevent the cartwheels my heart's begging to do upon having him back here. He didn't need to tell me he wants to wait until we are alone to talk about what's just happened.

But we're alone now, and he's still not talking. He is, however, pouring himself wine. I told him Mom wouldn't wake up for hours even if a tornado lifted the house off the ground. We're on the back porch. The sun has long since set, so I light the candles spread out on the table and the lanterns hanging from the hooks attached to the back of the house.

“Well, you said this would be your home again one day.” I'm joking, but Zak's not laughing. He's drinking. Fast. I lean forward. “You were covering for Matin's benefit, weren't you? This is the right day, isn't it?”

He refills his cup.

“Zak, tell me. What does this mean?” He drinks faster. “Zak!”

He slams the cup down on the teak table. Red liquid sloshes over the side. “It means Father's in trouble.”

I suck in a breath.

“Or not.”

I let the breath go.

“Maybe he's been found out. Maybe he was delayed. Maybe he'll try again later or tomorrow or the next day. That's the problem. I don't know, and I have no way of knowing. Do you have any idea how it feels to be left so completely in the dark?”

I refrain from the answer I'd like to give because I know he's upset.

He continues, “He thinks he's protecting me, but he's just making it worse.”

More refraining.

“If I don't know, I can't help. Snippets, pieces, that's all he's told me.” He chugs the wine. “Little good it does me now.”

Even separated, our parents seem to share the same child-rearing philosophy.

Zak grasps the bottle by its neck, and I snatch it away before he pours more. “Hold on. If you know snippets, you know something. More than you've led me to believe. What has he told you? What aren't you telling me?”

His eyes remain fixated on the bottle.

“If you leave me in the dark, I can't help you either. No more secrets, Zak.”

He holds out his hand. “First, that.” After I hand over the wine (hoping Jinn do have higher tolerances like Samara said), he gestures for me to sit. I do, but he remains on his feet, traveling the wood grain in the floorboards of the decking. “Do you know why the council has placed all of these restrictions on us?”

“To punish us for the last uprising against them.” I repeat what I read in my mother's diary.

“In part.”

“And because they're cruel bastards. Sorry, I forgot that part.”

“That's not the part I meant.” Zak stops pacing. “I mean, that is not what I meant.”

With a huff, I blow out the candle in the glass hurricane at the center of the table.

“What are you doing?” Zak says.

“Waiting for you to enlighten me.”

“You do know that's not what that means?”

“And you do know that dawn's coming?” I've never been to the dentist, but I finally understand the meaning of “pulling teeth.”

He plunks the wine bottle on the table, makes me relight the candle (he's still not great with fire), and finally sits. “The council is shrouded in secrecy, so most of what I know comes not from Father but simply from rumor and speculation.”

“CYA, got it.”

Zak frowns, clearly confused.

“Full disclosure,” I say. Still nothing. “You're covering your…” I lean to the side and slap my butt.

“Aha, I see,” he says, tapping his chin. “Clever.”

I roll my hand, gesturing for him to get on with it.

“Yes, well, here's your CYA version.” He leans back, glass in hand. Keeping secrets is so ingrained in us all, his internal struggle shows on his face. Finally, he begins, “The Afrit have always had their own ideas about how our world should function. It's why they wanted on the council in the first place. Alas, they were mistaken that the gratitude they received from Jinn initially for clamping down on the troublemakers who threatened our exposure granted them carte blanche. Memories fade, and Jinn wanted their lives to return to normal. The Afrit, while aware of the discontent, have always been conservative, and they insist their reforms have but one goal—”

“To make our lives miserable?” I slowly clap my hands. “Mission accomplished.”

Zak ignores me and sips his wine. “To protect us and our magic.”

“So you have been drinking the Kool-Aid.”

“Kool…” Zak eyes his wineglass. “I thought this was a pinot noir.”

“It's an expression, one that means ‘that's a load of crap.'”

Nodding his head, Zak appears to be either contemplating my eloquence or reconsidering the loosening of his lips. He then says, “I doubt they are simply sadistic, but even if that is the case, they do have their supporters—Afrit and Jinn both who may not like the reforms but who accept that they are necessary to keep our world safe. Father is against the restrictions, of course, as is the majority of Janna. Most believe an uprising—a full-on fight—is the only way to prevent the implementation of additional reforms.”

“Additional? What else could the council possibly do?”

“Never ask that, Sister, for we Jinn are a clever species. Surely the council has something up their tunics.”

“Sleeve. It's sleeve. And for Janna's sake, if you're going to be sticking around, try to blend.”
Is he really going to be sticking around?

He shrugs. “Anyway, Father believes the side with the greater numbers on the council will prevail, knowledge he only entrusted me with right before sending me here. He's been making inroads to tip the scales in his favor, all while staving off the faction of Jinn eager to revolt, ready to risk their own lives to have a chance at overthrowing the council. But Father has asked them to be patient because he believes his diplomatic solution will work. He has been manipulating things for years to finagle himself into the position he is currently in. To push for and win a vote to return things to the way they once were. He believes if the council is a united front, any supporters of the old regime will fall in line behind its decision.” Zak pauses and looks at me intently. “The council is twelve, do you know that?”

“Mom told me that much.”

“Did she tell you that within the twelve, there is one leader? The Chemharouch?”

I shake my head, and he continues, “The council makes decisions by majority rule. However, if there is a tie, the Chemharouch's vote counts twice. The council is nearly split on reversing many of the mandates put in place in recent years. Including tortura cavea. The Chemharouch serves for a ten-year term. And guess what this year is?”

My heart begins to palpitate. “Year ten.”

“Precisely, Sister. And who do you think is angling to be the next Chemharouch?”

Thump-thump, thump-thump.
“Xavier.”

“Father. If his plan works, he will be able to change everything, Azra.”

“And if it doesn't?”

“He has a backup plan.”

“What is it?”

“That's the trouble. I don't know.”

 

16

If this were an after-school special, Zak and I would have learned that this is what happens when secrets are kept. But this is life. Where secrets beget more secrets. Jinn lies are like a sheep's fleece, sheared off the original host and spun, round and round, before being woven into wool so tightly the original threads can no longer be found.

But wool isn't steel. One day a little moth will fly in and eat away at all the lies we Jinn tell. But not today.

Today, Zak and I have spun a tale about him apporting into Janna last night and our father sending him back here, giving him more time with us. We didn't see a reason to make our mother worry about Xavier—at least not yet.

She believed without hesitation. I guess logic and reason are no match for desire. Wanting something to be true can make it so. At least in one's own mind. Zak started the lie, but I'm the one who finished it. As I stood across from her, her need to believe was palpable.

And so my brother has moved into the room next to mine. Where we all now sit, weaving a new lie together.

My mother conjures another long-sleeved tee for Zak. “I'll come up with some excuse to keep them away while you're here, but if any of my Zar sisters drops by, you'll have to leave.” She holds the shirt up to Zak and adjusts the length of the sleeve. “But remember—”

“Don't apport,” he says, rolling his eyes not nearly as well as I do.

She folds the shirt and tucks it away in a dresser drawer. “It's too risky since they all know you exist, though only Samara knows your father has still been visiting.”

I show Zak what an eye roll should look like. “Really? What about the bond between sisters? You harp on me, but it's okay that you've been lying to yours for years?”

“It's not the same as you ignoring yours.”

“Well, there's no ignoring them now,” I say. “At least Laila and Yasmin.”

She winks. “Is your mother good or is your mother good? One stone and I nailed all your little birdies.”

I groan. “You did not just say that.”

She drapes a pair of khakis over a hanger. “What's wrong with what I said?”

“I'm not sure. But it sounds wrong.”

“Very,” Zak says with a shudder.

My mother stares at us, and her eyes become glossy with tears. She blinks rapidly. “This is what they took from us.”

She keeps doing this. I don't blame her, but the shield, which Zak plans to check on multiple times a day, will eventually be lowered and he'll have to leave, very likely without warning. How will she cope? When I lost Jenny, my memories remained. And the memories made it hard to move on. For me, for Henry, for Henry's dad. There was a time I thought not having any memories made it harder. But that was before I remembered Zak, before I remembered my father. I'm pretty sure I was wrong. Having the memories is harder.

But given the choice, like my mother, I'd choose having them every time.

Zak gets up and hugs our mother. “I'm here now. Let's enjoy the time we have.”

I pull my feet off the floor and slide back on the bed, distancing myself from my mother to say what I have to say. “And what about my sisters?” I wiggle farther away. “Because … well … Laila and Yasmin may or may not have already met him.”

My mother pushes Zak aside. “Which is it?”

“May.” I draw my knees to my chest.

“Azra!”

“It was an accident.” I curl into a ball. “It was before I knew who he was.”

“And who do
they
think he is?”

Zak's shoulders round. “Her cousin.”

“Zak!” she cries. “Azra!”

“
He's
the one who said it, not me.”

“Why didn't you correct it?” my mother says.

“I was flustered. Chelsea and Megan were there and it was the first time I saw Laila and … and
he
wasn't supposed to be there.”

Zak's bottom lip disappears. “
She
wasn't supposed to have written ‘doom.'”

My mother shows us both how eye rolling is done. “Enough, both of you. Especially since I have no idea what you're even talking about.”

I grin at my mother. “Maybe it's not so bad they took this from you.”

“Hilarious, aren't you, kiddo?” She plants her hands on her curvy hips, the ones I lack. We are carbon copies only from the neck up. “Sorry, but I don't see any other way. Zak's going to have to hide from your Zar sisters too.”

“But—” Zak says.

“Tonight's the—” I say.

“Party,” we both finish.

“Seriously, you two?”

I hop off the bed. “They have to know it's not true. So I owe them an explanation anyway. What if I tell them he's … he's like … Henry's cousin?”

My mother pauses. “Why would they buy that when you already said he was yours?”

“Again,
I
didn't say it. But I don't think Laila was paying attention. And Yasmin … Well, since Megan was there, I could say I didn't want her to think I was meeting boys behind Nate's back or something.”

Zak turns to me. “But even if they believe you, why would Henry agree to this lie? I'm not convinced your dragooning is strong enough to make someone believe he has a cousin he does not have.”