Circle of Jinn (25 page)

But I can't let it sink Nate. Though it's something I've done my entire life, this time the act of pushing someone away—of pushing Nate away—isn't to protect myself, it's to protect them. It should make it hurt less.

It doesn't.

Instead, it's like my heart's a grenade and someone's just pulled out the pin. The shattered bits swirl around my chest, making it hard to breathe, let alone think. I concentrate on the former because I'm so sick of the latter.

I play with the hinge on my bangle until Hana and Nadia arrive—without Matin. Once they're ready, we confirm what Zak and I already know. That Xavier's spell only works when we say it together. Separately? Nothing. Together with another Jinn? Nothing. Two other Jinn besides us? Nothing. The spell only hurls Hana's bangle to the ground and Nadia's into her coffee mug when Zak and I say it together.

Hana paces in time with Laila. “I'm not sure you should have done that,” she says.

It seems Hana's on Laila's side, the side wary of the uprising. Not that I'm unwary. But this is about Raina and the Jinn in Janna and … my father. This is about my father. Do I really need any other reason?

Nadia sits with her hip-length beige cardigan draped around her shoulders. She's halfway between my mother and Samara, geographically on the deck and mentally in terms of the uprising.

“This breaks our tie to the Afrit,” Samara says yet again. She keeps repeating this, trying to work out what else it might mean. “If we remove our bangles, they won't be able to track us.”

“We'll be safe,” Laila says. She's said this before too.

“But we won't be able to do magic,” Hana says. “We've all tried with our bangles off and only Azra can.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Samara drums her fingers against the teak table before addressing Zak. “You're sure he said this was to assist his backup plan?”

Zak stands off to the side, watching Laila pace. “He was going to tell me more. Once I returned. Before the election.”

Samara nods. We know the election was moved up. We know he ran out of time.

“If only we were all like Azra, we'd truly have the element of surprise,” Samara says, stopping the
tat tat tat
of her red nails. “Why, we could cross into Janna and
let
the Afrit remove our bangles. They'd believe they'd won, and yet we could strike out against them, use spells to subdue them at the most opportune moments.”

Nadia pushes a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. She then begins to bob her head. “What if we
could
be like Azra?”

Everyone looks at me. What, are they going to open up a vein and drink my blood?

“What do you mean?” Samara says.

“Let's see what we know about Xavier's spell,” Nadia begins. “Azra, hon, you said Yasmin knocked your bangle off by accident, yes?”

I don't know if I'd call wrenching my wrist an “accident,” but I nod.

Nadia's eyes dart back and forth. “Then we must assume the Afrit can also still remove them—magically or manually.” It's like I can see the wheels turning in her sharp mind as she tries to piece this together. “In essence then, what Xavier's spell does is allow us to protect ourselves. The moment we slip off our bangles, the Afrit become unable to track us. If we can't be found, we can't be punished. But the spell does not give us back our magic.” She sighs. “That would have been too much to hope for.” She clicks open the hinge on her bangle. “And yet it returns some control to us. What if we could take that a step further? What if we could return complete control back to us?”

“What are you thinking, Nadia?” Samara asks.

“We use the Afrit's methods against them. We prevent the bangles from being removed by anyone but the wearer. We block the ability to be tracked. We break our tie to the Afrit. Completely.” She snaps her bangle closed.

A knowing smile begins to curl the edges of Samara's lips. “If we could do that, we'd no longer be at their mercy. And they would no longer be able to monitor the use of high-level magic like they can now.”

“Like the circulus?” Hana asks.

“Yes,” Samara says, “but more importantly for the uprising, spells of the highest order, the type we need to fight the Afrit. In the past, practicing such advanced magic was how Jinn who wanted to rebel have been caught.”

There's a bounce in Zak's step as he moves around the deck. “We'd have no need to camouflage our use of magic in Janna.” His eyebrows rise to his hairline. “We'd have a chance … we'd actually have a chance.”

Laila frowns at him before throwing one hand in the air. “Great theory. But isn't it just that? What makes you think you can do any of this?”

“Kalyssa,” Nadia and Samara say at the same time.

My mother shakes her head. “A spell? You think I can write such a spell—probably multiple spells—all by myself?”

Nadia lets her sweater fall as she rises to stand next to my mother. “Yes, I do. But you don't have to.” She sweeps her hand around the deck. “You have all of us. And most importantly, you have Xavier's spell to work from. We've never had something that advanced before. If you study it, I'm sure you'll be able to find out exactly what it does and take it further—as far as we need to. That must be what he intended, Kalyssa. He believes in you. As much as we all always have.”

Still shaking her head, my mother leans back against the railing. “Even if I could—and that's a big if—going into Janna will still be risky. Jinn will likely get … hurt.”

I think we all know “hurt” wasn't her first word choice.

With a deep sigh, Nadia links her arm through my mother's. “You're right. But we have to do this, Kalyssa.” My mother hesitates, and Nadia continues, “And not just for Xavier or any of our children's fathers. Janna knows I want them to be safe, but this is for all Jinn. Seeing Matin after all these years … I mean, what were we thinking? Especially you and I? How could we not have done something sooner? We accepted this life out of fear, grateful for what they allowed us to have even though it wasn't nearly enough. It's not a life I want for Hana. I'm sure it's not a life you want for Azra.”

My mother blinks rapidly and her tear-dampened eyelashes smear her day-old mascara. “We'll have to find a way to test the spells.”

It's a suicide mission otherwise.

My head spins around. Who said that? What was that?

“And we won't get Jada on our side,” my mother says.

And no matter what, I'm not letting Azra go in.

My mother's thoughts. In my head. I read a Jinn's mind. Just like the Afrit.

“That's okay,” Samara says. “With Raina … without Raina, our Zar can't draw on its strength anyway.”

But I'm going in. For Laila. For Laila's father. For you, Kalyssa, for your Xavier.

A shiver runs down my spine and yet at the same time a bead of sweat forms on my forehead. I'm actually reading their minds.

Laila bounds down the steps to the backyard. She wants no part of it. She doesn't want
any
of us to be a part of it.

How can they do this? How can they risk themselves? How can Zak want to risk himself? Aren't we … something?

But
how
am I reading their minds? And why now?

Zak follows Laila, drawing her away from the rest of us. He caresses her cheek, and her small face is dwarfed by his hand.

I'm sorry, Laila. But it's my father.

I feel faint. But not from the
act
of reading their minds. From knowing what they're feeling. From
feeling
what they're feeling.

Zak's voice is strong but tender as he says, “You don't have to be a part of this, Laila, but I hope you can still support us. Support me.” Her face scrunches in fear and frustration and the two apport away together.

Everyone else retakes their seats around the patio table. My mother pushes up her sleeves and raises the umbrella. She's far from convinced that she can do this—that she should do this—but she's willing to discuss it. Hana, pale, sits by her mother's side, listening, clearly against her better judgment.

Once they have the spell, they think the biggest obstacles are how to test that the Afrit can no longer remove our bangles and how they'll convince the other Zars here to believe them, to join the cause, to stop Qasim before he's able to start anything.

I think something else. No matter what Samara's saying about it being just like Xavier to require both Zak and me to do the spell, to ensure no single Jinn has that much power, am I really to believe that repeating a few words is what makes me the key to the uprising? My father must know I can do magic without my bangle. Does that truly have nothing to do with all this?

I know my father didn't intend for things to play out this way. He didn't intend to lose the election, have his true goals uncovered, and be unable to participate as planned in any revolt against the Afrit. Still, I would have thought he'd leave us more clues than this.

All those years apart, all that time he spent preparing, and this is what it's come to? Supposition and guesswork? Doesn't there have to be more?

I slide back into my chair and open the travel magazine. I stare at the ornate carvings on the Najah temple. All across the top, under the arched roof of the building, is a line of people holding hands. I squint to see them better. Their height, their dress … they could be Jinn. Was this temple built by our ancestors? Will their spirits protect the Jinn who cross through into Janna? Since, despite what my mother thinks, I intend to be one of them, I sure hope so.

I'm about to close the magazine when I realize something that none of us saw before. The article we thought was short actually continues onto the next page. It quotes a scholar talking about the origins of Najah. Built as long ago as 400 BC. Thought to be a shrine to the god of home and hearth. A travesty that it's not under any historical protections. The need to preserve because …
What?

The scholar's direct quote: “Because we think these things will be around always. But nothing is forever.”

Always. But not forever.

Really? Can it be? I'm done believing in coincidences. This is another clue from Xavier. I scan backward to find the scholar's name. F. P. Daher, a retired historian who lives in Cambridge. Cambridge, across the river from Boston, only an hour away.

There's most definitely more. And I need to be the one to find out what it is. Because the way they're currently talking about keeping “us girls” out of this, I know if I tell my mother and Samara, they'll go without me. And they might not even tell me what the historian says. What else my father needs me to do. So I'm going to Cambridge.

My phone buzzes.

Coming soon? Miss you.

I swallow hard. I just have to break up with my boyfriend first.

 

27

The tall grass on either side of the arched wooden path over the dunes crackles as the wind hits it. Once a vibrant green and climbing toward the sky, the stalks are turning yellow and brittle. Soon they'll be brown and, not long after, buried by snow.

The air at home was heavy with humidity. I thought it'd be lighter here at the beach, but as I reach the last plank before the sand, my lungs still fight to take my next breath.

I kick off my sandals. It's high tide. The beach has shrunk to a narrow strip, packed, noisy, and chaotic. This is my least favorite time of day in my most favorite place.

I wind my way through the blankets, pop-up tent shelters, and umbrellas. Sweaty beachgoers desperate for this last bit of summer are clumped together like fried calamari.

The tanned clique of beautiful bods—the lifeguards—are spread out on their lofty white perches. A few call out a “Hey,” “Hi, Azra,” and “Long time no see” as I pass. The rules of the beach have changed since the start of the summer. Thanks to Chelsea and to Nate. A fact that even now still takes me by surprise.

I look for Chelsea in her two-piece bathing suit emblazoned with
GUARD
across the chest in capital letters, but don't see her. She'll be trading in the red sporty bikini for her orange-and-black cheerleading uniform. The one with the tiger paw plastered across the front. The one Laila told me last night, before everything happened, that she hoped to soon be wearing too.

I wonder if she'll get the chance. As I stumble over a plastic shovel—and almost into the two-foot hole it created—I wonder what this next year will bring. These past few days have made school the furthest thing from my mind. What I'll wear on my first day, if Nate will ask me to homecoming, if all the kids who used to ignore me in the halls, in class, and in gym will suddenly want to be my best friends because of Nate and Chelsea … none of it matters. The first day, homecoming, walking the halls, class, and gym will go on, but I'm starting to think they'll go on without me.

The options before me leave little chance that I'll return to the life I once lived—actually, the life I never got the chance to live. A life with friends, a boyfriend, a Zar sisterhood, a life of being Jinn.

Not that I intend to go all kamikaze if I storm the portal into Janna. But I'm pretty sure I won't be sliding into a seat in physics class afterward either. (Perk though that may be.)

My heart stretches like saltwater taffy as I contemplate the two choices I have. But, really, is there even a second choice? How can I not join the group that will be entering Janna? After all this time of wishing to have my father in my life, am I really going to stay behind?

My mother wants me to. She even wants Zak to. But he's nineteen, and I'm sixteen—an adult in the Jinn world. We hardly need her permission.

There's much to lose if we go, much that we'll leave behind. But I can't deny how much there is to gain—helping to save our father, helping to stop Qasim, helping to change what it means to be Jinn.