Circle of Jinn (30 page)

I'm hearing all of this, hearing the reason why my magic is so advanced, but all I can think is
I'm an experiment. My father didn't actually love my mother.

Farouk leans forward, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. Do not think that for a moment. I've never seen a couple who loved each other more. Your father did not defy everything his family ordered him to do to prove a point.” Farouk nervously pushes his hair behind his ears. “Azra, please trust me on this.”

I sit back with my arms crossed and glance at Henry. Less emotionally invested, he asks the question I should have thought to ask.

“But why Azra and not her brother? Why did he not resist the injection? Why doesn't he have the same abilities that Azra does?”

Farouk grins. “How I love the smart ones!” He rises from his chair and searches the stacks of books that are piled in every corner of the room. He glides from one to the next until, finally, he cries, “Here she is!” He withdraws a small, thin book and sails it across the room to me.

With dulled gold writing and a crackled, worn brown leather cover, the book looks nearly as old as Najah. The title is written in an ornate script along the spine and again in small letters in the bottom right corner:
A History of Aisha Qandisha.

“What's this?” I ask.

“This, at least, I believe,” Farouk says, “is the reason why you and not your brother were able to resist the inhibitor. Why you can mind-read and mind-control humans but he cannot.”

Of course Farouk knows this without me telling him.

He continues, “This is why your powers are stronger than his. Don't let the fact that two-thirds of the council are male fool you. Female Jinn have always been the true strength of our species. That's why they grant the wishes. Their magic has always been more robust. And that,” Farouk says, pointing to the book, “is why.”

As I flip it open, dust and corroded glue break free and fall in my lap. I blow the mess aside before scanning the foreword. I then begin to read aloud:

“
It is believed that the foundation of all magic lies in the power of pure thought. The ability to embody and access this pureness of thought has always been more profound in the female of the Jinn species, allowing them to employ the greatest feats of magic. One female, Aisha Qandisha, is thought to be the most powerful Jinn there ever was.

Both a hunter and a healer, Aisha Qandisha can lay claim to the eradication of diseases that would have ravaged the human species before it even began, ending the nomadic way of life for early humans, and countless other benevolent deeds. Sacrificing a home and hearth of her own, she lived her life to preserve these for man and Jinn.

Despite her life of service, what should merely be a footnote is often relayed as the entirety of Aisha's legacy. Some say to accomplish all she did over such great distances, she seduced human men in order to possess their bodies. Legend has it that she used these bodies to perform sinister acts, thereby negating the ability of these endeavors to be associated with her name. When finished, she'd return the body to its rightful owner, but a piece of her was thought to have remained inside.
”

A piece remained.
My breath shortens as all I can think about is Nate. Is that what happened when I used mind control on him? Did I “possess” him?

Farouk tents his fingers. “The sinister part is just lore, I assure you. But it is believed that the ability to control both humans and Jinn stems from Aisha. And is particularly strong in her descendants.” He looks at me. “Which you are.”

Of course I am.

I close the book and pass it to Henry. I don't want to read more. “But there have to be, there have to have
been
, other descendants.”

“Yes, yes,” Farouk says. “But the passing of time means powers fade with each generation. Unless you have a way to pump it up, so to speak.”

“Afrit blood,” I say. “Aisha comes from my mother's side?”

“Precisely.” Farouk smirks. “Then again, there's also a chance this is all hogwash and the injection not working on you was a fluke.”

“You're not funny,” I say.

Henry clutches the book against his chest. “Hold on. You're not suggesting that being descended from this Aisha person means Azra can—”

“Jinn,” Farouk says. “Aisha was a Jinn.”

“Whatever.” Henry's foot taps against the wood floor. “It doesn't matter who she's related to, you can't really mean for Azra to stroll into Janna all by herself and defeat the Afrit. She's strong, but she's not that strong.” Henry glances at me. “No offense, Az.”

“None taken. I agree entirely.”

Farouk picks up his drink. “No, that is not what anyone intends. However, being descended from Aisha is why she is strong enough to implement the rest of her father's plan.”

“Her father's plan…” Henry runs his hand through his hair, which has dried in ragged clumps. “Before you said the ability to control humans
and
Jinn. But Azra can't control Jinn. She certainly can't control the Afrit.”

“And you're sure of that?”

“You're not?” Henry says. “What makes you think she can—”

“Because, my boy, controlling Afrit and Jinn is precisely what her father's spell is for.”

*   *   *

We've been here so long it's a good thing we didn't have to worry about feeding any parking meters.

As Henry helps me stand, guiding me and my unsteady legs to the front door, Farouk lifts the note from my father off the table. He gives the frame a rough shake and hangs it back on the wall.

“A magical Etch A Sketch,” Henry says.

I touch the frame, sad that my father's handwriting has disappeared. “How does it work?”

“Why, it's magic, dear Azra.” He smiles warmly. “A simple linking spell, really. With the enchanted pen on his side, your father can write a note that appears here. And I can do the same.” He nods toward a black pen on his desk.

“That's how you've been communicating?” I ask.

He clasps his hands in front of his waist. “And the occasional visit.”

The occasional visit.
My father visited my mother
and
Farouk. And still, not me. I get it; the council can't read Farouk's mind. But that doesn't stop it from feeling like a bee's repeatedly jabbing me with its barbed stinger. I cover by asking, “Do you go to Janna?”

“No, not anymore. Not since the day Qasim took my place on the council.”

“You know Qasim?”

“Very well. At least I did. I helped raise him. Though not properly, it turns out. He's my son.”

Henry and I aren't going anywhere just yet.

“We were quite close,” Farouk says. “We believed in the same things for a long time. We wanted what your father wants. At least we did.”

“What changed?” Henry asks.

Farouk's confident voice wavers as he says, “His mother died. As a member of the family, she never granted wishes. In her later years, she began to venture out into the human world.” A bittersweet smile plays on his lips. “She had this whole group of ladies she played cards with down in Florida. They thought she lived in the community. She was there often enough. Then, one day, one of their grandchildren became ill. She couldn't stand to see the family suffer. She tried to heal the poor girl.”

“But we can't heal humans,” I say, wondering if there's an exception for Afrit. If I could have healed Nate's dad if I only got there sooner. If I could have healed Jenny.

He pats my shoulder sympathetically and I know he's just read my mind. “No, Azra, we can't. Not even us. But she had to try. It didn't end well. Not for her and not for the little girl.” Farouk lays a hand on the doorknob. “Qasim was never the same.”

He slowly opens the door. Silently, Henry and I walk through. By the time we turn around, Farouk is once again the old hunched man who greeted us. He pushes his tinted eyeglasses up his nose. “When all this is done, I hope you return. As I said, I don't get many visitors these days.”

He lingers, his eyes commanding mine to remain on his. He lays a finger on his wrist and touches his temple. He wants me to try to read his mind, which should be impossible because he is a full-blooded Afrit. But he wants to prove to me that what he's just told us is true. That this really is my father's plan. That … that I can do this. That I have the ability to change everything.

My heart slows, my body stills, my eyes stay on his. The only thing that moves is my mind. To Laila. To Hana. To Lalla Nadia and Lalla Samara. To my mother.

And then …

Good luck, Azra. I have every faith in you, my dear. You are the key to all of this. And yet … just in case, do what you must to protect the ones you love.

And with that, Farouk closes the door.

 

30

Thank Janna for Henry.

He fills the car ride home with a description of his new life in New Hampshire. His grandparents' wide, wraparound deck with pansies planted in baskets that hang over the railing every three feet, the leaves already turning colors in the forest behind the turn-of-the-century house, the room he's currently sharing with his sister, Lisa, while his grandfather, with a speed that would exasperate a snail, packs up the record collection that occupies the spare room that is to be Henry's, the flying squirrel that soared out from behind the refrigerator and the game of hockey they played with brooms and a snow shovel to force it through the sliding glass door and onto the deck. A “country moment,” he calls it.

He talks without pausing, without looking for a response from me, all the way down Massachusetts Avenue, which somehow turns into Mount Auburn Street and then back to “Mass Ave” as we circle and circle, getting lost on our way out of town.

He doesn't stop until we find the on ramp to Route 93 and the wind whipping through my hair and the roar of the trucks fill my ears instead. This time, I'm grateful for the noise and the wind that make it hard to talk. I don't want to talk. I don't want to think either, but that I can't help.

I read Farouk's mind. An Afrit's mind. Something not even they can do. I can't deny that, and still it's hard to believe that what Farouk said about the spell my father wrote is true. It makes no sense and yet it makes complete sense.

Yes, it does what we know it does: It allows our bangles and necklaces to be removed. Taken off so the Afrit can't track us.

But that's not all the spell does.

The reason my father wanted me to recite it, the reason it requires the energy of both me and my brother for it to work, the reason we are the key to the uprising is that it links our magic to that of every Jinn we use it on.

We free them from their ties to the Afrit but tie them to us.

We can tap into the magic of these Jinn and enhance our own. It's like accessing the strength of every Zar that exists in the human world.

We will be able to save our father.

We will be able to fight the council.

We will be able to change everything.

So long as it doesn't kill us in the process.

Farouk insists it won't. That Aisha Qandisha's blood means it won't. The spell does the rest. The more Jinn we use it on, the more power we'll acquire. Especially me. While Zak will be stronger than most Jinn, stronger still when I am by his side, me being the female descendant of Aisha has given me alone the “gift” of mind reading and mind control.

That's why I've always been able to use them on humans. Since the spell enhances the powers we already have, that's why I was able to read my mother's and Samara's and Laila's and Zak's minds—Jinn minds—earlier today. I had just recited the spell. I had just tied more Jinn magic to my own. And drawing on that power now is how I was able to read Farouk's—an Afrit's—mind, though he was making it easy for me.

I won't be so lucky with other Afrit. I'll need more magic for that.

And more still to employ hadi. Will I really be able to use mind control on Jinn? Without the need for an incantation? Like the one Farouk had to utter before nudging my hand toward my iced coffee? The one that drains an Afrit's powers? The one that means they have to use it sparingly?

But I won't have to.

And the Afrit? There's nothing that allows them to use mind control on each other.

But I'll be able to? Seriously? If this is all true, if this all works, we won't just have the upper hand, we'll have the only hand that matters.

It's the crux of my father's plan: showing the Afrit how powerful Zak and I are, how much more powerful we will become with each bangle or necklace we unlock. He believes a demonstration of my powers, backed by a full cadre of Jinn who are on our side, will be enough to make the council back down and to bring its supporters, most of whom are only that out of fear, to our side. A war averted, just like he always wanted.

Farouk believes in this plan so much that he gave me his family's cantamen. With it and the notes he scribbled on the last page, he said my mother will be able to write all the spells Nadia and Samara discussed; he's in favor of anything that can support the plan—support Zak and me.

I'm freaked out. Henry's terrified. On our slow walk back to Harvard Square, we both tried to fake it, to pretend it was just the jungle-like humidity that was making it hard to breathe. But it wasn't.

It isn't.

Because all of this means that Zak and I won't just have to be a part of the group crossing into Janna, we'll have to lead it. What Samara or my mother or Henry want—what Zak or I want—is irrelevant. The decision has already been made. By my father.

I should feel good, even proud, that my father believes in me and my skill so much. He literally designed it so that I have the power to help the uprising succeed. But, see, that's the thing. He designed it so I have the power to help the uprising succeed—or fail. So that I have the power to save him—or fail him. Talk about pressure. My father's the ultimate stage parent.