Circle of Jinn (40 page)

This has to stop. “I trust you.”

He puts up his hand. “It is not me in whom you must put your trust.”

No, it's not. It's Laila and Yasmin and Hana and my mother and Samara and all the other Jinn whose powers have been given to me. It's trust in the strength given to me by my ancestors, by Aisha Qandisha. It's trust in my will being stronger than Qasim's. Fortunately, stubbornness is a skill I've been honing since birth.

Defiance in my eyes, my stance, my heart. I nod. “Qasim may be expecting us, but he doesn't yet know what I can do. We'll still have the upper hand.”

Despite what he said, I'm surprised—
disappointed?
—when my father doesn't fight me on this.

“Well then,” he says, “let's pay a visit to your uncle.”

“Uncle?” Zak says.

“Yes, Son. And it was under his orders that I and every Jinn old enough to know the truth never spoke of it. Apparently, my brother is ashamed of me.”

“Your brother?” I say. “Wait, are you saying that … that
Qasim
is your brother?”

My father grimaces. “In name only. Blood doesn't make one family, Azra.”

And with that, I know my father is everything I imagined.

“Now,” my father says, “about Qasim—”

“Qasim … my uncle. Which means…” My head falls, and my father probably thinks I'm afraid. But then I laugh, softly.

“Qasim is Yasmin's father,” Zak says.

“Which means we're related,” I say. “Yasmin and I are cousins.”

And Farouk is my grandfather. Which he knew and neglected to tell me.

I'm the one who wished for family. What was that about wishes not coming with tricks?

When genies are involved, there's always a trick.

 

39

Make that a trap.

Two dozen Afrit in black cloaks form a circle around us as we exit the passageway. Before Zak or I can lay a hand on our father to apport us somewhere, anywhere, but here, Afrit wedge themselves between us. They push us forward like a crowd at a rave.

With apporting blocked in tortura cavea, this is the spot we'd be most vulnerable. And my uncle knew it.

He's standing in the center of the platform we passed on our way in. If it weren't for the jet-black hair that sweeps his broad shoulders, his gold cloak that ends at his ankles would make him blend into the tan stone.

Options swirl in my mind. Overpower as many Afrit as I can and hope I reach my father and Zak before Qasim can act. Apport straight to Qasim and knock him flat onto the hard ground before any of these Afrit can hurt one of us. App away myself, alone, and see if he follows.

But then I read my father's mind.

Don't give yourself away.

And so I let the crowd take me to Qasim.

“My invitation to the family reunion must have gotten lost,” he says, in a voice that's so much my father's and a tone that's so much Yasmin's it makes the idea of hurting him almost impossible to imagine.

“My dear niece, that long face.” His deep-set eyes, sunk far apart on either side of his hooked nose, are more yellow than gold. He looks like a bird. “Is something eating away at you? Or someone you love?”

Make that a vulture. Now I can very much imagine hurting him.

Behind me, Zak growls, and it's all I can do to remain calm myself. Because he's playing with me. My uncle is toying with me. That quip can only mean he did send Austan and Gamal after Laila as a way of bringing me here. He knows I have abilities beyond that of most Jinn. Maybe he's already discovered what my father and Raina were trying to conceal: that I may be useful to him.

Giving myself away—ensuring he knows what I'm capable of—is exactly what I need to do. I climb the three short steps to stand directly across from his beady eyes and his sharp beak. Everything hinges on this one moment. If I waste it, we'll never get the antidote for Laila in time.

I face the Afrit below me. I may as well demonstrate my powers to Qasim by making this a more fair fight. And so into my father's and Zak's heads I project one word:
Duck.

The instant their dark-haired heads disappear from the crowd, I recite my mother's spell and link the closest eight Afrit. I tighten my jaw as I enter and command this one united mind. The linked Afrit do an about-face and begin pummeling their “colleagues.” A full-on fistfight.

Qasim's thick eyebrows dip low over his eyes. “This is what my brother was hiding.” He bunches up the shiny sides of his gold cloak as he steps forward to get a better look. His shock turns to delight, and a wide smile soon consumes his face. “Astonishing.”

He watches in fascination, not paying any attention to me. This is my chance. I must find the antidote for Laila. And then I can knock him out. Then we don't need him anymore.

I summon all the energy I can and dive into his mind. I'm drawing on the power of all the female Jinn whose bangles have been freed, and still the effort to read Qasim's mind, let alone gain control over it, is making me see spots in front of my eyes.

Am I not strong enough?

I'm doing what I've done before with the other Afrit, but this time, it's like trying to run a marathon through quicksand.

Is Qasim's resistance … Is Qasim too strong for me?

I'm in his mind, but I'm stuck. I can't move, and I can't make him move.

The edges of Qasim's lips turn down. He feels something. He feels me. He feels what I'm capable of. And he doesn't know that this is as far as I can go. At least not yet.

It's a good thing being Jinn has made me an excellent liar.

“The antidote,” I spit out. My voice is strained and hurried from exertion, but I think—I hope—it sounds more like disdain. “Where is it?”

I'm searching and searching, but my heart's drumming in my ears, and I'm not sure how long I can keep up the charade.

“Whatever do you mean?” Qasim says, but his voice is weak.

Clawing for one last burst of energy, I flood his mind, and the image of a vial of liquid tucked into his inside pocket flies at me. But then that's it. The effort saps my strength, and it's all I can do not to collapse against the stone, welcoming the coolness on my burning forehead.

“Open your cloak and give it to me,” I say briskly.

In the midst of rubbing his temples, Qasim stops.

Open.
Why did I say “open”? Why didn't I just reach out and do it, magically or manually?

Qasim raises an eyebrow and all I see is Yasmin. He steps back. “Why don't you?”

The smack of flesh against flesh from the Afrit fighting below us begins to dwindle in conjunction with my waning energy. I force a snicker. “Figured I'd spare you the humiliation of me undressing you in public. Now hand over the vial.”

Qasim fastens the braided rope of his gold cloak tighter around his waist. Calm, smooth, and efficient. Not a gesture, not a flit of an eye, not an extra breath is wasted.

“No,” he says.

“No?” He's purposeful and deliberate. And that's what scares me the most.

“Does that word not mean the same thing in your beloved human world, Niece?” He then leans in so close his hot breath puffs on my cheek as he says, “Make me.”

The Afrit stand still. My father is staring. My brother is watching. Laila is waiting. And I can't.

Laila will pay for my arrogance. All the Jinn will pay for my conceit. I did this, I chose to confront Qasim. I should have followed the plan my father wanted me to—gathered his supporters and bolstered our strength—at the very least, made sure I could do this. And if not, made sure we had a backup plan.

A backup plan.

Like the one forming in my mind.

Qasim has a glimpse into what I can do. I don't need to read his thoughts to know he's salivating over it. He wants me on his side. He may very well believe he needs me on his side. Which shifts the balance of power.

“I can't,” I say. “But you already know that.”

The smug look on his face is like the one I grew up seeing on Yasmin's. The one I always wanted to slap away. The one I'd give anything to ensure Qasim doesn't get the chance to see on her.

“You also know how strong I am.” I toss my hand at the bruised-eyed and bloody-nosed Afrit. “But you don't know the half of it.” I have enough energy to flick off my bangle. It clanks against the stone and topples down the steps, landing in a cushion of sand. “This is a lot of power. But I can get more.”

Qasim's yellow eyes dance. “How?”

“First, the antidote. And you let my brother and father go.”

He snorts. “You overestimate your importance.”

“And you underestimate me.” I think of Raina and Laila and grasp enough magic to flip my hood up and down. It's a simple demonstration of my ability to do magic without my bangle. Simple but effective.

Qasim's eyes widen and he looks at me with greed and awe. But not surrender. Not yet. He opens his cloak. “You can have it, if you can take it.”

He's daring me. Challenging me. I dig for the strength to retrieve the vial but come up empty. I lift my chin and act as if it's beneath me. “I want you to give it to Zak.”

“Trust issues?” Qasim says.

“I wonder why?” I grumble. I can't let Qasim know I'm bluffing. For now, he's confused. He doesn't know what's real and what's fake.

I think again of Raina. Of her sacrifice. The one she made when she crossed back into the human world knowing the shield would destroy her. She sacrificed herself for all the Jinn, for me, but ultimately for Yasmin.

I know what I need to do. It's the only play I have left.
You know what they say if you can't beat 'em.
I do, Yasmin, I do.

“You could use someone like me on your side, right?” I say. My father begins to speak, but I shake my head and turn away from him. I don't want him to stop this.

A grimace on his pointy face, Qasim closes his cloak. “Whatever game you are playing, you should be very careful.”

“This isn't a game. That was a simple yes-or-no question.”

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“A trade. You hand over the antidote, and my brother and father leave here. Banished. Like your father—my grandfather. And whatever happens, my family, my mother, my Zar sisters, and hers are unharmed. And I'll stay here with you.”

“All of them for one of you?”

“You're right. I'm getting a lousy deal.”

He tosses his head back and a conceited laugh bubbles out, chilling me to the bone. “Ooh, we're going to get along well, Niece.” Qasim opens his cloak, and the glass cylinder floats in the air toward my brother.

“Is that a yes?” I say.

“No!” Zak cries, but he does what he needs to do and pushes the Afrit holding his arm aside to catch the vial. “Azra, you can't.”

“I have to.” With as much force as I can muster, I say, “Take it to her, Zak.” I then face my father, pleading with him to understand. To let me do this for him—for all of them. “Go, Dad. Laila doesn't have much time left.”

I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough.

With the barest tilt of his head, my father shrugs off the Afrit holding his elbow and wraps his arm around Zak's shoulder.

“Come, Son,” he says. “I learned long ago there's no reasoning with my brother. And I see that same quality in your sister.”

I will come back for you
, he adds, just for me to hear.

My father has no magic. The portal he and my brother are walking to is the only way in and out of Janna. Qasim will surely find a way to seal it once they go through. And yet I believe in my heart that what my father says is true. At least in his own mind.

I'm quite familiar with the concept of lying to oneself.

Zak can't even look me in the eye as he clutches the vial in one hand and my father's waist with the other. I stare instead into my father's defiant eyes until they vanish and I'm left with simply the pale salmon slab of stone.

“Well, look at that,” Qasim says. “I didn't quite believe that Matin, but it does indeed seem we have some security repairs to do.”

They're gone.
My heart clenches like a fist.
My family is gone.

I look at Qasim.

Not all of it. I've still got the black sheep.

I laugh. I can't help it. I laugh because otherwise I will cry. Otherwise I will cry and not be able to stop.

Beneath Qasim's quizzical look is an undercurrent of fear. Good. Let him think I'm crazy.

He sits back on the short stone wall surrounding the platform. “Do you know what this place is, Azra?”

“Hell.”

His lips thin. “Ah, so you take after your mother, then?”

Don't talk about my mother. Don't talk at all.

He taps the platform with the toe of his tan boot. “I mean this. This exact spot.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest and put my back to the portal. I'm afraid I might give in to the screaming urge inside me that says to flee, to app to the portal, to get home to my family. My true family.

Qasim tents his fingers and continues, “Long ago it served as our
haqq
, our place of judgment. Jinn who defied our rules could plead their case here. If they could not persuade the council that they were worthy of redemption, they would be punished. Unless they were lucky enough to have a loved one willing to offer him- or herself up instead.”

I haven't wanted to listen, let alone speak, to my uncle, but the vibration that rumbles through me as he says this makes me ask, “What do you mean?”

“A sacrifice. If another Jinn was willing to accept the wrongdoer's punishment, that Jinn would be given a second chance. Do you know how many parents, lovers, children, even, gave themselves up? How many suffered for the sins of others? My father was right to separate Jinn from one another. To lessen the ties. Attachments are a weakness we cannot tolerate if we Jinn are to continue.”