Circle of Jinn (20 page)

“Mom?” I stand across from her, resting my hand on her shoulder. Her body trembles beneath my fingers. “Lalla Sam wants us all to meet here?”

Tonight will be the first time since my Zar initiation that all twelve—
eleven
, we're now eleven without Raina—of us Jinn mothers and daughters will be together. A housewarming for Samara. A housewarming for Samara that's apparently moved across the street.

“It's okay, Mom.” Historically it's been me, not my mother, grumbling when company's coming. “I'll help clean, I'll make sure Zak leaves and—”

“I can't do this much longer.” Her head shakes so violently it's like she's possessed. “I can't keep this from them.”

“This?” I take her hand in mine. It's as cold as a snowball. “You mean Zak?”

“They all know something's going on. They can feel it. Your Zar, you all haven't connected like this yet, have you?”

The Henry brush-off. When they all gasped. “Just once,” I say softly.

“Really?” Her eyes shine with hope. “That's wonderful.”

“Sorry, Mom, but right now you're not exactly the poster child for the joy of the Zar connection.”

She stares at me, and I'm regretting my words until she says, “No? So much for being a model Jinn.” She laughs—a much-needed release that doubles her over and sends her to the floor. I sit next to her, leaning against the closed closet door. She smiles at me, and I notice the faint lines around her eyes have grown deeper.

It's quiet in the house, just the two of us, like it used to be. It's nice in a way. It makes me want to tell her about Xavier and the spell. It makes me want to ask what she knows about the uprising, if I'm really … really the key to it. This is my mother. We don't need to confront her with proof. And if we do, aren't I now proof enough?

I spin my bangle to bring the hinge to the top. I'm on the verge of flicking it open when she turns to me, studying my face as if it's a question she's struggling for the answer to.

Suddenly, she pulls me to her chest. Her breath warms the top of my head as she says, “Keeping secrets is hard enough. But when your best friends know that you're keeping something from them, it's an impossible weight to bear.”

It's almost exactly what I'm thinking—but about her and my own Zar sisters. “So why don't you tell them? Don't you trust them?”

She holds me even tighter. “That's the thing. I do trust them. With my life, with yours, with Zak's. They'd give themselves up before giving up any of us. How can I put them or your sisters in that position?”

My stomach drops. “You mean the position I put Henry in?”

She plays with my hair. “You didn't know what could happen.”

I pull away. “But I know now.”

“So? It's too late. He can't un-know what he knows.”

“But he can. I can make him.”

She jumps to her feet. “No, Azra. Absolutely not. You can't use mind control on him. You saw what happened with Mrs. Seyfreth.”

“But Nate and Megan and—”

“That wasn't the same. You weren't making them forget. You were simply pushing them to feel something they already wanted to feel. They wanted to heal. They wanted to remember the good of their father, not the bad. But with Henry … do you really think he won't fight you tooth and nail if you tried to make him forget about you?”

She caresses the bottom of my chin with her thumb. “We will keep him safe. I promise. But not with mind control. Hadi is too dangerous.”

“Don't worry, it's not like I need reminding about the whole Anne Wood mess.”

“But that had nothing to do with your execution.” She pauses, as if regretting having said that. She follows it up with, “Using it on humans may not drain your powers, but you can still hurt them and maybe even yourself. So don't use it.”

“I won't.”

She leans in.

“I won't, I promise,” I say.

“Good.” She checks her watch. “
Rahmah!
They'll be here soon.”

I grin.

“What?” she says.

“You're picking things up from Zak.”

“Picking up Zak's things is more like it.” She sighs, but it's totally fake. “Do me a favor and make sure he's gone before they get here?”

I nod yes, but all I can think is no. I understand my mother wanting to protect those she cares about, but that includes Xavier and Raina. It's time for all our secrets to be out. Tonight, both our Zars need to start acting like the trusted sisters we're supposed to be.

As I leave her bedroom, the shower turns on. I close the door behind me and almost bump into Yasmin. She's in the hall outside Zak's bedroom. “When did you get here?”

She holds up her long, thin finger—a match for her skinny nose—and continues the soft chanting under her breath I now hear.

The gemstones in the signet ring that covers three of her knuckles glow. She's doing a spell.

Inside, Matin stands with a megaphone. Zak, arms crossed, looks on intently.

When Yasmin finishes, she points to Matin and says, “Now.”

He flicks on the megaphone and his mouth grows wide in a deafening scream.

Or what should be a deafening scream. Except I can't hear a thing save for the running water in my mother's shower.

“Whoa,” I say.

Yasmin waves her hand. The gemstones no longer glow. “Soundproofing spell. I'm sure you could do it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Not now, of course, but perhaps once you've been practicing spells for nearly a year like I have.”

She glides into the room like she's just accomplished world peace. “You could hear us?” she says to Matin.

“Loud and clear,” he says.

We all wince and cover our ears.

Zak removes the megaphone from Matin's hand and turns it off. “Don't do that again.”

He smirks. “Sorry,
habib
. But the gadgets here are truly astounding.”

Unlike Zak, Matin, who's twenty, hasn't been in the human world since he was little—too young to remember much. Though with more than half the population of Janna having lived here at one time, it's not like this place is a complete mystery. It's not like Matin's a time traveler from the Middle Ages wondering what gods are responsible for airplanes and Spam (and by the way, it better not be a Jinn who's responsible for Spam).

Zak said many Jinn brought their favorite possessions with them when they transitioned into Janna. But over time, the Afrit banned all these vestiges of the human world and began to punish those found with confiscated goods.

Marked by an apparently impossible-to-forge ornate
A
(which I hope doesn't look anything like my necklace), it's easy for the Afrit to distinguish a “made in Janna” item from a human one. Since Jinn in Janna can't conjure, they are much more skilled in creating things by hand—woodworking, sewing, even glassblowing are apparently quite popular. The one thing they don't know how to do, according to Zak, is cook.

Kitchens and all cooking equipment are forbidden. The population of Janna depends on the Afrit for sustenance. Another way they control Jinn. In response, some of the most valuable and high-priced goods on the Janna black market are seeds salvaged from the human world.

Like speakeasies, clandestine chow clubs that grow, cook, and serve real food have cropped up in Janna. Jinn are eager to trade goods—both legal and illegal—to eat, but some will even trade for a whiff. The ability to smell the growing, baking, roasting, grilling, and sautéing of real food is a luxury.

Those Jinn willing to take the most risk keep their own small gardens at home. Buried beneath the stone and rigged with grow lights, these “someday victory gardens” are not just food for the stomach but food for the soul, since they are a way to rebel, albeit in a small way, against the Afrit. The name is a nod to the gardens planted by humans to show support during their own big wars—one and two.

My mother always said that some things turn out better without magic. My chocolate chip cookie debacle notwithstanding, I know she's right. Hana must too; that's why she makes clothes without using her powers. Like my mother said, it can be rewarding to make something with your hands instead of your mind. Maybe the Afrit have been shut up in Janna so long they've forgotten that.

Matin being shut up in Janna has made him relish everything about being here, but especially the smell of food. Popcorn, brownies, even fish, Matin can't get enough of breathing in every scent, perhaps to cement them into memory for when he has to return.

With a flirtatious smile, Yasmin squeezes Matin's arm. “Speaking of astounding … be right back.” She apps away, only to return less than a minute later with a tray full of food. Roasted chicken, fluffy mashed potatoes, sweet corn, and a three-inch-high chocolate cake.

“Enjoy, boys,” she says.

Zak dips a finger in the pool of melted butter atop the mashed potatoes. “You conjured all of this?”

“Of course not,” Yasmin says. “Mat likes to smell it cooking.”

I frown. “There's no way you cooked all this by hand.”

She laughs.

No, she cackles.

“Me?” she says. “Like a human? The sun really has fried your brain, hasn't it, Azra?”

Matin speaks surprisingly clearly despite the chicken leg stuck in his mouth. “She hired a lovely lady in a white coat. Today we searched the bed—” Yasmin glares at him. “Den, I mean den, all the while breathing in the delightful smells of all this goodness.”

Yasmin twiddles her fingers on her way out of the room. “Lock the door behind us.”

“But we're all gathering here,” I say, “not Henry's—not your—house.”

“Obviously,” she drawls. “Why else would I bother with the soundproofing spell?”

Matin swallows and holds the half-eaten chicken leg in his hand. “Please, Azra, let us stay. I … I haven't been able to be this close to my mother since I've been here. Even if all I can do is hear her, it's likely to be all I'll have before returning.” He grips the leg tighter and a piece of meat falls to the floor. “We won't allow ourselves to be discovered, I assure you.”

Heart and strings.

Well played, Matin. Well played.

But unnecessary. The time for games is over. My mother can't take the stress of keeping her secrets. And neither can I.

The Afrit have kept Jinn separated for far too long. The first step in changing things is coming together. And so I pull Yasmin into the soundproofed room, and the four of us—male and female Jinn—decide how to go about doing just that, tonight, starting with our Zars.

*   *   *

Yasmin and I are in the hall when Matin rushes to the door, slimy chicken juices from the second drumstick running down his hand. “Forgotten something, my dear?” He purses his lips.

“Please,” she says, but he ignores her, taking her in his arms, burying his chicken leg in her long hair, and planting a hard kiss on her full red lips.

Wincing, I step back. She's going to wallop him. But she doesn't. Instead, she issues a high-pitched giggle. He grins and walks backward into the room. The door closes and the lock clicks.

As Yasmin wipes her greasy lips with her thumb, her smile—the most genuine one I've ever seen her wear—fades. “My mother would never approve.”

Life without Raina is difficult. But so was life with Raina.

Yasmin fluffs out her full, bell-shaped skirt and shakes her head. “Doesn't matter. It's just a distraction. He'll have to go back.”

“Maybe not. Maybe tonight will change things.”

She laughs. “Azra, the optimist? Now that's the last thing I ever expected to see.”

“Really? I thought this was.”

“This? This what?”

“You and I standing here talking. Without coming to blows.”

“The conversation isn't over yet.”

But it is. We shudder and grab each other for support as all of our Zar sisters and their mothers descend on the house.

How did they all manage to arrive at the exact same time?

“Oh, Samara, it's adorable!” says Lalla Jada, Mina's mother. At least I think that's who it is.

“And you installed the fireplace in your bedroom, Samara? Amazes me that you and Kalyssa are able to do that. Never been able to master that myself.”

Okay, the first was definitely Lalla Jada because the second is most certainly Lalla Isa, Farrah's mother. The level of magical talent, or lack thereof, runs in the family.

“They were all across the street?” I say.

“That's why I rushed over here first.” Yasmin plucks the hem of my very short shorts, courtesy of Hana. “You better change. I'll hold the fort until you and your mother come down.”

I'm at my bedroom door when Yasmin's “And Azra?” makes me turn around.

“If we're going to try this uniting thing, you and Laila need to truly end this … whatever this is you've still got going.”

“We did.”
Didn't we?
We've texted, we've talked.

Small talk. Short texts. But I haven't officially apologized. Not really. And she hasn't officially accepted.

“Just do what Mina said, okay?” Yasmin flicks her wrist. “Find something that Laila loves, give it to her, and end this. Janna knows why, but being in a tiff with you makes her all mopey. Funny, it always made me drip with sunshine.”

“Oh really?” I back into my room and stick my hand on the edge of the door. “Then here's a big old ray for you.” I slam the door shut.

I laugh, as I expect her to do, but I don't hear anything from the other side of the door. I'm about to open it again to make sure she knows I was joking when a push-up bra in an obnoxious skull print appears on my bed.

“And hurry up!” she shouts as she bounds down the stairs.