by August Li
Even with Flicker, they didn’t stand a chance. He’d been no match for the other djinn.
Janan scooped up Flicker’s chilled hand and held it while Sehrish worked. Then he did the only thing he could think of to help: he joined Isra and prayed.
Chapter Eighteen
THE FOUR of them huddled around the small fire Isra had built, pressed close against the bitter cold of the desert night. Isra had wrapped Flicker in his burnoose, and Flicker lay close to the fire, his head resting on Sehrish’s thigh. She stroked his long hair, seeming to have bonded with him when she’d resuscitated him. If nothing else, she was attentive to her patient and refused to leave his side.
“We can’t stay here,” Sehrish said. “We have no food or water. Again.”
“There are camps near here the Bedouin use,” Isra said. He was terrified and trying hard to hide it. Flicker being hurt, lying there with his normally burnished skin ashen and his bright eyes dull… it was as inconceivable as the sun blinking out. Isra longed desperately for the comfort of his own people. “We would be welcome there. All of us.”
Nawra shook her head and jabbed at the embers with a twig. She spoke without looking up from the flames. “I say we go back to the city—to Cairo. I don’t know why, but I feel like what happened to us—that thing—it… it just couldn’t happen in a city of millions. Could it?”
“But we cannot just run away,” Sehrish protested. “That creature has the sheikh under a spell, and until we find a way to free him, he won’t regain his memory or be able to take his place at the head of the company.”
“And how do you propose we accomplish that?” Nawra sounded understandably frayed. “You were there. We barely escaped with our lives!”
“We were unprepared.” Sehrish shook her head. “We won’t make that mistake again. We should plan, acquire weapons if we can.”
“The weapons you have access to won’t harm her,” Flicker said in a rough voice. “That creature is a marid—the most powerful type of djinn.”
“More powerful than your kind?” Isra had never imagined such a thing possible.
Flicker waved a hand dismissively. “Well… but much less clever. Still, she can only be harmed by magic. At least in any lasting way.”
“Yes, the car did much less than I expected,” Sehrish said. “Though Isra’s dagger seemed to have at least a little effect.”
Flicker met Isra’s eyes. “Yes, it did.”
“And I lost it in the process,” Isra said.
“Isra, it wasn’t the dagger,” Flicker said in barely a whisper.
They lapsed into a few moments of silence, the fire crackling, before Janan spoke. “We… we must abandon this course of action.”
“What do you mean?” Sehrish asked.
“I can’t risk the lives of the people I care about,” he said. “Not for my sole benefit. What if one of you is hurt or killed? That’s no trade for getting my memory back. I-I’ll just have to start over. I can do that. I’ll learn the business from the ground up, reconnect with my family and friends. It might take time to show the board I’m still capable, but it’s better than the alternative.”
“Not for me, and not for the other people depending on you, but…. You’re right. It’ll be an uphill battle, but we’ll fight it together,” Nawra said.
Isra blew out a breath and rummaged for his pipe, happy he’d managed to hang on to his satchel. Maybe Janan was right and the cost of breaking the spell was just too high. The possibility of losing Flicker—the one person he could always turn to—terrified him on a level he’d never imagined. Keeping Flicker from danger was at least temporarily comforting. He lit up and inhaled gratefully.
“You know that won’t work,” Sehrish said gently. “Come on. Do you really think Ma’shal is going to stand by and do nothing while the two of you work to take back control of the company? No. His greed won’t allow that. We know how low he’s willing to sink, and if he senses a threat, he’ll send that thing after us anyway. Or maybe he’ll do something even worse. Our lives are in danger whether we try to break the spell or not. After all, he increases his share of the wealth three times over if he gets the two of you out of the way, and don’t think he’ll forget it.”
“But what can we do?” Janan asked. “We’re no match for that thing.”
“No,” Flicker agreed, struggling to push himself up on his elbow. “Fighting is not an option. I… cannot prevail against the marid.”
“Then we must think of something else,” Sehrish persisted.
“We have only one option,” Flicker continued. “We can’t fight her, we can’t avoid her, and we can’t hope to hide. But there is a way to make it so we don’t have to face her. We can free her from Ma’shal’s control. In exchange, of course, for her lifting the curse on our sheikh.”
“How do we do that?” Nawra asked.
“Ma’shal will have bound the marid’s essence to an item,” Flicker said. “If we can locate it, I can release her easily enough.”
“What kind of item would it be?” Isra asked.
“It could be anything,” Flicker said. “If Ma’shal performed the rites and incantations—made the appropriate sacrifices—then he could’ve tethered her to anything he wished.”
Nawra sighed. “A needle in a haystack, in other words. For all we know, he chose a water glass or a paper clip.”
“Would he, though?” Sehrish asked. “He’s such a pompous ass. Wouldn’t he choose something grandiloquent, something he perceives worthy?”
“A holy relic, perhaps,” Janan said.
Flicker groaned and eased himself back into Sehrish’s lap, and she draped her hand across his forehead.
“There were a great deal of antiquities back at the house,” Isra said.
Nawra nodded. “My mother was a collector, as was Mu’awiyah. Ma’shal saw it more as keeping the artifacts from those he felt unworthy. Ma’shal respected Mother, but he idolized Father. Perhaps he chose something that belonged to him.”
“This is a lot of conjecture,” Sehrish said. “But we don’t have many other options. Does Ma’shal have a residence other than the beach house? Is there anywhere else he might have this item?”
“Besides on his person, or in a vault somewhere?” Nawra said. “Or under guard in a foreign country?”
“No,” Flicker said. “It would have to be closer. Ma’shal would need to refresh the enchantment from time to time. Every few months at least. Letting it lapse would be extremely dangerous for him. That marid is almost certainly not happy to be indentured, and if the spell wore thin enough for her to escape, she very well might want revenge.”
“Then the house is the most likely place,” Nawra said.
“But it’s still a long shot,” Isra noted. “There were probably hundreds of artifacts on display. How is God’s name will we ever know which one it is?”
“Isra, help me up,” Flicker instructed. “You and I should speak in private.”
“Why?”
“I need to reveal some things to you,” Flicker said.
“We don’t need privacy for that, then.” Isra motioned to the others. “I trust these people. I have no reason to keep anything from them.”
“Are you certain?” Flicker’s eyes had regained at least a little of their glow. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
Isra was sure. He’d never keep anything from Janan, and Sehrish and Nawra meat almost as much to him as his own tribe now. Secrets would only sow doubt and drive a wedge between them. That was the last thing they needed. “Say what you need to say.”
“Very well.” Flicker sat up, looking a little less like a burned-out shell of himself. “Your mother was a shaman.”
“I know,” Isra said.
“She had the ability to step between realms, out of the dimension you’re familiar with and into the domains of the spirits. She was the most powerful sorceress I’d seen in centuries. I was intrigued. We became friends and stayed that way for many years.
When your mother felt the need to depart this plane, she asked me to look out for you, and I promised her I’d see that you came to no harm.
“I’d been watching you long before we met that day outside my cave. Your mother’s blood is strong in you, Isra. I have seen the potential. You’re drawn to magic. You can sense it. What do you think pulled you to Janan? Now, until this point it’s been accidental, but of all of us here, you have the best chance knowing if magic is interacting with something in that house.”
“I don’t think I want this,” Isra managed.
“I know,” Flicker said. “The idea of learning even the smallest trick has always made you uncomfortable. The silly superstitions of your people against magic. That’s why I’ve never tried to teach you how to hone it. Though now I wish I had.”
“What about you?” Janan asked.
Flicker smiled sourly. “I expect to be otherwise occupied. As soon as we get to the house—or as soon as Ma’shal knows we’re there—I’ll be facing the marid again.”
“But you said you can’t beat her!” Isra liked this plan less and less.
“No,” Flicker agreed, “I can’t. The best I can hope to do is keep her distracted until you can find the object.”
“There are a lot of ifs in this plan,” Nawra said.
“We’ll also have my brother’s guards to contend with,” Janan reminded them.
“I’ll figure out some way to deal with them,” Sehrish said. “It seems this is what we must do.”
Isra shuddered, and Janan pulled him against his chest and wrapped his arms around him. The fleeting thought that his lonely life of solitude had been easier than what they now faced winked out like the sparks rising from the fire. Giving one’s heart to another, putting it in their hands to cherish or discard, putting one’s entire future and any hope for happiness in another person, was a greater risk than jumping on that wild camel could ever be. But was safety worth never knowing this feeling, the way his heart soared at Janan’s touch? Worth walking through life with not a single person to see him, know his every facet? No, there was no reward for cowardice.
“We should rest,” Isra said, his determination bringing with it the calm of accepted fate. “Try to plan as much as we can. We can’t wait to be found by that creature. We should go tomorrow, and we cannot fail. We won’t fail.”
He didn’t speak aloud that he planned to either free the marid and break the spell on Janan or die in the attempt. Yet Flicker was watching him closely, and Isra felt sure he knew his heart. By the arafrit’s expression, he clearly didn’t approve.
But then Isra didn’t approve of Flicker’s decision to face the marid again either.
If God was merciful, they’d both survive to argue about it.
Chapter Nineteen
CLOUDS LINGERED the following morning, and Janan woke to a cold, gray dawn. He and his companions prepared in silence, all of them undoubtedly hungry, thirsty, and stiff from sleeping on the ground. Yet an understanding passed between them, an unspoken agreement to finish what they’d started and see it through to whatever conclusion God had prepared for them. As he looked at their tired faces, Janan knew only one thing: he’d die before he let anything happen to these people.
The fact that they felt the same way about him still hadn’t really sunk in.
As they piled into the Navigator and he noticed the beating it had taken the previous night, the danger took on a concrete and immediate dimension. He shook his head, wishing he could think of something to say as he sat in the back seat. Instead, he took Isra’s hand and laced their fingers together, closing his eyes for a moment to draw comfort from the strength and solidity of Isra’s flesh and bones against his. When he opened his eyes, Isra’s smile spoke everything he could, a volume, a library worth of love, loyalty, and commitment in his eyes. Janan nodded once. There existed no greater strength than the selfless pledge they shared. It should be enough.
Sehrish stopped the car about half a mile from the house, near one of the building sites in the early stages of construction. Janan, Isra, and Flicker got out. With little time to prepare and no better idea for getting inside the house, they’d decided to use the distraction technique again—though this time it would be far different from Flicker’s subtle magic.
“Are you sure you won’t stay with the women?” Janan asked the arafrit from the tenth time.
Flicker, face tilted toward the sky, wouldn’t meet Janan’s eyes. “I’ve made my choice.”
Sehrish reached out the driver’s side window and squeezed Janan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Just get inside, get whatever magic bauble you need, and let’s see this finished.”
Janan put his hand over hers. “May God be with you.” He looked past Sehrish to his sister. What if he lost her before he even got to know her? No. He couldn’t consider it. He had to operate on the assumption they could succeed, or he’d never find the conviction to take a step toward that house. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. Please.”
“I promise,” Sehrish said. “Now find a place to hide and wait for the distraction.” She turned to Flicker. “I implore you to do what you can to protect the sheikh.”
Flicker said nothing, and after a moment, Sehrish rolled the window up and pulled the Navigator back onto the road, where it soon disappeared around a curve, leaving the morning quiet except for the rush of the sea.
The peace did not last long, and about ten minutes later, an explosion shattered the tranquil morning, flame and black smoke spewing skyward from where Sehrish had sacrificed the Navigator.
Janan, Isra, and Flicker sprinted around the half-finished villa and onto the beach, where the strong and angry tides painted the sand with thick cords of spume. They ran hard for the fence at the back of his family’s house, and Janan heaved in relief to see the hole they’d dug beneath it hadn’t been filled.
They had no time to see if Sehrish’s ploy had drawn the guards away. They dragged themselves through the wet sand, dashed across the lawn, and skidded to a halt next to the loose window Nawra had mentioned. As it led to a utility room that housed the water heater and furnace, replacing the rotting wood of the frame hadn’t been a high priority. Janan jimmied it with his walking stick and, after a few moments, managed to pry it free. Isra gave him a boost, and Janan swung his leg over the sill and dropped into the utility closet. Isra followed, and then he leaned out the window and said to Flicker, “Are you coming?”
Flicker shook his head. “It’s best I stay here. Ma’shal will get word of the explosion soon enough, and then he’ll come here, likely not alone. I’ll stand watch outside and buy you as much time as I can.” He cupped Isra’s face and looked frightened and vulnerable, his marigold eyes big and glistening. “Isra, I can’t be with you. I can keep you safer by being elsewhere, but never doubt that you mean much to me. You must trust yourself now, trust the magic you’ve always held inside. All right?”
“I—” Isra’s voice cracked, and the sound opened a fissure in Janan’s heart. “I won’t fail you.”
Flicker offered a sad little smile. “I know. Now go. I don’t know how much time we have.” The arafrit spun around on the ball of his foot and hurried into the garden.
“Are you all right?” Janan asked Isra.
Isra stared after Flicker for a few moments and then turned to Janan, steely determination in his dark eyes. “Let’s do what we came to do.”
Janan nodded, and they left the utility closet and entered a hallway that led to the massive central room with its tall fountain.
“Do you have any idea where we should start?” Isra looked overwhelmed at the dozens of artifacts mounted on the walls or housed in arched alcoves.
“I don’t know much about my brother,” Janan said, “but I’m afraid I know his type… somehow. He hides behind religion, using it as an excuse to grab power and control others. His idea of Islam’s glorious past seems to be one where everyone except men like him lived lives of strict regulation and oppression. But I
think… I think he’s very wrong about that.” The memories of lessons, lectures, and excursions assailed him again, and though he couldn’t grasp on to one to prove his theory, he still believed it when he said, “He’s wrong. Ours was a joyous faith, just as it can be now. Our God is a God of love, not my brother’s harbinger of anger and vengeance.”
“Perhaps a weapon, then?” Isra asked.
“That makes sense. I think I saw a lot of them displayed in the study near the front entrance, along with some old books and scrolls. It’s as good a place to start as any.”
After that, Janan kept quiet so as not to distract Isra as Isra ran his hands along the walls, stopping to cant his head or squint at some of the objects he passed. Though Janan desperately wanted to know what, if anything, Isra perceived, he knew better than to break his concentration. Isra would let him know if he discovered anything.
They reached the study—which was more of a library, and three times the size of the one in Janan’s Cairo villa—without exchanging a word. The musty smell of old books hung heavy in the air, and dust motes danced in the rays of light coming through the patterned screens in front of the tall windows. As Isra made his way to the closest shelf and ran his fingers over the spines of the leather-bound books there, Janan kept watch, his staff gripped tight. He faced the double doors at the end of the polished marble hallway.
He could even hear the lock disengage at the input of the security code.
“Isra! They don’t need to know you’re here. Stay out of sight and keep looking!”
“What are you—”
But before Isra could finish, Janan walked into the hall and stood a few feet from the door. He held his staff at his side in a way he hoped wouldn’t seem threatening. This man was still his brother, and if he didn’t at least try to reason with him, he would never forgive himself.
Thunder rumbled, and the citrine winter light coming through the windows winked out, replaced by a heavy and threatening gray. Janan could see forks of lightning in the sky behind his brother as Ma’shal opened the doors and entered.
