Blood Passage (Dark Caravan Cycle #2) (23 page)

Not exactly something Zanari had expected to find on her search for Solomon's sigil.

Raif took up the rear of their small party, his eyes scanning the deserted streets of the city, Nalia by his side. It'd only been a few hours since her transformation in the lightning storm, and the enormity of what had happened to her seemed to be taking its toll. He could feel her exhaustion, the need to stop moving. The others were ahead, checking one of the vacant buildings to see if it was a suitable resting place for the night. The city was filled with skeletons, and no one wanted to sleep with the dead. Zanari had told him her theory about Antharoe leaving the humans in the City of Brass to die and he couldn't help but agree—he'd thought as much that first night with the Dhoma. The city had been magically preserved, that much was clear. No natural sandstorm made domes above the cities it ravaged.

Nalia stopped, hands on her hips as she looked around, her eyes full of sorrow. “I can't believe she'd let them die.”

Raif turned, confused. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“Antharoe.”

“It makes sense,” he said gently. “Other than the Dhoma, the jinn have never been friendly with humans. Maybe Antharoe felt it was a just punishment. Samar said this city was built by jinn under Solomon's control and that as soon as they'd completed building the city, they disappeared.”

“The jinn in the bottles?”

Raif nodded. “I can picture Antharoe, looking at this human city built by jinn slaves. I almost understand why she did it.”

You've become the monsters you're fighting.
Maybe Jordif was right.

“Nothing could ever justify this.” She swept her hand over the city. “All these people—
children
, even. I can't believe Antharoe was my hero growing up.” Nalia turned to him, her eyes anxious. “Her blood runs in my veins.”

He brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Hey,” he said. “You're nothing like her.”

She stepped away from him. “I am, a little.”

He sighed. “Maybe a little. But only in good ways—your determination, your refusal to give up. Your power. That's all.”

Nalia looked at him then,
really
looked at him, her heart laid bare. “Welcome back,” he murmured.

He pulled her into a nearby alcove and, rather than let go of her hand, as she was trying to make him do, he held her palm against his lips. He gasped as her
chiaan
surged into his skin.
He could feel her, finally, he could feel Nalia's
chiaan
flowing into him, rich and spicy, achingly familiar yet more searing than before, infused with lightning. It latched onto him like a drug, intoxicating.

Raif pressed his fingers against her lips and her eyes fluttered as his
chiaan
seeped into her skin. He smiled as he took her face in his hands and gave her the kiss he'd been dreaming about since before she woke up, since the moment he'd left the
riad
in Marrakech. Nalia melted against him, her lips matching the urgency of his own.

She tasted like a heady wine, and he wanted more more more. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him against her and he didn't care who heard them, didn't care who saw, he needed to be as close as possible to her.

Then, without warning, she shoved him away, her palm pressing against his heart.

The rush of cold air brought him back to himself, and Raif stumbled, groping in the darkness. In the rusty orange light from the pillar by the main gate he saw the misery in Nalia's face, the way she touched her lips like they were something rare and precious.

“Raif, we can't. This has to stop.”

He could hardly control his breath, hardly think with her
chiaan
inside him, the smell of her all over him.

“Is this about Kir? You think I'll change my mind, decide we can't be together, after all?”

She shook her head.

He took a step toward her, but she pressed herself against the
wall, as if she could somehow dissolve into the stone. Away from him. Which didn't make any sense. Their connection, the way their bodies responded to one another—she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. It was undeniable. So what was going on?

“I don't understand,” he said.

Her eyes were bright, too big for her thin face. They filled and she angrily brushed at the tears.

“Love is a weakness,” she said softly. “It's one of the first things I was taught as a Ghan Aisouri. I used to hear my mother say that and think I was special because I had this wonderful secret—I knew how to love. But she was right.”

“No she wasn't.” He took a step forward. “Nal, you're exhausted. You're not thinking straight, okay? I should have given you space, I just . . .” He stared at the ground, hands on his hips. “I miss you so godsdamned much.”

“It's not about being tired or needing space,” she said. “Raif, Bashil
died
because I loved him. Calar used my brother to get to me. And even before that, I was willing to sell out the entire jinn race so that I could free my brother from Ithkar.”

The ring. Guilt stabbed him as Raif remembered how cruel he'd been to her, refusing to help free Nalia from her bottle until she agreed to take him to the sigil. At the time, he hadn't known about Bashil, but that wasn't the point.

“Love can be a strength, too,” he said. “It's saved your life twice in the past few weeks.”

Raif, calling Nalia back from the godlands after Haran. And Malek—keeping her alive in the Sahara. He knew the
pardjinn
would have saved her with or without that wish.

“And almost killed you,” she said. “How many times have you risked your life and the revolution for me? If Calar finds out how we feel about each other, I guarantee she will use that. And everything you've been working for will suffer
.
We're hurting Arjinna by being together. You know that. We have to stop.”

He remembered Malek's words on the
Sun Chaser
:
She's the best weapon in your arsenal.

“You're wrong, Nalia. The realm only stands to gain if you're alive. I'd be a fool to let the Ifrit kill you. You hate them as much as I do; having you on the revolution's side is worth any sacrifice I make,” he said. “Besides,” he added with a small smile, “I've already tried to stop loving you. I can't. I
won't.
”

“You'll have to learn.” Nalia slipped past him, out of the alcove, and back onto the main street.

“Nalia.” She stopped. He knew how hard this was for her, saw it in the tightness of her shoulders, her clenched fists. “You're the bravest person I know. But you're being a coward right now.”

Nalia whirled around. “You weren't there when he died,” she said, her voice shaking. “I refuse—
I refuse
to watch Calar take you away from me. I refuse to wash your dead body and sit by your side all night as your skin gets cold, knowing you will never smile again. I refuse to burn you, to taste your ashes on the wind.” She was yelling now, tears streaming down her face,
chiaan
sparking from her fingertips.

He stayed where he was, still. Silent. For a few breaths they just stood there, staring at one another. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Do you want to know the first thing I said to you, when I
saw you lying in the tent, not waking up? With no
chiaan
and knowing what had happened to you, what happened to Bashil?”

“Raif, don't,” she begged.

“I said, ‘I love you and I will never leave you again.' And if that's weak, then fine. I'm the weakest godsdamn jinni in the world. Push me away all you want, Nalia. I'm not going anywhere.”

AS NALIA ENTERED WHAT MUST HAVE BEEN A PALACE IN the City of Brass, light spilled out of its main chamber. As she walked through the wide double doors, she came upon the Dhoma, deep in conversation. The Ifrit among them had lit several torches and placed them in the braziers hanging on the Roman columns that graced the wide throne room. Light flickered over the carved stone and reached up to the domed ceiling, where the shadows were thickest.

“Is everything all right?” she asked Samar as she took in their grim expressions.

“This is an odd question to ask in our situation, no?” he said, not unkindly.

She smiled. “I suppose so.” It felt like nothing was all right, anywhere. “Did you find any bottles?”

“No,” he said heavily. “And we have no idea where to start. We are not here for the sigil, so your Aisouri markings are of no help to us. We might have to go our own way.”

“You do what you want, brother,” Raif said, coming up behind Nalia, “but I wouldn't want to go through this cave without as much protection as possible. Who knows what's down here.”

“Raif's right,” Nalia said, careful not to look at him. “Of course you're welcome to do as you wish, but the bottles may be as difficult to uncover as the ring. They could be anywhere. And Malek has a theory that you'll need the seal to open them, anyway.”

Samar's expression darkened. “You know this for sure?”

Nalia shrugged helplessly. “From here on out, we don't know anything for certain. But if we go our separate ways, we may never find one another again.”

“In
The Arabian Nights
—” Malek began.

“Just a human story,” Zanari said. “Gods!”

“The horseman was here, wasn't he?” Malek said, glaring. “As I was saying, in
The Arabian Nights
,
there's a story: ‘The Fisherman and the Ifrit
.
'
The bottle the Ifrit is contained in is pulled up from the sea. My guess is the bottles you're looking for are in some body of water. People lived here. They had to drink, fish, grow food. Their water source would be close.”

“Why are you helping us?” asked Umbek, the huge Marid.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Malek said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I play a long game.”

The Dhoma looked at one another. “Fine,” Samar said. “We will stay with you until we find this water the
pardjinn
speaks of. If we are unable to open the bottles without the ring, we'll
continue the rest of the journey with you, as well.”

“In the meantime,” Zanari said, manifesting a small mattress, “I say we get some shut-eye.”

It didn't take long for Nalia and the others to manifest their own mattresses and blankets. Nalia lay on the mat she'd manifested and turned to the wall—it was the closest she could get to being alone. She couldn't even begin to process everything that had happened on top of the dune. Wasn't sure she wanted to. It had been a baptism of light, a refining that had changed her in some fundamental way she didn't yet understand. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she could feel the death of this place, a dark energy as a result of Antharoe's mass murder. Death seemed to follow Nalia and her race everywhere they went. Maybe the coup had been a blessing in disguise. Maybe the worlds were better off without the Ghan Aisouri.

Nalia reached out a hand and a plume of purple smoke rose above her palm. She stared at Bashil's image for a long time, the quick smile, the laughing golden eyes. Finally, her own eyes grew heavy and then she was drifting, away from the cave, from Earth, from everything. Sleep overtook her and the smoke on her palm slipped away.

Nalia dreamed of the sigil.

So close, she could feel its heartbeat, somewhere deep under the earth below her. She was swimming in a lake of fire, her arms twin flames that reached reached reached—

A cackle.

Nalia's eyes snapped open. Something soft and black brushed against her cheek.

Hisssssssssss.

She tried to move but her body felt as though it were encased in cement. Only her eyes were capable of motion. And, gods, she wished they weren't.

Another cackle.

A form cloaked in darkness crouched over Zanari, whispering in her ear. Zanari moaned. From where Nalia lay, the thing beside Raif's sister looked like a person dressed in black rags with pasty skin and long, stringy black hair.

Nalia tried to scream, but it lodged somewhere deep in her throat, the creature somehow muzzling her. Her
chiaan
thrashed beneath her skin, caged. Clawing her from the inside out.

The witchlike thing beside Zanari looked up, its entire face covered in hair that hung to halfway down its torso, its eyes a milky white. Yellow teeth gleamed through the strands. It smiled at Nalia.

Hissssssssss.

Nalia closed her eyes and found the lightning within, the animal part of her that had taken a bite out of the sky. The scream inside her tore itself free and echoed around the cave, awakening the others. She threw her body up and it felt like breaking out of the bottle all over again, as invisible chains fell off of Nalia's body. The nightmare in their midst stared at her, wide-eyed, and scurried backward as the slumbering jinn shot out of sleep.

Nalia thrust her hands before her and a torrent of
chiaan
blazed toward the intruder, narrowly missing its head. She sprinted toward Zanari as the monster shot forward and pressed the palm of its hand to the girl's forehead before skittering away.
Raif's sister jumped up, a blood-curdling scream spilling from her lips. She hit at her body as she cried out and stamped her feet on the floor.

“Get them off, get them
of
f
!” she yelled, her eyes wild with fear.

Nalia barreled toward the creature as Phara scrambled to Zanari's side.

“Zanari, there's nothing on you—it was just a dream,” Phara was saying, but Zanari was hysterical, the room echoing with her terrorized cries.

“Please,
please
,
oh gods!” Zanari shrieked.

The room was in confusion,
chiaan
going in every direction. Nalia ducked as a stray dagger of sapphire
chiaan
cut past her.

“What's wrong with her?” Raif asked Phara, panicked. He caught Nalia's eye and she pointed toward the thing sprinting across the stone floors.

As Zanari screamed one word—
scorpions
—Nalia lunged, but Zanari's tormentor was quick and slipped out of her grasp. “Godsdammit!” Nalia pounded her fist against the stone floor. She heard a soft cackle just beyond a grate set low into the stone wall and she sent daggers of
chiaan
through, though she knew the thing was beyond her reach.

Zanari's screams abruptly cut off. Nalia turned. Raif's sister now lay slumped against Phara, silent, her eyes closed. Her body glowed with Phara's golden
chiaan
and the healer was giving directions to Raif as he pulled tonics out of her medicine bag.

“Are you okay?” Malek was looking down at Nalia, concerned. She was still on the floor, sitting in front of the grate.

“I'm fine. That thing got away, though.” She looked at the grate again, then gasped as her eyes took in its shape.
“Vasalo celique.”

The grate's metal had been worked into an eight-pointed star.

“What a helpful little monster that was,” Malek said.

Nalia moved closer. She beamed her
chiaan
into the cavern below, but all she could see was a rocky path and the smooth walls of an underground cave.

“Too bad that thing is down there as well,” she said.

Malek shrugged. “It's a cave in the middle of the Sahara, containing one of the world's biggest secrets—I'd say that creature was only a taste of things to come.”

Nalia shivered. She'd had enough of monsters.

She crossed to where the other jinn crowded around Raif's sister. Her eyes were closed, her breathing fast, as though she were running. Phara held her cradled in her arms, smoothing Zanari's braids. Every now and then she would lean down and whisper softly in the other girl's ear.

“Is she going to be all right?” Nalia asked as Raif turned to her.

He ran a hand over his face, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “We won't know until she wakes up. She kept screaming that scorpions were all over her, stinging her. But we haven't seen a single one.”

Nalia nodded. “The thing cast some sort of spell over her. I wasn't able to get to it in time. It . . . it touched me. I woke up, but something about its touch paralyzed me. I couldn't move.”

“Well,
that
,” Umbek said, pointing to where Noqril lay slumped near the room's entrance, “makes a lot more sense now.”

“Fire and blood,” Samar said. “Phara, have you seen something like this before?”

She shook her head. “Let me take care of Zanari, then I'll work on Noqril.”

“What did it look like?” asked Anso.

Nalia described the pasty skin, the long black hair.

“Haraja,” Malek said, coming up from behind her.

“What?” Nalia looked at him.

Anso nodded. “This is most certainly Haraja's work. I have never seen her, but I have heard the stories.”

“Explain,” Raif said, his voice betraying his impatience.

“According to Moroccan legend,” Malek said, “there is a jinni named Haraja. One of her descriptions is just as Nalia said—the black hair over the face. She can appear in other forms as well. Her specialty is inflicting madness or instilling fear in her victims.”

“To what end?” Nalia said.

Malek shrugged. “Who knows? She has a knack for homing in on the thing you fear most and using that to drive you insane.”

“Fear is power,” Nalia whispered. How many times had she heard that in the palace? And it was true. The serfs had feared the Ghan Aisouri and it had only made them more powerful. She had feared Calar and so Calar had had power.

Raif glanced at her. “Haraja feeds off our fear?”

“That is correct,” Anso said. “The energy of our fear makes her stronger. But we are powerless against her once she has whispered her words in our ears and touched us.”

Phara's lip trembled. “I know of no cure for madness, but I'll try everything. I . . . I'll think of something.”

Raif blanched and Nalia slipped her hand into his, unthinking. Comforting him was instinct. “Is Zanari so deathly afraid of scorpions?” she asked him softly.

“More than anything. She was bit by a particularly nasty one as a child and was ill for months. Gods . . . so she thinks . . . I mean, Zan thinks that
right now
she's covered in . . . ?”

Samar frowned. “Who can say? When madness inflicts our brethren we say it's Haraja, but we've never had such . . . proof. She seems at peace with this medicine.”

“It won't last long,” Phara said.

Anso reached for Zanari's hand. “May I?” she asked Phara. The healer nodded.

“What's she doing?” Raif asked, his voice sharp.

“Anso has an unusual gift,” Phara said. “The opposite of mine, but just as powerful.”

“The opposite—wait, she can
make
people sick?” Raif asked.

“Very,” Phara said.

Anso's skeletal frame and sallow skin suddenly made sense. The jinni herself wasn't sick, but she carried sickness inside her all the time. Nalia had never heard of such power. It was more than a little frightening.

Malek stared. “Are you saying you have a biological weapon at your disposal?”

Anso glared at him. “That is not how I look at it. We don't use our gifts for ill. I protect my people when I need to, that is all.” She looked at Raif. “I am not going to hurt your sister. I just want to see the nature of what ails her. The shape of it.”

She held Zanari's hand, eyes closed. After a moment, Anso
stood. “I've never seen anything like this. I tried to . . . to take it on myself but it's too individualized. It's all in her mind. I can't go in there. I'm so sorry.”

Phara paled. “But I . . . I don't what else to do!” She looked at Zanari's face, frantic. “The stories can't be true, they can't.”

“What stories?” Raif said, his voice growing increasingly tight.

“They say if Haraja whispers in your ear, you will be mad forever. Until you . . .” Phara bit her lip and looked away.

“Until you kill yourself just to make it end,” Malek finished.

“You mean that when Zan wakes up, she'll still think there are scorpions all over her?” Nalia asked.

As if in response, Zanari moaned in her sleep and started weakly brushing at her clothing.

“Phara, there has to be
something
you can do,” Nalia said.

The healer leaned over Zanari, and her tears covered the other jinni's face.

Malek cleared his throat. “I can't believe I'm saying this . . .” He frowned. “I think I can help.”

“You want to hypersuade her.” Nalia said. It was actually quite brilliant. All he had to do was tell Zanari she wasn't covered in scorpions and she'd be healed. Theoretically, anyway.

Raif moved in front of Zanari. “The last time you used your power on my sister, you made her put a gun to her head. I'm not letting you anywhere near her.”

“Fine,” Malek said. “Let your little bitch of a sister die. I certainly don't care.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

Nalia glanced at Raif. “I think it'll work. I've seen what he can do—”

“We'll find another way,” Raif said.

“There
is
no other way.” Phara looked up at them. “We need the
pardjinn
or we'll have to kill Zanari ourselves, just to put her out of her misery.”

Raif blanched. He crouched down, gripping Zanari's hand. “He could say anything,” Raif said. “
Anything
.”