Blood Passage (Dark Caravan Cycle #2) (27 page)

“You can breathe,” he said. “You are not suffocating. You had a bad dream and now you're going to wake up. Wake up.”

Phara shuddered and her eyes cleared. She looked around, confused. She saw Zanari and immediately relaxed.

“Haraja?” Phara asked in a quiet voice.

Zanari nodded as she stroked Phara's long, dark hair. “Yeah. You're okay now.”

Phara took a deep breath and exhaled. She took another, then another.

Malek stood, waving away Phara's thanks. He walked out of the ice cavern they'd chosen to sleep in without another word. Nalia touched Raif's arm.

“I'm going to talk to him,” she said.

His jaw twitched, the jealousy returning. Malek's ability to persuade extended far beyond his dark power, Raif knew that. “Don't forget what he is just because he did one nice thing—which I had to force him to do, by the way.”

She rolled her eyes. “Raif. I'm just trying to find a way to get through this cave. What happens if Haraja attacks you next? I need to know he'll help you.”

A sad smile played on Raif's lips. “
Rohifsa
,
he'd never help me. You know that.”

“If I asked him . . .”

Malek would do almost anything for Nalia, but he wanted that ring more than her good opinion.

Raif shook his head. “Never gonna happen.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead before she had a chance to pull away. “Good luck, anyway.”

IT WAS EASY TO FIND MALEK. NALIA JUST HAD TO FOLLOW the scent of his clove cigarette. He stood near a towering blue-green glacier, resting a hand against the ice. Pensive.

“Thank you for what you did in there,” she said.

He turned, then blew a lungful of smoke away from her face. “I did it for you.”

“I know,” she said softly.

Malek threw his cigarette down, grinding it underfoot as he rubbed his temples. Nalia remembered how every fireplace in his mansion had blazed, even during the hot Los Angeles summers. The cold must have been driving him mad.

“Are you unwell?” she asked.

“I'm fine,” he said.

“Your eye twitches when you lie.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. Though he was a
pardjinn
,
Malek still had to replenish his
chiaan
after hypersuasion
.
Nalia reached out a hand.

“Give me your lighter.”

She brought the flame to the palm of her hand and as her
chiaan
latched onto it, the fire spiked, its warmth filling her. Malek hesitated for a moment, then rested his bare hand on the flame. He sighed, as though he were having his first sip of a long-awaited glass of absinthe.

Nalia pushed the fire onto his palm, their hands briefly grazing. His eyes met hers and she turned away. She pressed her hands against the ice to extinguish her flame.

“You don't have to be a slave to your Ifrit side,” she said as Malek stared at the flame in his hand. “Why don't you try doing things because they're the right thing to do? Because they're good. Gods, Malek, the things you could do with your gift!”

“Gift.” He snorted. “Curse, you mean.”

“No.
Gift.
Imagine. Convincing a would-be murderer to lay down his weapon. Telling a tyrant to give up his power. You'd have just as much control of the world. You'd just be running it differently.”

His eyes fastened on hers, flickering in and out with tongues of flame. This was the battle he fought within himself all day, every day. She knew that now.

“It must be exhausting,” she continued. “Fighting the darkness in you.” For the first time, she was realizing the strain Malek was under. How hard it was for him to keep the rage of the fire inside him at bay.

“What do you know of it?” he said, bitter.

“Because that darkness is inside me, too.”

How many times had she wanted to hurt, to kill, to lash out in anger? How many times had the darkness in Malek pulled her to him, despite her hatred and disgust of the
pardjinn
who'd bought her?

He stared at her. “So I wasn't imagining it—our connection?”

“I don't love you, Malek,” she said.

“But you've
wanted
me.” His eyes gleamed. “That's a start.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Yes,” he said gently. He drew closer and she felt the pull, hated it. He was the dark corner at an illicit gathering, honey on the tip of her tongue, a wild call in the middle of the night. If she gave in, he would obliterate her. For one brief, terrible moment, she wondered what it would be like to accept his poisoned love.

“We have all the time in the world to build on this,
hayati
. With the ring, you can rule by my side, we—”

She stumbled back, before he could touch her. Before she could feel that heat on her skin.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “I'm not something you can claim. I am a living, breathing, feeling
person.
Yes, some sick part of me reacts to you in ways I hate. But that jinni in there?” She pointed to the cavern. “When he touches me, I feel whole. I've never wanted someone so much in my life. Do you see the difference? I would kill you the first chance I get and
die for Raif
the second he needed me to. You are
nothing
to me but a wishmaker who has made my life hell.”

Hurt lashed across his face. “Spare me your high and mighty speeches, Nalia. You're not telling me anything I don't already know.”

“Obviously this whole conversation was a mistake,” she said. “I came out here because I saw what you did with Phara and it made me think that if someone just saw the good in you—”

Malek laughed, his face cruel and hard. “The
good in me
?
You beautiful little fool. You want to know how good I am?” His eyes were fully crimson now and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“You're not my master anymore,” she said, staring at the deliberate way his fingers slid the buttons out of their holes. Violet
chiaan
spilled from her fingertips. “Touch me and you'll wish to the gods you hadn't.”

He pulled the shirt off, silent. Draega's Amulet gleamed on his bronze chest, a complex series of knots seared into his skin.

“Ask me what I gave for this.”

Nalia went cold, not sure she wanted to know anymore. Malek's eyes sparked.

“Ask me!” he shouted.

“What did you give in exchange for the amulet?”

The air was heavy, weighted down by their past.

“My brother.” As soon as Malek said the words his shoulders sagged and the light went out of his eyes. “I gave the gods Amir.”

Nalia blinked. It took a moment for his words to make sense, to tear wider the hole Bashil's loss had ripped in her heart.

Malek raised his chin as understanding dawned in her eyes. “Don't ever make the mistake of thinking I'm good,” he said.

Nalia threw her hands against Malek's chest, her palms
burning with
chiaan
,
pummeling the amulet, trying to rip out his heart. He kept his arms at his sides, welcoming her rage.

“How
could you
?” she screamed. “He was your brother! Your godsdamned brother! He had a wife,
a son
.”

The cave echoed with her cries and she hated him hated him hated him. Nalia aimed a barrage of
chiaan
at Malek, but her hands were shaking so much that it flew over his head and hit the glacier behind him. It burst apart, throwing shards of ice everywhere. She didn't move, didn't flinch as needle-sharp slivers of ice cut into her skin, grazed her face. Then there were strong hands on her arms and Zanari was pulling her away.

“Sister, I want to kill him as much as you do, but you know you can't. Come on. Don't waste your breath.”

“Your
brother
,” Nalia screamed as Zanari dragged her to the other end of the cave. Her voice ricocheted off the rock, but he was silent, watching her. “You piece of shit!”

And then she was sobbing because he'd killed
her
brother, too. By buying Nalia, by not setting her free.

“I could have saved him,” she cried. “But you wouldn't set me free. And now he's dead, he's dead and never coming back, you bastard.”

Something in her snapped and her hands flew toward Malek, her fingers like claws. Her
chiaan
landed square on his chest and Malek's body flew up and hit the icy ceiling with a sickening crack before falling face first into the frigid water between floating chunks of ice. She stared at his unmoving form, spent.

Nalia swayed, suddenly dizzy. The wish didn't like
that.
She gasped as that age-old summoning pain cut into her and then she
was laughing and she couldn't stop
oh gods wasn't it so fucked up wasn't it so fucked up?

There were murmured voices behind her and then there was Raif and she was in his arms. He carried her back to the cavern without a backward glance, then held her against him as she plummeted into sleep, clutching Bashil's worry stone to her heart.

THE ICE INSIDE MALEK WAS CRACKING. THE TERRIFYING emptiness he'd carried with him for three years threatened to obliterate him. For the first time in decades he considered death a happy alternative to his existence.

He followed the jinn, hardly aware of the jagged spikes of ice that jutted out of the cave's floor like oversized crystals. They cut across the paths that wove between looming glaciers, hopping from one island of ice to the next, then pushing through tunnels of snow. Bend. Duck. Bend. Crawl. He did it all, but he wasn't there, not really. The decades of his life were visiting him, an endless stream of ghosts. He ran his fingers along the smooth ice walls that swelled over the rock. Remembering.

Amir stands in the middle of the ice hotel, his eyes wide. “How is this even possible without jinn magic?” he says.

“Pretty magnificent, isn't it?” Malek smiles, a little smug.

“It is. Thank you, brother.”

“It's our birthday,” Malek says. “Have to do something out of the ordinary to celebrate.”

Amir hands him an envelope. “Happy birthday.”

Malek takes it. “A gift card?” He smirks. “You shouldn't have.”

“Shut up and open it.”

He slides a thin finger underneath the seal and takes out the blurry image. He stares at the tiny figure in its center. He can make out the head, the body curled into itself. Malek's hand shakes just a little. It means more than he thought it would.

Amir claps a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to be an uncle?”

Malek waited until the jinn were a good distance away, then ducked behind a glacier and gave in to the silent sob that had been building within him. He shut off his flashlight and let the cave consume him as he slid to the ground, his body shaking, and drew his knees to his forehead. The tears froze before they had a chance to fall down his cheeks. If he loosened his arms right now, he'd shatter into a million pieces, shards of ice the others could crush under their feet.

It was goddamn terrible timing to start feeling again. First Nalia, now Amir.

I'm sabotaging myself.
If he didn't keep it together, the sigil was as good as Raif's.

“Malek!” Raif, close by. Emerald
chiaan
danced along the
frozen walls. “Where in all hells are you?”

He heard the crunch of Raif's boots on the icy floor and his muttered curses.

Malek hurriedly wiped his eyes, then shot up, drawing the old Malek around him, hiding. “Can't a man have a moment to himself?” he snapped as he stepped into Raif's line of sight.

“No,” Raif said, already turning around. “Let's go.”

Malek could kill him. Right now, with no one else around. He gripped the flashlight in his hand. One good blow to the back of the head was all it would really take.

Amir's voice, then Nalia's:
Why do you do this?

He hesitated, then gripped the flashlight harder. Before Malek could move, a burst of
chiaan
sent him flying back. Raif stood over him, his hands glowing.

“The thing about being evil, Malek, is that you lose the element of surprise.” he said, grabbing the flashlight from where it had fallen to the floor. “I can play dirty, too, you know.” He began walking away, leaving Malek alone in the darkness.

Malek groaned as he sat up. “Enjoy living while you can,” he said. “Because I promise you, I won't be keeping you around once I have the ring.” Even to his own ears, the words felt hollow, rote.

“You're delusional.” Raif stopped and turned around. His eyes were hard, belying his youth. “This is what will happen: I will get the ring because I'm a jinni and you are not. Because nobody here is on your side. It's a pity I can't kill you, but I almost like it that way. While you're here on Earth, with nothing left to live for, Nalia and I will be in Arjinna. We will grow old together. We will never speak of you. To her, you will be nothing more
than the scars around her wrist and a bad taste in her mouth.”

“A nice fairy tale, boy.” A small, cold smile played on Malek's lips. “But that's all it is—a fantasy. Even if you get the sigil, you'll never grow old. Fearless heroes of doomed revolutions rarely do.”

Malek brushed past Raif before the boy could see the terror that had taken hold of him at the thought of never seeing Nalia again. Malek wondered if he could bear it. He'd rather her scorn, her hatred, than nothing.

“Why's the sigil so important to you?” Raif called. His
chiaan
lit the path the others had taken, a bright, springtime green that clashed with the frozen wasteland the cave had become.

Malek stopped. He hadn't been expecting that. Saranya's words came to him, just as damning as they'd been the first time she'd said them:
Did it ever occur to you, Malek, that you can live forever and yet you have nothing to live for?

“Because it's all that's left.”

The look on his father's face as the bastard died—that was what Malek had to look forward to. He'd summon the jinni that had ruined his mother's life, that had created a monster like Malek. He'd inform his father that he would be stoned to death, just as the men in Malek's family had threatened to do to Malek's mother when she had two children out of wedlock.

He didn't wait to hear what Raif said. He stalked through the frozen tunnel, dimly lit by Raif's
chiaan
as the boy followed, to where the other jinn stood near Nalia on the bank of a frozen lake. She looked up as Malek neared, but his eyes slid away before they could meet hers. One look at Nalia would shatter him. He
was far too unhinged now, unsure of what he'd do next. Cry like a child, no doubt. The tears had burned.

“How many more bottles are we looking for?” Zanari asked no one in particular.

“We have eighteen hundred and fifty,” Anso said. “And we know for a fact that two thousand jinn disappeared after the City of Brass was built.”

“Are you ready?” Samar asked Nalia, coming to stand beside her.

“Yes,” she said.

Nalia kneeled next to the lake and set her hand against the thick slab of ice that covered the water. It cracked in two almost immediately, creating a large entrance to the dark, frigid world below. She stood and glanced at Samar.

“I'm not looking forward to this,” Samar said.

She grimaced. “Nor I.”

Nalia handed her coat to Zanari and stepped to the edge of the hole. Malek had seen the Marid gather the bottles several times now, but it never ceased to amaze him how their forms could become water and yet, when they stepped out of the lakes, they'd be fully clothed and not one hair on their head would be wet. He supposed it was similar to the magic of evanescence.

Samar gestured to Nalia with a grin. “Ladies first.”

She rolled her eyes and jumped in, letting out a very un–Nalia-like screech as her body hit the water. She disappeared under the surface and, seconds later, her head popped up.

“Fire and blood,” she said, gasping. She picked up a wayward
chunk of ice and threw it out of the hole. “Get your ass in here, brother.”

Zanari laughed. “Boy am I glad to be a Djan right about now.”

Samar closed his eyes and jumped. Several expletives passed through his lips before he remained under the surface long enough to gather bottles.

Every few minutes one of them would come to the surface and deposit bottles onto the ice, then slip back into the arctic water. The others counted them before placing the vessels safely in the bags they all carried. It was nearly two hours before Nalia and Samar were through.

“Zanari, can you manifest us some tea?” Nalia asked.

“I'm on it, sister,” Zanari said.

Nalia's lips were blue and she'd barely got the words past her chattering teeth. It was hard not to go to her, give her the Ifrit heat that lived inside him. Malek doubted very much that Nalia would ever suffer his touch again and so he stayed where he was, on the outskirts of the group.

Raif manifested a thick blanket and wrapped it around Nalia's shoulders. She clutched at it with a murmured thanks, but deftly dodged his arms. Malek wondered what that was about, but only dimly. He'd forfeited the game: even if he had the sigil, Nalia would never be his. In fact, he'd order her as far away from him as possible.

“Two thousand!” Anso yelled.

Nalia clutched her cup of tea. “We got all of them?”

Anso nodded, beaming. “I doubt there are any more, but we should still keep an eye out, just in case.”

The Dhoma whooped and hollered, sounding out a tribal cry. They embraced one another and Noqril grabbed Nalia, spinning her around. Her tea flew out of her hand, but she threw back her head and laughed. Somehow, their victory had become hers, as well.

Malek turned and walked away from the celebration. He fished a headlamp out of the small rucksack he'd brought into the cave with him and walked until he could no longer hear their joy. This was his place, hugging the shadows, making the next move. The ice rippled overhead, as though he were just beneath the surface of a frozen sea. White turned to blue, then green. Mesmerizing.

There was a fork in the path.

Two roads diverged in a wood . . .

Short, dark tunnels and, he quickly realized, dead ends, both of them. Except. He drew closer to the wall at the end of the tunnel on his right. The rock jutted out of it, like thick, knotty pieces of coral, each knot twisting to a point. Eight points. He took another look at the peach rock, then stepped back to confirm what he had seen.

The sixth star.

Raif passed through the entrance at the end of the tunnel where Malek had found the star. His whole body was numb with cold after days in the ice cavern and he sighed gratefully as the temperature warmed considerably.

“Six down, two to go,” Zanari said. “Almost there, little brother. Almost there.”

He nodded. “We can't find that godsdamned ring soon enough.” What was happening in Arjinna? He wished he could contact his mother, but
hahm'alah
didn't work in the cave. Of course. Antharoe wouldn't have wanted anyone outside to know how to get in.
Hold on. Just a little longer.
Maybe if he thought the words hard enough, his
tavrai
would feel them.

As soon as the last jinni stepped through the passageway, the cave crumbled behind them and the ice disappeared. Raif looked at the rock formation before him, groaning.

“We'll never find this next star,” he muttered.

It was like being in the middle of a beehive. The cavern they were now in branched out into countless passages in all directions, each one accessible through a small arch. The arches were layered so that from the floor to the cave's roof, it seemed as though there were hundreds of windows looking down at them. He craned his neck. He could scarcely see the stalactites that hung from above.

For the next several hours, the cavern was full of multicolored strands of evanescence as the jinn flitted from one cavern entrance to the next, marking each one they checked with pieces of glowing chalk. Some were no deeper than a few feet, only big enough for a child to lie down in. Others were entrances to long tunnels that led to dead ends or starless caverns. There were nearly a thousand arches to explore in all and it was slow, mind-numbing work.

Raif kicked at the wall of one particularly frustrating passage, cursing. He heard a low chuckle nearby. Raif whirled around, the hair on his neck standing on end.
Haraja.

“Throwing a tantrum, brother?” said a familiar voice.

Raif let out a breath. “Noqril. Has anyone ever told you it's unspeakably rude to be invisible without giving fair warning?”

“Yes.” Noqril's form materialized before him. “But warning people takes all the fun out of it.” The Ifrit leaned against the wall, grinning. “Besides, you wouldn't want me to tell Malek of my impending invisibility when the time comes to help you get the sigil, now would you?”

“Not unless you want him to put that ring on and make you his slave,” Raif said.

Noqril followed Raif back to the main cavern. “I don't understand what you're so worried about. Between me and the other Dhoma, the
pardjinn
doesn't stand a chance.”

“Let's just say he has an uncanny way of getting what he wants,” Raif said.

When he emerged in the airy central cavern, most of the others had given up their searching as well.

“We'll look no more today.” Samar manifested a bottle of wine and held it up with a flourish. “We need to celebrate recovering all the bottles. It's not
savri
,
but—”

“—it'll do,” finished Anso. The common refrain among jinn.

“I like the way you think, brother,” Raif said.

Noqril manifested a campfire with his Ifrit energy while the others set about preparing food. Malek sat outside the warmth of the circle, lying on his back and gazing into the darkness of the cavern's ceiling. Raif wondered what the
pardjinn
was plotting. Two more stars. Raif would find out soon enough.

Nalia was still combing through the tunnels, but she joined
the group once the jinn were settled around the fire and the bottle was making its rounds. There was an empty space beside him, but she chose to sit as far away as possible, on the other side of the fire. Raif knew Nalia would come back to him when she was ready. He would wait as long as it took, hundreds of years if need be.

But it was hard.

He caught her watching him from across the dancing flames. He smiled a little and she bit her lip and looked away. He took a large swig from the bottle
before passing it on.

As the night wore on, Raif felt himself becoming more withdrawn, brooding as he stared at the flames.
You'll never grow old,
Malek had said.
Fearless heroes of doomed revolutions rarely do.

Raif felt the truth of those words, much as he didn't want to. He'd fight like hell to stay alive as long as he could, but Raif couldn't guarantee a future with Nalia. Even if he got the sigil, it didn't make him invincible. There were far too many jinn who wanted to see him dead. And if he put that ring on, it'd be a different kind of death. Nalia might not ever forgive him for it. And Raif wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself. Could he bind every jinni in Arjinna to his will, even if it was for the greater good?