Exquisite Captive (23 page)

Nalia was now realizing what an epically bad idea it had been to dance with Raif. Just when she’d needed to remain anonymous, she’d gone and made herself fodder for the jinn gossip mill. They’d be talking about this for days. Nalia hadn’t made any other jinn friends, but she had a passing acquaintance with Habibi’s regulars, mostly because she was always with Leilan. Everyone loved the club’s vivacious bartender, but Nalia had always been careful to stay in the background.

So much for that.

Leilan dipped a fry in her malt. “Seriously, how do you know him?”

“I don’t think the humans do it that way,” Nalia said, pointing to Leilan’s ice-cream-coated fry.

“Then they’re missing out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, spill.”

A prospective buyer distracted Leilan for a moment, so Nalia took in the painting of the Infinite Lake that Leilan was currently working on. She’d perfectly captured the lake’s indigo hue, bathed in silvery light from Arjinna’s three moons, and the way the palace jutted out of the rock face above it. Nalia stroked the lapis lazuli that Malek had given her as she gazed at the bright blue Qaf Mountains that towered above the lake. She didn’t know how Leilan could stand painting their home so much—just looking at her pictures filled Nalia with a longing as bottomless as the Infinite Lake itself. She smiled as she remembered a story her Shaitan tutor at the palace had told her long ago, and which Nalia had then told Bashil. Legend had it that in the early days of their realm, in the time when the gods could still be seen in Arjinna, a particularly talented Marid jinni used his natural ability with water to get to the bottom of the lake, only to find himself in the sky. According to myth, this is how rain first came to Arjinna—when the Marid broke the surface of the lake-that-was-sky, the first drops fell to the earth below. Some say he swam down to Arjinna on a waterfall that came from a cloud; others swore that he returned to land on the back of a dragon.

The buyers moved on to the stall beside Leilan’s, where a woman sold beaded necklaces and painted skulls. Leilan waved her hand in front of Nalia. She blinked, returning once again to Earth.

“So . . . ?” Leilan said.

“So what?”

Leilan gave Nalia a playful push. “How do you know Raif Djan’Urbi?”

“We . . . met in Arjinna. Um. When we were kids.”

“A Shaitan and a Djan? How did
that
happen?”

Nalia grasped at the first idea that came to mind. “My father took me with him to visit Raif’s overlord. I was playing in the gardens and Raif was there.” Nalia shrugged. “He was nice.”

It was far-fetched, but it was the best she could do. In her worries over the bottle and Haran, she’d forgotten to craft a better story. It didn’t really matter—in a few days she would be gone or dead. Guilt wormed its way inside her gut. How could she just leave Leilan on Earth while she went back to Arjinna?

“And you recognized each other right away, huh?” Leilan gave Nalia a sideways glance, but Nalia just shrugged, keeping her eyes focused on her fries.

Leilan snorted. “Fine, be mysterious. At least tell me this: are you gonna see him again?”

“Probably not,” Nalia said. These days, it felt like all she did was twist and bend the truth. Reality had become soft and malleable—a toy to be played with, a weapon. “I mean, he can’t stay here long. They need him over there.”

She was going to say more when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She sat up, suddenly tense.

“Nal? You okay?”

Nalia shook her head and slowly turned around. She could feel a menacing presence, lurking near. She couldn’t place it, but it somehow felt familiar. Like it knew her.

“Lefia,”
she whispered.

The word of command was supposed to reveal the truth of things, but as the wind bore the word away, nothing changed. The group of dirty young humans skateboarding near the boardwalk were exactly what they appeared to be. The long-haired man holding a sign that said
WILL WORK FOR WEED
strolled right past them, paying no attention to Nalia. A large, shirtless man stopped for a moment in front of the stall beside Leilan’s, but he seemed harmless. Still, someone was out there—an Ifrit? Maybe even Haran himself.

“Lei, do you feel something . . . unnatural?” Nalia asked in a low voice.

Her friend furrowed her eyebrows. “Not really. I mean, we’re the only jinn here, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t sense any other jinni’s presence.”

Nalia frowned, scanning the crowd moving up and down the boardwalk. It would be so easy for Haran to glamour himself and hide among the packs of humans, but Leilan was right—what she felt wasn’t a jinn presence.

She felt a hot breath on her neck and heard a low, sinister laugh, and she jumped up, knocking her fries to the ground. She whirled around, but no one stood behind her.

“Nalia, what—”

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick,” she said to Leilan. “I’m fine, I just—I’ll be back.”

Heart pounding, she didn’t wait for a response. If it was Haran, Nalia wanted to get him as far away as possible from her friend. She clambered over the cinderblock wall, trying not to trip over the long sundress she wore, and ran toward the beach. Instead of going into the bathrooms that sat at the edge of the sand, she sprinted past them, toward one of the pale blue lifeguard huts that dotted the beach. Even though it was a beautiful day, it was a little chilly, and there weren’t many people camped out on the sand. If she had to fight Haran, this would be the best place to do it. She could feel the presence behind her, trailing her as she pushed herself across the hot sand. Fear spiked through Nalia. If Haran was using dark magic and able to remain invisible, she had no idea how she could fight him. It wouldn’t be like Raif hiding behind cars and within shadows in Malek’s garage. It would be like fighting the wind. She kicked off her sandals and ran faster, pulling energy from the earth, connecting her
chiaan
to the ground beneath her feet. Her fingertips drew the sand around her and when she was ready, she stopped suddenly and whirled around, thrusting streams of sand behind her. The yellow particles swirled, settling over a man-sized shape of empty air.

“Play fair, little jinni. You’ve already made me invisible. The least you could do is let me freak you out for a few minutes.”

“You,”
she snarled. The client. She should have known.

He chuckled. “Yes,
me
.”

Nalia filled the air with sand so that she could see his movement, creating gusts all over the beach so that this one patch wouldn’t draw attention. Then she pulled up the side of her dress to access her dagger. The sheath was attached to her thigh. The jade glimmered in the sun: one swipe of it and he’d be paralyzed from head to foot.

The client whistled at her brief show of leg and she sent a clump of sand in the general direction of his face. She smiled wickedly as he coughed and spluttered.

“How did you find me?” she said.

He spit and a white glob appeared on the sand to Nalia’s left. “I know where Malek lives because I’ve been to a few of his parties. I simply waited by the gate and followed you.”

Nalia bit her lip, trying to remember.

“The black Town Car?” she asked. She hadn’t paid much attention when she’d left this afternoon, but she vaguely remembered passing one as she drove down Mulholland.

“Yep. I’d drive myself, but being invisible does have its limitations. However, I have a discreet driver and can do most of my trading online or by phone. I’d say the only thing your evil plan did was complicate my sex life. Then again, my girlfriends kind of like the blindfold. They say it makes things mysterious.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said.

Two girls passed by, giving her matching scowls.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Nalia said to them.

She heard a whispered, “Fuh-reak!” as the girls ran off toward the water.

“If they only knew,” said the client.

“What the hell do you want?” she snapped. Thinking he was Haran had drowned her in adrenaline and if she didn’t do something soon, all this
chiaan
would burn her up.

“Fix my wish,” he said.

“Can’t. It’s impossible to undo a wish once it’s been made. You wanted invisibility—you have it. Go be a Peeping Tom or whatever it is you plan to do with the rest of your miserable life and
leave me the hell alone
.”

She could hurt him, if she wanted to. Her
chiaan
itched to take out all the bottled up frustration of the past few days—the past few
years—
on him. But then she’d be like her enemies, getting her pleasure from screams and tears and the smell of scorched flesh.

“I have every intention of murdering you, I hope you know that,” he said, his voice a drawn blade. His form inched closer to her, like a ghost in a sandstorm. “And you’ll never see it coming.”

“Good luck with that.”

Nalia sprinted toward the ocean, not out of fear—she simply didn’t trust herself to ignore his barbs. Maybe, if he hadn’t been such a lascivious jackass in the first place, Nalia would have exercised a little self-control. Maybe. Hers was a twisted form of judgment, she knew. The client hadn’t really done anything to her, but she was making him pay for all the things he’d
wanted
to do, punishing him for treating her like a servant when she was the rightful empress of a magical race. She didn’t have time to deal with him now. She just had to hope her power outmatched the threat he’d made.

As she neared the water, its power called to her. Above the blustery wind and the deafening crash of waves, she could hear soft whispers, a siren’s song that wove itself into the froth at her feet. She dove into a cresting wave and as her skin made contact with the water, it too became a translucent aquamarine. Her
chiaan
knitted her essence together so that she could return to the land, but even so, she was only an outline of a body, just a shade darker than the waters that surrounded her. The sea claimed her, welcoming Nalia as a mother would her daughter. Its cold embrace drove away all thought until there was nothing left in her consciousness but a dim remembrance of death, despair, desire. Fish swam through the bottoms of her feet and the sun shone through her face as its rays pierced the water’s surface. Nalia spread her arms, opened her mouth, and gave herself over to Lathor, goddess of water.

If she weren’t a slave, Nalia could stay here forever—dash herself against the rocks and kiss a surfer’s neck as he rode the waves of her, or bathe in creamy moonlight and dance with jellyfish. Sailors would look on her with longing, and lightning would strike through her heart, causing no pain, when storms raged above the sea. Here there was no Haran or Raif or Malek. No invisible humans or memories of the past. Just the endless rhythm of ancient waters and the low rumble of beasts in its blackened depths.

She was the current that carried boats on its back and the foam that slept on sandcastles. She was the roar and the whisper and the stillness.

She was nothing.

She was everything.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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RAIF LAY ON THE ROOF OF JORDIF’S LOFT, STARING UP
at Earth’s cold stars. He was most homesick at night, when he’d normally be sitting around the campfire at headquarters, singing the old songs and passing a bottle around with his tavrai. He wondered what they were doing now, if they were okay. He’d tried to contact Shirin, but his second-in-command had been on an Ifrit ambush. Standard weapons collection, nothing serious, but he hated not being there in the thick of the fight. Right now, he was useless; it had been a long day on Earth, with nothing to do but wait for an Arjinnan princess—no, empress—to give him the key to everything he’d ever wanted. Freedom was so close, he could almost taste it, salty like sweat, rich like cream. A truly casteless Arjinna, where everyone was equal, regardless of the color of their eyes.

Metal scraped against concrete as the roof door opened and he sat up and turned around. Zanari was in the doorway, holding two glasses of the liquor Jordif had been drinking the night before. He took the glass she offered and drank down a large gulp. Jordif wasn’t kidding—the stuff
did
taste like unicorn piss.

“Easy, little brother,” Zanari said.

He set the glass down and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going insane, Zan.”

She sat down beside him. “I know.”

“Any idea what Nalia is up to?”

“I checked in on her about an hour ago. She’s at some kind of party. Her master’s there, too.”

“All these people do is party,” he muttered.

Zanari frowned at him. “The Ifrit are after her and she’s a slave. Nalia might be at a party, but she’s not having fun, Raif. Whatever she’s doing, it’s to get the bottle.”

She looked so much like their mother in that moment that he smiled, a sad upturn of the mouth. Would Zanari make it through the war and have children of her own to scold?

“I guess so,” he said.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little kinder to her.”

He snorted. “Yeah it would.”

They were quiet for a moment, just listening to Earth’s strange sounds. The endless grind of the freeways, the piercing wailings that Jordif had told him were called
sirens.
He looked up as another metal bird flew across the sky, groaning as it made its journey to a faraway land beyond the ocean. He’d learned that, unlike the Arjinnan Sea, Earth’s oceans did not simply stop at the end of the sky. Earth kept going in a circle until new lands appeared on the horizon. If Raif weren’t leading a revolution, if he didn’t have the yoke—no, the
privilege—
of helping to usher in a new dawn for his realm, he could imagine himself on a great ship, sailing across the Earthen seas and exploring unknown forests and cities. For just a moment, his heart imagined someone else standing beside him on that ship, but he put her out of mind.

When he was a young child, he’d stopped believing in his own dreams. What he wanted was irrelevant; all that mattered was the resistance.