The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3)(59)
Jamra wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his caftan. Combustible with anger, he ordered the second ifrit to throw Yvette from the roof. The girl screamed and wriggled in the creature’s grip before managing to free her mouth. “Let go of me, you fils de pute!” The ifrit, struggling to contain Yvette’s manic energy, dangled her over the side of the roof. She grabbed the creature by the wing, the arm, and finally the leg before it successfully disentangled itself from her and kicked her body over the edge.
Sidra lunged half a step to intervene before halting herself. There was a pause while the ifrit leaned over the side to see the mess he’d made on the pavement below. But he’d obviously never dealt with a fairy before. As soon as the beast hunched over the lip of the roof, his hair and claws were singed off by an electric zap pulsating from Yvette’s fingertips. The girl rose in the air, elevating herself with her Fée powers, her glamour fully engaged and glowing with electricity.
The ifrit brushed the burnt hairs from his arms before swiping at Yvette as if she were a nuisance gull. But the girl’s skills had improved under her grandmother’s training. She easily maneuvered out of the demon’s reach without losing her balance. When he came at her a second time, she reached in her endless pockets for her atomizer, then sprayed him in the face with the weaponized perfume as the witch had done. The creature gagged and snorted, wiping his nose and mouth to be rid of the horrible smell assaulting his senses.
Jamra shouted at the ifrit. “Kill her!”
The beast snorted a stream of mucus from his nose and charged. The girl, her ire glowing, delivered a bolt of electricity, shocking the swollen-eyed ifrit off his feet. The creature swung his arms wildly, as if unable to see, then dissipated to escape the electrifying jolt still crackling through his body.
Jamra turned on his bootheel and marched toward Sidra. “The dagger. Now!”
Free of the ifrit, the girl lunged when he did. He threw an arc of fire, cutting her off and forcing her to retreat with her hands over her face.
“Come and take it,” Sidra taunted and leaped from the bell tower onto the roof of the building below.
Thank the All Seeing, Jamra gave chase, leaving the girl behind. The tiles rattled as he landed in a crouch behind her. She was playing for time, though what that would gain her she didn’t yet know. Around them the storm spun out. The fury of the wind and sand receded even as her heartbeat sped up. All she knew was that she must lead him away from the girl.
Sidra veered left, then right, zigzagging over the ancient rooftops, breaking tiles and brushing the crowns of the highest palms with the soles of her sandals. Layers of sand covered the streets and windowsills, collecting in flowerpots and filling downspouts with their grit. Jamra’s hot breath remained at her back. But where to go? The market square came into view as the air cleared of dust. Sidra dissipated and escaped through the ether, leaving the rooftops for the narrow lane where Yanis lived—a village canyon only an arm’s width in places, walled in on either side by the buildings whose roofs she’d just run over. She swam through the air invisible, looking for a nook or crevice in the plaster she could hide in before she hit the village boundary and was sent flying back to the town’s center. Curse Jamra and his sorcerer!
As she fled, the narrow uphill street suddenly descended. It twisted left and then right, going around another corner until she no longer knew which direction she flew. Had she taken the wrong alley? Impossible. She’d been traveling toward the upper village, but now she was heading straight for the fragrance factory in the center. The scent already floated to her on the wind. But what had brought her here? In her panic to escape Jamra’s fire, had she missed the influence of some unseen energy around her, turning her, guiding her?
Sidra paused. Was it possible? Had she somehow been swept up in someone else’s magic yet again? It had happened before, being delivered to a place she did not wish to go because of the force of someone else’s desire. Is that what the tail she’d seen in the birds’ omen meant? That her will was once again being buffeted by the whims of others? Turning her around and around until she was too dizzy to know where her own feet would materialize?
Heavy foot stomps on the rooftop behind her told her she hadn’t fooled Jamra by going to ground.
“Show yourself, jinniyah!” He landed on the cobblestones in front of the spot where she had stalled in the ether to get her bearings. “I know you are here. Understand that the fair one will die a painfully slow death if you do not come out.”
A chunk of golden hair sailed down in front of Sidra. Above, an ifrit held Yvette on a chain. The foolhardy girl hadn’t got away after all. An iron ring had been fastened around her neck to control her Fée powers. Jamra paced in his soft boots, moving nearer the factory with each step. Could he feel the lure of the sigil within the village? Even in her disembodied state, she felt her heart squeeze for all that had gone wrong. But most of all she missed Hariq. Why did she let him talk her into such a mad scheme? The deception had always been doomed to fail.
She stared at the strands of yellow hair. Let him have what he was after, she thought. Let him have the dagger and be done with the charade. All of it. At least he might keep his word and feel indebted enough to let the girl go. Maybe then he’d leave, and the rest of her friends—yes, that’s what they were—could return to their homes unharmed. There would be hardship and suffering for others in the world, but maybe Jamra had a point. Maybe some mortals deserved retribution for what the jinn had suffered in the past.