The Forbidden Wish(10)

Just as the sun begins to rise, I hear a rustle in the rocks behind us, and a prickle runs up the back of my neck. I stand and turn, staring at the hillside, but see nothing. A wind, sharp with salt off the sea, rattles the branches of the olive trees. I watch for a long moment, fearing wolves or jackals roaming the night. Few are the beasts I have cause to fear, but wolves and all their cousins are no friend to jinn. They hunt us ruthlessly, bearing a hatred we return in equal measure, and they have been known to bring down ghuls in their prime. I hear no feet padding along the ground, no howls cutting the night, and relax a little.

But when I turn around again, I freeze, my stomach clenching.

A little girl stands directly in front of me, her hair long and tangled, her eyes milky white. She wears a tattered gray tunic and nothing else. Sores and cuts mar her tiny bare feet. I would feel sorry for her—if she were in fact a little girl. But one look at those sightless eyes, and I know that though she may once have been human, her soul is long gone.

“Ghul,” I whisper.

The girl bares her teeth in a smile that comes across as more of a grimace. When she speaks, it is in the tongue of the jinn, which no human can hear: Jinni.

The ghul hisses, her breath hot and reeking like decayed flesh. I reach out with my sixth sense and feel her reaching back, her thoughts probing like tentacles. At once I retreat, sealing my mind to it, but that quick mental glance was all I needed to recognize her. We jinn know one another by the patterns of our thoughts, the way humans use facial features. Our names are like the meaning behind names, sensations and images rather than words, communicated by thought and not voice. I recognize the ghul as Serpent-Scale, Water-Drips-in-Darkness, Echoes-in-the-Cave. A high-ranking jinni . . . and also one of those present the day you and I fell, Habiba. Before then, she used to haunt the mountains in the north, gobbling up stray children. The northerners called her Shaza—“toothed one.”

We see you know who we are, O Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, Smoke-on-the-Wind, Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away.

“What do you want?” I ask, shivering a little at the feel of my own jinn name.

So this is the fool who found your lamp. The ghul steps aside to peer down at Aladdin, her lip curling. He looks tasty. I would not mind wearing his form for a time. Tell us, jinni, will you destroy him like you did your last human?

I turn cold. “You know what really happened that day.”

Oh yes, we saw, saw it all. She giggles and bends down to twist a lock of Aladdin’s hair around her finger. Such a pretty human, this one.

Bristling, I move between her and Aladdin. “Why are you here?”

She bites her nail. We came to deliver a message from our lord.

My stomach drops, and I sway on my feet. “And what does Nardukha have to say to me?”

He sends us to tell you that he knows you escaped the ruins where we left you to rot, for it is no coincidence the humans learned of the ring.

Unease ripples through me, like waters stirred by a slinking crocodile. If the Shaitan is behind all of this, it can mean nothing good. Nardukha did not become the King of the Jinn for no reason. I can still recall the days when he hunted down all the other Shaitan, my kindred, slaughtering them one by one to secure his own power. He is ruthless and cunning, older than the earth, stronger than any creature in existence. “But why? I thought he was content to let me rot.”

She shuffles, her nose wrinkling. He offers you a deal.

“I made a deal with Nardukha once before, and paid a terrible price for it.” I narrow my eyes and take a step toward her, my hands curling into fists. “Why should I trust him again?”

Her head whips up, her teeth flashing. The humans with their cursed charms have trapped and bottled one of our own, holding him deep in their warded city. No jinn may enter, for their protection is strong, and to pass through their gates or fly over their walls is death to us. But not to you—not to Curl-of-the-Tiger’s-Tail, Smoke-on-the-Wind, Girl-Who-Gives-the-Stars-Away. As Shaitan, you alone may be able to pass through the wards and get inside the city.

“So he wants me to rescue this jinni,” I say doubtfully. “But I know Nardukha. No jinni is worth that much trouble to him, none but—” I pause and swallow.

The ghul laughs humorlessly. The jinni they hold is no mere burning ifreet or dripping maarid, but our Lord’s own son.

I can picture him at once, though I have not seen him in more than a thousand years. We last parted with angry words, as we always did. Sun-Burns-Bright, Scale-of-the-Red-Dragon, He-Who-Makes-the-Earth-to-Shake. To me, he has always been Zhian, the name given him by the Akbanu people when they worshiped him, thousands of years ago. He always did love parading around like a god, demanding offerings and temples from the humans he terrorized.

“The humans have captured Zhian?” I ask, laughing until Aladdin stirs fitfully. “He must be utterly humiliated. The great jinn prince—bottled up like a common maarid. How did the humans do it?”

They are stronger than they were. These Amulens have grown tough and clever, fighting us as they have all these years. And whose fault is that?

For once, I’m happy to take the blame. How proud you would be of your people, Habiba, still carrying on the fight these hundreds of years later! And to think they’ve even captured the great jinn prince himself.

I cross my arms, smiling a little. “And what do I get in return?”

Shaza pauses a long moment before replying, and when she does, her thoughts drip with disgust. The Shaitan offers you freedom.