Tales of the Djinn_The City of Endless Night Read online

  “Move,” she said, clapping her hands sharply. “All rear ends on the carpet now!”

  The boys had just finished scrambling on when she realized the market bell still clanged. The knowledge halted her with one foot swung over the carpet edge.

  “Shit,” she hissed. “Neisha’s back there.”

  “I’ll get her,” Paulette volunteered. “Don’t worry. That little girl can run. I won’t even have to carry her.”

  “Better start revving,” Sasha advised, taking Georgie’s elbow to help her in. He was the only one of the boys standing. “With this load, we’re going to need a head of steam.”

  Georgie bit her lip, but Paulette had made her choice. Her job was making sure it paid off. Stepping in all the way, she closed her eyes and planted the guide pole. She did her best to speak with authority.

  “In the name of God, I command this carpet to rise and fly.”

  They rose . . . but only about a foot before dropping down again.

  Crap, Georgie thought, her heart now pounding with nervousness.

  “Center yourself,” Sasha said, sounding—bless him—calm and experienced. “Don’t forget to say a prayer.”

  “You could say one too,” she murmured.

  She said a hasty paternoster. Sasha must have given the other boys a signal. The sound of them praying along both steadied her and caused the back of her eyes to burn. This time, they rose off the ground and stayed.

  “Forward,” she commanded, inclining the carpet’s guide pole like a joystick.

  They moved forward with a smoothness that filled her with relief.

  “I see Neisha!” little Ahmed called. “She’s running after us.”

  “Don’t slow down,” Sasha warned as Georgie started to. “We need to build momentum. Trust her to catch up to us.”

  “Faster, Neisha!” the boys in the rear encouraged. “We’ll pull you on.”

  Georgie was watching the street ahead, but she heard the girl’s pounding feet. Neisha’s breath sobbed desperately with effort.

  “Reach!” someone cried. In their enthusiasm, too many of the boys leaned to grab for her. The rear of the carpet dipped like a waved-tossed boat.

  “Balance your weight,” Sasha snapped, at which they slew too far the other way.

  “Steady,” Georgie ordered the carpet, sending more energy through the pole.

  “She’s on board,” Sasha said. “Go, go, go!”

  Georgie planted her boots and went. They took off like a shot, actually a bit too fast for her wound up nerves. Then again, no one was complaining. Maybe too fast was fine.

  “Higher,” Sasha instructed over the rushing wind. “The cloud is picking up speed too. We need to get above it.”

  At the moment, they were ten feet above the ground and constrained from turning off their route by the buildings on either side. The last she’d seen, the cloud had exceeded the highest roof.

  “I see its face!” little Ahmed yelped.

  Georgie knew she shouldn’t but couldn’t resist twisting back to check. Her heart jolted to her throat. The seething wall of gray was a stone’s throw behind them, swallowing the street, store by store. It did indeed seem to have a face—and not a friendly one.

  It also seemed to be pursuing them.

  Sasha didn’t appreciate the wavering of her attention. He smacked her head like an irate mom. “Eyes front! Concentrate on flying.”

  Georgie concentrated harder than she’d ever done in her life, harder than when she’d said the spell to open the portal here. She had to focus. Little people’s existences were at stake. Her body thrummed as she drew up more power, her vertebrae glowing gold-white in her mind’s eye. Her tattooed arm felt like it would burst into flame. Inspired, she slapped her left hand on the guide pole too. The carpet reacted by suddenly becoming twice as controllable.

  Oh yes, she thought at the improvement. Now we’re cooking like we’re meant to.

  They soared up not like a bird but a fixed-wing jet. As they did, diagrams she’d seen of airflow and lift clicked awake in her mind. Her magic steered the roaring air around them, enabling it to support the flying carpet without ripping them off it. Despite the danger, the rush was incredible. In seconds, they were high above the roofs. Because they were kids and resilient, a couple of the boys whooped excitedly.

  Thank you, she thought to whatever benevolence guided her.

  Sasha touched her shoulder and pointed left. “That way gets us clear of the demon’s path. There’s a community shelter next to St. Isaac’s. We can land in its yard.”

  “The demon won’t follow us?”

  “Fortunately, it’s not too bright. It wreaks havoc when it shows up, but—God be praised—it doesn’t stick around.”

  Not sticking around sounded good. Georgie’s teeth were gritted, her knees locked against wobbling—the result of adrenaline overload, probably. The cold wasn’t helping. Frost had crystallized on her eyelashes.

  She guessed the locals were used to it.

  “There’s Connor,” Ahmed cried happily. “Look, he’s got three carpets!”

  Georgie stole a quick glimpse. He did have three roped together in a train. The rugs were smaller than hers but packed with young riders. Connor hadn’t taken long to become their cleanup crew’s favorite new adult. Georgie’s passengers hooted and waved at him.

  “Settle down,” Sasha scolded. “You’ll capsize us.”

  “Do you see Andrei?” Georgie asked, steering toward the golden cupola Sasha had said was St. Isaac’s.

  “Citizen Andrei is further back. He’s got a full load too.”

  Sasha waved to someone, so Georgie guessed he was feeling calmer. It seemed a good time to ask a question that otherwise might have freaked him out.

  “Remind me again,” she said sheepishly. “How do I land this thing?”

  IKSANDER WAS RELIEVED to see Georgie and Connor set down their groups safely. He landed his carpet—the largest Timur had in stock—in a stretch of snow near theirs. A couple of his passengers needed help getting out. The sultan assisted them into the community center then went to join Georgie. She sat on a garden bench hugging Neisha, who was weeping heartbrokenly. In contrast to their playacting in the prop room, Georgie’s pats were awkward. Perhaps she didn’t have experience consoling distressed children.

  Iksander had been elated by their escape. Now he remembered some djinn might not have gotten out.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as Georgie looked up and noticed him.

  “The cloud touched Paulette. She went to tell Neisha to leave the bell and run, but she didn’t escape in time herself.”

  “I saw her turn black,” Neisha sobbed. “Like a rotting banana. She was screaming when she collapsed on herself.”

  “Ah,” Iksander said, unsure what to make of the description. He’d never heard of a demonic entity doing that. Rather than expose his ignorance, he took the seat on the girl’s other side, rubbing her back along with Georgie. Like most people at the center, neither had grabbed their coats. All Neisha’s muscles were shuddering. “You must be cold out here. Maybe we should go inside.”

  “Maryam will be there,” Neisha choked, her face pressed to Georgie’s breast. “She was Paulette’s best friend. I can’t tell her she died because of me.”

  “Maryam will be glad you’re alive,” Iksander said. “The same as Paulette would.”

  He took the girl’s hand, intending to chafe it and soothe her. The instant he held it shock stiffened him. Dark black spots—like beauty marks but not—were spreading on her skin.

  “Jesus,” Georgie breathed.

  Neisha looked and wailed in terror.

  “Shh,” Iksander said, sliding off the bench to kneel in front of her. “The affliction has barely touched you. I’m going to heal it.”

  Though he wasn’t certain what the condition was, he didn’t wait to begin. Sensing time was of the essence, he closed his eyes and channeled power into her. Whatever this infection was, a transfusion
of fresh magic ought to bolster her immune system.

  A moment later, Iksander fought a wince. He guessed Neisha’s stores were low. The energy he offered sucked from him faster than expected.

  “I’ll help too,” said Connor’s familiar, cheerful voice. He dropped next to Iksander, his warm hands surrounding his.

  If Iksander hadn’t closed his eyes, they’d have widened like dinner plates. Connor’s energy was different from a djinni’s—different from Georgie’s too. Pure sunshine was the best comparison he had. The heat of it penetrated, both subtle and powerful. Iksander’s fingers began to tingle, and his heart beat faster.

  Connor’s healing gift was exciting.

  “There,” Connor said, releasing his gentle clasp. “Let’s see if that did the trick.”

  When they looked, Neisha’s skin was so clear it glowed.

  “Oh,” she said, turning her hand back and forth. “You made the spots go away.”

  Without warning, she flung her arms around both their necks. “Thank you,” she cried, kissing Iksander’s cheek and then Connor’s. “Thank you for saving me!”

  Though Iksander was disconcerted, he enjoyed this.

  He didn’t enjoy it long. To his surprise, now that the girl felt better, her mood turned furious.

  “The Glorious City should be ashamed!” she burst out. “What did the City of Endless Night ever do to them? They have no right to hate us. The sultan’s heart must be as black as an ifrit’s. If it weren’t for him and his sneak attacks, we wouldn’t have to live in fear. We could be normal again.”

  Iksander jerked. “Sneak attacks? From Sultan Iksander?”

  Neisha tossed her head angrily. “Everyone knows he created the demon cloud. His evil stamp is all over it.”

  “But . . .” Iksander struggled to formulate a response. Claiming he and his people would never do such a heinous thing wouldn’t help—no matter that he knew it as fact. “I thought Empress Luna turned the sultan and his citizens into stone. That being the case, how can he be behind this?”

  “Because he set his curse to outlast him! The empress warned us this might happen. If she were still alive . . .” Neisha let out a growling sound. “Those regents of hers are useless. If they had a lick of sense, they’d sail straight for the Glorious City and pulverize those statues.”

  Timur had come to check on them. “Don’t talk like that,” he chided.

  “It’s true,” Neisha insisted passionately. “Everybody knows the Villeneuves are pathetic. They’re just too afraid to say.”

  “Maybe people misunderstand what’s behind the demon cloud,” Georgie attempted to assert—in vain, as it turned out.

  “Ha,” Neisha scoffed, crossing her arms firmly. “Sultan Iksander is the devil.”

  IKSANDER’S RESENTMENT at being Luna’s scapegoat didn’t boil over until later that evening. Sprawled comfortably together on a couch in the employee lounge, Georgie and Connor scanned their newspaper scrolls for mention of the day’s events. Surprisingly, the sultan had volunteered to clear the remains of dinner. The reason became apparent from the force he used to shut cabinets.

  Georgie and Connor exchanged glances at the thumps.

  He’s mad, Connor mouthed to her.

  “I’m not a devil!” the sultan exploded. “I would never have made that cloud. I wouldn’t fashion any weapon that attacked civilians.”

  “We know,” Connor said. “Luna set you up as the fall guy so her people wouldn’t mind her making war on you.”

  “You know?” Iksander said, the change in his expression comical.

  “Of course,” Georgie said. “Human leaders pull the same sort of tricks sometimes. The question is, did Luna create the cloud herself?”

  “You think she made it?” Iksander gasped.

  “I think it’s possible, though—to go by your tone of horror—I’m more cynical than you.” Georgie’s legs were stacked companionably atop Connor’s on the couch. Working on the theory that verticality might enhance brain function, she swung her feet around to the floor. “Maybe Luna didn’t make the demon. Maybe she just exploited a random phenomenon.”

  Calm now, Iksander came out from the kitchen to perch on the arm of another chair. He bunched his dishcloth absentmindedly on his thigh. “I’m not sure the cloud is an actual demon. I didn’t sense a consciousness—or not one I recognized. If the cloud intends to catch people, it’s doing a piss-poor job. Not to sound callous, but Paulette seems to be the only one it took.”

  “I thought I saw a face in the forward edge,” Georgie said. “It was dark though. I could have imagined it.”

  “Maybe it’s getting stronger,” Connor speculated. “I overheard people at the shelter say it’s been appearing more frequently. Those spots that broke out on Neisha’s hands seemed like a disease or poison, but maybe it was feeding on her. Maybe each djinni the cloud consumes enables it to develop more.”

  Not liking that idea, Georgie shifted uncomfortably. “I wonder why the papers aren’t covering what’s happening. You’d think people would want to learn all they can. You’d think they’d demand the threat be studied.”

  “The government might not want to provoke a panic.”

  “Or don’t want to confess they can’t figure it out.”

  Iksander twisted the cloth he held. “The cloud probably isn’t as dangerous in areas where citizens have more power. Djinn travel swiftly in our smoke forms.”

  “So rich djinn aren’t as vulnerable,” Connor said.

  “Yes,” Iksander admitted.

  “I’ve never seen you change form,” Georgie realized. “Sometimes I forget how different from us you are.”

  Iksander’s steady green gaze met hers. “I am no more different from you than Connor.”

  She pressed her lips together, abruptly aware they were buzzing. Iksander was making her remember kissing him, making her wish she could again.

  Connor saved her from coming up with an answer by laughing. “Georgie forgets how open minded she is sometimes.”

  His words startled her. “What does that mean?”

  “Only that your heart holds affection for many sorts of being.”

  Was this really all he meant? Connor smiled and kissed her cheek. “I am proud of you, Georgie. Any boyfriend would be.”

  He rose and stretched, his powerful chest doing lascivious things to the fit of his beige Henley. As he worked out the kinks in his spine, his sweatpants dropped on his hips, exposing the smooth-skinned hollow between the bones. His abdominal muscles were truly cut, the line of honey-brown hair beneath his navel an irresistible attractor. The subtle swing of his package under the grey cotton hypnotized. Had he begun to lengthen? Was he trying to show off? Georgie swallowed at the thick, hot rise of desire for him.

  When she dragged her eyes to his face, his expression was mischievous. He knew what he’d done, all right. “Time to wash up before bed?” he suggested.

  “Um,” she said, aware Iksander was listening. “I am a little tired, I guess. Once the rush of adrenaline ended, flying that carpet took it out of me. I’m not used to channeling so much power.”

  “In that case—” Connor grinned “—I’ll have to make sure you don’t overexert yourself . . .”

  THIS WAS IKSANDER’S absolute cue to leave. He doubted the couple heard his vague murmur about intending to patrol, much less saw that he rolled his eyes. With a growing sense of irritation, he escaped into the dim corridor. Rabbits had more self-control than those two. Evidently, giving it a rest one night was too—

  He cut off his own mental diatribe. Who was he kidding? They were young and healthy and in love. If he’d been in their shoes, he’d have done the same without a second thought—probably had, for all he knew. Being sultan meant you weren’t obliged to consider every third wheel’s feelings. His friend Philip could attest to that. Iksander hadn’t the least idea he’d been in love with Najat.

  He sighed at the sad reminder. Whatever offenses he’d committed in that quarter he co
uldn’t undo tonight.

  He could, however, spend his time more productively than simply pacing the corridors: setting up a ward or two, for instance. This was such a sensible idea he wondered it hadn’t occurred to him sooner. Heaven forbid the demon cloud caught them here unawares. Iksander shook his head over the Prospekt neighborhood’s vulnerability. Imagine having so little magic you relied on ringing a bell by hand to alert people!

  Now that he had a purpose, his mood improved. He spun four guard spells in total, not elegant but they’d do. A sapphire pried from a wall decoration served to link the wards together. This was stealing, of course, but eating the meals was too. He told his conscience the gem was no better than third grade. And it was for a good cause. Should any of his wards be triggered, the stone would light up and buzz.

  The task took a while, in addition to which he hadn’t rushed. Georgie and Connor were sound asleep by the time he entered the lounge again. The sight of them curled together like a pair of puppies did things to his emotions he couldn’t quite define. Georgie was behind Connor, her nose nuzzling his neck. She did seem as if she’d pushed her limits during today’s rescue. She had circles beneath her eyes, plus a certain thinness to her aura. Connor appeared less affected, but he too was deeply unconscious. Together, they made a picture that caused his heart to hurt.

  The fact that he’d kissed Georgie—and had been kissed back—seemed to have left no mark on either.

  But perhaps that shouldn’t surprise him. Georgie and Connor were more than lovers. They were each other’s long-time allies. They’d come through challenges before they met him. They’d shared worries and laughs and who knew what adventures. A trust that seemed unshakable had developed as a result.

  Was Iksander wistful to have a bond like that for himself?

  If he were, it would be understandable. He nearly trusted his closest friends that much. Arcadius and Joseph and Philip had been with him since before his accession. Iksander knew they’d protect his life with theirs . . . as he would do for them. The only uncertainty was, if they’d known him to his soul, would they forgive his flaws? As to that, would he forgive theirs? Hadn’t his inability to pardon been his fatal omission with Najat?