Ahmad.
At last her alarm broke through to her dreaming self. Fury flooded her veins. She put her hands on his chest and shoved, hard. Startled, he backed away.
She charged toward him, caught him by the neck, and lifted. He squirmed in her grasp—and then melted back into the woman, her feet dangling above the stone.
Who are you? Sophia shouted.
The world darkened. Rain burst from the clouds overhead. It struck the woman, and she screamed. Her pain racked Sophia’s mind, she was harming herself as well as the woman, but she refused to let go.
Tell me!
The woman kicked feebly, then relented . . .
The scythe fell from her hand, to land among the winter wheat.
On her lover’s face, shock turned to disgust as the iron passed through her without effect.
The mob tore at her flame as they herded her over the pass, and down to the Cursed City.
Sophia watched the jinniyeh cower in her cave for months—and then felt her joy when the jinniyeh realized that there were no monsters, and the stones were merely stones. She heard the tales the jinniyeh told herself at night, the story of the iron-bound jinni, the only one of their kind who might view her with something other than loathing. And yet he was merely a tale . . .
Except that now, the jinniyeh knew otherwise.
Release me, the jinniyeh said, trembling in the grip of Sophia’s thoughts, and take me to him. And in exchange, I will give you what you seek.
And what is that? Sophia said.
A cure.
There is no cure. I’ve been to healers, exorcists—
Human healers. Human exorcists. You ringed yourself with steel and drove away the very ones who might help you. I can feel it, even now—a cinder, a bit of ash left behind. Was it a child, once?
Sophia’s hand trembled. Prove it. Prove you can do what you say.
No. Not until you’ve taken me to him—
A spasm of pain passed through them both.
—and if you do not release me quickly, then neither of us will survive this.
A moment’s hesitation. Then, reluctantly, Sophia loosened her hand—
—and woke in a sickening rush as something withdrew itself from her mind.
She stumbled from the cave and ran a few steps before vomiting into the scrub. Her head throbbed as though it had been ripped to pieces, and she was trembling so hard she could barely stand. In the cave, the animals snorted and brayed, thrashing against their tethers, then mercifully calmed again.
A moan from nearby.
A naked woman lay on the ground near the cave entrance. With painful slowness she sat up, her head in her hands. She looked as wretched as Sophia felt.
“That,” the jinniyeh said with a glare, “was exceedingly foolish. You might’ve torn me to shreds, along with your own sanity.”
Sophia glared back. “You invaded my dreams while I slept. Was I supposed to welcome you with open arms?”
“You were in my cave!”
“I hardly knew that, did I?”
The jinniyeh frowned. “What language is this?”
“English.” She hadn’t realized it until that moment. She hadn’t spoken English in years.
“It hurts my mind,” the jinniyeh said.
“I know five others, if you’d prefer.”
The jinniyeh made no answer, only crawled to the campfire and huddled miserably atop the coals.
Sophia limped back to the cave, found her water-skin, and drank. Then she sat by the fire again, keeping a body’s length between herself and the jinniyeh.
“Can you truly do it?” she asked at last.
“Of course I can,” the jinniyeh muttered from the coals. “It would be simple, though not without risk. But only if you take me to him.”
Sophia’s head swam. Her teeth were chattering so hard she could barely open her mouth. “I can’t think properly,” she said, with effort. “I need sleep. We’ll discuss it in the morning. And if you try anything like that again—”
The jinniyeh groaned at the thought. “I’d destroy myself, in this state. Now stop all this talking.”
I ought to make her promise, Sophia thought—but the cave was already growing dark, and within moments she was beyond her worries.
The iron-bound jinni was real.
The jinniyeh could hardly believe it. The very one whose story had given her such comfort, and he was real!
The woman slept on, her chest rising and falling beneath her many layers of clothing. Watching her, the jinniyeh realized she could end this encounter now, without any further dealings between them. She’d made her offer to Sophia in a desperate moment, to keep the woman from ripping her apart—but that danger was past. She could simply find another cave and go about her life. Easier, certainly, than what she’d proposed in the woman’s mind.
And yet she couldn’t just fly away. The iron-bound jinni was real—and now that she knew, how could she be satisfied with her lonely exile, her small mischiefs? How could she live out her pitiful centuries, and not at least try to find him?
But then, what if she succeeded? Would he loathe her and reject her, as the others did? After all, he was cursed to his condition, while her own was innate. But perhaps his own loneliness would sway him. If he learned there was another option, a place in the desert where he could live as himself, safe and accepted—then wouldn’t he see the wisdom in joining her there? After all, what was the point of the Cursed City, if not to shelter the cursed?
Sophia woke in the morning alone, with the remnants of her headache. She stirred the embers of the fire, half expecting her visitor to appear and snatch the stick out of her hand—but the jinniyeh was nowhere to be seen. She heaped more wood upon the embers, then untethered the camel and donkey, who wandered calmly out of the cave and began to crop the nearby grasses. Sophia frowned. It seemed the jinniyeh had lost interest—or, more likely, she’d only feigned it in the first place.
A stab of disappointment ran through her, and she shook her head at herself. How many times must she raise her own hopes,
