“Abla helped us with a case this past summer,” Hamed explained.
“She helped you with a case?” Fatma repeated.
Siti shrugged. “Just gave some advice. There was a problem with a haunted—what was it? A bus? Trolley?”
“Tram car,” Fatma, Hamed, and Onsi repeated as one.
“Yeah, that.”
“Never got a chance to thank you properly,” Hamed said. “When I next returned to Makka’s you were gone. What are you doing here?”
Siti looked on the verge of saying something clever, but Fatma had heard enough. “I don’t mean to break up this reunion, but…” She gestured in the direction the giant iron djinn had gone. “We still need to get to Cairo.”
Hamed nodded solemnly. “Maybe we can salvage one of these police wagons.” He looked to Onsi. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to repair vehicle engines, would you?”
The smaller man bobbed excitedly. “Actually, I sometimes delight in reading steam engine diagrams and used one to take apart—”
“Of course you would,” Hamed cut in. “Come on, then.” The two gave a hasty farewell and ran off to inspect what was left of the police vehicles.
Siti took a second helmet that hung off the back seat, handing it to Fatma. “I can take you back. Bike’s as fast as most cars. Certainly faster than those police wagons. We can probably catch that thing if I push it.”
Fatma looked to Hadia, who now stood beside her, realizing they’d have to part ways.
“Go!” the woman insisted. “Get someone to send help. We can meet you there!” She turned on her heels to address Siti, leaning in close as her voice took on a knife’s edge. “Watch her back. And keep your hands off her. I catch as much as a mark and you’ll deal with me, understand?”
Fatma stopped midway in fitting on the helmet, stunned. Siti looked as surprised, but quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. But I like you. And you’re just being protective of your partner. So I’m going to pretend you didn’t just threaten me.” She took a breath, her voice dropping. “Still, you deserve an answer.” Her eyes flashed, shifting to feline pupils on iridescent gold. “I’m a half-djinn.”
Hadia stepped back startled, her face wrinkling. “You mean like a nasnas?”
“Do I look like I have half a body to you?” Siti snapped. “I mean as in part djinn!”
“Oh.” Hadia’s eyes rounded as she truly understood. “Oh!”
“What happened that night, it was under the power of the ring. I didn’t have control.”
Hadia listened quietly, but didn’t appear fully convinced.
“I was caught off guard before,” Siti said tightly. Her voice lowered with conviction. “I won’t let anyone make me hurt her again.”
“See that you do that,” Hadia replied. “I like you too. But I meant what I said.”
Fatma walked between them. “If you’re both done playing my wet nurse, we have a possible world-ending occurrence to stop.” She climbed onto the back of the motorbike, sliding her cane alongside the long rifle strapped to Siti’s back. “Can you see about him?” She gestured to Alexander Worthington, who stood staring slack-jawed at the demolished house. “I think he’s gone catatonic.”
“I will,” Hadia answered. “God be with you!” She turned to Alexander, taking the man by the arm and leading him stumbling away. “I know this must be a difficult time for you. Your sister is an evil maniac bent on world conquest. She killed your father, which is just terrible. Plus, I don’t think this house has much resale value. But things could always be worse! Why, I have a cousin…”
Fatma didn’t hear the rest, as she and Siti sped off into the growing dark.
The motorbike lived up to Siti’s boasts. The thing was fast. Certainly preferable to the glider contraption—which they’d flown their last time out saving the world. But it was unnerving to move at such high velocity, the wind buffeting all about you. It didn’t help that Siti took turns hardly slowing. Fatma spent much of the ride with her eyes squeezed shut, holding tight to the woman’s waist.
They only stopped briefly in Giza, to give a message to send help back to the Worthington estate, and to ring the Ministry to evacuate Abdeen Palace. Yet as fast as they went, the giant machine djinn stayed far ahead. It wasn’t until they’d reached the edges of Cairo that they caught sight of it again. The thing stood stark against the night sky, illuminated by the fires dotting its body that were in fact Ifrit. Then it was gone again, moving even faster into the city. It was sometime just after catching sight of the monstrosity that they heard the voice on the air. A woman’s voice—that thundered and echoed.
“Abigail!” Fatma said in recognition. Only she couldn’t understand the words. It wasn’t English or Arabic but some djinn language that rumbled. In her arms, Siti’s body went stiff. She slowed, stopping altogether.
“What’s wrong?” Fatma asked over the engine.
“I can hear her,” Siti said. “In my head.”
“Like … before?”
“No. It’s muffled, like it’s being filtered through water. It still pulls at me, but I think as long as I stay in human form I can resist. Whatever you did in summoning the goddess, it’s weakened her hold on me.”
Fatma didn’t want to think on that right now. “Can you understand what she’s saying?”
Siti nodded. “It’s a call to djinn. Demanding they gather to her. That the time has come for them to bow to the Master of Djinn. There are visions too. Flashes. Abdeen Palace. And…” She trailed off, going quiet before cursing under her breath. With a lurch they went speeding again.
“What is it?” Fatma yelled over the wind.
“It’s bad! The Nine Lords! She’s going to set them free! With the Clock of Worlds!”
“But why?”
“To use them! The ring isn’t enough! It can’t control so many djinn at once! Or at least she can’t. She needs leaders who can direct
