Blood Passage (Dark Caravan Cycle #2) (26 page)

Oh gods.

A waterfall.

“Raif!” she screamed. “Zanari!”

No answer. Just screams that suddenly fell away as the jinn tumbled over the ledge, and the sound of water pummeling rock and flesh.

Louder, louder, no time.

Nalia dissolved into the water just as the river pitched her into the falls. She was the water, a cascade, shredded ribbons and spray and power. If she could just stay here, falling forever . . .

She was the foam at the bottom of the falls now, light as air, then she burst through the roiling water, back in her body. The black surface of the lake they'd been thrown into glittered with the light of the jinn's
chiaan.
Emerald—just one.

Just one.

Was it Raif or Zanari? A whistle pierced the din of the waterfall: two high tones, one low. A second later an answering whistle came. She remembered Zanari doing that in Marrakech, when they'd lost track of Raif in the medina.

Alive—they were both alive.

“Nal?” a voice called out to her.
Raif.
Where was he? Nalia could barely hear him over the roar of the falls.

“I'm here,” she said, her voice breaking as she finally saw him across the lake.

He started moving toward her, then jumped and began kicking frantically at the water. Nalia swam toward him with fast, sure strokes.

“Something grabbed my leg,” he said, when she reached him.

“What was it?”

“I couldn't see, but I swear to the gods it was a hand or . . . something.”

Nalia's blood went cold. “A fish. I'm sure it was just a fish.”

There was a shout at the other end of the cavern and a burst of blue light. “The bottles!” Samar crowed in delight. “They're here!”

Raif jumped again, pointing his
chiaan
into the water. “There!”

Nalia shone her light into the blackness below her. All she could make out was the end of a thick fishtail. She opened her mouth to say as much to Raif, when the entire cavern echoed with a hideous screeching, like a choir of bats.

Raif immediately relaxed and a soft smile played on his face. “Gods, that's lovely.”

“Lovely?”

He nodded. “Like a dream.” He pushed toward the rock in the center of the lake, quick and purposeful. Nalia pressed her hands against her ears and whirled around.

“Fire and blood, what in all hells is that?” Zanari yelled over the din.

First Raif, then Samar, Umbek, Malek, and Noqril swam toward the rock, their eyes glazed and faces plastered with dazed smiles. Nalia had never seen Malek so happy—he was positively radiant. There was a splash to Nalia's right and she turned, defensive, her hands brimming with
chiaan.

Nothing.

Then a body rose out of the water near the rock. It appeared human, its naked back turned, the spine curving beneath wet skin. She could just make out the shimmer of fleshy scales below its waist. The creature slowly turned around. Nalia's breath caught, her eyes riveted to the horror. A feminine torso rose to a long, sinuous neck and bald head that glowed like the surface of the moon. Its flesh was so pale it was nearly translucent and it shimmered in the flickering light of Nalia's violet
chiaan
. Above the naked torso and large, pear-shaped breasts was a face like a ravaged clown. The lips cut into the skin in a permanent, crazed smile from ear to ear, revealing the jagged teeth of a shark set in double rows along the top and bottom of the mouth. Red capillaries snaked past the lips, as though the creature had just feasted on raw, bloody flesh. But the eyes were what made Nalia go cold: a soft doe brown, beautiful except for a wicked, intelligent gleam.

Phara, Anso, and Zanari's expressions mirrored Nalia's own: sudden understanding coupled with horror.

“
Si'lah
!” Anso screamed. Sirens that feasted on the flesh of male prey.

Nalia shot toward Raif, infusing the water around him with her
chiaan.
A
si'lah
was cutting through the lake toward him, fast and sleek. Nalia was only a few feet away when her body crumpled in pain. The wish had other plans for her.

Malek. The wish would make her save him first, the magic somehow sensing he was in danger. Zanari hurtled through the water toward her brother while Nalia changed direction, to where Malek trod water, entranced by another of the hideous creatures. It beckoned to him with a webbed hand. The
si'lah
reached out a long, spindly arm but Nalia crashed into Malek, pushing him off course. The creature couldn't kill Nalia's former master—the amulet protected him from that—but she would render him unrecognizable.

“Stop!” Malek thrashed against her and the
si'lah
hissed at Nalia, its mouth opening and closing like a fish.

The creature lunged itself at her, and Nalia let go of Malek just as the
si'lah
's
tail smacked into her skull. Nalia slammed into the dark lake, the light around her dimming as she struggled to remain conscious. She sank into the water like a stone, and her
chiaan
shifted, allowing her Marid side to take over so that she could breathe. The darkness under the surface began to glow with an eerie red light, like plumes of blood. The
si'lah
glided toward her with astounding speed, its spiked tail slicing through the water. Nalia kicked toward the surface, but the weeds at the bottom of the lake shot toward her and began curling around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the muddy floor.

This was how the
si'lahs
killed their victims, drowning them before they feasted. Nalia willed her body to dissolve into the
water. Seconds later, she was a jinni-shaped current, no longer flesh. The
si'lah
keened, an underwater cry of rage. Nalia pushed at the creature, spinning it into confusion. Its webbed hands grasped at the parts of Nalia it could sense, but they could gain no purchase. Nalia swam faster, an outline in the water, nothing more. When she neared the sharp rocks that surrounded the cave, her body took on its usual form. The
si'lah
reached for her and Nalia threw herself onto the rocky shore, grabbing the webbed hands and pulling with all her strength. The fish flapped against the rock, desperate to return to the water. Nalia thrust her knee against the
si'lah
's breastbone, and dug her fingernails into its
cold flesh.

She held on, her muscles straining against the creature's powerful tail, which reared back and slammed into her, again and again, nearly knocking her unconscious once more. The cavern filled with the shouts of the other female jinn as they grappled with their own
si'lahs
,
and Nalia spared a quick glance to her left, her eyes searching for Raif. He was alone, treading water, bemused. Zanari had her arms around his attacker's
neck and they thrashed about, wrestling in the dark lake. Nalia had to hurry. Zanari wasn't a Marid, she wouldn't be able to survive the
si'lah
's attempts to drown her.

Webbed hands reached for her throat, cutting off her air, and Nalia choked as the
si'lah
gasped her own death rattle, the gills in her neck finally closing. The light in the brown eyes dimmed and the webbed hands fell from Nalia's neck. The
si'lah
's
dead eyes stared at the cavern's roof. Nalia sank against the rock, breathing hard.

A strangled cry in the center of the lake sent Nalia back into the water. She dove deep, to where a
si'lah
had dragged Zanari toward the sandy floor. Raif's sister struggled, her mouth open, her movements slowing as the oxygen left her body.

Nalia grabbed the
si'lah
's
neck and squeezed. Instantly, it let go of Zanari and Nalia threw it against a rock jutting from the lake bed. She closed her eyes and made sure fish met rock, over and over, until there was no more struggle.

Nalia let go and pushed through the crimson water, grabbing Raif's sister before she shot to the surface. The cave no longer echoed with the sound of
si'lahs
,
and the men were coming out of their daze, shouting to one another
.
She lay Zanari onto the flat edge of the rock in the center of the water. Zanari's lips were blue, her skin as pale as sugarberries.

There was no time. Nalia leaned down and breathed into Raif's sister, filling her with air and
chiaan.

“Please,” Nalia cried, when she felt the jinni's cold skin and the stillness of her chest.

It was no longer Zanari below her but Bashil. Her brother bleeding, his eyes terrified, the breath leaving him in agonized gasps.

“Please don't die, don't die,” she sobbed. “Phara!” she screamed.

The healer looked up from where she crouched over Umbek. Blood poured from a gash in his neck. Raif was on the beach with the other males, his head in his hands. At Nalia's scream, he looked up and charged back into the water.

No time. No time.

Chiaan
and air and pressing against Zanari's chest. Again,
again, again. She felt Zanari flicker to life. Her eyelids fluttered.
Chiaan
and air and
chiaan
and air and—

Zanari coughed, spewing water.

Nalia cried out, her words a tangle of every curse word she knew in Kada and Arabic. She helped Zanari sit up, holding her as she regained her breath. Zanari heaved, gasping for air. She looked at Nalia, her eyes wide, terrified.

“You're okay now,” Nalia said.

Raif slid onto the rock and as soon as he got to Zanari's side, Nalia transferred her to his arms.

Raif cradled his sister, his eyes full of worry. When her breathing became normal, he helped her settle against the rock. “Bet you wish you'd gone through the portal when I told you to, huh?” he said.

Zanari laughed weakly. “Don't be so smug, you little
skag
.”

He laughed and they spoke in quiet murmurs. Nalia looked away, her hand immediately straying to the zippered pocket where she kept Bashil's worry stone. She pressed her thumb against it, imagining his little fingers holding it in the prison camp.

Seeing Raif and Zanari ripped open the hole in her chest. Killing things was so much easier. She wanted to do more of that.

Zanari reached out and gripped Nalia's hand. She looked up, startled.

“Thank you, sister,” Zanari said.

Sister.

Nalia nodded. “Of course.”

The adrenaline of the fight and the love between the Djan'Urbis was threatening to overwhelm her. She moved to stand, but
Zanari held on. “All that stuff I said . . . and you still saved me?”

Raif's eyebrows drew together and he watched them, silent. She knew Zanari would explain if she wanted to.

Nalia smiled, soft. “At the palace, I was taught how to save lives as much as I was taught to take them. The only difference now is that I can choose to save who I want. Your life will always be worth saving to me, Zanari. Always.”

Nalia squeezed Zanari's hand, then left to join the others on the shore.

UMBEK WAS DEAD.

Raif stared at the Marid's massive body where it lay on the beach beside the roaring fire that would consume it. The lake glimmered with shards of tangerine flame. Umbek's face was frozen in a grimace of pain, but the Dhoma had covered the horrible gash from the teeth of the
si'lah
that had killed him and surrounded his body with shells taken from the lake's beach.

The ceremony was short. The words of the dead were chanted as the flesh burned in smokeless fire. Nalia stared at the flames with haunted eyes and Raif thought guiltily of how he'd been absent when she'd sent Bashil to the godlands. Her shoulders slumped and her body seemed to cave in on itself. Her lips formed her brother's name.

Raif moved quietly toward her, and Nalia didn't flinch or
push him away when he stood behind her and gently took her hands. She leaned against him and Raif wondered if she could feel his heartbeat speed up as their
chiaan
connected. She flowed into him and he into her and he relished this hard-won intimacy, this breath of her soul inside him. They stood like that for the rest of the ceremony, his lips whispering words of comfort in her ear.

When the fire went out, she held his hand to her cheek for a moment, then let go. He watched her as she walked to the shore to join Samar, now the only Marid in their group. The
si'lahs
were dead, but the bottles they'd been protecting littered the lake's floor. In the light of the jinn's
chiaan
,
they glimmered like nuggets of gold. Nalia had been pressed into service, as the job was too big for Samar alone. She waded into the water, then disappeared under its surface.

Zanari came to stand beside him. “I'm sorry, little brother.”

“For what?”

“For being such a
skag
about Nalia.” Zanari looked up at him, contrite. “She saved my life. Twice. Both our lives, really. Phara says I have to let it go. What she did. I don't know if I can, but . . . I want to. I'll try, anyway.”

He sighed. “Zan. I haven't forgotten what she did to Kir. And I don't want to dishonor his memory. But I know Nalia's heart. I truly believe she'd been forced to kill him.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was growing long, falling past his ears, and there was dark stubble on his face. “I love her, Zan. I've tried not to, you know I have. But I do.”

Love is a weakness.

“I know. I'm just scared,” she whispered. “When we get home,
you have a revolution to lead, soldiers who are looking to you to keep them alive. But I feel like . . . the whole world could explode, and you with it, but as long as Nalia was okay, you wouldn't care.” Zanari glanced at him, her jade eyes dark. “And I'm not up for burning my brother's body anytime soon.”

He wanted to deny it, had to deny it. Couldn't. Instead, he pulled her toward the fish that Noqril was roasting in a fire pit. “Glad you're still here, Zan. Don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Don't forget that.”

He glanced at her, confused. “How could I?”

“I'm a good fighter, Raif. And with my
voiqhif
,
I'm more valuable than any of your
tavrai
,
and yet you shut me out of every fight.”

“Zan, you're a great soldier, I agree. I'm just . . . I'm trying to keep you safe. When I go on raids, I never know who's coming home, who's going to make it out alive.”

She ruffled his hair. “I'm just saying . . . when we get home, I don't want to be on the sidelines anymore. The
tavrai
chose you to lead, I get that. But the blood of Dthar Djan'Urbi runs in my veins just as much as yours.”

“Wait . . . Are you saying you wish our roles were reversed?”

Because he'd be more than happy to hand over the reins. The thought surprised him, but it was true. Raif felt done and he'd hardly even started.

Zanari looked toward the lake. Nalia was dragging a net filled with bottles to the shore and Anso was running out to help her.

“I don't know.” She shook her head. “No. But you made Shirin your second.”

“Aw, Zan. She's my second because she's one of the best fighters I've ever met. And the guys are scared shitless of her. Me too, if you want to know the truth.”

Shirin. That was going to be a complication when he got home. He wondered what Nalia would think of her, this jinni who'd been by his side day and night, helping him plan his war for years. He had a feeling the two of them wouldn't hit it off; his second was ruthless and crass, the opposite of Nalia in so many ways. He wasn't worried about jealousy. Shirin would get over him, and quick. Probably already had—she'd think Raif had lost his edge and that would be enough to curdle her affection for him. He'd be lucky if he didn't have a mutiny on his hands.

“I agree that Shirin is a good choice for a second. But she doesn't watch your back enough. She's as crazy as you are out there when you're fighting,” Zanari said. “Things can't be the same when we go home. I feel like everything's changed. Don't you?”

He watched Nalia dive back into the water, her limbs becoming translucent. “Yeah.” He raised his eyebrows. “Speaking of changes . . . you and Phara, huh?”

Zanari blushed. “Yeah. Maybe. I don't know.” She laughed, shaking her head a little. “The world goes quiet when she's around, you know? Like I can just . . . breathe. For once.”

“That's nice.”

“Yeah. But it can't last.”

“Why not?”

“She's Dhoma, I'm Arjinnan.”

Raif nodded. “I think that's what the humans call a long-distance relationship. Doesn't sound very fun.”

“Not so much.” Zanari hit his hip with hers. “The
tavrai
are going to have a fit when we come home and they see you with a Ghan Aisouri.”

She was trying to keep the worry out of her voice, Raif knew, but he could hear it anyway.
Fit
was an understatement.

He groaned. “Fire and blood
.
”

“Literally.”

He laughed, though it wasn't at all funny. “You know what we need right now? A bottle of
savri—
or at least something that tastes like it
.
”

“You manifesting?” He nodded and she smiled. “Then lead the way, little brother.”

They walked through the cave for several days without seeing a single star. As the days dragged on, Raif could feel his anxiety grow. Each time they finally made camp for the night meant another day in Arjinna that the
tavrai
had been slaughtered by the Ifrit. And though there'd been no sign of Haraja since that first night, Raif knew it was only a matter of time before the monster struck. He often felt a presence in that darkness, menacing and hungry.

“She's somewhere in here,” Samar warned. “She's just biding her time.”

This made sleep nearly impossible. They slept in shifts, but because of Haraja's unique ability to paralyze her victims, there was no telling how successful a guard would be. Noqril and Nalia were two of their strongest jinn, and Haraja had managed to paralyze both of them on that first night in the City of Brass.

The underground labyrinth seemed to go on and on, with no end. As their party moved through the cave, the rocks behind them fell, making retracing their steps an impossibility. There was only one way out and if they didn't find it, they would remain trapped beneath the Sahara until they died.

The one bright spot on the journey was that every time they reached a body of water, they found more brass bottles, the metal somehow protected from the effects of the salt water. They gleamed as if they'd just been fashioned, Solomon's seal glittering over the opening. Each of the jinn carried dozens in small packs Nalia had manifested so that their party went from seven to hundreds, nearly thousands. Now that they knew for certain that the sigil was needed to free the jinn inside the bottles, Raif felt a little more confident about his chances against Malek—and Nalia, if it came to that. If Malek got the sigil first, they'd all be as trapped as the Dhoma's ancestors. Failing to get the ring in his hand wasn't an option.

The air turned cold the deeper they went into the cave, and the jinn manifested thick coats made of sheep's wool. The only reason Nalia manifested one for Malek was because his constant
complaints about the cold had become unbearable. When they spoke, their breath hung in the air, like white evanescence. The Dhoma were miserable. Though the Sahara could get quite cold at night, it was nothing like the deep arctic chill that lived in the cave. And still, no star.

Raif lost track of time. He wasn't sure how long they'd been in the cave and, without the aid of the sun, it was impossible to know how much time had passed. There was no day and night; they stopped when they were too exhausted to go on, sleeping as little as possible. Just when Raif was on the verge of despair, convinced he would never go home and that entering this cave was the biggest mistake of his life, he saw the star.

He'd been lobbing a ball of
chiaan
up and down, bored out of his mind, and as he glanced up to catch it, Raif noticed a strange grouping of stalactites. He fell back, curious. They stood suspended over the cave floor, the rock dripping toward him like candle wax. The stone was different, too—a deep red that stood out from the marble of the dark tunnel. Raif lay on the ground, reaching both his hands toward the stalactites. They glowed with the emerald light of his
chiaan.

“Little brother,” Zanari called, “I hate to say it, but it's not nap time yet.”

He laughed, triumphant. “I found it!” The group rushed to him, hope on their faces for the first time in days. “You have to lie down to see it,” he said.

“Good eye,” Nalia said as she stared at the eight-pointed star on the ceiling. “Give me a boost?”

“Nothing else I'd rather do.” He gave her a wicked grin. She
bit back a smile. Nalia was still keeping her distance, but it was as he suspected: she just needed time. More and more he'd noticed her watching him and finding excuses to be near.

It was the same ritual, her blood and the star opening onto yet another cavern. A blast of frigid air greeted them, far colder than what they'd been walking through for days, and a steep slope made of ice was all he could see of the entrance. The jinn stared, but Malek stepped forward.

“Manifest shoes with metal spikes at the bottom and walking sticks,” he said. “It's what humans use in conditions like this.”

He was right. The shoes enabled them to move up the perilous slope. Eventually it evened out to a plateau that overlooked a glacial cave, all ice and water.

“I wonder what we'll see next: the Abominable Snowman?” Malek said, frowning at the scene before them.

“The what?” Raif said.

Nalia smiled. “Human thing. A snow monster.”

When they settled down to sleep that night in a cavern coated entirely with ice, Raif risked lying beside Nalia. They'd manifested platforms to sleep on, but it was still freezing. Fires were no good: they only caused the ice to melt and drip all over them.

“Raif . . .” she whispered, her tone admonishing, but weak. Little by little he was wearing down her resolve to keep him at arm's length.

“I won't touch you, I promise,” he said. He turned so that his back was to her and smiled at her answering sigh of frustration. He envied Zanari and Phara, curled against one another under the same thick blanket.

Raif had just drifted off to sleep when the screaming started. He sat up, disoriented, and reached for Nalia,

“Phara,” she said, already wide awake. He wondered if she'd been able to sleep at all. She grabbed her jade dagger and ran to where the healer lay on the ground, pushing at the air. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, as though she were being suffocated.

Zanari was shouting for help, her hands moving helplessly over Phara's writhing form. The other jinn spread out, their eyes peeled for Haraja. There was no doubt she was behind this. Raif scoured the cavern, but there was no sign of the monster, just Anso and Samar lying paralyzed on the floor, where they'd been on watch.

Raif crossed to where Malek calmly lay under a pile of furs. He reached under the blankets and hauled him to his feet by his shirtfront.

“Help her, you bastard,” Raif growled.

“Not the most diplomatic, are we?” Malek pushed Raif off him with surprising force.

Raif pointed to Phara. “Do you not see how much pain she's in?”

Malek's eyes slid slowly to where Phara was covering her face and choking. Suddenly, Nalia was beside them.

“What do you want this time, Malek?” she asked, her voice cold.

His eyes flicked to her. “Nothing.”

Malek moved past them, toward Phara. Raif sighed. “I can't get a read on this guy.”

“He's insane,” Nalia said. “That's all you need to know.”

Malek was kneeling on the floor. “This only works if she opens her eyes,” he was telling Zanari. “And I need to know what she thinks is happening.”

Zanari nodded, her hands shaking as she tried to hold down Phara's body. “Phara, tell me what's wrong. Please,” she begged.

Raif felt a pang of recognition at Zanari's panic. He was the same when Nalia was in danger.

“Can't breathe, pressing . . .” Phara was wheezing, clutching at her neck.

“I'm here, Phara, I'm here.” Zanari's voice broke. “Open your eyes.”

But Phara wouldn't. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and her body began to convulse, her breath stopping altogether. Malek drew back a hand and slapped Phara across the face. Zanari shouted, but Phara's eyes snapped open.

“Look at me,” Malek said, his tone of voice suddenly soft and coaxing. His eyes turned crimson and the pupils dilated, pulsing like coals.

Phara stared into them, her eyes glazing over as she took one long, hard-fought breath.