Chapter 22 #2
He placed the tray on a low coffee table in front of us as we sat on the ground.
The floor cushion was surprisingly comfortable yet firm.
We sat crossed-legged, Zain and I together on one side and Jamshid on the other.
I was farthest away from Jamshid, though we were still sitting near each other.
Up close, I noticed he had raised marks on one side of his face.
Burn marks. I turned my head when he caught me staring.
“We need your help,” Zain said. “We’ve been having visions of our past lives, and jinn are openly after us. Numerous jinn want to tell Roxana something, want to hurt her—”
“I know,” Jamshid said. “You don’t need to explain your problems to me. And what a problem you’ve found yourself in.” He smiled, teeth flashing. “But while you, dear Zain, want to know about the pressing issue at hand, it would seem you, Roxana, long to solve a different issue.”
Zain watched me, and I felt the pressure of four eyes intent on mine. I bit my bottom lip as I considered what deep part of me he was referring to.
“Your mother,” Jamshid continued when I didn’t reply. “Thoughts of her weigh down your spirit—there’s a cloud over you.”
The words were not ones I wanted to hear, but there was truth in them, even if it wasn’t how I would describe my grief.
When it was clear no one was going to say anything, I decided to be truthful.
“Her death—something about it bothers me. It doesn’t seem right.
” That my strong, beautiful mum’s soul had vanished because of a car accident.
That I’d never gotten to see her in the hospital.
That I’d been too late, gotten no closure.
I wondered if the issue was that I couldn’t accept her death because she was my mother.
Maybe the circumstances of her passing ultimately didn’t matter.
Zain put his hand over mine. It was warm and heavy and strong.
I had been feeling so unsafe and untethered the past forty-eight hours, and released a shaky breath.
Zain rubbed his thumb gently against the back of my hand, and I tried not to think of the way my body responded to his touch, how my nerves had become hypersensitive.
“May I have your hand?” Jamshid asked me.
Zain stiffened next to me. He asked, “Is that really necessary?”
Jamshid smiled slowly, his teeth a pale yellow, with disturbingly sharp canines. “You are very protective of her; it’s almost like the Zal in you is coming out.”
Pursing my lips, I pulled away from Zain and reached across to give Jamshid my hand. Zain stopped me, putting his hand back over mine and pushing it down, incidentally onto his leg.
“What are you doing?” he hissed at me. “Remember what I told you?”
Jamshid let out a tsk. “You don’t trust me, Zain? If that’s the case, maybe I should escort you both out now…?”
“No!” We were so close. I turned to Zain. “Please.”
He slipped from my grasp. I took that as silent resignation.
“Give me your hand,” Jamshid said.
I climbed onto my knees to lean closer to Jamshid. He mimicked me and was rough in snatching my hand with his cold palm.
Jamshid fluttered his eyes shut, while I kept mine wide open, watching him.
It was like someone was speaking to him, his facial expression changing from second to second and his head shifting from side to side, at one point his mouth opening in surprise.
The only sounds I could hear were my breathing and the occasional bellowing of what sounded like chickens outside.
Though I wasn’t facing Zain, I had a feeling he was glowering at me for going against his rules.
“Ah,” Jamshid said finally, letting go of my hand. “I see.”
I could hardly breathe when I whispered, “What do you see?”
“Your mother was killed,” he said slowly, “by something of fire.”
Killed.
Of fire.
The impact of what he said rocked me, my suspicions thrown off balance. It was even worse than I thought.
I felt Zain’s hand on my shoulder, light. A strangled sound came out of my mouth. “What? Why?”
“Don’t shed tears for the dead,” Jamshid said, handing me a tissue from an ornate gold box. I wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it from, but I took one, dabbing my eyes quickly. “They’re the lucky ones.”
“All right,” Zain ground out. “We don’t need to hear your opinions on death right now.” He said it like it was an ongoing debate they had. His hand moved from my shoulder to my back, and he stroked it in soft circles.
“You angels think that living is the best thing, but it’s the afterlife that we really have to look forward to.”
Zain sighed, rolling his eyes.
“My mum was killed by a jinn?” I asked.
Jamshid didn’t look particularly remorseful, more bored, when he clarified, “Div—a sect of jinn, but yes.”
“Div?” I stuttered.
“Outcast jinn. They don’t integrate with humans or jinn.
They are nomads who have their own aims and political motivations.
Ghastly figures who can shape-shift into the body of both beast and human, though they are born of fire, and once lived among us.
They are motivated purely by evil, which is not the case for all of us, no matter what your angel thinks.
However, there is no doubt that they are Shaitan’s messengers. ”
This clarification meant very little to me. “But why would they kill her?”
“So impatient,” Jamshid said. He adjusted his position, drawing his knees up to rest his hands on them.
“As you know, I cannot see everything—that would be impossible—but what I did see of your mother’s death was perplexing, a mystery waiting to be solved.
It would appear she knew the div that killed her.
She was in a dispute with them, and that is why she was killed. ”
“How did she know them?” A thousand questions were wrestling for prominence in my mind, but the one I didn’t ask but that trumped them all was Was my mother scared before she died?
As though reading my mind, and not answering the question I’d asked aloud, Jamshid said, “Her death was quick. And she did not know she was going to die before it happened. An ideal way to go into the afterlife, really.” He was wistful, eyes gazing into the distance, like he was envious.
“Nothing like your tussle yesterday; that was messy, but they were not div.”
“Again, why would a div go after my mum?” I press.
Jamshid paused for a long moment, narrowing his eyes at me. “Your mother knew a lot more about this world than you think she did. Beyond that, I have no more information I can share with you.”
Zain sighed next to me. “Or you do, but you won’t tell us.”
Jamshid slid Zain a sly smile. “A shame you can’t pummel it out of me, like you do the jinn in your world.”
Zain said nothing, lips in a thin line. He moved his gaze to me, eyes softening. I couldn’t look at him for too long, for fear of letting free the tears that were threatening to escape.
“Well, what do they want from me—from us?” I asked. “They tried to kill us yesterday and keep haunting my dreams. I need to know why.”
“The jinn in your subconscious does not necessarily have a sinister reason for entering your dream state. In fact, he is trying to warn you, help you in a roundabout way, but you will not listen.”
At this, Zain snorted.
Jamshid shot him an irritated look. “Your worldview is very limited, angel.”
“Why would a jinn be helping her? They literally tried to kill us.”
“If I recall correctly, from your mind, they did not want to kill you, Roxana, only when things got a bit heated.” Jamshid looked at me long and hard again. “You suspect it,” he whispered softly. “You know the truth, but you are afraid.”
I locked eyes with Jamshid. “Anyway,” he moved on coolly. “As Zain dearest knows, I work for those who come from fire, not light. I have limits to what I can and cannot say. But rest assured, Roxana, your mother knew all about this world.”
She knew all about this world.