Page 45 of Heavensent & Hellbent

“I’m going to go out and check if she’s okay,” Zain said. “Stay in the car.”

He got out and headed toward the woman. As Zain drew even closer, it became clear that she was not injured. Her head whipped up, her body contorting, bending impossibly as she stood. Then a banging on the passenger door startled me, and I jumped out of my skin when I saw a dark-cloaked figure standing outside the window. It removed its cloak—the veins on its face black, eyes pools of ink. The scream I let out was guttural—pure surprise and fear. And at that, the thing roared before grabbing for the door handle.

This was an ambush.

19

I slammed my fingers onto the lock button just in time. The jinn looked confused when the door didn’t open. I thought for a moment that I could breathe, so long as I didn’t look the thing in the eye.

Ahead, the jinn that had attempted to fool us was now standing, saying something to Zain that I couldn’t hear. That jinn looked like a regular millennial white woman with messy, wavy brown hair, wearing skinny jeans and a tank top. It was her bodily movements that gave her away. She appeared boneless as her head turned all the way around to me. She winked, humor coloring her face at my abject horror.

“Rabiya, do not worry. We do not plan to kill you…yet. Just your angel,” she called.

The figure next to me said something in a language I didn’t understand.

“Roxana, stay in the car!” Zain yelled, not turning, his focus firmly on the jinn in front of him.

Another jinn appeared. This one was also cloaked. My heart landed in my stomach. Zain was outnumbered. The cloaked jinn next to me began tapping its fist against the passenger window, then punched it—once, twice—before a crack formed.

Shit. Shit.Shit.

In the distance, Zain flipped the other cloaked figure onto its back and gave the human-looking one a punch that sent her flying across the road.

Another punch to the glass and the crack got bigger, stretching across the entirety of the window. That was the move that made me do something—I couldn’t just sit here and wait for the jinn to kill me. I scrambled for the glove compartment, finding only the car’s manual, a pack of antiseptic wipes, and an ice scraper. I reached in deeper, until my hand met something soft and hard. I drew out a black velvet pouch, and inside was a dagger, the dark wood handle carved with intricate patterns. The blade glinted under the streetlamps.

Smash.

The window broke. I hoisted myself over to the driver’s side, holding my breath as I quickly opened the door, dagger raised, not giving myself a moment to think about it.

“I told you to stay in the car,” I heard Zain groan. I couldn’t look at him, though, keeping my gaze firmly on my jinn, his bloated face, the dark veins that decorated his skin, his black eyes.

“I had no choice!” I called back, my voice breaking.

The jinn slowly made his way to me. With each step toward me, I took a step back, and on it went, like this was a dance. I was desperate to know that Zain was okay, but I knew the thing would use my distraction to his advantage.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” it said.

“Yeah, right.”

A bright flash—like lightning before thunder—shone in the corner of my eye. I heard dropping to the ground. I whipped my head in Zain’s direction. He had a lighter in his hand and tucked it into his pocket while coming toward us. The two jinn he had been fighting were on the ground, their bodies seemingly lifeless.

That’s when I remembered—Ihad a lighter. Precisely for moments like this. And in my terror, I’d completely forgotten about it.

But it was too late for that now. I’d left my bag in the car, so I only had the dagger to protect me. Distantly, I wondered if I would be comfortable killing someone—something—if it came down to it. To protect Zain, I would.

“Leave us alone,” I said, attempting to keep my voice steady, my grip on the dagger firm.

Zain stood a few feet away, watching us cautiously.

“Fine. I’m done playing nice,” the jinn said, surging forward so quickly I might have thought it was teleportation had I not felt the whoosh of smoky air as he moved. The dagger was knocked out of my hand, and with the same hand he’d used to disarm me, he pressed into my chest with a force that sent me flying.

I landed hard on the asphalt a good distance away. My rightside throbbed, clothes ripped, skin scraped and bleeding. God, had I broken something?

Struggling to get up, I raised my head to see Zain and the jinn fighting. Their movements were quick and harsh, each of them delivering harsh blows. After punching the jinn so hard he seemed to have been knocked out, Zain ran toward me. Behind him, though, was the jinn, up and charging with that speed again—that blur of smoke—before he pounded Zain into the ground so hard the earth seemed to shake. Zain didn’t yell, made no noise at all, which was worse than if he had. My stomach was in my throat, and I got to my knees, dragging myself up, ignoring the searing pain.

“Zain!” I screamed. They were about ten feet away, the jinn hovering over Zain like a cat playing with its prey, circling, enjoying this moment.

Adrenaline kicked in, giving me the boost I needed to get to my feet—and then, running toward the figure, I shouted unintelligible words to get his attention.