Page 63 of Heavensent & Hellbent

I grimaced.

“I mean,” she continued, “he always looks good, but he seemed a little frazzled, or maybe frustrated. You know, if you tell me the details, I can help.”

Hesitation must have been plain on my face, because she latched onto my moment of weakness. “A problem shared is a problem halved.”

“That’s so cliché. I expected better from you.”

“Clichés are often true; they had to come from somewhere.”

I sighed. It would be a relief to confide in someone, even if I omitted certain truths. “We got close the other week—”

“Yousleptwith him?” Cleo’s tone was more impressed than judgmental. I quirked my eyebrow atwhyshe was impressed.

“No,” I said quickly. “We only kissed.”Only. It didn’t feel small, and I silently cursed myself for making it seem otherwise.

“And…what’s the problem? You’re not into him?”

“We’re very…different. I know long-term we wouldn’t work out. And I’m going to Brighton next month—I got my grades confirmed—which will only make things more complicated.” As I began speaking, I put thoughts that I’d barely considered into words. “Anyway, we’re just friends. It was just a casual thing.” The lie was thick in my throat.

“So you ghosted him? Rather than speaking to him about it?”

“I didn’t ghost him,” I said, even though my actions said otherwise.

Cleo made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Sure sounds like it.”

I shot daggers at her with my eyes. “Can you not, please?”

“Fine,fine.I’ll drop it,” she said, to my relief.

What I couldn’t explain was that keeping my distance from Zain was for him—for us. History had shown that us being together would only lead to destruction—our deaths. I didn’t want us to fall into that same trap. And it seemed simple: In theory, we just had to stay away from each other. Something our past selves were never able to do. But I could hardly defend myself to Cleo by saying that ghosting him was something my past selvesshouldhave done so as not to have been killed, could I?

—

The gas stove was lit in the kitchen. I watched it for a couple seconds. Testing. Then I moved my gaze upward and watched the flame gain height. I held my breath, like if I breathed it would ruin the delicate balance I was working with now.

I narrowed my eyes and looked to the side, and the flame moved along with my eyes, blowing sideways, even though it should have been impossible for it to do that. It was undeniable; I had this power of fire, like Rabiya. But what else could I do? What other powers lay dormant inside me? Had my hands really burned the jinn that had tried to kill Zain? He had screamed when my palm touched his head. I couldn’t help but wonder if Zain secretly knew I was a jinn. The signs were there, and while I had ignored them…why had he?

Despite having these powers, I didn’t think I was a particularly bad person, no more than any other teenage girl, and certainly not evil, as Zain had described jinn. Or maybe, like my power, my wickedness was marinating, soon to reach full strength.

I needed to speak to Azar. I had tried calling her multiple times during the week, but she didn’t answer, sending replies when I was asleep. We kept missing each other with the time difference. I doubted she knew anything about this—she was never good at keeping secrets—but I thought my mum hadn’t, either…

After a tense dinner with Dad and Ehsan, during which I said little and Dad tried to pry into why I was saying so little, I told them I felt unwell and went to bed early.

My reprieve from the Jinn King was short-lived. As soon as I felt my body drift, my limbs froze. I sank into bed. The Jinn King donned his cloak, though the snakes broke free from the fabric, hissing. They appeared longer now, like they could reach from the other side of the room to retrieve me. The one on his left was by my window, peeking behind the curtain, while the one on his right was slinking its way through my bookcase, observing the few books I had brought with me. The Jinn King appeared unbothered by his pets’ unruliness. In fact, his face was the picture of ease, like he thought we were now friends.

“We were interrupted last time,” he said, clasping his hands together. “I can feel you wavering from what we agreed upon. Have you forgotten what we spoke about, what I commanded of you?”

I couldn’t speak—and not because I didn’t want to. My vocal cords, like everything else, were paralyzed. I didn’t know why he bothered asking me questions he knew I couldn’t answer. I chanted the banishing spell in my mind, willing my mouth to loosen.

I banish thee from this plane.

I decree thee to exit here.

Hear my roar and leave.

I demand you with all my power:

Be here no more.