Daughters of the Lamp, page 18
Amitu had also mentioned wings flying above her. Except that voice had said, “Ma tinseesh,” reminding her to give Sahara the jewelry box. Could whatever this fluttering thing was have visited Sittu too?
Naima approached her grandmother. “Don’t you see? Your dream was warning you that Magda was after the lamp. That’s what Sahara and I have been trying—”
“Not again with this nonsense,” Khaltu Layla huffed. “Magda is many things, but she’s not a thief. Naima, you must think before you speak, especially now that you know about the chamber.”
“You’re the one not thinking!” Naima shouted. Sahara’s eyes bore into Naima’s, pleading with her to back off. But Naima was too far gone. “How do you explain Sittu’s dream? If not El Ghoula, then—”
“You forget yourself, my granddaughter. That is no way to speak to your mother!”
Naima dropped her head. This was exactly what Sahara had been afraid of. Her dad and Amitu always made such a fuss about respecting your elders. Even though Sahara agreed with her cousin, she knew neither of these grown-ups would tolerate Naima’s tone.
Sittu lifted Naima’s chin, her voice softening. “I applaud your passion for protecting the chamber and its treasures. I expect no less from a Salem woman.” Naima smiled faintly as her grandmother continued.
“Though we’ve managed to protect the lamp from the wicked sorcerer’s descendants for centuries, they have never stopped looking for it. If my dream was a warning against anyone, it was them, not Omar’s wife. I pray it never happens, but even if they managed to get ahold of the lamp, they wouldn’t be able to use it. It’s locked and has been since Morgana brought it to Cairo.”
“All that matters now,” Khaltu added, “is the lamp is safe, and your uncle is happily married. No more talk about Magda being El Ghoula, all right?”
Naima nodded, defeated.
Clearly, it was time to get off the subject of the witchy bride. Sahara twisted toward her grandmother. “If the lamp isn’t down here anymore, where is it?”
“Inside the bottom step in the shop.”
“The loose step,” Sahara murmured to herself.
“Mama, I told you that might not be the best place to hide it,” Khaltu said. “Maybe we should bring it back here?”
“But what’s here? You haven’t shown us anything. I just see pictures of our relatives and this sigada.” Naima pointed to the wool carpet.
“It’s not just a rug.” Khaltu Layla snapped her fingers. She and Sittu hurried off the carpet, which instantly rose three feet off the ground, taking Naima with it.
For the first time, Naima was speechless, her mouth hanging open. She wobbled as the carpet waved back and forth midair but quickly found her balance.
The hairs on the back of Sahara’s neck stood up. She circled the rug, searching for hidden strings, but there weren’t any. The carpet was floating on its own.
With another snap of Khaltu’s fingers, the rug touched down. Sahara ran over. “You were flying!”
“I know.” Naima laughed a low chuckle that quickly built to a hysterical howl. She turned to her mother. “Again!”
Khaltu shook her head. “That’s enough for now. I was just showing you that there are indeed objects worth protecting down here.”
Sittu had said Morgana fled with the lamp and three other enchanted items. The flying carpet had to be one, leaving two more they hadn’t seen yet. “Are the other treasures down here too?”
“The rest can wait until tomorrow,” Sittu responded. “We must head back before the men return.”
As Khaltu climbed the ladder, Sahara had one last question for her grandmother—one that couldn’t wait. “Did my mom know?”
“No.” Sittu cupped Sahara’s face with her hands. “By the time Amani was old enough, she and your father had already decided to move to America. I didn’t dare burden her with an obligation she couldn’t honor from far away.”
But Sahara found that hard to believe. The whole time she was in the chamber, it was like she’d remembered a truth she had let slip away. It was back in her grasp, and she felt more tied not only to her mother but to the deepest caverns within her own heart.
37
911
Although Sittu had returned, Sahara still spent the night at Naima’s. As far as her father knew, she’d been there since the twins had dropped them off. Veering off course from their original plan would only lead to more questions—ones she was too spent to talk her way out of tonight.
Even in her exhaustion, Sahara couldn’t help but think about her mother and the chamber. What if Sittu was right and her mom hadn’t known about it? After all, her painting wasn’t among those of the Salem women who had passed. But despite this evidence to the contrary, Sahara still had her doubts. It couldn’t be a mere coincidence that she discovered the chamber the same week she’d received her mother’s necklace and journal and started having dreams of her.
A few more rounds of connect the cryptic dots, and she drifted off to sleep.
“Sahara.” Her mom’s voice shrouded her with tenderness.
When Sahara turned around, Amani raised her hand, pressing the hamsa dangling from her daughter’s neck to her heart. A wave of warmth coursed through Sahara. She wished they could remain connected here indefinitely, wherever here was.
After some time—if there was such a thing as time in dreams—her mom’s index finger began to glow. She lifted it above her head, and within seconds a torch was ablaze, followed by another and then another, illuminating the stone walls of the chamber.
“You’ve always known where, Sahara.” Amani smiled, Morgana’s portrait behind her.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
Her mom nodded, then reached to open the curio. Everything inside was blurry, except for a small vial. The glass tube and its bronze cap, in the shape of a lion’s head, glimmered inside the otherwise dark cabinet. Before Sahara could ask about it, a distant whooshing sounded. She didn’t know where it was coming from, but she was certain from the growing noise that it was moving in one direction—hers.
“The winds of fate are coming,” her mother shouted over the roar.
The invisible storm raged, whipping Sahara’s hair in her face and driving her back.
“Don’t resist. Let go and use the key.” Her mom pointed to Sahara’s chest, and Sahara immediately felt the hamsa pulse.
The wind blasted again. “Mom, I can’t . . . I’m scared.”
Grains of sand hit her face, stinging her eyes and flooding her mouth. Something was pulling her away from the chamber, from her mom. She groped for her mother’s hand, but it was too late.
“Let go,” her mom called as Sahara hurtled farther away. “It’s the only way.”
* * *
Sahara’s eyes fluttered open in the dark. Her mom’s words lingered in the space between sleep and wakefulness. Let go and use the key.
The purpose of a key was to keep something important safe. Like the magic lamp, which had been locked and hidden in the secret chamber for ages. What if the journal’s warning that what was hidden in the dark would be unlocked was about the lamp? That would mean that the key that had kept the jinni under wraps all these years had been compromised. Sahara brought her hand to her heart, the truth materializing. My necklace is the key.
It made perfect sense. The two that must not join become one had never been about Magda and Omar, but the lamp and necklace. That’s why El Ghoula had stolen the hamsa. Now the girls just had to make sure she didn’t get her perfectly manicured hands on the lamp too. She had to wake Naima and tell—
Barking exploded through the window. Kitmeer! Sahara sprang out of bed, bumping into her cousin.
Naima’s eyes were wide. “Kitmeer . . . the shop. We have to go!”
Sahara’s throat went dry. She couldn’t speak. A half-asleep Fanta staggered into the room. “Why is that stinky dog—”
“Ahmed, go wake everyone,” Naima ordered, but her brother froze. “Now!” she shouted.
Sahara raced past them, bounding down the steps in her bare feet. Having only slept an hour, she was so exhausted she could barely remember her name, let alone to throw on shoes. When she reached the ground floor, she waited for her cousin, not daring to go out alone. It was quiet, too quiet. Why’s Kitmeer not barking anymore? Sahara worried as Naima shot out of the building.
“Kitmeer!” her cousin howled.
Sahara rushed out into the dark to find Naima slumped on the sidewalk, her long nightgown billowing in the breeze. The dog’s still body was sprawled out underneath her.
Sahara needed to get help. Her eyes darted toward Sittu’s terrace. Why hadn’t anyone else come downstairs? She should call 911. Was there even a 911? Someone—her grandmother, her father—should’ve told her what to do in case of an emergency. Why didn’t anyone tell me what to do? her mind screamed.
Rage flooded her body, driving her toward the shop. The gate was up, its lock lying broken on the ground. Sahara stepped down.
Instantly, someone seized her arm and wrenched her inside, pressing a cold and sharp object against her neck. There was no mistaking the porcelain skin of the hand wielding the knife or the gold cuff around it. And the icy voice.
“Move again, darling, and I will cut your throat.”
38
The Lamp
Sahara trembled in El Ghoula’s grip, her mind doing what her body couldn’t—escaping. She searched for a place to hide, slipping into one of her favorite memories. It was the snowy eve of her twelfth birthday, when her father had staggered into the living room, cradling Omni’s box in his arms. She could see herself jumping up and down as the robot came to life, vrooming and beeping around the apartment.
She’d be safe hidden here. But what about Naima? As much as Sahara yearned for refuge, she couldn’t stay. Helping her cousin, who she could still hear wailing over Kitmeer’s body, called her back to the present.
“No, Magda,” Sahara said, her voice steady and defiant. “I won’t be still or quiet.”
“You stupid girl,” El Ghoula hissed.
Sahara winced, the sting of the blade digging into her neck.
“Now that you understand this is not a game, girl, get me what I came for. The lamp!”
If there was any doubt left in Sahara’s head about who Magda was and what she was after, it was gone now. There’s no way I’m turning over—
“Stop! I’ll give it to you.” The words came from Naima, who stood at the foot of the shop’s steps, her cheeks still wet.
“You too?” There was a hint of surprise in Magda’s voice.
Sahara was relieved to see her cousin, but she couldn’t risk her safety. “Run, Naima! Go get help!”
“Help,” El Ghoula scoffed, her confidence returning. “There’s no one who can help you.” She clenched her arm tighter around Sahara’s neck, making it hard to breathe.
“I won’t leave you,” Naima cried.
Sahara struggled to get the next words out. “Kitmeer? . . . Is . . . he . . . de—”
“No! He’s breathing.” Naima turned toward Magda and seethed, “You hurt him.”
“If you’re referring to your nasty pet, he’s sleeping off a blow to the head. But don’t worry, darling. He’ll be up soon. Too bad the same can’t be said for your family.”
“What did you do to them, El Ghoula?” These words hadn’t come from Naima but her brother. “Why aren’t they waking up?”
Sahara’s heart pounded in her ears. No one had come downstairs before because they hadn’t been able to.
“Moi? I didn’t do anything. It was all the sharbat’s doing.”
Sahara hadn’t liked the idea of the sharbat to begin with, but now she loathed it.
“Though its spell appears to have missed the three of you, buzzing all over the place like annoying gnats. Enough with the small talk, children. The lamp!” Magda demanded.
“Lamp? What lamp—” Fanta started.
Naima pressed her hand over his mouth. “I told you I’d get it,” she answered as Fanta’s face alternated between confusion and betrayal.
Sahara had never hit anyone in her life, but she’d have knocked Magda out if it weren’t for the inconvenient dagger at her throat. The image of Sittu beaming with pride as she’d described how generations of Salem women had guarded the chamber’s treasures rushed back. Knife or no knife, Sahara couldn’t let El Ghoula destroy their family’s legacy. God knows what she was planning on doing with the lamp. Sahara couldn’t let her hurt anyone with the magic Morgana had risked everything to protect.
“You can’t give it to her! She can unlo—” Sahara felt the angry bite of the blade. Her cousins screamed. She couldn’t look down if she tried because of the way El Ghoula’s arm was wrenched under her chin. But she didn’t have to—she knew she was bleeding. Her knees started to buckle. Stay standing.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Magda’s voice quivered. “Why couldn’t you do as you were told?”
“Ihdi, Magda.” Naima urged El Ghoula to stay calm. “Let me get what you came here for.” She backed up and knelt in front of the bottom step, gesturing for her brother to come over. “Lift the top.”
Fanta pried the brick up, even though he had no clue what was happening.
“This better not be a trick.” Magda tightened her grip. Sahara’s neck burned fiercely. She squished her lips together to keep from crying. She wouldn’t give El Ghoula the satisfaction.
Naima promised they weren’t deceiving her as she stuck her hand inside the step. Within seconds, she pulled out the shiny brass lamp, her eyes flashing with awe for a split second before they darted to Magda. “Let go of Sahara, and I’ll give you the lamp.”
“Hand it to me first,” El Ghoula ordered.
Naima held it out with her shaking hand. Magda grabbed the lamp, throwing Sahara onto the ground and pushing Naima out of her way. Sahara sucked in air as Fanta ran over with a towel and pressed it against her neck.
It was then that Sahara caught her first glimpse of El Ghoula since she’d pulled Sahara into the shop. She still wore her wedding dress, its crystals shimmering, the lamp in one hand and the knife in the other. Sahara’s stomach flipped at the sight of her blood on the blade.
Magda stroked her gown like it was a kitten. “It really was the most beautiful wedding.”
Sahara felt like she was going to be sick, but she had to know. “What about Khalu Omar? Did you hurt him?”
“Like you hurt Noora?” Naima cried.
“Noora? I’m . . . I’m not sure what happened to . . .” El Ghoula hesitated. Her eyes dimmed. When she spoke again, it was with a softness Sahara didn’t think her capable of. “But I would never hurt Omar. I love him.”
Her admission lingered in the dark stillness. Maybe they could get her to stop for their uncle’s sake?
“Magda, you can end this. Just tell us how to wake everyone up and give us back the lamp and my necklace.” Sahara crossed her fingers behind her back, tighter than tight. “Then everything can go back to the way it was.” That was the worst lie she’d ever told. Nothing would ever be the same.
“It’s too late for that.” Magda’s amber eyes blazed in the darkness, her villainy reawakening. “Your necklace—you’ll never see it or the lamp ever again!” El Ghoula twisted toward the steps.
“No—” Sahara started to yell, but the words caught in her throat.
Magda glanced back to blow a kiss. “Au revoir, darlings.”
And just like that, she was gone, taking the lamp and any bit of hope left inside Sahara with her.
* * *
“Only broken skin. I’m okay,” Sahara assured Naima, who sat next to her on the floor anxiously eyeing the bloody towel at Sahara’s neck while Fanta chased after El Ghoula. But she wasn’t okay. Not only had Magda threatened her life, but she’d fled with the lamp. Sahara hated feeling this . . . this powerless. Wasn’t it enough that her mother wasn’t here because of her? Now the lamp was gone too. Too much had been lost so that she could live.
“How could you give her the lamp?” She lashed out at her cousin. “My necklace is the key that unlocks it. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before . . . before this bloody night happened. Now El Ghoula has both. She has both!”
“That’s why there was a hamsa etched on the lamp’s lid,” Naima muttered, shock overtaking her face. “I didn’t know, but even if I did, what was I supposed to do? I was scared. She was holding a sikeena to your throat.”
Sahara’s stomach twisted at the tremble in her cousin’s voice. It couldn’t have been easy handing over the lamp, especially for Naima, who revered all things magic. She had been faced with an impossible choice. And if she’d chosen differently, Sahara wouldn’t be here to criticize her for it.
She rested her head on Naima’s shoulder. “Thank you for not running away after I told you to.”
“Would you have left if it had been me?”
Sahara nestled deeper into her cousin. They both knew the answer to that.
“How did you figure out your necklace was the key?” Naima asked.
“By trusting what my mom said in my latest dream and connecting it with what we already knew. Belief and reason are a good team.”
“Yes, they are.” Naima squeezed her hand.
Fanta returned out of breath. “She’s gone . . . probably flown away . . . on her broomstick.”
“What about Kitmeer?” Naima cried. “Is he up yet?”
“Not yet.” He took a seat next to them. His eyes darted from Sahara’s neck to his sister. “We should get her to a hospital.”
The last thing Sahara wanted to do tonight was go to a hospital. Besides, how would they explain to a doctor what had happened? Khalu Omar’s bride broke into our family’s shop to steal an ancient jinni lamp, and we’re here alone because all the grown-ups are under a sleep spell wasn’t going to fly.
