"Soulless stone monsters. They are not yet so numerous in Montreal that the general population knows about them, but I'm afraid it's getting worse."
"We've seen a few here, but we can dispatch them easily enough," she said. "Do you know what Ramtin is?"
"He is one like me. One like Nagissa."
"He is one like Nagissa was, but not exactly one like you."
"Nagissa was?"
"Every story has its time. Ramtin is what you like to call a Gargoyle. But as you were created by sacrificing an essencialist and taking all her essence, Ramtin and his kind were created by sacrificing a Jinni. That makes him a lot more powerful than the type you are accustomed to meeting."
"But Jinn are made..."
She nodded. "Yes, Jinn are made of nothing but essence. So, though a powerful enough essencialist, or one you are bonded to, can feed or pull essence from you, she could do little for Ramtin's type."
"So then I need the Jinn to fight Ramtin?"
"I'm not sure. Ramtin has been amassing an army of sorts. He’s recruiting anybody with any ability to manipulate essence... Luckily, the world is in short supply of these as of late. But he's been preying on my kind as well. I don't know if anything can stop him. Did you seek me out to ask about Ramtin? If you did, I'm afraid I have no answers."
"You've already told me a lot. But I came looking for answers about Nagissa." And then I had an idea. If Ramtin knew about Aude's trouble, could she be here? "And a young Canadian essencialist named Aude Vanier. I need to know if she’s here."
"You ask for a lot from me, Gargoyle. What do I get in return?”
“We share a common enemy. This should be reward enough.” I had no idea how to negotiate with a creature such as her. Hopefully I was going about it the right way.
She shrugged.
“I'm not kept up to date on every essencialist that enters the country, anymore. There was a time when the Jinn that worked at ports of entry reported to me, but now they report to others like me that have power in the government. I can tell you about Nagissa, though."
The thought of seeing Nagissa again made my blood run hot and cold. The time I had spent with the girl had gone a long way in reawakening my feelings... but who were those feelings really for? Regardless, Nagissa could perhaps help where Pareen could not. "Where is she?"
"Dead."
My heart dropped. "But she can't be. You just said how powerful her kind is. She couldn't die."
"They are not immortal. Just more powerful. And my sources tell me Ramtin was responsible, right around the time of the revolution."
"She's been dead since 1979?"
How could I have lost her so long ago and never known? She was never mine to lose, but in a way it seemed something should have been different about the very air I breathed if she was no longer alive.
When I left the hidden garden, the springtime oasis I had found among the ruins of the South Tehran ghettos, the scenery had become colorless. I was surprised at my reaction. I hadn't even been certain I wanted to see her again, but she had been timeless somehow. Now I knew she had been created by the magic of the Jinn... and yet she was no more.
It's the beginning of the Nowruz holiday and though I don't have to get up to go to school, I still get up. I'm worried sick about Leyli. I've called her, I've left her voicemails, I've texted her. No answer. I'm starting to worry that the problem is much more serious than her simply being upset with me. As a last resort, I dial her home number. Her mother scares me.
The woman answers on the first ring.
"Where is Leyli?" she asks me, skipping all customary greetings.
"I don't know. I was sure she’d be home by now."
I stand up and look at the city from my bedroom window. I press my forehead against the glass while I think. Where could she be?
"Wasn't she with you? What happened? Where are you?"
"I'm home, Mrs. Abbasi. Leyli didn't come home last night?"
Leyli's mother wails into the telephone. "Where was she taken? Why didn't I get any notice that my child is in jail? The party was raided, yes?"
"I don't know. I left early."
"Without Leyli? How could you just leave her behind?"
"She asked me to."
"You left her. You two should have looked out for each other. I only agreed to this party because she was going with a responsible friend."
A cocktail of emotions brews inside me. Panic and anger. Fear and hopelessness. It isn't fair that Leyli's mother is blaming me. It isn't fair that Leyli was upset with me. I want to throw myself on the floor and kick around that it's just not fair. But I don't; I take a deep breath and try to gain control of my emotions.
"Did you get any calls?"
"No, I didn't. I don't know where she is and you are the last person to see her, Nakissa."
"Actually, no. Ramtin is."
Mrs. Abbasi's already shrill voice rises. "Who is Ramtin?"
I tell her about Ramtin and about Leyli’s last text message. I tell her everything including how I left the party in her crush's car.
"Have you called the police?" I ask.
"Yes, but I can't say too much to them, can I? What if they think she spent the night with a boy? And now it looks like she did. You will help me find her, Nakissa."
"I don't think my Mom will let me go out today.,." I feel guilty. It's probably true, but I should help find Leyli. Yet, I have this paralyzing fear. A dread that she's with Ramtin and that it’s one of the worst things that could happen to her.
"Let me talk to your mother, Nakissa. I will simply call her on your home line otherwise. I need you to show me where you left my poor helpless daughter."
I cringe at Mrs. Abbasi's dramatic representation of Leyli, but instantly feel bad. Poor Leyli is missing. What is Maman going to make of all this? She was so hesitant about me going to the party in the first place. But Leyli is missing and I’m scared about so much more than Maman’s reaction.
I find her in the kitchen preparing the rice to let it soak so Bijan can prepare it for dinner. It’s strange to see her like this. At home and domestic. Before her accident, she was always at the hospital, working.
"Maman?" My voice catches and she turns instantly.
"What's wrong?"
All my pent up anger and worry and fear come crumbling out of me and I hide into her arms. I have the phone on mute and Mrs. Abbasi can wait because she is not the only one who is scared. I need my mother for myself for just a while longer. But then the tears start and I have to say something before I completely fall apart.
"Leyli's missing." I sniff a few times, still trying to discourage the tears threatening to find their way down my cheeks. "I was the last one to see her. I left without her. It's my fault. Mrs Abbasi blames me and she's right." I give her the phone and turn to hide in my room, but Maman's tone as she answers the phone stops me in my tracks.
It is compassionate but not kind. "Listen, Mrs. Abbasi, I understand how frightening this is for you but you have no right to be taking it out on my daughter. She is just as frightened as you are and adding guilt to her shoulders will not help anyone."
Maman is quiet for a while and I wonder how Leyli's mother is reacting to my mother's words.
"Yes, it would have been preferable if the girls had stayed together, but they didn't. Now I know both of our daughters can be very stubborn. I also know we all share that trait, but while we stand around pointing fingers and deciding who we should blame, no one is looking for Leyli. Don't you agree?" Mom pauses again. "Exactly, and we both know how real the dangers out there are." Another pause. "Yes. That makes sense. I will send Bijan with her as well. I think it is best that way." I wonder if Maman is sending Bijan along to look after me, or to make sure Mrs. Abbasi doesn't get out of line. Whichever reason it is, I'm grateful.
The two women exchange several insincere formalities and I get antsy. I just want Maman to hang up the phone. I want her to tell me everything is going to be alright.
But Maman simply hands me my phone. "Go get ready, Nakissa. I'll go talk to Bijan."
I stand still wanting to say something, but I don't know whether to thank her or to tell her I love her. I hug my arms against a shiver. Maman leaves the room, off to find her husband. He will know what to do. Leyli will be safe.
I go to my room to get ready. I dress in conservative black so as to not attract attention. I can't stand the idea of having to deal with anything else today. But when I look in the mirror, I stop abruptly. I look like I'm in mourning. God, I hope Leyli is okay.
The drive out of town is spent mostly in awkward silence punctuated by Leyli’s mother muttering prayers under her breath. Leyli’s older brother Mehran is driving. I haven’t seen him in a long time and I’m surprised at how handsome he’s become, but he’s still as quiet and surly as he’s always been.
By the time we make it to the turn off, I swear we’ve been in the car for two years. The gate to the property is closed this time so Bijan rings the buzzer. But there is no answer.
He tries again and again. On the third time, someone finally answers. Bijan doesn't waste time with formalities "Let us in."
"Who are you? Why should I let you in?"
"We are parents of people who were at your party last night and if you don’t let us in, we will call the police. I think you would prefer to deal with us, no?"
There is no answer from the other side of the intercom. I know why. The young man is afraid Bijan is here to beat him up. It wouldn't be the first time an angry parent beats up a boy over a party his daughter went to. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Bijan starts to lose his patience and buzzes the ringer repeatedly.
"Let me try," I say. "Hello?"
No answer.
"I know you can hear me. My step-father isn't going to hurt you. We just want to ask you some questions about last night. My best friend is missing and this is the last place we saw her. I'm sure you're not responsible, but if you won't let us in, it makes you look guilty. Even if you aren’t."
The young man still doesn't say anything, but the gate clicks. He unlocked it. Bijan nods to me in approval and I give him a weak smile.
I always enjoy getting Bijan’s approval. It’s like he’s my real father, and I need that since mine died when I was little.
The farm looks different in the light. More… farm-like. We bypass the small building near the gate and head directly for the barn where the party was held. The doors are wide open and the interior is still a mess from last night’s party. The place looks entirely different. Without the cover of night and fancy equipment it looks shabby and dirty. Hardly a place for Tehran’s elite to gather. A few people are passed out on bales of hay. Empty bottles, cigarette butts, and other trash litter the floor. A discarded used needle indicates that a lot more was happening at this party than what I saw.
A man about thirty years old comes in and greets us coldly while rubbing his head. We’ve interrupted a hangover.
Mrs. Abbasi shoves a picture of Leyli in his face. "Where is my daughter? What happened to my daughter?"
The man takes a few steps away from the woman and puts his hands up. His movements are slow. "I've never seen her before."
"She disappeared from your party."
Mehran puts his hand on Mrs. Abbasi's arm. "Please calm down, Maman. We don't know for sure. Who did you say she was with when you last saw her, Nakissa?"
"Ramtin."
The man lets out a low whistle. "I still can't believe he came to my party.” He straightens his shirt collar as if he finally remembers to try to look cool. “Don’t get me wrong, I'm used to hosting for the elite, but this is Ramtin. He’s not elite, he’s royalty."
A low growl from Bijan startles us all. The man sighs and sits down on the nearby sofa. He put his head in his hand. I wonder how much of it is a hangover and how much is an act because he doesn't want to deal with us anymore.
"I don't know where Ramtin hangs out, okay? And quite honestly, I don't think he would have needed to take that girl against her will. Hello? It's Ramtin we're talking about. Girls just throw themselves at him."
Mrs. Abbasi takes a step towards him, but Bijan stops her. "Let's see if anyone else knows anything."
He gently kicks awake a sleeping man who groans as he opens his eyes. Mehran interrogates him, but he knows even less than the host. So Bijan repeats the process with every person there, but the most we get out of anyone is that she was seen with Ramtin.
Bijan wrings his hands and faces Leyli’s family. "Other than going to the police, I don't know what else we can do."
"I can't go to the police."
"I understand." He paces to the door and turns back to face us again. "We will alert everyone we know. Ramtin, whoever he is, seems to move in a different social circle than us, but I'd be surprised none of our friends have connections to the right person. We will do everything we can to help you find her. Right, Nakissa?"
I shake my head. I can't speak. The lump that started forming in my throat when I realized Leyli was missing has grown. And as much as I defended myself when Mrs. Abbasi put the blame on me, I can't help but feel guilty for leaving her with Ramtin. Maybe it is my fault.
Our drive back is even more strained than our drive there. I wonder if Mrs. Abbasi blames herself too. It can’t be only my fault, can it? What if Leyli never comes back? What if I never see my friend again and I’m left alone?
I hung up my phone and threw it on the bed. Nothing made sense. Aude was still missing and the few clues seemed to lead to Ramtin. But Ramtin was here. Here where Nakissa was. And who was Nakissa? A descendant of Nagissa? Was this Marguerite and Aude all over again? Was I finding myself attracted to a girl because she reminded me of someone else?
But there was more to Nakissa. A lot of what attracted me the most were the things that made her different from Nagissa. I paced back and forth along the length of the hotel suite. From the window overlooking Tehran to the door leading out of the room and back again.
Each footstep amplified my frustration. What was I missing? There was a clue here to Aude's disappearance. A clue to the earthquakes. To the dead birds and fish. Back at the window again, I rested both palms against the cold glass and looked down to the street. People were scurrying about. Traffic was crazy. Cars and pedestrians found their way through following no rules or logic.
Again. No logic. What was it about this ancient land that attracted chaos and nonsense? Why couldn't I think straight? I needed to see Nakissa again. I knew she didn't want to see me. The chemistry between us was so strong and she was involved with someone, but that didn't matter. I couldn't think clearly enough right now to even consider what all of that meant. I had other things to worry about.
I needed to figure out the connection between Aude's disappearance and Ramtin. Guillaume had just told me their research into Aude’s phone records indicated Ramtin had called her mere minutes before she left her house without explanation. Why was Ramtin interested in Aude? Because of her essence? Why was he interested in Nakissa?
I pushed away from the window and walked back to my bed. I picked up my phone and called the girl named Leyli. My closest tie to Nakissa.
But Leyli wasn't answering. Of course. Because it had been that type of morning. That type of week. That type of year, even. Ever since Aude woke us up from the Montreal church tower from which we had spent seventy years watching, nothing had been easy.
I texted Davood to tell him I wanted to meet up and he told me to come to his place of business.
So, I slipped on my designer jeans, a dress shirt and a dark gray cardigan and fixed my hair. I wasn't looking for Nakissa because I was attracted to her, but it didn't mean I didn't want to look my best if I saw her. Looking my best was something I was good at at least. I slid on a pair of shades and headed for the door.
On Mirdamad Boulevard, about a block from Davood's, an antique shop caught my attention. I asked the taxi driver to let me off and ducked into the quaint
local shop. I didn't know what came over me. Why did I get an impulse to enter this store when I had so much more important things in my mind? But there was a pull I couldn't ignore.
The antique dealer greeted me with a jabbering stream of Persian mixed with English, and a few other languages. He slapped me on the back a few times. A fog of strangeness permeated the air and threatened to envelop my mind. I looked down, and for a moment his feet appeared as hooves. When I shook my head, I saw nothing abnormal. I was dealing with a Jinni.
"I have just the thing you are seeking." This time, he spoke in perfect English. He dug deep into his pocket and removed trinket after trinket. There was no way all these items fit in his pocket.
I took a few steps back from him.
"Ah ha!" The short, rotund man pulled out a long chain with a pendant and handed it to me.
Curious, I reached and took it from him. On it was a hand painted miniature of a dark haired girl playing the harp. I looked at it closer.
It was Nagissa.
I looked to him and he grinned.
"How much?"
"For you, it's free."
Well used to târof – the art of politeness – I knew better than to accept his seemingly generous offer. This was just the beginning of what often turned out to be grueling bargaining sessions. I didn't have the time or energy for such a session today. I dug into my pockets and found my wallet.
"No, no, I insist it is free," he said.
This went beyond what I was used to in shops, but in private it wasn't uncommon for someone to offer something as a courtesy several times, even though they didn't actually intend to part with the object. I had no idea what rules governed the Jinn.
"Oh that is very generous, but please let me pay for this."
The shopkeeper giggled and his form wavered. One moment human, one moment breathtakingly beautiful, and then back to human again. The shift in his essence became tangible to me. Cold and hot as flame and then cold again. It was bright and vivid and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it until then. I hadn't known how to recognize a Jinni's essence since it is all they are made of. Had he done it on purpose so I would know his kind when I saw them?
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