CEMETERY BOYS meets CITY OF BRASS. After a botched incantation allows her to see jinn, Zarina's life consists of banishing them back to the jinn world before they can wreak havoc on unsuspecting humans—all while dodging disapproving stares from aunties at her Los Angeles mosque. But when more jinn start appearing, Zarina realizes something wants to tear down the veil that separates their world from hers. To protect everyone she loves, she must team up with her estranged childhood sweetheart who blames her for his sister’s death.
When we were kids, the jinn were just the stuff of Naani’s stories. Stories she told in the dark. In them, the jinn sounded simultaneously cool and scary as hell, like a Bollywood crossover between ghosts and the walking dead. They took the form of women in white saris that hypnotized a great uncle, of a twisted giant that met our grandfather on a desolate road, and of a wraith in a tree that descended upon a great aunt during her midnight stroll.
Then we lived through our so-called accident. The night a single incantation extinguished a million possible futures.
The night Hafsa died.
After that, the jinn weren’t just in the stories.
They were everywhere.
One’s here now, drenched in fog and draped in ivory chiffon, spinning as if in a trance under a row of browning palm trees. Eyes the color of a dying sunset loll eerily in its head. The first time I saw a jinn, fear nearly dug my heart out of my chest. Since then, I’ve seen hundreds, but my stomach still folds in on itself as I take in this jinn’s inverted feet and twisted arms.