hands and shoved it back in our direction. We ascended while the siblings lingered in the mortal plane. In an attempt to diffuse the tension and fortified by the hash, I broached the topic that had weighed on my mind all day. “Ismail, is this where you’d like to be?”
He looked taken aback, then regained his composure. “This is where my friends are, despite what they might be doing,” he said, with a pointed glare at the shisha. “This is where I need to be.”
“And your,” I hesitated. “Other friends. Do they approve of you being here?”
“I have no orders to the contrary,” he replied neutrally. The conversation ended there, on an uncomfortable note. The word orders lodged in my brain and sank to my stomach, where it nestled and germinated.
I became aware of ants crawling over my hands. I glanced over and the ants lengthened and fused, forming a creamy white hand. I followed the hand up and it ended in freckles and a pair of jade moons. Sabah’s hands fell into my own and squeezed. I squeezed back and the lion in my chest threw back its head and roared. My disquiet evaporated and I lost myself in her eyes. I didn’t care if he saw. I didn’t care if he skinned me with a rusty blade. I was lost and never wanted to be found.
My trance was broken by the sounds of a scuffle nearby. I heard raised voices and heard the distinct thump of flesh on flesh, rhythmic and sickening. Omar was up and sprinting before the rest of us could comprehend the chaos. We followed soonafter, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Youssef