That next morning, Ramses Station was abuzz with activity. People had been pouring into the transportation hub since dawn, coming in by tram from throughout Cairo and on airships from all over the country. They were overwhelmingly women: young and old, Copts and Muslims, in trendy urban styles or the more traditional dress, in factory-worker smocks and nurse’s uniforms, in school outfits and professional government attire. They came with placards and banners naming their towns and villages and cities, chanting, clapping and singing as they joined the swelling crowds. Signs calling for the vote were everywhere, many with images of activists and even a few with the queen. A sprawling flag bearing the Janus-faced Hatshepsut symbol of the Egyptian Feminist Sisterhood hung from an upper railing beside another bearing the words THE WOMEN OF ’79 LIVE ON! The atmosphere was nothing less than electric as everyone waited at this historic spot to hear parliament’s decision on granting the greatest right to the majority of Egypt’s populace.
Hamed fidgeted with the veil covering his face as he and Onsi walked across the floor of Ramses Station. When he had agreed to the younger man’s plan, he had hoped that they would simply don gallabiyahs, still worn in public by men and women in more rural areas. But Abla had insisted that wouldn’t do and managed to find an all-night tailor in the Khan who could have something done in hours. The man had been as good as his word, fitting and preparing dresses for them to pick up by morning. For such short notice, the garments were decidedly fancy—all white and fashioned in the mix of Parisian and Egyptian styles popular among upper-class Cairene women, with matching round hats covered in semi-sheer veils that wrapped their faces in small clouds.
Despite his discomfort, Hamed had to admit Onsi’s logic had been sound. The spirit would only appear to women. So if they were going to draw it out themselves, they needed to be seen as women. It was commonly known that spirits had a peculiar tunnel-vision when it came to such things. Dress an inanimate object as a person, and they took it for just that. Leave out some rocks instead of food, and they’d try to devour them. For many spirits, perception was reality. Thus, it only stood to reason that this al would take them for what it sought, if they looked the part.
That was easier said than done.
For about the third time, Hamed nearly stumbled in the short white heels that matched his long dress. How modern women got about in these things he couldn’t possibly figure out. What made it worse were the extra pounds he carried—a great deal of stuffing that made his stomach bulge out to mimic a woman with child. Onsi had sought to make them play their parts perfectly, going as far as to weigh down the cushioned prosthesis with dense material. It made for a heavy load to bear.
“You have to keep your feet spread apart!” Onsi instructed, sidling up to him. He spoke loudly to be heard above the noisy crowds. “Imagine that you’re a penguin and do like so.” His legs took on a waddling quality and he seemed to move with ease, his stuffed belly protruding before him.
It was probably easier when you had nine sisters, Hamed grumbled silently. But he mimicked the walk and it did indeed make it somewhat more bearable. By the time they’d made it to the lift he had already grown weary. The trip up to the aerial tram yard allowed him a brief rest before the doors opened to Cairo’s morning skyline and they made their way to their destination.
Tram 015 sat quiet and isolated on the platform. There was something ominous about its stillness—as if the car was waiting for them. “Are you ready?” Hamed asked, tamping down his unease.
“Ready,” Onsi replied, a slight quaver to his voice.
Hamed looked to the younger man and saw the eyes behind his silver spectacles somewhat wide. He remembered then how nervous he’d been as a recruit, confronting a truly dangerous situation for the first time.
“I always keep in mind that I’m a Ministry agent,” he offered in encouragement. “Whatever we’re facing might be older, stronger, and have powers beyond us. But that’s what we were trained for, and nothing is invincible. Also, a few prayers help.”
Onsi nodded appreciatively. “I’ve done quite a bit of praying. I think I’ll be fine.”
“Then let’s get this over with. Remember, we only need to prick it.” Hiking up his dress, Hamed walked forward to the door of Tram 015 and pulled it open.
The inside of the car looked much like they’d last left it. No one had come in to clean, with the Transportation Union citing safety concerns. Dried flecks of blood from the hapless chickens streaked some of the windows, and a smear containing white feathers ran along the floor. Bits and pieces of food left over from the altar lay scattered about as well, alongside the wooden tray, stool, and cages that had been reduced to splintered sticks.
Hamed picked his way through the debris and took a seat at one end of the car, grasping a pole to lower himself down. It felt good to sit. The cushions beside him showed deep furrows where the spirit had slashed through during their last encounter. He kept his vision forward and tried not to think about the claws that had done such damage. From the corners of his eyes, however, he searched above. He found the ethereal gray smoke right away, lazily weaving its way through the clockwork mechanics of the tram, its movements illuminated by each flicker of the ceiling lamp. He cast a glance to the other end of the car, where Onsi had seated himself in turn. They were in place. Sitting back, he waited. It wasn’t too long before they heard the locking mechanisms holding the tram in place begin to tumble.
They had arranged this with Bashir. He and Onsi had agreed that to pull off this ruse, Tram 015 had to be up and running again—to make them look like ordinary passengers. Bashir had reluctantly agreed to put the car on an old unused line that ran a quick circuit through the center of Cairo. Somewhere along the way, they hoped the al would take the bait and reveal itself.
There was an audible hiss of steam as the mooring clamps released, and the tram joggled in its descent from the aerial yards to the main docks below. Hamed watched through the curtained windows as they passed down between a webbing of steel girders. He risked a peek at the gray smoke. It had begun to move faster in seeming anticipation. A good sign. Glancing down the other end of the car he found Onsi sitting peaceably. The man had retrieved two long iron needles from a bag and taken to knitting. He hummed a lullaby as he worked, stopping once in a while to rub his cushioned belly affectionately. Hamed managed to pull his eyes away from the spectacle and felt with reassurance for the black dagger nestled in a pocket sewn into his dress. The weapon was surprisingly light, weighted for Abla, he assumed—a puzzle he still couldn’t quite fit together. A slight jolt pulled his attention back to the window. They had reached the latticework of corded cables that snaked across Cairo’s skyway. Above came the sound of the pulley systems latching onto the proper line—and Tram 015 began to move.
The car streaked out over the city with a lurch. Its engines hummed and rattled as it went, accompanied by the familiar squeal of the pulley that moved along the cable. Every few seconds bright blue flashes lit up the interior, as outside electric bolts were thrown up with a piercing crackle. The ride was smooth, with a gentle swaying motion that easily lulled passengers to sleep. No chance of that today. It was all Hamed could do to not tap his feet anxiously as he waited for something to happen. He passed the time staring through the window, watching other trams zip by on their lines, turning this way and that as they transported Cairo’s masses.
When the al did appear beside him, he almost jumped.
Hamed wasn’t certain when the spirit had moved or taken shape. One moment the thing had been smoke, making its rounds in the gears above. The next it was here—taking the familiar form of a girl with moon-pale skin touched by gray. She sat on a seat next to him wearing that simple bone-white dress and looking fragile as a statue crafted of eggshell. Her delicate features were almost childlike beneath the flowing silver tresses that reached to her waist. And she stared up at him with generous pitch-black eyes that seemed to ripple.
Drawing a breath, Hamed turned slowly toward the al. A thin set of blue-tinged lips parted in a smile, revealing small teeth that glistened like pearls. She croaked out something in that grating voice he couldn’t understand, tilting her head curiously. When he didn’t answer, she pointed to his round belly with a slender finger and began making soft, cooing sounds. Wrapping her arms into a cradle, she rocked them back and forth and trilled something that sounded like “nani bala” repeatedly in a singsong.
When she finally reached a hand out to touch his stomach he flinched, remembering all too well the stories that said these kinds of diversions always preceded an al attack. She laughed richly at his flightiness, and he couldn’t help but think of a predator toying with its prey. Of course, he was a diversion as well.
Just above the spirit’s head, Hamed watched as Onsi came closer. He had gotten up as soon as the al settled down, and now stalked forward, a knitting needle gripped in his hand. He hummed his lullaby as he came and Hamed only wished he would move faster. The spirit continued her chatter unawares, too busy taking delight in her taunting ritual to register his movement. Onsi was so close now that Hamed could see the light glinting off the iron end of the needle. Lifting the makeshift weapon, Onsi stopped, poised to strike. There was a brief lull and inside Hamed a warning siren went off.
In stopping to ready his blow, Onsi had also ended his lullaby. The gut of silence in the emptied tram was louder than sound itself, and the al stopped short. She frowned as she caught the direction of Hamed’s gaze, and looked up to see Onsi almost upon her.
Everything that happened next went by so fast Hamed could barely keep track. The girl let out a hiss upon seeing Onsi. In a blur she was gone, replaced with the hag. Standing to her full height, she swatted at Onsi with her claws, sending him tumbling away without even the opportunity to deliver the blow. Hamed acted on instinct, pulling out his dagger and lunging. He was surprised when he fell flat in the aisle, the sharp point of the weapon striking the floor. He had missed! The al had moved unexpectedly fast, angling out the way before he could reach her.
Realizing that a trap had been set for her, the hag extended a mouth of jagged teeth impossibly wide to let out a fierce screech. But the two men had prepared for that as well, stuffing their ears with cotton. Her voice grated and their heads rang, but they weren’t incapacitated. Scrambling back up to his feet, Hamed brandished the dagger at the spirit. On the other end of the tram, Onsi too now stood, a knitting needle in each hand.
“Close the gap!” Hamed yelled, walking forward. Onsi nodded vigorously, doing the same.
The al twisted her head about, glaring at each man from behind the empty pits on her shriveled face. She screeched in threat, slashing out with her claws, but didn’t press an attack. Her eyeless gaze warily regarded the iron they held, and she shrank away in what Hamed hoped was genuine fear. Still, this wouldn’t be easy. A well-placed rake could eviscerate them if they weren’t careful, and more than once he had to jump back before regaining the momentum. It was during this laborious advance that the spirit did something unanticipated. Lifting her claws above her head, she plunged them into the gears covering the ceiling. They didn’t tear through the clockwork brain, but instead sank into the machinery like smoke. A sudden tremor ran through the tram and it zoomed forward with a terrific burst.
Hamed went flying back, swept off his feet, the dagger pitching from his hand. He landed hard on his side and was forced to clutch at a pole as the car continued to pick up speed. He cursed aloud. They should have foreseen that the spirit, after having spent so much time in the tram, would have found a way to control it! He looked up to find Onsi tumbling along the other end, trying desperately to catch hold of something. The al threw back her head to cackle wildly at their distress. Hamed was wondering how this could possibly get worse—when it did.
A sudden swerve sent him rolling. When he managed to right himself he looked out the windows at the front of the tram to see they were going in another direction. The spirit had caused the car to switch cables! They were no longer on the old unused circuit, but on the city’s main lines! His worst fears were realized as he caught sight of another tram fast approaching them, its horns blaring in alarm at what would be a certain collision.
Hamed held his breath, overcome with a sinking feeling of helplessness, when at the last moment, their tram switched sharply to another line. The other tram passed by at an angle, moving away at rapid speed. But Hamed could still see the faces of its terrified passengers, no doubt drenched in the same cold sweat as he was. On hearing the spirit cackle again, he found his fear turning to anger. Looking up, he searched along the walls until he found a dangling handle on a chain in the corner. With effort, he raised himself up along the pole, and began making his way to it.
He took barely controlled steps toward the pulley, holding onto the backs of bolted chairs or whatever he could to draw himself forward. The tram’s speed didn’t help, nor did its switching lines twice again. But he was determined to get there, spurred on by the infuriating laughter of the spirit. It was one thing to place their lives in danger. But now this monster thought it could come to his city and cause such mayhem! That he wasn’t having! At last close enough, he extended a hand and tried for the pulley. He missed on the first attempt, and nearly fell back on the second—but on the third try he got his fingers firmly around it and pulled.
He held to the back of a seat as the car slowed to a grinding stop. There was the sound of engines dying then humming back to life. When the car moved again, it was in the opposite direction. The pulley was created for emergencies. It rerouted the tram to return home, making that its sole priority. With some fast turns, it switched lines, finding the unused circuit and heading back to Ramses Station. The al reacted in fury to this intervention, trying desperately to make the car go the way she wanted. But the tram refused, keeping to its predetermined course.
“It’s done!” Hamed told her. He’d gotten hold of the dagger again and held it before him. On the other side, Onsi had recovered and stood waiting. “You might as well give over!”
The al glared at him, baring her jagged teeth in contempt. In a blur she disappeared, becoming smoke again and entering the clockwork gears. The grating sound of her voice thundered throughout the car and it shook violently. Hamed recognized it quickly, even in the unfamiliar language—a curse. She was cursing the tram. Sparks erupted from the gears as once again the car picked up speed. It raced along the cable, setting off a high-pitched squeal and endless blue bolts of electricity. As he saw Ramses Station appearing rapidly through the front windows, he realized with dread what the al was planning.
“Grab onto something!” he yelled to Onsi, as he did the same. “She’s going to crash—!”
Hamed never finished his warning as the world turned violently upside down. He was spinning about, striking bolted down furniture as he tried to keep his limbs drawn in close. Nothing made sense, and he could barely tell what was happening. There was a terrific clamor of noise and a jarring sensation that made even his teeth shake—then finally came quiet and stillness.
Blinking, Hamed lifted his head to look about the tram, trying to figure out how the chairs had gotten onto the ceiling. It took a moment to make out that it wasn’t the ceiling he was looking at, and that the chairs were where they’d always been. The car had reached the platform but had been wrenched off its pulley. It now appeared to be laying on its side and he was squeezed between two seats where he’d landed. Everything hurt, but as he checked, nothing appeared to be broken. He was gathering his voice to call out for Onsi when a set of long claws gripped the seats above him and a ghastly face emerged to peer down.
The hag grinned in triumph. Hamed tried to lift the dagger he’d managed somehow to hold onto, but couldn’t bring it to bear at this angle. The al cackled and hissed, bending her shriveled head closer so that it was only inches from his own. Her breath, so cold it left flakes of ice on his moustache, held a fetid stink that filled his nostrils. He braced for an attack from those savage jaws, but abruptly the spirit lifted up, listening.
Hamed listened too. As his senses returned he could just make out a sound—a steady chanting that seemed to be building. The voices of women. Hundreds of women, gathered on the station floor. The al let out an eager cry and in a blur had become smoke again. It shot up through the smashed windows of the tram directly above and disappeared.
“Onsi!” Hamed cried out hoarsely. “Onsi! Are you alright?”
“Here!” the man groaned from nearby. “Roughed up, but I can manage. And you?”
“I’ll be fine,” he answered back, struggling to rise.
“The spirit!” Onsi called. “I fear it’s gone—”
“I know.” Hamed grit his teeth. They had succeeded in exorcising the al from Tram 015, only to send it into a sea of unsuspecting women below.
* * *
It seemed to take a painfully long time to extricate themselves from the overturned tram car as Hamed fretted. Then the ride down in the lift took interminable minutes more. He paced in place, counting down the floor numbers on the dial above. In his head, he scolded himself for not taking the stairs, though he knew that would have only taken longer. It was just his worry talking, but he had reason to be anxious. When the silver doors of the lift finally opened he bounded out, pushing past the boilerplate eunuch attendant and bracing for nothing less than blood and mayhem.
The floor of Ramses Station had grown more crowded, if that was possible. There were people everywhere—women, in the main, with some men who had joined them and a few djinn. They filled the hall and upper balconies, chanting and waving signs, some of them with slogans painted on their hands and cheeks. It was with relief that the horror he’d expected to find hadn’t come to pass. He didn’t doubt the al was here. It wouldn’t be able to help itself, not with this many women around. But maybe it had decided subtlety was best.
“How will we ever find it in all of this?” Onsi lamented.
“We’re investigators,” Hamed told him, already scanning the vast crowds. “We’re trained to see what other people would just pass by. Don’t look at everything. There’s too much. Instead, try to find what doesn’t belong. What doesn’t fit in.”
“What doesn’t belong,” Onsi muttered. He repeated it like a mantra until exclaiming, “Oh! There!”
Hamed nodded, impressed with the younger man’s acuity. He’d made out the spirit too, somewhere further in, close to the feet of the colossal statue of the pharaoh Ramses. It had taken the form of the girl, whose pale skin and bone-white slip assuredly looked out of place. She walked the floor of the hall barefoot, drinking in everything with her mouth parted in wonder. Women everywhere, as far as those hungry black eyes could see. She must have felt like a child let loose in a sweetshop, Hamed thought darkly. Reaching for the dagger in his dress, he started forward.
At least he tried to. Only their path was blocked by the sheer mass of people. They attempted to push through, but made little progress. He was wondering how’d they’d ever make their way when Onsi began shouting in a high voice.
“Can’t you see there are women with child here?” he cried. “Have Cairenes lost all manners? What a scandal! Will no one let us pass?”
Hamed stared in open admiration. The man really threw himself into a role! He’d almost forgotten they were still in their garb—and veiled at that. The dramatic appeals worked. People parted for them, admonishing those who didn’t move fast enough. Soon they had a clear path directly toward the al. But what he now saw made the pit of his stomach go hollow.
The al had chosen her prey: a woman who stood somewhat apart, watching the crowds and holding a swaddled baby in her arms. Stopping beside her, the spirit began her ritual, smiling and cooing at the infant. Looking down at the girl, the woman smiled, and bent slightly to show the face of her newborn. The al’s eyes widened. Cradling her thin arms, she rocked them back and forth before the woman with a querying look. Hamed moved faster, shouting and struggling to be heard above the cacophony as his heart pounded in panic.
But his warning was unneeded.
Perhaps it was the strangeness of the pale silver-haired girl. Or just a mother’s instinct. But the woman drew back and shook her head politely. She turned away and resumed looking at the crowd. Undaunted, the al reached out and tugged at her arm, still smiling inquisitively. The woman pulled away and this time retorted with words and a look that didn’t appear at all polite. The spirit’s smile vanished at that, storming over to anger. In a blur, she changed.
The hag that towered in the girl’s place looked more frightening in the light that shined through the plain glass windows of Ramses Station than it had in the gloom of the tram. Her pale gray skin looked as if it had been stretched too taut over her elongated body, where ribs and clavicle showed beneath. Rounded bumps of bone lined her spine, leading to legs that bent back like the hindquarters of an animal. She swung an empty rotted gaze above the heads of the crowd, opening her jaws wide—and screeched.
The mother with her infant, who had watched the horror unfold mere feet away, screamed. So too did anyone else who happened to be near, many of them running and staggering away from the al. The spirit’s wail had cut across the chanting in the hall, echoing even louder in the wide space and sending many to clutching their ears. When they recovered to catch sight of the nightmare in their midst, the whole crowd, as if sharing one mind, began to back away.
Hamed and Onsi fought harder to move forward now, amid bodies desperately pushing in the opposite direction. But it was little use; they were dragged along like a tide. Near the al, only one person was left. Hamed saw to his horror that it was the mother and infant. The woman stood rooted to the spot, gripped by fear. Her arms clutched her infant protectively, eyes fixed on the looming danger. Having secured her prey, the hag turned back to the woman in triumph and all but salivated at the baby in her arms.
Hamed lifted his dagger. It was an impossible throw, but if he could just strike the spirit that might be enough. He stumbled to get his footing so he could brace himself properly and said a prayer to the most Merciful and Beneficent God to make his aim true.
But someone was suddenly in his way.
It was another woman, wearing a long black gallabiyah over her plump frame. She’d run up to stand behind the al and was shouting. The hag twisted its neck around and gave a short screeching burst in threat. But the woman stood her ground, holding up an object fastened to a necklace. It was a hamsa, Hamed recognized in surprise—a blue painted amulet shaped like the open palm of the right hand with an eye in the center. An old symbol, it was still popular in the countryside as a protective against evil. The woman was wielding it now like a weapon and calling out surahs at the top of her lungs.
The al turned fully now, lifting one of those massive clawed hands to cut down the bothersome interloper. But from out of the crowd, another woman appeared—this one in colorful Nubian prints. She held up an open palm, where a hamsa had been inscribed in henna, and added her own unwavering voice. Hamed watched in astonishment as more women ran forward, joining in chanting at the spirit and making warding gestures with their hands. One younger woman had gotten directly in front of the stricken mother, taking off her stylish Parisian hat covered in blue ostrich feathers and shaking it before the hag’s face.
The spirit turned this way and that, hissing and raising her claws menacingly. But she seemed stunned by the show of these bold women, who had banded together to protect one of their own. And that was precisely what Hamed needed.
Many in the crowd had stopped to watch the odd happenings, and he had been able to push forward, finally breaking through to the front. Running up on his heeled shoes, he kept to the back of the bewildered and distracted spirit, staying out of her sight. When he pulled the dagger this time and struck at her exposed back, he didn’t miss.
The al cried in pain or anger as the blade scored a length across the bones of her spine. Where the iron cut skin, acrid gray smoke rose up. She flung out a thick bony arm, sending Hamed sprawling back across the floor. He heard many in the crowd gasp, some coming to help him, thinking a pregnant woman had been hurt. With their aid, he sat up in time to see the al stalking forward, its hollow gaze seeming to recognize him, that horrid mouth of jagged teeth pulling back in a rictus. Catching his breath, he fought to speak, getting out one word.
“Stop!”
The hag went immediately still, poised in mid-step, one clawed hand raised high. Hamed felt a swelling relief as he watched the spirit stand quivering in place. Many of the stories said that once you pricked an al with iron, you could force her to do your bidding. He was overjoyed to see that part of the tale worked. Making it to his feet, he pushed away the hands trying to hold him back and walked up to the spirit. Coming to stand just beneath her tall frame, he stared up and perched on his toes to meet her straining face.
“Step back,” he ordered crisply.
The al let loose a harried whine but began to walk backward. Her long limbs moved jerkily, making cracking noises as she went—but go she did. Hamed watched in satisfaction as the hag took up a pose like a statue, arms fixed at her sides even as her face shook in open contempt.
Onsi came running up then, huffing, his identification held up high as he addressed the shackled spirit: “Under the authority of the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments, and Supernatural Entities, we hereby take you into custody for breach of numerous regulations governing paranormal persons and sentient creatures, beginning with Article—!”
Hamed decided that this time he wouldn’t mind listening to Onsi tick off each violation, but the younger man was interrupted by a girl running into the hall and shouting, her high voice breaking the quiet that had descended. What now, Hamed wondered? Several other people picked up the first cry, carrying and repeating what had been said. It was as the words reached him that the whole of Ramses Station erupted into a deafening cheer.
“The vote passed! We won! We won!”
Swept up in the jubilation, Hamed found he was cheering as well.