It happened in slow motion. Her father had been sitting in front of her, head bowed as if in prayer. Then she’d felt rage pour out of her, searing hot. Suddenly Bianca was there, intercepting the fire, the fire Leila had pushed all her feelings of betrayal and hurt into.
How could he have done this to us? How could he have bargained with the lives of his children? Every question seemed to flow from her fingertips in the form of a flame. And instead of hitting her father, they hit her twin.
It hadn’t felt like she was the one doing it. Leila had been floating above herself, watching it all unfold. She couldn’t even claim she’d done it because she was possessed; this was all Leila, years of pent-up frustration with her family and their Otherness bursting out of her. And now this bargain.
Bianca lay on the ground, her pajamas charred, the hot pink reindeers turned to gray ash. There weren’t burn marks on her, but her eyes were shut, and she was unresponsive. Her father’s endless supply of tears just flowed even harder.
“Naaaaaaah,” he moaned, cradling Bianca’s head. “Dokhtaram. Janam. Jiggaram.” He mumbled the words over and over, my daughter, my heart, my liver, a term of endearment in Farsi. And all Leila could do was watch, dumbstruck.
Finally, she blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and poured cold water from the spigot onto a clean shop rag. Wordlessly, she sat next to her father and placed it on Bianca’s head, their fight forgotten, his tears falling as they joined Leila’s.
Please let Bianca be okay. Please let her have fainted like Foster.
“Baba?” Leila whimpered, as if offering a truce. “What do we do?”
He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, then looked at Bianca again. Something flickered across his face — Recognition? Fear? Hope?
“Get the esfand,” he told Leila, his voice suddenly stern.
Leila’s stomach roiled at the word. Esfand, the incense used to keep evil spirits away, what they called wild rue seeds in English. She’d noticed how Bianca had circled it around the house and how she’d had to walk over it carefully, the seeds putrid even when they were unlit. But she ran to the house anyway. Her hand trembled as she gently opened the kitchen drawer where they kept the candles, matches, lighters, and esfand. Just picking it up made her skin crawl. She ripped a sheet of tinfoil, and she didn’t bother grabbing a lighter.
Leila sprinted back to the yard and threw the plastic packet of esfand to her father. She exhaled, glad to not be touching it anymore. Just holding it through plastic had made her feel strange.
Bianca’s face was now chalk white.
“Here,” Leila said, handing her dad the tinfoil so he could form a shallow plate for the esfand. They switched places, Leila now holding Bianca’s body in her lap. Bianca’s breath was shallow, and she could feel the clammy sweat of her sister’s palms. What have I done? Leila thought miserably. And then: What am I becoming?
Dad poured the dried rue and placed it on the gravel. He looked at Leila expectantly.
Leila gulped. It felt weird using her flames in front of her father, felt strange sharing this new part of herself. She could feel the cold weight of the esfand on the ground, the menacing thing inside her shrinking away from it, but she held out her hand anyway and lit a small flame under the foil packet.
Slowly, thin strands of incense smoke wound their way up as the seeds cracked and popped. But the second the smell touched Leila’s nose, she dropped Bianca’s head with a thud and ran to the other side of the garage. She had to get away from the smell, had to get away from the toxic fumes as they wafted. Why this affected her and not iron, she wasn’t sure.
Her reaction had been automatic, as if a doctor had hit her knee with a rubber mallet. The stinging December air was nothing compared to the pain, the torture, of having to smell the esfand that kept evil spirits away. Evil spirits like the one Leila had now become.
From the other side of the yard she heard Bianca cough and splutter, the strong scent acting like smelling salts, and Leila sagged with relief. Bianca is going to be okay. She wasn’t hurt, she was just knocked out, Bianca will be all right —
And then Bianca was suddenly standing next to her, breathing hard, her skin color back to normal, no, better than normal, and her eyes — her eyes, they looked —
“Oh my god,” Bianca said with disgust. “That incense smelled horrible.”
And then she threw up.
Leila held Bianca’s hair, rubbing her back as she heaved in the weak December light. The sound of footsteps crunched closer, then there was their dad, his face lined with worry as he watched Bianca retch.
Bianca stood up, wiping her mouth. Leila gasped.
It was Bianca, but a new version of her. Her skin looked so bright it practically shone under the gray Christmas sky. Her hair was glossy and strong. Her eyelashes, already long, looked even thicker, if possible. And her eyes…
“Bianca,” Leila gasped. “Your eyes are blue.”
“WHAT?” Bianca clutched her face, horrified. “What happened? You were about to take out Baba, and then I woke up with the worst combo of orange juice and toothpaste I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
The esfand, Leila thought numbly. Now Bianca stood before Leila, just as damned as her. What have I done?
“But… you had your ring…,” Leila said, clawing for an explanation.
Leila’s eyes met her father’s, and his expression crumpled, his already swollen face threatening to cry more as he stood there. He wordlessly held up the iron ring Bianca had thrown him.
“Behnaz jan,” he said. “Beeya, it’s too cold.” Leila watched him place Bianca’s ring on a rusted car, as if deciding he didn’t care about its protection anymore.
Bianca shook her head, dazed. “I’ll be right in, Baba. I don’t feel cold.”
Of course you don’t. Leila wanted to cry. Of course you don’t feel cold. Their dad just nodded sadly and shuffled back to the kitchen. “I’ll pour you some fresh chai,” he said, as if chai could solve everything.
“I feel so weird,” Bianca said, holding her hands in front of her face.
“Bianca,” Leila began. She’d have to be the one to break it to her, but her throat had gone dry. It was her fault. Leila had done to this her.
Leila instead held up her phone, turning on selfie mode. Bianca’s eyes went wide at her image, her hands roving over her even-sharper cheekbones, her redder lips, her fuller hair, and now, her bright blue eyes. Leila’s eyes looked more gold compared to the brown eyes she had before her transformation, but nothing as stark a change as Bianca’s.
“Holy crap,” Bianca breathed. “I look incredible!”
Leila lowered the phone. “Huh?” This was not the reaction she’d been bracing for.
“Did I get a power too?” Bianca asked excitedly. “Hold on, let me try to shoot flames.”
Leila watched in disbelief as Bianca scrunched up her face, then shouted, “Flame-ee-yo!”
Nothing happened.
“You look like you’re trying to take a huge dump,” Leila said, trying not to laugh. But secretly, she was relieved. Bianca hadn’t gotten a power, she had just gotten some weird physical changes. Okay, Leila thought. We can work with that. That’s not so bad.
“Dang,” Bianca said bitterly. “I really thought I was gonna get to be like you.”
“You want to be like me?” Leila asked, surprised.
“I mean… being able to shoot flames has to come in handy.” Bianca was looking at Leila like she was a bit dim.
“You know I can’t eat red meat anymore, right? It has too much iron. I can wear the iron ring, but ingesting it is too much. I found out the hard way at lunch this week.”
That did it. Bianca gasped. “No cheeseburgers? But… but…”
Leila sighed. “Or spinach. Be glad you didn’t get any of this stuff. Just keep away from that ring, to be safe.”
Bianca turned back to the house, resigned. “Come on, we’d better go talk to Baba.”
For the second time in ten minutes, Leila was incredibly relieved. Yes, she’d thrown flames at her sister, but Bianca was alive and unburnt somehow. Yes, she’d been transformed to look like the best plastic surgeon in the world had worked on her, but she didn’t have any weird powers. They were going to be all right.
Bianca stumbled in the dirt, her legs still wobbly, and Leila instinctively steadied her. But when she gripped Bianca’s hand, she felt something. Not quite a static shock, but a crackle of energy.
Bianca looked down at their hands, and her blue eyes began to glow.
“Bianca?” Leila asked, panicking. What was going on? What was her sister doing? Leila tried to remove her hand, but Bianca’s grip had turned to stone. Leila began to panic, her breath coming in rapid gulps.
“Bianca?” Leila repeated, her voice frantic.
Bianca didn’t answer, and her blue eyes glowed even brighter. Leila watched as a blue flicker of static formed between their hands, then turned into a tiny flame, no bigger than a pilot light. Leila looked, mesmerized, as it climbed up her own arm, like a bright blue vein.
“Don’t fight it,” Bianca whispered. “It won’t hurt.”
“Bianca? What won’t hurt? Let go!” Leila demanded.
But Bianca wasn’t there. Her eyes bored into Leila’s, but they weren’t focusing. Her grip on Leila’s arm was like a bear trap.
Leila’s body suddenly seized. It felt like when she’d had sleep paralysis and that demon really had been sitting on her. Her body was frozen, and all she could see now were Bianca’s bright blue eyes boring into her own, like a serpent hypnotizing its prey.
“Nghhh,” Leila moaned. The static current had taken over her whole body now, like limbs that had been woken up and had that pins-and-needles feeling.
Turn around, a small voice inside Leila said. It wasn’t the cackling, menacing djinn. It sounded gentler, like a pitcher of water being poured into a pond. Turn around, the voice said again, this time more insistent. Leila’s body began to ache, but when she turned around, a wonderful, cool feeling washed over her again.
Pat your head three times, the same voice said again. Leila did it, tapping her hair. She’d do anything to feel this blissful, mind-numbing relief.
Whistle! And Leila did, whistling a long, clear note. It felt incredible. How could she feel like this forever?
“Oh, hell yes,” she heard Bianca say, as if she were speaking in another room, somewhere less cozy and comfortable than Leila’s brain had now become. Leila waited for another command, eager to please the voice, but none came.
“All right,” Bianca said. Slowly, Leila felt the cold of the backyard seep back into her. The calm feelings dissolved, and the fuzzy outline of Bianca became clearer. There was no mistaking it: Bianca’s blue eyes were iridescent.
“Bianca?” Leila whispered. “What did you do?”
Instead of answering, Bianca just grinned.
“My turn.”