In the Quran, Allah creates human beings from clay and (in a parallel genesis) djinn from fire. Therefore — as the editors Mahvesh Murad and Jared Shurin suggest in their introduction to a new anthology of djinn-themed short fiction, THE DJINN FALLS IN LOVE: And Other Stories (Solaris, paper, $15.99) — djinn reflect humankind not just as mirror-images but almost as a sibling species: “We may stem from different materials,” they write, “but in all the ways that matter we are very much the same.” As humans sit around a campfire, pondering their foibles and aspirations amid the dancing of numinous flames and shadows, we may be catching “a look into the other world; a glimpse into beings who are like us and not us, made of a smokeless fire that can consume us.”

These then are not Disneyfied tales of wish-granting tricksters, but stories of people burning like djinn and djinn as fiery people. The collection ranges widely in style and perspective, making room for the title poem by the Egyptian writer Hermes (translated from Arabic by Robin Moger) as well as poetic prose by the Canadian writer Amal El-Mohtar and a distinctly feminist take on wizards and harem intrigue by the British fantasy writer Claire North. Several stories are set painfully in the present, like Sami Shah’s “Reap,” which involves an American Air Force officer conducting remote surveillance in Pakistan. Others find parallels in secondary worlds, as in K.J. Parker’s “Message in a Bottle.” In a nod to the dance of djinn through different cultures, the editors retain the creatures’ various translated names: jinn, genie, ifrit and more. This choice highlights the collection’s range.

Nearly all of the stories are haunting, reflective and firelight-beautiful, but there are standouts. Jamal Mahjoub’s “Duende 2077” is the most explicitly rebellious simply for its premise, which posits a futuristic Caliphate after the fall of Christian/Western hegemony. Nnedi Okorafor’s “History” is gloriously gonzo, following an Ibo-trained African-American sorceress as she gives the performance of her career to an audience of literal gods. And Neil Gaiman’s “Somewhere in America,” excerpted from “American Gods,” comes closest to reflecting the collection’s theme. In this tale, a painfully lonely foreign businessman, adrift in a frightening land called New York, finds comfort and possible freedom in the arms of a taxi-driving ifrit.

Exquisite and audacious, and highly recommended.

CaitlÍn R. Kiernan has long been hailed as one of the pre-eminent authors of weird fiction, and her new novella, AGENTS OF DREAMLAND (Tom Doherty, paper, $11.99), shows why. In this recursive, Lovecraft-inflected police procedural, two agents of the shadowy government group Y pursue the cult leader Drew Standish, whose activities seem to herald a Jonestown-like mass murder. But far more important than whether the killing can be stopped is whether it’s already too late, since the manhunt coincides with the appearance of a deadly extraterrestrial fungus. The clock is ticking, the Elder Beings have been invoked and possible futures have begun to solidify in ways that spell the end of humanity.

Despite the apocalyptic narrative, this is a character study, focusing on the two agents and layering exposition over their respective quirks. Immacolata Sexton is as intriguing as her name; she sees the future, might not be quite human and happily uses her prescience to intimidate rivals and colleagues. The Signalman initially seems more conventional, yet he struggles against PTSD and fear of infection caused by an encounter with the grotesque fungus. This ultimately makes him more engaging than the flamboyant Immacolata or even the ostensibly charismatic Standish.