“That sounds wonderful, Zahrias,” she said. “Thank you.”
Her words sounded sincere enough, but he noted the briefest of hesitations before she spoke. From the very first time he’d met her, he had sensed something about Julia that was almost too controlled, as if she had to measure every word and every deed before she spoke or acted. Now she seemed even more restrained. Was that because of the situation they now found themselves in…or because she was having a difficult time being around him once again?
If it was the latter possibility, he could understand her restraint all too well, for he found himself holding back, knowing they had never shared one word that could not be safely overheard by another. He wanted her, but he would not allow himself to have her — even if she wanted him just as fiercely.
“You are more than welcome,” he said, knowing as he spoke that he sounded too stiff, too formal. But what else could he do? “I will leave you now, so that you may settle yourselves before dinner, but I will come for you in the morning so you may speak with the other guards. I assume that the tenth hour of the morning would not be too early?”
“Not too early at all.” A flicker of a smile played around her mouth, and Zahrias had to force himself not to stare at her lips, so full, so soft. “I’m usually up hours before that.”
“I will see you then.” He bowed slightly, then turned away and strode off down the corridor toward the elevator. That contraption was not his destination, however; he merely wished to be out of sight before he used his powers to transport himself from the hotel to the library in the house he now occupied. For some reason, he did not wish Julia to see him disappear in such a way, for it would only reinforce how very different they were from one another.
Zahrias did not quite wish to ponder why that fact should bother him so much.
* * *
“He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” Brent Sanderson remarked.
Julia sat with Brent because Nancy and Eric had paired themselves off at a table for two over in the corner, clearly not wanting to squander this rare chance for a romantic meal together, and Miles and Lindsay were still nowhere to be found. Julia had to hope they’d eat something at some point, but she supposed that wasn’t her problem. They were grown adults, and she wasn’t their babysitter.
Anyway, the food was amazing. Julia didn’t know how Phillip had managed to throw together stuffed quail and rice and steamed fall vegetables, accompanied by the kind of fresh-baked bread she hadn’t tasted since the world ended, but she wouldn’t argue with the end result.
If only she could have shared it with someone other than Brent.
Not that she didn’t like Brent. She liked him very much. He was a good man, and an important part of the Los Alamos community. But he was certainly no Zahrias.
“Well,” she said, making sure she sounded as unconcerned as possible, “he is a djinn, after all.”
“True.” Brent sipped some of his wine, looking as if he wanted to grimace but wouldn’t allow himself to. She had a feeling he was more a beer guy, but of course Phillip would never dream of allowing someone to drink a Budweiser with one of his finely crafted meals and had served a truly lovely pinot noir from the hotel’s cellars to accompany their dinner. “Maybe that’s it. I haven’t really been around them much — just that little bit in the spring when Margolis dragged us all over here. Although the one Jessica is with seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” Julia replied. There was an understatement. Jace was strong, determined, and passionately devoted to the woman he had chosen. Jessica Monroe was one lucky girl. “Most of them are.”
Brent raised an eyebrow at that remark.
“All right, the ones here in Santa Fe,” she amended. “Obviously, there’s a whole group of them who aren’t nice people at all. But the ones who tried to save humanity, who’re with their Chosen — they’re good. Different from us, but good.”
“If you say so.” Brent scooped up a forkful of rice and chewed before adding, “Just between you and me, I’ll be glad to be back in Los Alamos. It feels weird to be here.”
His commented startled her a bit. “Weird how?”
A lift of his thin shoulders. “I don’t know. Just…I mean, look at this dining room.”
“What about it?”
“It’s like…nothing changed. The lights are on, and they’ve lit the little candles on the tables, and we’re eating a meal that could be right off a menu from before.” He didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “before.” He didn’t have to. Everyone’s existence had been forever divided between now and the world before the Heat. “But the only reason it’s like that here is because this town is run by djinn, and they can use their powers for whatever they want, including making it seem like the world is the same as it always was.”
Julia picked up her glass and sipped some wine. Lush fruit spilled over her tongue, so much more complex than anything they had back in Los Alamos. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
A pause then, while Brent’s brows knitted together, as if he was wrestling with a thought he wasn’t sure he quite knew how to articulate. “But…I think it is. The world has changed — changed because of them, even if the ones here in Santa Fe didn’t have anything to do with the Dying. We need to acknowledge that so we can move forward. Because all the candlelit dinners in the world can’t change the fact that nothing will ever be the same again.”
Abruptly, Julia set down her glass. The wine she had just drunk seemed to turn bitter on her tongue, although she knew it hadn’t changed — she had. Or at least her thoughts had. “No, it won’t be the same,” she said at length, after she had sat there, silent, for a long moment, one finger tracing the curved edge of the wine glass’s base. “I guess I was hoping it would be okay to pretend a little bit, though.”
Brent’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Julia. I — I didn’t mean to spoil your dinner or anything. I mean, it must be tough enough for you, what with Margolis — ”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she cut in. “Because that will spoil my dinner. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Like…what’s your best guess on how our gasoline supplies will hold up this winter?”
Brent shook his head. “You call that stimulating dinner conversation?”
“It’s important, isn’t it?” She’d been tracking their gas supplies on her endless spreadsheets, but since he was in charge of the motor pool and did the actual dispensing of the precious fuel, he had a better idea of how seriously people were taking her efforts at conservation.
“Well, yeah.” He pushed some rice around on his plate, then said, “I think we’ll be okay. We’ve yet to tap all the gas stations in Española, and there’s stuff in some of the outlying areas as well if we need it. And then everything in Albuquerque, if we decide to venture that far afield — ”
He went on, plain, honest features serious as he weighed their various options. Julia let him keep talking, because then she didn’t have to speak, could nod at the appropriate intervals and act as if she was absorbing everything he had to say. The subject was an important one, and deserved her attention. She couldn’t seem to make herself focus, however. Her thoughts kept straying to Zahrias.
She would see him the next morning. That wasn’t so long from now. And then….
And then you’ll try to remember why the hell you’re here, she told herself grimly. Get a goddamn grip.
With a frown, she poured herself some more wine. Coming here was starting to seem like a very bad idea.
Chapter Four
By the time Zahrias showed up at the hotel to collect her, Julia thought she’d more or less gotten her thoughts together. She wouldn’t let herself thrill at the sound of his voice, or do anything but briefly note that he wore yet another of his open embroidered robes, even though the weather had clouded up and the air had a distinct bite to it as they exited the hotel lobby.
He probably doesn’t even
notice, she thought. He’s a fire elemental, after all. He could probably stand bare-chested in a blizzard and not bat an eyelash.
And she promptly pushed that mental image as far from her thoughts as she could. Bad enough that his clothing revealed as much as it did. But to think of him with that robe gone, showing the heavy muscles in his chest and arms and shoulders….
She’d been right. Coming here was not a good idea at all.
Somehow she managed to keep it together as they went back to the U.S. Marshals’ building. Zahrias seemed to think that she would want to check in on Miles and Lindsay before sitting down with the other three guards, the ones who hadn’t been on duty when Margolis escaped. Julia went along with Zahrias’ wishes, even though her policy had always been to let Miles do more or less what he wanted and then wait for him — or, more often, Lindsay — to report on his findings.
The two of them looked cross and rumpled enough to have spent the night down in the bowels of the building, although Julia hoped that wasn’t the case. Lindsay was propped up against the wall, arms folded over her chest, while Miles had his iPad attached to the biometric scanner next to the door. The scowl he wore was fierce in the extreme.
“That good?” Julia asked.
Miles didn’t even look up at her. “No, it’s not good at all. I can’t find any evidence of tampering. No one has altered the programming of the scanner, and the door itself is also untouched.”
“All of which has to point to someone on the outside helping him,” Lindsay added. “And someone who’s got to be a djinn. There’s no human being in Santa Fe who could’ve gotten Margolis out of there without leaving any trace at all.”
That was a prospect Julia hadn’t really wanted to contemplate. Why on earth would one of Zahrias’ people want to let Margolis out? They knew that he’d tortured Jace, had outright killed Natila, one of their own. Julia sent a sideways glance at Zahrias, whose brows were drawn together, his dark eyes seeming to smolder in an echo of the flames that flickered in and out of existence around him.
“I cannot believe that,” he said at length, voice taut with pent-up anger. “My people’s hatred of Margolis runs deep. They will never forget what he did to Natila.”
A sudden thought came to Julia. Seeing the forbidding frown on Zahrias’ features, she almost held her tongue. But surely they’d need to explore every possibility…even the unpleasant ones. “What if — ” she began, then broke off, wondering if they’d all think she had gone too far.
“What if what?” Lindsay asked, pushing herself away from the wall.
Julia glanced at Zahrias. His frown was still in place, had etched itself deeper, if anything. But even that scowl couldn’t distort the symmetry of his features. She pulled in a breath and said, “What if one of the djinn here in Santa Fe did release him…so they could get their revenge for what he did to Natila and Jace?”
A long silence greeted her question. Miles looked up from his iPad, expression both curious and surprised, as if he wished he’d thought of that theory. Lindsay’s gaze shifted to Zahrias and then back to Julia, startled.
Finally, however, the djinn leader shook his head. “No, I do not think that is the explanation. Not,” he went on, lifting a hand when Julia began to open her mouth, “because I do not believe none of them are capable of such a thing, but because if they had truly wished to seek vengeance for Margolis’ wrongdoings, they would have done so long before now. Also, I live among them and see them every day. While they may still hold anger in their hearts toward him, they have all appeared to accept his punishment. A life in the four walls of a prison cell is no life at all, perhaps far worse than a swift death might have been.”
Julia wished she could argue with him, but, as he had just said, he lived here and knew the people who now looked to him as their leader. Zahrias was many things, but she didn’t believe he lacked in perception. If one of the djinn here in Santa Fe had harbored such a murderous fury toward Margolis that they had broken him out just to kill him, Zahrias would have known.
“Then I guess we’re back to nothing,” she said, feeling far more tired than she should have, given the comfortable room she’d slept in the night before and the excellent breakfast she’d eaten before coming here. But she still had the three remaining guards to interview. Maybe they’d be able to provide some insights. She lifted her chin and looked over at Zahrias. He still wore that same troubled expression, although it seemed to soften slightly as their eyes met.
Her breath caught. Damn, she really needed to figure out a way to keep herself from reacting to him every time they were in the same room. At least Miles and Lindsay didn’t seem to have noticed anything; Miles had returned to typing on his iPad’s screen, and Lindsay just looked annoyed, as if she thought she must be overlooking something obvious.
“Let us hope not,” Zahrias said then. “Come — I’ll take you to speak with the other guards now.”
* * *
Weariness was evident in the droop of Julia’s shoulders, but she seemed businesslike enough as she sat down at the long table in one of the building’s conference rooms and folded her hands on top of the pale wood surface. Zahrias sat down next to her, trying to keep himself from breathing in the subtle perfume that seemed to waft gently from her hair. To be this close was almost intoxicating. Perhaps he should not have sat so close. But no, that would have been far too obvious. It made sense that the two of them would sit thus, while the three guards they wished to question arranged themselves across the table.
Two djinn, one human. Zahrias could see Julia’s eyes flicker with surprise as she realized one of the djinn guards was female; apparently she hadn’t been expecting that. Alshira had lost her Chosen, Clay, to the rogue djinn Khalim and his followers. She had no reason to stay here in Santa Fe, but she did, mourning the untimely death of her lover. And when Zahrias had put out the call, saying he needed those who could give up something of their lives so that Margolis would be guarded at all times, she had been among the first to answer his request. The other djinn was Murrah, whose Chosen, Martine, had been captured and abused by Khalim. Zahrias knew the two lovers had had a difficult time becoming one with another again, and so Murrah had accepted guard duty as a way of giving Martine more time to come to terms with what had happened to her.
And the fourth guard, Lewis Turnbull. His djinn lover had not been overly happy about Lewis taking on guard duty, but he’d insisted. Why? Was it so he could wait for an opportunity to free the captive? Why Lewis would want to do such a thing, Zahrias had no idea, but he would be the first to admit that he did not always understand mortals’ thought processes. At the same time, he had allowed Lewis to take the position, hoping that by doing so he would show that he trusted the mortals in his community as much as he trusted the djinn.
Julia spoke then. “I appreciate you coming here to discuss Margolis’ escape. I realize that none of you were on duty when he disappeared, but I thought speaking with you might help me understand what might have happened.”
“I understand,” Alshira said. Unlike most djinn women, who allowed their hair to flow free, Alshira’s long black locks were drawn back into a severe braid. She had taken Clay’s death hard. Zahrias had not counseled her to look for a replacement. Where would she even begin such a search, when the rest of their kind were busy making sure that no humans who were not already chosen had been scoured from the earth?
“And I,” Murrah put in, his voice a soft rumble.
“Anything I can do to help you find out what happened,” Lewis said. His mouth looked tense, although Zahrias knew that could have been for any number of reasons.
Julia smiled at all of them. What must it cost her, to appear pleasant and polite, when the man who had violated her was now free? Zahrias didn’t know. What he did know was that he would show Margolis no mercy if he should encounter the mortal ever again. The man’s neck would be snapped like a twig before he had a chance to open his mouth.
“Thank you,” she said, still
smiling. “I guess this question is for all of you. Did you notice anything different about Margolis over the past few days or even weeks, something that might signal he was planning an escape?”
The three guards exchanged glances. Alshira spoke first. “No. He read a good deal. We would bring him books from the town library, but only one at a time. He did not speak to me much. He does not like djinn, I think.”
If anything, Alshira had understated the case. Margolis’ pathological hatred of djinn was well known. While Zahrias could understand that antipathy, he thought it entirely misdirected. The djinn here in Santa Fe would have left him alone…if only he had possessed the presence of mind to leave them alone as well. His treatment of Jasreel and Natila, however, could not be overlooked.
“Yes, that much was obvious,” Murrah said. “He did not like to say anything to me. Even when he wanted a new book from the library, he would write down his request on a slip of paper and give it to me so he would not have to speak.”
“Paper?” Julia echoed. “He had paper with him in his cell?”
“Yes,” Murrah replied. “He had a little book and a pencil. To write down his thoughts, I believe. I saw him writing in it a good deal.”
“There was nothing like that in his cell,” Julia said. Her tone sounded almost accusatory, and Zahrias caught the quick, sidelong glance she sent him through her thick eyelashes.
“No,” Zahrias told her. He had inspected the cell himself, and the only thing there besides the furnishings was the one paperbound book Margolis had left lying open on the bed. “It is true that we did allow him his diary. But he must have taken it with him wherever he went.”
Julia did not look very pleased by that revelation. Not that Zahrias could blame her, for Margolis’ diary might have contained a good deal of useful information, including the identity of the person who had helped him to escape. However, whatever that mortal’s faults, stupidity was not one of them. He would never have left anything incriminating behind where his captors might find it.
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