djinn wars 04 - broken (3 page)

Zahrias pushed away from the desk where he’d been sitting and strode out into the hallway. On this mild autumn day, most of the windows in the house were open, along with the doors that allowed access to the interior courtyard of the structure. The building’s design was one of the reasons he had chosen it for his own; his people often constructed their homes around central courtyards, and that similarity made this alien place seem a little more familiar.

Even so, he felt an unwelcome uneasiness thrumming along his veins. Whence it had come, he couldn’t say, except that he found himself strangely unable to concentrate, restless. Boredom was not an emotional state the djinn usually experienced, for their lives were so long that they were used to the ebb and flow of excitement and calm, stimulation and silence. If it still seemed strange to him that his home was now here, in this world his people had coveted for so long, he supposed he would get used to it in a decade or two.

All was at peace. A peace hard-won, and not without its sacrifices, but he knew the community here was safe, and would remain that way. The elders who nominally ruled over his kind would not allow themselves to be circumvented again. His fellow djinn could continue to ravage and raid, hunting down mankind’s last survivors, but they would never dare to come here.

Perhaps his unease merely arose from the impending birth of his brother Dani’s child. Lauren, Dani’s Chosen, could no longer assist Zahrias in the running of the Santa Fe community, since she was due any day now, but Zahrias hadn’t yet selected her replacement. He could muddle on for another week or so before making a decision. Indeed, while he had thought Lauren indispensable at one time, now the djinn and their Chosen had all settled into an easy enough rhythm, enjoying the beauties of this world and its bounties, and he wasn’t sure if his people needed all that much management anymore. No one took more than their due, and so far any disputes or quarrels had been few and far between.

He wouldn’t attempt to explain such unprecedented harmony, for in general, the djinn tended to be quick to anger, easy to take offense. The peace that had settled over Santa Fe could be the result of realizing how close they had been to losing everything. If that was the truth of the matter, he knew he would not argue with it.

For some reason, though, Zahrias could not find that peace within himself. He had hoped that acting as leader here would give some shape and form to his days. Unfortunately, all he had done was surround himself with people who appeared to be infinitely happier than he.

The trees in the courtyard were just starting to turn, the leaves at their crowns beginning to ripple with deep gold. For some reason, seeing that warm shimmer in the wind made him think of her hair, the way it had blown around her face with the glinting shades of old gold coins.

No, he would not allow himself to think about her. He had done his best to banish her face from his memory, but thoughts of her would still come to him unbidden, as they did now. And with those thoughts, as always, a wave of guilt.

I saw her, when all the others were selecting their Chosen. I saw her, and wanted her, and did nothing, because I would not allow myself to be wounded by a mortal woman again. And because of my cowardice, she has suffered the kind of hurt that no woman should ever have to endure.

When Julia revealed to everyone precisely what that sorry specimen of a man had done to her, Zahrias had found himself so overcome by rage that it had taken all his strength, all his control, to keep himself from blasting Richard Margolis from the face of the earth. Even now, flames flickered wildly around Zahrias at the memory. But again, he had done nothing, because to reveal his anger would have been to let everyone around know that he was not quite so detached from the situation as he wished others to believe.

It seemed the more he tried not to think about Julia Innes, the more she occupied his thoughts.

He opened the door of wood and glass that allowed him entry into the courtyard. The breeze was brisk, ruffling through his hair, pulling stray strands from the clasp of red gold that held most of it away from his face. Usually, he found if he stepped out here and allowed himself a few moments with the wind and the sky, he could calm his thoughts. Now, though, his restlessness seemed only to intensify, as if the bright breeze bore on its wings invisible messengers of ill portent.

Perhaps you have spent too long within the walls of this city. The Chosen cannot venture too far forth unaccompanied, but we djinn do not share those restrictions.

Yes, he should go out. Not to walk, but to ride. His fellow djinn and their Chosen had taken over a stable near the edge of town and collected some of the stray horses in the area, partly for amusement, and partly because, sooner or later, the strange liquid that powered their vehicles would run out, and the horses would be their only viable mode of conveyance. True, he and the other djinn could move from place to place easily, and could take their Chosen with them as necessary, but it still never hurt to have other options.

While he would never admit it to anyone else, Zahrias found that caring for the horses and riding them around the land that was now his home had become his own form of meditation. He couldn’t indulge as often as he would like, for it often seemed that some matter or another would keep him occupied at the center of town, but even so, he had been able to go out enough that he had familiarized himself with the contours of this land, so steady, so enduring and strong, so very unlike the ever-shifting planes of the world that had once been more a prison to the djinn than their home. They had endured it because they must, but this earth was so very much more appealing.

He nodded to himself, as if agreeing with his plan, and then reentered the house and closed the door to the courtyard behind him. It wouldn’t do to be gone for too long, not with Dani’s child about to make its appearance, but even an hour would probably be sufficient. And if the child did decide to come in that hour, well, someone could come to fetch him. A few miles meant nothing to any of his people.

With that resolution fixed in his mind, he shut his eyes and visualized the stables, the long row of buildings and the dry grass that surrounded them and the sweeping vistas of far-off mountains to every side. In less than the blink of an eye, he was there, standing outside the stall that held his favorite horse, the huge black stallion that Lilias’ Chosen, Aidan, had named Goliath.

No one seemed to be about, but Goliath’s trough held fresh water, and the bag in his stall bulged with hay, so Zahrias knew someone had already been by today to look in on the horses and make sure they’d been cared for. In fact, several of the stalls were empty, signaling that a few of Santa Fe’s denizens had had the same idea as he, deciding that this bright autumn day was a perfect one for a ride.

Zahrias’ mouth tightened at the possibility of encountering one of those other riders. He had wished for solitude, but at the moment, he saw no one else. It would be easy enough to slip out before anyone else returned, especially since he did not have to waste time putting a saddle and bridle on his horse. A djinn had no need of such things.

He opened the door to the stall and Goliath ambled out, shaking his heavy mane, nostrils flaring at the scents carried on the wind. Clearly, he wanted to be outside as well, free of the confines of his stall.

With a show of agility that probably would have startled a human onlooker, but which Zahrias took for granted, he leaped onto the horse’s back, settling himself behind the great beast’s withers. On most occasions, he would whisper a word into Goliath’s ears, letting the horse know where he wanted to go, but today Zahrias found he didn’t much care where he went, as long as it was out and away.

Goliath lifted his head into the breeze, ears twitching. Then he turned and headed toward the rear of the property, where a gate opened onto empty hillsides dotted here and there with the squat dark green trees called juniper and the scrubby shapes of piñon pines.

Not that Goliath needed a gate. His pace increased, shifting from a slow canter to a hard gallop. Zahrias clung to the great beast’s back, moving with each stride, letting the bright air stream past him.

And then they were over the fence, sailing above it almost as if the stallion had been given the gift of flight. They hit the ground running, the impact lessened by their forward momentum.

Yes. This was what he needed, to be free in the wind and the air, the scent of juniper and dry grass sharp in his nostrils. Out here, he didn’t need to think about anything except the terrain beneath Goliath’s hooves, the shifting patterns of dark and light as clouds drifted lazily above his head.

But then the stallion let out a harsh whinny and came to a sudden halt. Zahrias blinked, wondering what could have startled him so.

Not that he had to wonder for very long. For standing there amidst the brush, only a few handspans off, was his brother Dani, brows pulled together in worry and arms crossed against his chest. Unlike Zahrias, Dani had more or less adopted human garb, and wore a dark shirt and those stiff blue pants the mortals called “jeans.”

Had the baby come? Zahrias could think of no other reason for being interrupted in such a fashion. He didn’t bother to question how his brother could have found him; they were connected by blood, and so it was easy enough for them to track one another down.

“Is it the child?” he asked. “I had thought Lauren — ”

“No,” Dani replied, voice uncharacteristically harsh for him. “Lauren is fine. No, this is something far more troubling.”

At that answer, Zahrias raised an eyebrow. Dani was not normally the sort much given to worry, and so for him to be troubled….

“What is it?”

Dani’s dark eyes flickered with worry and a sort of baffled rage. “It’s the prisoner. Margolis.

“He’s escaped.”

Chapter Two

See?
Julia told herself.
This isn’t so bad.

She and Shawn Gutierrez sat in one of the booths at Pajarito’s, the former gastropub that had somehow turned into the center of the revived Los Alamos community. By that point, it was almost four thirty, and people were beginning to trickle in after putting in their various shifts around town, whether that was cutting timber to store against the coming cold months, harvesting the last crops from the vegetable gardens they’d planted over the summer, or continuing with the grim but necessary process of going from empty house to empty house and gathering and cataloguing anything that would help the community survive the next winter. At least there were no dead bodies to contend with — the Dying had been a clean apocalypse, she’d give the djinn that much — but it still had to be difficult work, to enter the houses of people long dead and realize those little piles of gray dust used to be the inhabitants.

But she shouldn’t be thinking about that now. She should be focusing on Shawn’s easy grin, or remembering the exhausted, beautiful smile Sue Nichols had worn as she looked down at her newborn daughter. That smile had done something to Julia. Exactly what, she wasn’t quite sure yet. But in that moment, she’d thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, bringing humanity back from the brink of extinction.

And if Shawn wanted to help her out with that….

“…going home tomorrow,” he was saying.

Belatedly, she realized he must talking about Sue. “Isn’t that kind of soon?”

“Not according to Ellen. She says there weren’t any complications, and both mom and baby are fine, so there’s no point in staying in the medical center after this one night.”

Julia picked up her iced tea and took a sip. Right then she was wishing it could be some of her favorite, pinot grigio, but technically, she was still on duty until five, so….

Not that anyone else probably would have cared, since she worked seven days a week and never gave herself a break, but she was too much of a stickler to break that self-imposed rule. Anyway, depriving herself of a glass of wine only meant their supply would last that much longer. They’d been lucky, since a good amount had been delivered to the local grocery store and several of the restaurants right before the Dying began, but even so, supplies wouldn’t last forever, even supplemented by what they managed to scrounge down in Española. Julia wondered if sending a group with one of Miles’s devices to the Black Mesa winery on the north side of that town would be considered a frivolity. Probably not; it would be a long time before the community here was able to spare the resources to grow grapes for wine…if that was even possible at Los Alamos’ elevation. She didn’t know enough about viticulture to even guess.