“Margolis was just going to let you go?” I couldn’t prevent a note of incredulity from entering my voice. He didn’t seem the type to simply allow a woman like Julia to slip out of his grasp.
“Well, not exactly. He said he’d have me come live with him, and that after a while maybe he’d let me be his assistant again. Once I’d ‘earned back his trust,’ in his words.”
Shuddering, I asked, “What did you say?”
“I told him I’d think about it. He didn’t like that — said I should be grateful to him for giving me a second chance. And I laughed and said I didn’t think I should be grateful for the opportunity to be his sex slave and his lackey.” Her hand went up to touch the bruise on her jaw. “That’s when he hit me. I just took it, of course. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have some experience with that kind of thing.”
“Oh, Julia,” I whispered.
“I won’t lie — it hurt like a bitch.” She shrugged and pulled the blanket up so it was snugged right under her breasts. “But it did feel good to laugh in that bastard’s face. He stormed out after that. All I could do was sit there and wait for him to come back. But it wasn’t Margolis who showed up the next morning. It was Stacy.”
“Stacy?” I asked, bewildered. “Did she — ” I broke off there, since I couldn’t think of a delicate way to ask if she knew what had been going on between Julia and the commander.
“Oh, she knew. Maybe Margolis bragged, or maybe he talked in his sleep. I didn’t ask. But she told me I had to leave. It took me a few seconds to process what she was saying, but then I realized she wanted me to go because she didn’t want me interfering with her relationship with Margolis.”
“She what?” Hearing how Stacy had ended up sleeping with the commander just so she could get a better housing assignment had squicked me out enough. To think she actually was pleased enough with the arrangement that she wanted Julia completely out of the picture…I couldn’t help shuddering a little.
“I know.” Julia smiled grimly. “But I wasn’t about to argue with her personal choices. Not if it meant getting the hell out of there.”
“So she broke you out?”
“Basically. She’d heard how I disabled the security system, but she really didn’t know how to do it herself, so she wheedled one of the guys — Zach Royce — into doing it in exchange for a blow job. She knew he wouldn’t tell anyone because then his head would be on the chopping block along with hers.”
I shook my head. “Very resourceful, our Stacy.”
“And talented, apparently. So she smuggled me out of there in the back of her SUV, gave me a change of clothes and a jacket, and dumped me right at the edge of the safe zone.”
That explained how Julia had gotten out of Los Alamos, but I still couldn’t figure out how she’d managed to walk sixty-plus miles from there to here and not be attacked by the rogue djinn. I asked her as much, and she only gave me a fatalistic lift of her shoulders.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was terrified the whole time. I kept expecting to have them come swooping out of the sky at me or something. But I didn’t see anything. I came into Española and tried to see if I could scrounge some food or bottled water or something, but our people had picked it over pretty well, and I couldn’t find anything. I slept there, though, because I was dead tired. And I headed up Highway 68 the next morning, figuring I could make it at least half of the distance between Española and Taos.” Pausing then, she gave me a deprecating smile. “I’d forgotten about the part where it was all uphill. Took me a lot longer than I thought it would. I did find some water in a gas station in Dixon, though, and that helped a little. After a point, I suppose I wasn’t really thinking of much of anything except putting one foot in front of the other and getting here. I’m not even sure why I chose Taos as my destination, except that you and Jace were here, and maybe you’d take me in.” Another one of those weary little shrugs, and she said simply, “I didn’t have anyplace to go.”
“Yes, you did,” I said, my tone a little fiercer than I’d intended. “You had here.”
She didn’t respond at first. But as I watched her, a certain tension seemed to leave her body, and she slumped back against the pillows, as if she was finally allowing herself to relax. Then, “Did I hear someone talking about soup?”
A rush of relief went through me. She had a long way to go before she healed, but I thought she’d just taken the first step. “Coming right up,” I told her.
She smiled.
Chapter Eleven
Miguel brought the soup himself, and seemed a little astonished at how quickly Julia had recovered. “You should sleep for real after you eat,” he told her in stern tones. “I don’t want you to overdo things.”
“No worries,” she replied. “I think I’ll probably sleep for a week or two after this.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and he left the hotel room soon afterward. Almost as if they’d decided to take turns, Lauren came in only a minute or so later, bringing with her a little care package of a new toothbrush and some toothpaste, and a comb and a brush.
“And if you need anything else, be sure to let me know,” she said, flashing the two of us a smile before she went back out again.
“Is she always so cheerful?” Julia asked.
“Basically, yes,” I replied.
“Impressive.”
But I could tell she was getting tired; her head was drooping to one side, and she kept blinking. It was time for me to go.
“Rest now, okay?” I said quietly. “You’re safe here.”
Julia didn’t even answer, but gave a bob of her head that might have been a nod. I took the water glass from the nightstand and refilled it, then set it down next to her. That way it would be there if she woke up in the middle of the night and was thirsty.
After that, I banked the fire and turned off all the lights, except the small one on the dresser. I didn’t want to her to feel completely disoriented at being in a strange place if she ended up not sleeping through the night. Finally, I slipped out and shut the door behind me.
Jace, I called out.
Beloved. Is everything all right? I was beginning to worry.
We’re both fine. Julia woke up and wanted to talk, and then Miguel brought her some soup. She’s sleeping now. I hesitated, then added, Can we eat alone in our rooms tonight? I don’t really feel like being around people right now.
I left it at that, but he seemed to understand that Julia’s story had rattled me, because he said, Of course. I’ve already walked Dutchie, so I’ll go to the dining room and pick up some food. You go back to the suite and rest.
That sounded like a fabulous idea, so I did as I was told and headed back to our rooms, glad that everyone else seemed to be at dinner, and so I wouldn’t be forced to answer questions about Julia and her condition. Maybe the truth would come out at some point, but I really didn’t want to be the one to be spreading her story all over the place.
Dutchie was curled up by the fireplace and gave me a tail thump as I entered the suite, but otherwise she didn’t seem too inclined to move from her comfortable position. I leaned down and patted her on the head, then added another log to the fire to keep things going.
Perfect timing, as Jace came in just a minute or two later, pushing a room service cart ahead of him. “Handy things,” he said, indicating the cart.
“Well, there are definite perks to holing up in a resort,” I said, glad that we were both keeping things light for the moment. I knew they would take a definite turn to the dark side once I started relating what Julia had told me.
For a few minutes, though, we were both quiet as we moved the food from the cart to the table. Jace had also brought a bottle of wine, and he opened it, then poured a healthy measure into both our glasses. I would have asked him how he’d figured out that I needed it, but there really was no point. When it came to me, Jace just knew.
We were partway through our chicken tortilla soup when he asked gently, “Do you want to
talk about it?”
“Not really,” I replied. “But I probably should.”
So I told him what Julia had told me, punctuating the story with sips of wine and wondering if one bottle would be enough to get through all this. As I spoke, Jace was silent, expression turning more and more grave with each revelation.
Because I could see the pity filling his eyes — and because I knew Julia would hate being the object of such an emotion — I brushed past all that as quickly as I could, then asked, “Jace, how was she able to make it all the way here without being intercepted? I mean, I know you told me once that the djinn weren’t all-seeing and all-knowing, but it seems as if they’re pretty good at tracking down wandering humans. So how did Julia escape?”
His brows knitted together as he considered my question. “I can’t say for certain. It does seem, from what she herself said about other groups of survivors disappearing, that the djinn who went hunting humans preferred going after larger groups. Perhaps they simply didn’t see the sport in running down a lone woman. They could have decided to leave her for later, after the big groups were gone.”
I supposed that was possible. And after our last foray to Los Alamos, no one had ventured out at all. If there had been any other djinn lurking in the area, they might have gotten bored and gone off in search of better amusement. I wouldn’t flatter myself into thinking that we’d dealt them a serious enough blow that they’d disappeared entirely. True, Evony and Ethan had done some damage, and the djinn on our team that much more, but it shouldn’t have been enough to deter the rogue djinn indefinitely.
“Maybe,” I said, my tone uncertain at best. I picked up my wine glass and swirled the pale liquid within, watching it catch glints of gold from the flames dancing in the hearth. It was entirely possible that we’d never know exactly how Julia had been lucky enough to walk sixty-plus miles to get to Taos and never face any kind of attack.
“Jessica, isn’t the important thing that she got here safely?”
“Maybe,” I said again. This time I drank some wine, then set the glass down. My relief that Julia was still alive had begun to be replaced by a low, slow-burning anger. She shouldn’t have had to go through all that in the first place. Hadn’t she suffered enough, even in the days before the Heat came along and changed everything? And then there was Dan. He was dead because of us. No, we hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he’d risked everything to help us escape and had paid the ultimate price.
And what of all the other nameless dead, the ones who had no one left to mourn for them?
“I want to know,” I began, then paused, watching as Jace regarded me with increasing concern in his dark eyes. I must have been broadcasting my roiling emotions without even realizing it. This was a conversation I’d wanted to have for some time, but had also avoided it, simply because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answers Jace might give. Now, though, as I rode the crest of my anger, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Ask me, beloved.
I sat up straighter and said simply, “I want to know how God could let this happen. You’ve spoken of God before, so I know you believe in Him.”
“It’s not a question of believing, Jessica. We djinn know He exists.”
Such an earth-shattering comment, uttered in such calm, reasonable tones. Okay, fine. If God really did exist, then we’d start from there.
“All right, then. If God created this world and everything in it, then how could He let it all be destroyed? How can He let good people like Julia and Dan suffer when horrible men like Margolis seem to get away with whatever they want?”
Jace didn’t really sigh, but he did let out a small breath as he leaned back in his chair. “You ask questions that men have been asking since the dawn of time.”
“I know they have. But I want answers.”
A half-eaten roll lay at the edge of his plate. He picked it up and broke off a piece, then chewed it slowly. Stalling, or just attempting to get his thoughts in order?
It seemed to be the latter, because he said, once he was done chewing, “God did not let everything in the world be destroyed. It’s all still here — the animals and the trees and the flowers and the insects. Only mankind is gone.”
“‘Only mankind’?” I repeated, incredulous. “You say it like it doesn’t matter!”
His expression softened. “It was a great tragedy — one that I and the others here in Taos and many more of my people tried to stop. But the course had been decided upon. And yes, God let it happen. Do you forget that He wiped the slate clean once before, with a great flood?”
“That’s just a myth,” I protested, and Jace lifted an eyebrow.
“It is no myth. It happened, although not precisely as it was described in your writings. And there were those among my people who saw how this planet was being slowly destroyed, how that damage might be irreversible in a generation or two, and so they devised a way to stop that destruction. Killing off mankind seemed a reasonable trade-off to them. As to why God did not stop them…well, I can’t say for sure, except that perhaps He thought He had given you your chance, and you had squandered it.” A pause, and he added softly, “I mean that as the general ‘you,’ of course.”
So many objections to this statement rose in my mind, I wasn’t sure which one I should utter first. All right, I had to begin somewhere. “I’ll admit that I’m not all that knowledgeable on the topic — my family wasn’t very religious — but I was sort of under the impression that all that Old Testament wrath of God stuff wasn’t really how He operated anymore.”
Jace shook his head. His forefinger was resting on the base of his wine glass, drawing swirling patterns there. “I’m not one to pretend to understand all His motivations. All I know is that the djinn weren’t stopped. They devised the means of mankind’s undoing, plotted how to release it. At no time did He intervene.” A pause, and then he added, “Well, I heard a rumor that word had come from somewhere that there was to be as little suffering as possible, and so the effects of the Heat were modified somewhat, but — ”
“‘Little suffering’?” I burst out. “God must have a pretty cockeyed idea of what suffering is. I saw my whole family die from the disease, and they sure as hell suffered!”
Right then I couldn’t begin to read Jace’s expression. Sadness because of the way I’d had to lose my family members one by one, but also…perhaps…a bit of frustration. With me, or with his inability to convince me of God’s — and the djinns’ — side of things? I had no idea, and right then I could feel the awful crushing pressure of it all over again, of trying to help and knowing it would do no good, of standing by as not just my family, but the whole world died around me.
“Jessica,” Jace said. He pushed back from the table a bit — not to stand up, I realized, but to give himself a little breathing room. His eyes sought mine, as if willing me to understand. “It looked like suffering to you, but really, it wasn’t. Once the Heat took hold, they could no longer sense what was happening to them. And death came swiftly, relatively speaking. I’ve seen the great plagues sweep over mankind, witnessed so much death…and believe me, those people suffered. Day after day of fevers, of coughing, of having their very blood turn to poison — ”
I slammed my hands down on the table and clung to its edge, as if that was the only thing keeping me from running away. Maybe it was.
“All right,” I said bitterly. “I get it. You djinn made a nice, neat, clean disease that would wipe out mankind and leave no messy corpses behind, and God was okay with that.”
“Some of the djinn made that disease,” Jace corrected me. His tone was very gentle, and in a way, I hated his forbearance, his calm. I wanted him to get angry and raise his voice so we could have a real fight over this. If we did that, if we lost control in a way we never had before, then I might finally have the chance to scream out my anger and frustration and despair, even though I knew he wasn’t the person I was angry with. Not really. “I fought the idea,” he went on. “The entire p
lan was an abomination. And many others of my kind did as well, but we were not the majority. We couldn’t overrule those who believed we finally had a chance to possess the world that was denied us.
World that was denied us. He had said that to me, once upon a time, but hadn’t elaborated. Now I thought I finally had the opportunity to get some clarification.
“What does that even mean?” I asked. “If we’re getting all biblical here, I thought God created the world for mankind.”
A weary smile. “The djinn were here first, but then God made man, and thought mankind His greatest creation. The djinn were told to bow down to man, as the angels did. But my people had been given free will, and they refused to bend to a thing they saw as lesser than themselves. And so the djinn were banished from this world, and lived on planes of existence the human mind could only dimly comprehend. Even that banishment did not keep us away completely, but we could not make our permanent home here, not as a unified people.”
If that really was what had happened, then I supposed I could see why the djinn would be so upset and might want to scheme to take back something they thought should have been theirs. But to do so by exterminating the entire human race…it was beyond appalling. Even now, after months had passed, I still hadn’t completely absorbed what that meant. I’d been so tied up in what was happening in the immediate world around me that I hadn’t forced my brain to really process that all those people were gone, that beyond our little corner here in New Mexico, there might be hundreds and thousands of square miles of nothing.
I wasn’t sure how much it would help, but I figured a couple of large swallows of wine right then were better than nothing. Those swallows emptied my wine glass; wordlessly, Jace picked up the bottle and replaced what I’d just drunk, and then some.
My voice was barely a whisper. For some reason, getting out the words hurt, but I had to know. “So what was the plan?”
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