“Of course I freaked,” Evony replied. “But I couldn’t deny what I was seeing with my own eyes. And Natila talked me down — told me how I’d been Chosen, how I’d be safe with her and that all I had to do was trust her, and she would take care of me.”
“Weren’t you angry, though? I mean — ”
“About what the djinn had done?” Shockingly, she shrugged, a negligent lift of her shoulders. “I mean, it was horrible, but in a way it was so big that I couldn’t really wrap my head around it. Anyway, Natila hadn’t done it. None of the Thousand were involved in making the virus or spreading it. They were the good guys. They’d tried to stop it, but there weren’t enough of them to make a difference. All they could do was save their Chosen. So I wasn’t angry at her, you know?”
Then Evony had reacted with a lot more equanimity than I had. Eventually, I’d worked past my anger, but it was something I’d had to take a day to sort through.
She seemed to guess something of what was passing through my mind right then, because she continued, “I found out a lot sooner than you did, though. I mean, it was only a week after we met that Natila told me who and what she was. Jace kept lying to you for, what, more than two months?”
“He did not — ” I began angrily, and then subsided. He’d had his reasons, but the hard truth of it was that he could have told me about his true identity much sooner and, for whatever reason, had chosen not to. Actually, I knew why he’d kept his silence. He’d been so afraid of destroying the love that was growing between us that he’d purposely let me believe he was a mortal man.
I’d since forgiven him, true. It didn’t change what had happened, though. Lifting an eyebrow, I pinned Evony with what I hoped was a piercing stare. “How do you know all that about me and Jace, anyway?”
“Because Zahrias knew, and I heard him talking to Natila.”
I thought of the hard-faced djinn who’d come to see Jasreel, and shivered a little, despite the warmth of the fire at my back. “He visited you, too?”
Evony seemed to shut down. Her face went still, and she wouldn’t quite look at me. “The day before yesterday. He came to warn us — said there were Chosen gone missing, and something was up at Los Alamos. He said we needed to come to Taos, and Natila actually agreed, but — ”
“But?” I prompted, even though I had a feeling her story was going to end almost the same way mine had.
“But we didn’t get out in time.” She hugged the pillow again, and I realized for all her hard-faced bravado, Evony was just as scared and worried as I was. “We were packing up our stuff, which in hindsight was stupid, because we could’ve just helped ourselves to anything we needed from all those fancy boutiques in Taos. And that’s when the Los Alamos crew showed up.”
“A bunch of guys in Hummers?”
“Yeah, and that squirrelly-looking one with the funky box. I don’t know what it was for, but it sure did something to fuck up Natila, because all of a sudden she got pale and couldn’t breathe.”
My heart squeezed then as I recalled Jace suffering the same way, how all the strength seemed to be taken from him. “And they took her away.”
Evony seemed to be staring past my shoulder, at the window, although there wasn’t anything to see with the curtains tightly closed. “Yeah,” she said heavily. “They took her away. And then I heard her in my head, you know — ”
I nodded.
“The weird thing was, all I heard was Jace’s name —except she called him Jasreel — followed by a string of numbers.”
“‘Numbers’?” I repeated blankly.
“Yeah, numbers.” She set the pillow aside. “I’m weirdly good with numbers. Not crazy advanced math or anything, but doing arithmetic in my head, remembering locker combinations, that kind of thing. I never thought of it as much more than a parlor trick, but after the Los Alamos guys left and I was alone at the casino, I went and wrote them down.”
“So what were they?”
A wry smile. “Coordinates. GPS coordinates for your house, actually. It took me a while to figure it out, but once I did, I found a GPS unit at a Walmart and plugged them in. I figured since Natila had said Jace’s name right before she sent me the numbers, it had to mean those coordinates were for where he was holed up. So I came here to warn you. Guess I was too late.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I mean, who would’ve thought those bastards would be out collecting djinn on Christmas Eve?”
“Oh, shit, is it?” Evony shifted on the couch so she could see down the hall and into the living room, where the tree Jace had brought me stood in the corner. “I sort of lost track of time when I was with Natila. Merry fucking Christmas, huh?”
Funny how her words echoed exactly what I had been thinking earlier. “Yeah. I guess the whole ‘goodwill toward men’ thing doesn’t extend to djinn.” I paused, recalling what she’d said when I first opened the door and let her in. “So what’s your plan?”
A look of confusion passed over her features. “Plan?”
“Plan,” I said in some impatience. “You told me that I’d better let you in if I ever wanted to see my djinn lover alive again. That kind of remark leads me to believe you must have some kind of plan.”
“Uh, well….” Once again her gaze shifted away from mine, and under its coating of matte red lipstick, her mouth tightened. “I actually just said that because I wasn’t sure you’d let me inside otherwise. I really don’t have a plan. I guess I just figured that it would be better to have the two of us working together than separately.”
Oh, for Chrissake…. I ground my teeth, pushing back the retort that lying to me wasn’t exactly the best way to get on my good side. But I realized I needed to cut Evony some slack. She’d experienced a terrible loss today, just as I had, and in a way, she was right. The two of us were better off together — for safety’s sake, if nothing else.
As far as what we should do next, I hadn’t a clue. I only knew that staying here wasn’t an option. Tonight, sure. It was snowing, and night had fallen, and I knew we wouldn’t get very far. It wasn’t as if someone would come along to plow the roads, and although the Cherokee could manage just fine in snow, I wouldn’t risk that kind of driving without some daylight to help us along.
“Well,” I said, “I suppose in the morning we’ll go to Los Alamos and see what we can do.”
Her eyebrows went shooting up so far they almost disappeared into her short, heavy bangs. “Are you crazy? Have you ever been to Los Alamos?”
I shook my head.
“Well, as far as I know, it’s one road in, one road out. And both those roads have got to be heavily guarded, Christmas or not. If you think you can just slip in and do some scouting with no one noticing, you’re nuts.”
That didn’t sound good. Right then I wished my family had done more exploring in that part of the state, but we’d never made it to Los Alamos. I had to take Evony’s word for it that the place was as remote as she described. It actually made sense that the town would be built that way, considering its origins as the birthplace of the atomic bomb. And it made even more sense that a group of survivors would gather there, using the natural geography of the area as a way to keep them safe and protected.
“All right,” I said wearily. “Then we’ll have to go to Taos and see if any of the djinn or Chosen there have any more information, know of anything that might help us.”
That prospect didn’t seem much more appealing to her than Los Alamos. “How could they? Zahrias said the Chosen they’d sent to Los Alamos had never come back, and the djinn can’t see anything because of whatever the Immune are doing to hide themselves.”
“Maybe so, but we’ve got to start somewhere. Maybe Zahrias wasn’t telling the whole truth. Maybe he was just saying what he thought Natila and Jasreel needed to hear so they’d pack up and join the rest of their kind. You don’t know for sure, do you?”
For a long moment, Evony didn’t say anything. Her fingers kept playing with the silver and onyx r
ing she wore on her right hand — Navajo work, by the look of it — twisting it around and around as she appeared to wrestle with her thoughts. At last she said, “Okay. Not because I think it’ll help, necessarily, but mostly because I can’t think of anything else to do.”
A weight I hadn’t even realized was pressing on my neck and shoulders seemed to lift itself then, and I allowed myself the first cautious sensation of hope I’d felt that day. Maybe it wasn’t the best of plans, but at least it was a plan, something to do that didn’t involve sitting here in the house and worrying about Jasreel.
The next day, we would take the road to Taos.
Chapter Three
I gave Evony the third bedroom, mainly because I was so tired by then that I didn’t feel like swapping out the linens on the bed Jace had used the night before. She didn’t seem to care about the size of her sleeping quarters; yes, that was the smallest bedroom, but even so it was a good deal larger than the room that had been mine in the house where I grew up, and of course the furnishings were gorgeous, just like everything else in the house.
“Well, it’s not a suite at the Okay Owingeh casino, but it’ll have to do,” she deadpanned, and I couldn’t help grinning.
“The bathroom is next door, and there’s plenty of toothpaste and soap and all that, so — ”
“I’ll be fine. Right now I think I just want to sleep for a hundred years.”
I knew the feeling. Too many ups and downs that day, and I had no idea what we would face tomorrow, both on the road and once we got to Taos. I tried to imagine a town entirely populated by djinn and their Chosen, and failed miserably. I didn’t even know how many of them were supposed to be congregated there. Well, I supposed I’d find out the truth soon enough.
“I think we should shoot for the standard eight hours,” I replied. “A hundred years might interfere with our rescue attempt.”
Evony shot me a wry look but only nodded, and I said goodnight and went on to my bedroom. Hearing me, Dutchie came trotting down the hall from where she’d been lying by the fireplace in the family room, then waited patiently as I stirred up a fire in the master bedroom’s hearth. I thought of Evony and whether she’d be warm enough — the spare bedrooms didn’t have fireplaces — but the bed she was using had an electric blanket, and I figured there would be enough ambient warmth from the fires in all the main rooms that she should do all right.
It was hard to get ready for bed, though, knowing that it would be empty when I got to it, that Jace wouldn’t be waiting for me and the sheets would be cold. No, he was miles away, and I somehow doubted he would be sleeping anyplace as comfortable as this. Would it be cold wherever they were holding him, with maybe only a thin blanket to keep out the freezing chill of a snowy night? Normally, I wouldn’t have worried, because he was always so warm, but whatever the Los Alamos people were using to steal or block his powers also seemed to have taken that gift from him as well. He’d been shivering when they took him away.
Oh, God, I couldn’t think about that, or I’d drive myself crazy. I had to get a decent night’s sleep; otherwise, we could be in serious trouble the next day. Jace had taught me a lot about driving in the snow, but even he probably would’ve advised staying home until the roads weren’t buried in ten inches of fresh powder.
I didn’t have that luxury, though. Evony and I would have to get moving as early as possible the next morning, partly to save time, and partly because I really didn’t know how long the drive to Taos would take in this weather. I hated not having access to weather reports and perfectly coiffed forecasters telling me exactly how many inches of snow we were going to get and how long the storm would last. But those conveniences were gone, along with snowplows and cable TV and high-speed Internet. All I could do was hope for the best.
And, as my father always used to say, prepare for the worst.
It definitely seemed like the worst the next morning after I got out of the shower, dried my hair, and wandered into the kitchen to take a look at what the storm had wrought. It was actually still snowing, but very lightly now, feathery flakes drifting this way and that, but not accumulating all that fast. The visibility didn’t seem to be too bad; even so, the drifts piled against the henhouse and the goats’ shed looked several feet high.
Grimly, I set about getting the coffee going and mentally preparing myself to trudge out into all that snow to take care of the animals. I’d have to give them enough feed to last a few days and hope they wouldn’t gorge themselves on all of it right away. There wasn’t much I could do about that, though. I’d do my best to make sure they were cared for, but the chickens and goats needed to meet me halfway.
It was only after I’d shoveled my way across the yard and fed the animals, then dragged myself back into the house and knocked my boots clean of snow, that Evony finally made an appearance. Just like the day before, her makeup was perfect. Today the sweater she wore was bright cobalt blue, and I blinked a little at the unexpected shock of color.
“Is that coffee?” she asked, heading straight for the coffeemaker and the mug I’d set out. It was my mug, but I didn’t bother to stop her. I knew better than to get between a woman and her caffeine. Besides, there were plenty of mugs to spare.
“Yes, and I have fresh eggs for breakfast, and toast. No bacon, though.”
“I’ll live. Cream?”
“In the fridge.”
She went to fetch it, doctored her coffee, and then took a sip. “That’s good. Better than what we were living on.”
“The guy who built this place left some pretty awesome supplies behind.”
“Apparently.” She sipped again. “So what’s the plan?”
I’d been pondering that very subject while I showered. Yes, it was Christmas Day, but obviously the survivors at Los Alamos didn’t seem to pay too much attention to holidays. For all I knew, they were patrolling the main highway that led north from here. If that was the case, the last thing I wanted was for them to figure out that we’d left our sanctuary here in Santa Fe and were heading for Taos.
“I think we should take the High Road,” I told her.
Her response was immediate. Eyebrows raised, she replied, “In this weather? Are you nuts?”
“Maybe,” I said evenly. “But I doubt we’ll run into anyone if we go that way, so while the road itself might be more dangerous, there’s a much lower risk of interference.”
Evony shook her head, eyes narrowing under their cat-eye liner and heavy mascara. “Have you ever actually driven the High Road?”
“No.”
A sigh, accompanied by a roll of her eyes. “It’s narrow. It’s twisty. It goes way up high where the snow will be even worse. And I guarantee there’s no one left to plow the damn thing.”
“I have chains,” I said calmly. Not that I was actually feeling all that calm; just the thought of heading out in this weather was giving me a queasy, fluttery feeling in my stomach, but I knew there was no question of staying put. “And a shovel, and an ice scraper. Anyway, I’m not planning on tearing through there at fifty miles an hour or something. If we go slowly, we should be okay.”
To say Evony looked dubious would have been an understatement. But then she let out another breath and nodded. “Well, it’s not like the main route up 84 would’ve been all that great, either. How long do you think it’s going to take?”
I really had no idea. Digging around in the office, I’d found maps of the area, so I knew the route was not quite sixty miles. On a good day, you probably could have driven from Santa Fe to Taos in about an hour and a half. Now?
“At least half the day, I’m guessing. We’ll pack food and water and other supplies.”
She swallowed some more of her coffee, then said, resignation clear in her tone, “Okay. But let’s have those eggs and toast first. I like to do all my crazy shit on a full stomach.”
“Crazy shit” was definitely one way of describing it. “Sheer insanity” might have been another, but I just couldn’t risk those men
from Los Alamos discovering what we were up to. Evony and I packed our things — or rather, I packed mine, while she zipped up her weekender bag and waited for me to get ready. Enough food for two days, just in case we got stranded somewhere, and a pallet of bottled water, and then the traveling dog dishes for Dutchie and a couple of gallon baggies filled with her food.
I went out to the garage and got out the Jeep, then backed it up as close to the rear entrance of the house as I could so we wouldn’t have to haul our stuff too far through the snow. Evony seemed to be keeping any further observations to herself, and silently helped me load the back of the vehicle. Dutchie, excited at the prospect of a road trip, took one last pee in the snow next to the vehicle, then jumped into the back seat without any coaxing and sat there, tail wagging.
Neither Evony nor I were anywhere close to that eager. In silence, we climbed into the Cherokee after I locked the back door to the house and made sure it was secure. Now that they had Jace, I didn’t think the Los Alamos gang would be coming back here anytime soon, but that didn’t mean I intended to leave the house open, an easy target for anyone who might wander by. All right, the chances of that were extremely low, given how off the beaten track it was, but in the few months I’d lived there, I’d come to love that house. I wanted it to still be okay when I came back, whenever that might be.
And I hoped — oh, how I hoped — that I’d be able to bring Jace back here soon, and we’d be able to continue with the lives the djinn-hunters from Los Alamos had interrupted.
Biting my lip, I put the Jeep in neutral and cautiously shifted into 4-Lo. The snow had stopped falling, and so I’d decided to try driving without the snow chains at first. If the going was too hard, I could always stop and chain up at the side of the road. I hoped not, though, mostly because I’d only helped my father put chains on the Jeep once, and I wasn’t exactly familiar with the procedure. Maybe Evony would be of some help, but I couldn’t count on that. She didn’t exactly seem like the outdoorsy, four-wheeling type.
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