With a wave of the key in her hand, Evony bade us goodbye and then headed out to the elevators. Giving a slight nod of satisfaction, Julia turned back to me. “Nora is with the kids at the library now, but I already told her you’d be over there this morning, so she’s expecting you.”
Great. No way of backing out of this. I told myself it was for Jace and to stop being such a baby. Besides, they were just kids. What was the worst that could happen?
On second thought….
Smiling, Julia said, “You’ll do fine. It’s a pretty relaxed atmosphere. And we scavenged a bunch of workbooks and lesson plans from the schools in town, as well as software, so it’s not like you have to make it up as you go along.” Her expression grew serious, the smile fading. “Mostly, we just want to make sure the few children who did survive will still get an education, even if it’s not exactly like what they would have gotten at an actual school. It won’t take much for the world to start slipping back into the Dark Ages, and we’re doing everything we can to prevent that.”
Now that I stopped to think about it, I realized Julia was probably right. At first I’d been focused only on surviving, and even after Jace came into my life, we still put all our energy into keeping our little compound going, on making sure we had enough to eat and a warm house to sleep in. I only opened a book when I needed to research something practical, like making sausages or cheese. It would be so easy to forget everything we’d spent thousands of years developing and instead only look toward the next meal, or, projecting a little further, the next harvest.
If we allowed that to happen, then the djinn would really and truly have won.
My voice firm, I said, “I’ll do my best.”
The smile returned. “I know you will.”
It was a short drive from the justice center to the library, but just far enough that walking would have been asking a bit much, especially since I could see clouds moving down from the north and east, the wind picking up. I didn’t have a firm grasp on the weather in this part of the world, but it looked as if those clouds might be bringing more snow with them. Having the Cherokee at hand instead of walking just seemed far smarter.
Like the justice center, the library was a clean, modern-looking building. The sidewalks had been cleared here as well, and out in front was a flagpole where the American and New Mexico flags still blew bravely in the wind. Even though I knew this Nora person and the children were waiting for me inside, I couldn’t help pausing there for a few seconds so I could gaze up at those two flags. I’d thought of New Mexico as an entity off and on since the Dying, but honestly, I’d been so focused on my own problems that I hadn’t had much time to think about what was happening in the rest of the country. Were we even a United States anymore, or just isolated islands of civilization struggling to survive?
And what if Los Alamos is the only one? I thought then. What if no one else had any way of protecting themselves, and now they’re all gone?
That notion was so depressing that I had to shut it down right away. I was on edge enough already; I didn’t need to meet my new students with my thoughts roiling with visions of city after city, town after town, falling to the djinn onslaught.
Pulling in a bracing breath of the cold air, I headed to the front entrance of the library and let myself in. The interior was also modern, sharp-edged, but softened by wood-paneled ceilings overhead. One wall consisted mainly of windows that let in a breathtaking view of the Jemez Mountains, now all covered in snow, clouds dropping to obscure their peaks.
Off to my right, I could hear voices — children’s voices, and I took another breath and then headed in that direction. As I came around the stacks, I saw an open area with tables with iMac computers sitting on them. Most of the computers were in use, but at another table, one that was clearly intended as a study spot, a little black-haired girl of about nine or ten was buried in a book, mouth moving slightly as she read.
At that sight, I couldn’t help smiling. I’d done the same thing when I was a child, and it had taken my mother years to break me of the habit.
Standing off to one side was a dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties, a little plump but with a pretty face. She saw me come in and approached immediately, one hand held out, even as all the kids seemed to stop what they were doing and peer around their computers — and in the case of the sixteen-year-old, who looked tall and gangly even while sitting down, to lean expertly back in his chair so he could catch a glimpse of me, one foot hooked around the leg of the table to prevent him from falling over backward.
Feeling all those eyes fixed on me was not exactly the most comfortable sensation, but I tried to ignore them as I smiled at the woman and took her hand, then said, “Hi, I’m Jessica Monroe.”
“I’m Nora,” she replied. “And here’s your class — Matt Fellowes, Laurel Garcia” —the little girl with her nose in the book looked up briefly— “Oliver Mills, Jasmine Torres, Donnie Strickland, Kathleen Elliott, Kristina Caldwell, and Ben Sanchez.”
All of them said “hi” with various levels of enthusiasm, while Matt, the oldest, remained leaning in his chair, a smile playing at one corner of his mouth. He wasn’t a bad-looking kid, with a mop of sandy hair that needed cutting, but I could tell he was probably going to be a pain in my ass.
As for the rest, in that moment they were just a blur of names and faces, but I hoped I’d get them sorted out eventually. Or maybe not; with any luck, I wouldn’t be here in Los Alamos long enough to get to know them all that well. That sounded cold even as the thought passed through my mind, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t here to educate the next generation. I was here to save Jace.
“Hi,” I responded. “Nice to meet all of you.”
A couple of the girls giggled. Nora said, “Okay, back to work while I talk to Ms. Monroe.”
They all did obey, even Matt, although he straightened up slowly, as if to show that he was only going back to the computer because he felt like it and not because of anything Nora Almeida had said.
She noticed, I could tell, but she didn’t acknowledge him one way or another. Smart. My mother always used to say that paying too much attention to those kinds of kids was playing right into their hands and reinforcing their bad behavior.
We moved a few paces away to a spot where we were partly obscured by the book stacks but where Nora could still keep an eye on the kids. “As you can see, it’s quite a group. Mostly they work on the computers, and all you have to do is keep an eye on their scores and see where they’re doing well and where they need some help. At the librarian’s desk, we have the teacher’s editions of the actual books we’re using, and then the master software loaded on that computer, so it should be pretty self-explanatory.”
“How do you keep track of it all?” I asked. It seemed like a daunting task, monitoring all those different grade levels and subjects at the same time.
“Well, Miles set up some software for me to do that, but I’ll admit it was harder to figure out the software than to just keep paper grades for them, so that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s all in the ledger in the upper right-hand drawer.”
Miles again. So it appeared he did take some time out from inventing djinn torture devices to help around the community. I nodded, since I wasn’t sure what I should say.
Voice lowering, Nora went on, “We’re just trying to do our best by them, poor things. It’s hard enough for us adults to adjust to this world, but these children? Their losses seem so much worse than ours.” She had to stop herself there; her dark eyes were suspiciously bright, and I saw the way she swallowed, hard.
My own voice soft, I asked, “You had children?”
She nodded. “Two. They’re gone. My husband…gone. Everyone. I actually wanted to take in both Laurel and Oliver, but Captain Margolis decided that with so many of us having lost children, it would be better if only one child was placed in each household. I can’t replace Laurel’s mother, of course, but I want to make sure she knows she’s safe, and love
d.”
My chest constricted, thinking of how all these kids had somehow survived the Heat, alone in a new and terrifying world. It had been scary enough for me, and I’d had Jace to help me through it, even though at the time I hadn’t known who — or what — he was. But these children, with their families gone? I couldn’t begin to imagine.
“I’ll take good care of them,” I assured her. Maybe I wouldn’t be in Los Alamos all that long, but I would make sure to do as good a job as I could while I was here.
Nora smiled. “I know you will.”
And really, except for a few muttered remarks calculated to be just below my level of hearing, even Matt was well-behaved enough. I looked in on what they were all doing so I could familiarize myself with their various levels of education, and then rounded out the morning with a spirited discussion on Pluto being demoted from planet status and why or why not everyone thought that was a good idea.
At noon their “parents” showed up to take the kids home, except Matt, who went whizzing off on a skateboard. By then the skies were overcast, the air heavy with the promise of snow, and I hoped he’d make it to wherever he was going before the storm really hit.
I was heading to the Cherokee and deciding whether I should attempt to get groceries, or take the lazy route and go back to Pajarito’s for lunch, when the familiar yellow Hummer pulled into the parking lot. Stiffening — I hated the sight of that thing — I stopped where I was and waited.
It wasn’t Dan who stuck his head out of the SUV, though, but his cigarette-smoking companion. He didn’t have a cigarette today, though, and his demeanor seemed a good deal more official than when I’d seen him pulling guard duty out on the 502.
“Ms. Monroe, Dr. Odekirk would like to talk to you.”
Ms. Monroe? The formal address seemed odd when contrasted with the person who had delivered it, a young man only a few years older than I was, his over-long hair combed back away from his face and held in place with an impressive amount of hair product. I had a feeling the phrasing was Dr. Odekirk’s, not this guy’s.
And what the hell did Miles Odekirk want with me? There was another interview I’d just as soon avoid. Hedging, I said, “I was just about to get lunch — ”
“You can do that afterward. Follow me — I’ll guide you in.”
He sounded friendly enough, but I knew arguing would be pointless. Miles had sent the guard down here to fetch me, and if I attempted to put up any more roadblocks, well, I’d probably get dragged into the Hummer and taken forcibly to the lab. At least if I followed in the Cherokee, I could make it look as if I was going by my own free will.
Acknowledging defeat, I said, “Okay,” then went over to the Jeep and started it up. The guard turned his Hummer around and headed back toward the street, and I followed.
I hadn’t yet been to the labs, but I had a vague idea of where they were located, out toward the west end of town. We dropped back down to the main thoroughfare, Trinity Road, and then drove for another five minutes or so, until we went around a curve and came up on a guard shack, one that seemed to be occupied. However, the person inside just waved us on through, and we wound our way through the campus, past a large parking structure, now almost deserted, and past more large buildings, most of them with conspicuously absent signage.
At last we pulled into a lot with a lone Subaru Forester parked in it. The Hummer took a space next to the Subaru, and I parked my SUV beside the Hummer. The guard got out and waited while I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and slid out.
“This way,” he said, pointing to an entrance close to where the two wings of the building intersected in an “X.”
I didn’t have much choice but to head where he’d indicated, all the while taking furtive glances around me. Not that there was much to see; the guard and I were the only two people around, or so it seemed, and the building itself had clearly been designed for function rather than beauty.
We walked down a long hallway, our footsteps echoing off the linoleum, until the guard stopped at a door that looked like pretty much every other door along that corridor. “He’s in here,” the man said. “Go on in — he’s expecting you.”
Of course he was. Not that the guard was the most reassuring of company, but it still felt as if it would have been better for him to show me in. But since he clearly didn’t intend to do that, I just nodded, put my hand on the doorknob, and let myself into the room.
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting — some crazy lab full of equipment I couldn’t identify, a whiteboard covered with symbols, like I’d seen in just about every show and movie that included a mad genius scientist — but that didn’t describe the room I was in now. No, it looked like an oversized conference room, with a rectangular table and a dozen chairs, and a blank wall where maybe they could have projected images for a presentation. Sitting at the end of that table was Miles Odekirk, an iPad lying in front of him.
He didn’t rise when I came in. He only said, “Sit there, please, Ms. Monroe,” and pointed at the chair to his right.
In silence, I traversed the space and then seated myself, placing my purse on the empty chair next to me. Once I’d done that, I forced myself to cross my hands on the tabletop and meet his watching gaze.
It was hard, being this close to him. The last time I’d seen Miles Odekirk, he’d been manipulating that device of his so it nearly choked the life out of the man I loved. For just the briefest second, I wondered what he would do if I lunged across the table and latched my fingers around his throat, squeezed until I got him to agree to free Jace and Natila.
But I knew I’d never do anything that crazy. He was a tall man, maybe right around six feet or a little over, but slender, with the pale, soft hands of someone who’d probably never done a day of manual labor in his life. Despite his lack of muscle tone, I didn’t know if I could successfully subdue him, and the consequences of trying and failing were too awful to contemplate.
Instead, I forced a casual note into my voice as I asked, “What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Odekirk?”
He picked up the iPad; it looked as if it had been open to some sort of notepad program, but I wasn’t sure. An iPad had been on the list of things I’d wanted but couldn’t really afford, back in the day, and so I didn’t know much about how to use one.
“I wanted to talk to you about this djinn. Jasreel.”
My mouth went dry. “Um…what about him?”
“You spent some time with him, from what I understand.” Any other man would have probably injected a leer into his voice when making such a statement, but Miles Odekirk seemed curiously uninterested in that aspect of my relationship with Jace.
“Yes,” I said. If I stuck to “yes” or “no” answers, then possibly I could avoid giving Odekirk anything he could use against Jace…or me.
“What sort of powers did he exhibit around you?”
So much for the binary solution to answering his questions. I knotted my fingers together in my lap and replied, “I never saw him exhibit any powers.”
That seemed to surprise the scientist. At least, one of his eyebrows went up behind his glasses, and he started typing on the iPad’s screen, although I couldn’t see what he was writing down. “So to you he seemed like an ordinary human being?”
“Yes.”
“How long did you cohabit?”
My cheeks burned, but I said, as calmly as I could, “Around three months.”
“So you’re saying in that time you saw absolutely nothing that made you think he was anyone except who he told you he was?”
I reflected that Dr. Odekirk sounded as if he’d watched a few too many courtroom dramas. Then again, he didn’t seem much like the TV type. It was probably coincidence that his methods of questioning were so similar to those of a district attorney.
“I didn’t see anything at all.”
“But when we collected this Jasreel, it seemed obvious enough then that you knew he wasn’t an ordinary man. What changed?”
Well, hell. I wracked my brains, trying to remember exactly what I’d said to Captain Margolis and his men, but that scene was such a tumult of sound and fear and the echo of Jace’s voice inside my mind that I couldn’t recall what I might or might not have said. Coldly, I replied, “The night before you broke into my house, Jasreel had a visitor, another djinn. I overheard them talking.”
“What were they talking about?”
“The other djinn was telling Jace — Jasreel — that it wasn’t safe for us to stay in Santa Fe.”
Some more typing. Then Odekirk looked up at me, blue-gray eyes appraising behind the rimless glasses. “Why would he say that?”
I didn’t blink, but only stared back at him and said, “I think you know why.”
For a second, he didn’t react. Then he laid the iPad down on the tabletop and fastened me with a stare that made me feel like a virulent bacillus he was examining under a microscope. “Ms. Monroe, for someone who claims to have rejected her association with this djinn and wants only to be a member of this community, you don’t seem to be very cooperative.”
Shit. Shit. Thinking frantically, I said, “Sorry. I just figured you’d know Jasreel was being warned because the other djinn had found out about that — that box of yours. The one that controls them.”
“It doesn’t control them,” Odekirk corrected me. Then he seemed to stop himself. “Precisely how it works is neither here nor there. When the other djinn came to your home, how did he appear?”
“I don’t know how he got there. He was already in the living room, talking with Jasreel, when I woke up and heard them.”
Something that might have been a sigh emanated from the scientist’s throat. “No, that’s not what I asked. What did he look like? What was he doing?”
Oh. Feeling like an idiot, and hating Odekirk for making me feel that way, I replied, “He also looked like a man, maybe a little older than Jasreel. Dark hair and eyes. Both of them were wearing these baggy pants, and — ”
Odekirk held up a hand. “You can spare me the sartorial details. Was there anything unusual?”
djinn wars 02 - taken Page 14