Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6)

by Christine Pope

  At any rate, she supposed it didn’t matter. This Aldair had saved her life, and she had to be grateful to him for that. Why he hadn’t been able to return to Earth under his own power, when it seemed as if the djinn could move back and forth between the planes with relative ease, she didn’t know. Something to ask, if she ever worked up the courage to do so. But since his name was at least a little familiar to her, she guessed he must be one of the Santa Fe djinn as well, which meant he had to be one of the good guys. Good djinn. Whatever. Her limbs still felt shaky, but the fear that he was going to hurt her had retreated a little. Even so, she had to admit it was sort of overwhelming to be this close to a djinn. She’d known they were perfect…she just hadn’t quite realized how perfect.

  In the meantime, they explored the house, which felt a lot more state-of-the-art than the sort of place she would have expected to see in little out-of-the-way Madrid. It had central air, for one thing, even though it wasn’t running at the moment. Would the solar be enough to support the system? Jillian had no idea, and she realized it was far more important to keep the refrigerator going and the pump for the well — which she’d spotted as they’d made their descent toward the property — running than it was to prevent her from sweating in the heat. Besides, it really wasn’t that hot today. Once they’d opened all the windows, the temperature in the house became nearly tolerable.

  Three bedrooms and two baths upstairs, along with a nearly empty room toward the front of the house, filled with natural light. Propped up against the wall were a number of canvases in various stages of completion, and another nearly finished painting rested on an easel. All the works were of the same style as the pictures that hung on the first floor, so clearly the artist had lived here.

  Had those been his — or her — ashes on the kitchen floor? Neither Jillian nor Aldair had encountered any remains up here on the second story, so it seemed that the artist must have lived alone, or at least was alone when the Heat burned its way through the population.

  “I will take this room,” Aldair announced as he stood in the middle of the master bedroom and surveyed its simple but handsome furnishings, the flat-weave wool rug on the floor. “You may have one of the other two.”

  High-handed bastard, wasn’t he? Jillian reminded herself she would be dead if it weren’t for him, and so she bit back the retort that rose to her lips. Anyway, why was he assuming they would stay here at all? Yes, she was feeling tired and would like to put her feet up and drink some more water, but at the same time, it seemed wiser for them to head to Santa Fe. He could be reunited with his people, and then one of the Chosen there could drive her back to Los Alamos. Or they could send word to have someone come fetch her. If only Aldair hadn’t secreted the device somewhere. As soon as they’d entered the house, the little box had disappeared into thin air. Another djinn trick, she supposed.

  “Um…we’re staying here?” she ventured.

  He gave her another of those fearsome frowns. “Of course. Why else would I go to the trouble of selecting a house?”

  “Well, you did say I should rest a little. But — ”

  “Yes, you should rest. Choose a room that suits you. I will get you more water.”

  “But — ”

  The syllable fell on empty air, because even as she’d spoken, he’d disappeared. Was it typical of the djinn to just come and go like that, without a word of warning? Maybe. But she couldn’t help thinking it was pretty rude. She tried to remind herself that she didn’t have much context for djinn behavior, but she still found the way he’d melted into thin air as she was speaking more than a little annoying.

  Fighting back a sigh, she headed out into the hallway and peered into the other two bedrooms. Not much choice, really, since one of them had been set up as a home office, with a big 27-inch iMac on the desk and a large table that was covered in a scatter of papers, most of which boasted sketches or small watercolors, many of them startlingly realistic renderings of the landscapes around town. So apparently the artist dabbled in other styles when he or she wasn’t creating the large abstracts that decorated the walls.

  The other room clearly had been intended as a place for guests to stay, with a double bed and a nightstand and a low dresser topped by a mirror. More paintings hung on the walls here, and a terra-cotta pot containing what had probably once been a philodendron was set to one side of the dresser.

  Jillian went to the bed and sat down, for the first time really stopping to assess how her lungs felt. Sore, and raw, but now she could take a deep breath without coughing, which had to be an improvement. It did seem like the best thing to do was put her feet up and rest for a while. After she was feeling more like herself, she could talk to Aldair and convince him to take her to Santa Fe.

  As she bent down to untie her sneakers, a horrible thought crossed her mind. Maybe he wanted to keep her here alone because he wanted…well, because he wanted her.

  Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself as she pulled off her shoes. If he wanted to try something, he could have done it already. Anyway, he’s barely given you a second glance. What would someone who looks like that want with a human woman, anyway?

  That sounded logical enough. But clearly there were djinn who found themselves attracted to humans, or none of them would have been with their Chosen. True, but that didn’t mean Aldair was attracted to her. When he’d given her mouth-to-mouth, when he’d flown her to this house…at no time had he acted the least bit interested in her, even with the close contact they’d shared.

  No, there had to be some other reason why he didn’t want to go to Santa Fe. Maybe he’d had some kind of a falling out with the djinn there. Oh, yeah, that was a reassuring thought.

  Doing her best to push those suspicions aside, Jillian plumped up the pillows and shook them to get rid of any dust, and then settled herself against their soft surfaces, realizing in that moment how much her body really did ache. Each breath awoke a series of new pains in her back and shoulders, probably from that violent coughing fit she’d experienced when she arrived here. It did feel good to have her feet up, to have her body supported by those cradling pillows.

  A small creak out in the hallway made her turn her head in that direction. Aldair stood there, holding a glass of water. More importantly, he’d somehow managed to outfit himself in new clothes, a djinn-style outfit in shades of blue and gray. It looked as if he’d brushed his hair as well, although the expanse of chest revealed by his open robe was distracting enough that Jillian couldn’t tell for sure.

  He entered the room and handed her the glass of water. “Here.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it from him so she could wet her still-dry throat. The water tasted good, sweet and cold and clean.

  “From the well,” he said. “It is functioning properly, so there will be no shortage of water.”

  “That’s good.” She hesitated, hands wrapped around the glass, as if feeling its smooth, cool surface was enough to give her courage. Even though she couldn’t quite rid herself of the tension that ratcheted up when she was around him, she wanted to sound as normal as possible. “But Aldair — why do we even need to worry about a shortage of water? You can just fly me to Santa Fe, and then — ”

  “We will not go to Santa Fe,” he cut in, blue eyes flashing with sudden anger. “This is a safe place. We will remain here.”

  “But — ”

  “You will not speak of it,” he said. “Rest now.”

  And then he was gone again, this time in a swirl of those blue and gray robes, so he looked something like a departing thundercloud. At least, his expression had been positively thunderous.

  Now, what the hell was all that about?

  Chapter Three

  Aldair sat at the dining room table, a bottle of wine he had found in a rack in the kitchen placed off to one side. He had worked through nearly half the bottle already, but he thought he would need far more alcohol than that to ease his roiling thoughts. The stray notion passed through his mind t
hat perhaps he should conjure some food to go with the wine, although at the moment he did not feel himself inclined to do so.

  The silence from upstairs discomfited him. He had expected Jillian to come down here in search of him so she might continue to argue about going to Santa Fe, but apparently she was not inclined to do so. Perhaps she was afraid of him. She would do well to fear him, if she but knew what he was capable of.

  However, in his brief acquaintance with her, she had not seemed particularly intimidated by his presence, had spoken up for herself, even though she must know he could blink her out of existence with a snap of his fingers, should he so wish.

  Not that he did wish such a thing. Her tongue might be sharp, but it was contained within a very lovely mouth.

  He told himself not to be foolish. Unlike the djinn in Santa Fe, he had never felt any particular desire for a human woman, had thought such entanglements to be foolish, when one considered the ramifications of encouraging a serious connection to anyone not of his own race. He had been with Katelyn purely for expediency’s sake, and he had only sought out Jessica Monroe because she was someone his brother desired. Yes, she was certainly comely enough, with her big dark eyes and long dark hair, but there were many women of the djinn who were far more beautiful.

  No, the situation with Jillian Powell was slightly more complicated. Without her, he would still be back in the outer circles, so he knew he must be grateful to her for that. And also…well, he supposed he could admit to himself that it was good to hear another voice again, even if that voice belonged to a human woman. In his exile, he had not seen another living soul for…how long had he even been there? Time had no meaning in that hellish landscape. He had been sent away in the early spring, and he thought now he had returned in the late summer, so it had to have been at least a number of months, if not more.

  The other rogue djinn, Khalim and his followers, had also been sent to the outer circles, but Aldair had never seen any sign of them — by design, he was sure. The exile he’d had to endure had been made far, far worse by his utter solitude. Perhaps those other djinn were dead. Not from the harsh conditions they had to endure, but by their own hand. That was the usual fate of those banished to the outer circles. After enough time had passed there, death began to seem like a welcome relief.

  Not that he would have ever stooped to do such a thing. Hate had kept him going, had filled his veins with a fire that sustained him far more than the foul water and meager plants he’d found to live on. He’d sworn that one day he would be free, and would seek his revenge. Yes, no one had ever escaped the outer circles, but he had told himself he would be the exception.

  And so it appeared he was. He had escaped, and sat here now in a comfortable refuge, with a roof over his head and a beautiful woman lying in a bed upstairs.

  The thought awoke a flicker of desire, but he pushed it away. He could not allow himself to be distracted by such inconsequentials. He had told Jillian he would not take her to Santa Fe, but that did not mean he didn’t intend to go there himself, once he had devised a foolproof plan. For he had unfinished business in that place, with the half-breed who unfortunately shared his family name.

  A soft whisper of a sound made him look up from his wine glass, and he saw Jillian standing in the doorway to the dining room, her expression an odd mixture of diffidence and need. For one wild second, he thought that need might be directed at him, but then he realized she was staring at the wine bottle on the table.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “Wine? And it’s okay?”

  “It is fine,” he replied. “I think those two years it waited for us only served to improve it. Would you like some?”

  “Yes, please.” She came up to the table, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat down.

  Watching her, he thought she looked somewhat improved. Color had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes were no longer bloodshot. Her hair was even messier than the last time he had seen her, though, with more strands slipping out of the clasp that held it — perhaps because of the way she’d been lying against the pillows in her borrowed bed.

  His groin tightened at that mental image, and he pushed it away and made himself instead summon a wine glass for her from the cupboard in the kitchen. It appeared on the table before her, and she gave a little start.

  “I suppose I should try to get used to that,” she remarked. “Is that how you brought the wine here, too?”

  “No,” he said as he poured a healthy measure into her glass. “It was in a rack in the kitchen, with not quite a dozen other bottles. I will not have to summon any for a good while.”

  Her eyebrows lifted at that comment, and he wondered if she was going to press him again about how long he intended them to stay here. But she said nothing, instead raising the glass to her lips so she could sip from it.

  “Ah,” she said, once she had savored, then swallowed the wine, “that helps.”

  “So will this,” he said, spreading one hand toward the center of the table. A platter with bread and cheese and grapes appeared there. Light fare, true, but something to cushion the wine.

  This time she didn’t even blink. “Yes, I think it will.”

  She set down her wine glass, and reached over to pick up a slice of bread and place a square of cheese on top. Aldair did the same, somewhat amused by her willingness to ignore his djinn powers if it meant she would be provided with food and wine. But he was glad to have distracted her, for that meant she might leave the subject of Santa Fe aside for now.

  They ate quietly for a moment. He savored the taste of real food, of the rich red wine slipping over his tongue. Jillian seemed to appreciate the offering as well, although of course she could not have suffered the same deprivations he had over the past…well, however long it had been.

  “There’s probably a good deal more here in town, too,” she offered, and Aldair lifted an eyebrow.

  “A good deal more?”

  “Wine. They had a pretty decent wine list at The Hollar, and then across the street is the Mine Shaft. Although I have a feeling they were more into hard liquor over there.”

  “That was a tavern?”

  “Yes, a restaurant and bar. Jack and I didn’t eat there when we came through, but we did poke our heads in to take a look.” She’d been wearing a slight smile before she spoke, no doubt one brought on by the food and the wine, but it melted away as she appeared to recall the trip she had taken with the husband she’d lost.

  Aldair felt a stab of irritation. The Chosen he had known in Taos had certainly seemed to have little problem moving on with their lives, even with all that they had lost, so he had no idea why such a concept would be so difficult for the woman sitting across the table from him.

  Ah, but she was not Chosen, he thought. Perhaps she has spent this time alone, without a new partner. However long it has been.

  He felt compelled to ask, “What month is it?”

  “August,” she said, and gave him a curious glance. What she saw in his face, he couldn’t be sure, but she added, her tone gentle, “It will be two years since the Dying at the end of next month.”

  So that meant he had been imprisoned in the outer circles for nearly a year and a half, human time. Such measurements were not precisely applicable to life in the otherworld, but it always helped to have some context.

  “Ah.” He lifted his glass of wine and allowed himself a large swallow so he wouldn’t have to make any further comment.

  She was silent, too, as she reached for some more bread and cheese, then washed it down with her wine. At last she said, “Aldair…what were you doing in that place?”

  He stiffened. “I fear that is none of your affair.”

  An eyebrow lifted, and she settled against the back of her chair, arms crossed. “Oh, really? Because you seemed pretty eager for me to get you out of there.”

  Of course he was. Who would not have been, when presented with such a chance for deliverance?

  “It is part of the djinn world,” he
said curtly. “And that is all you need to know.”

  “Okay,” she said, tone even enough, although from the way her eyes narrowed slightly, he thought she was more than a little annoyed by his reply. “Then maybe you can answer this. If you had no intention of going to Santa Fe to be with the rest of your people, then why did you ask how far away it was? What difference could that make?”

  Damn her. She was not going to leave it alone, was she? He poured himself more wine, pointedly ignoring the lowered level of the alcohol in her glass. “I wanted to know because I wanted to make sure they could not detect my presence here.”

  “You’re hiding from them?”

  He didn’t answer, only drank some wine.

  “But…why?”

  Aldair began to think there might be some limits to his gratitude. In his past, he had had very few dealings with mortals before he pretended to be part of the One Thousand who had taken human lovers for their own, so they might be spared certain death at the hands of those who wanted all of mankind annihilated. However, those rare times he had been forced to meet with humans, they had treated him with the deference deserving of one of his kind. He was not used to women who stared at him with arms crossed and who demanded answers as if they were equals.

  “Let us just say there is no love lost between myself and the djinn who dwell in Santa Fe,” he said at last.

  She didn’t respond for a moment. Her fingers tapped on the stem of her wine glass. “That place where I found you…was that some kind of djinn prison?”

  He did not much like how she had been able to make that particular logical jump. Despite the ordeal she had just suffered, her mind appeared quick enough. He would have to watch what he said around her.