Which it was, a low, horizontal branch sturdy enough to bear both their weight. Only a few yards away, the creek chattered from within its banks, the water flowing fast because of the runoff from yesterday’s rains. Aldair did not know where its source might be; he only knew he was glad of its presence on this warm late-summer day.
Jillian settled herself on the branch, and Aldair sat down next to her. Neither of them said anything for a moment, although she reached over so she could twine her fingers with his, then leaned her head on his shoulder.
Ah, yes, this was a good idea. It felt sheltered and safe in here, even more hidden from the world than tiny Madrid. The cool air touched his cheek and played with the hair at the back of his neck, and he allowed himself a sigh of his own.
“How did you find this place, anyway?” Jillian asked.
“When I was scouting the local countryside. It was easy enough to see Cerrillos itself, but then I noticed the line of trees and realized there must be a creek here. That day it was dry, because it hadn’t rained for a while, but I thought the trees alone would provide a good respite from the heat.” He tightened his fingers on hers, just a little, enough to show he thought his next words were important. “My love, we have done well enough in Madrid, and yet I cannot help but think perhaps we should discuss moving on.”
“‘Moving on’?” she repeated, and lifted her head from his shoulder. “But Madrid is safe. Where would we even move on to?”
“Yesterday, I found a house in Albuquerque. I — ”
“Albuquerque? Wouldn’t that just make it easier for the other djinn to find us?”
“Not necessarily. I could not sense any djinn in the city, nor any humans. It appeared as if there might have been one of my kind there once, but now the place seems utterly deserted. If it has been abandoned by the djinn, then they would have no reason to return there. Which makes it a very good choice for us.”
Jillian didn’t reply. She glanced away from him, at the cottonwood trees to either side, the pale purple and white wildflowers that grew at the base of their trunks. “You don’t like it here?”
Was that the faintest trace of disappointment in her voice? Perhaps. He could see why she might have found herself attached to the house in Madrid. After all, it was where they had first explored their attraction to one another. But he hoped she would understand that a far better alternative waited for them in Albuquerque.
“It is not a question of liking it, precisely,” he replied, choosing his words with care. “The house where we have been living has served us well. But it is not all that large, not really. You spoke of wanting to have a family. We would rapidly outgrow the place if we had more than one or two children.”
Her brows lifted. “How many were you planning on?”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “Only as many as you would like, my love. If that is only one, I will be happy. If it is six or seven, well” — he paused and shot her a wicked grin — “then I suppose I will manage somehow.”
“That’s a bit much, even for me. I say we start with one and then go from there.” She’d worn a look of amusement up until that point, but it faded slightly. “But won’t that be hard, to have a child without a hospital, without anyone to help?”
“It would have been,” Aldair replied. He understood her concern, but the situation was nothing that should worry her. “But remember, you now have a djinn’s gift of healing. Childbirth for one of us is nothing like what it would be for a mortal. That is, I assume the actual process is more or less the same, but with far less pain and a much shorter recovery.”
“That’s good.” But although Jillian’s words indicated she should have been relieved, she still appeared troubled.
“What is it?”
“I — ” She bent and plucked one of the many-rayed purple flowers and twirled it between her fingers. “Is that really wise, though? To raise our children with no one else around. What would happen to them once they were old enough to really understand their isolation? It seems selfish to keep them from having any interaction with others.”
While Aldair couldn’t blame her for having these misgivings, he also thought perhaps she was borrowing trouble that might not occur for several decades. “My sins are my own, not theirs. When the time came, they could go out into the world — whether the world of the djinn in Santa Fe, or perhaps your own people in Los Alamos, if by that time Miles Odekirk has finally created a device that would not affect djinn adversely once they were inside its barrier. Because I will be helping to raise them, they will still come into their djinn powers, even if they are of half blood. So that will be their choice, I suppose.”
“I suppose,” she echoed, then glanced up at him and managed a crooked smile. “And I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. Why don’t you show me this house in Albuquerque? If you really think it’s safe,” she added.
“I know it is safe. There are no djinn in the area, and I have no reason to believe there will be. This world is vast, and there are — if you will beg my pardon — other places that would have been much more appealing.”
From the way her mouth tightened, it appeared she wasn’t overly pleased by this apparent slight to her former hometown. However, she merely shrugged and said, “I suppose so. I mean, if I had all the world to choose from, I’d probably want a place on the beach or up in a mountain meadow. So I’ll believe you when you say no other djinn have settled in Albuquerque.”
Relieved, Aldair pushed himself off the branch where they’d been sitting and extended a hand to Jillian so she might climb down as well. “We will take the motorcycle back to Madrid, and then we can go to Albuquerque.”
“What, you can’t just ‘blink’ it there, along with the two of us?”
“I could, but it is a large and heavy object. Also, the road that leads up to the house I found is steep and covered in gravel. The motorcycle might manage, but I think it wiser to leave it behind.”
“Makes sense.”
She held his hand as they left the cottonwood grove. Aldair could not help but marvel at the sensation of her fingers against his — so fragile-seeming, and yet so strong. She was a marvel, actually, every inch of her. And somehow she had agreed to be his.
They came around the corner of a high adobe wall, and Aldair found himself grinding to a halt, his fingers clamping down on Jillian’s. For there, standing next to the motorcycle and inspecting it with an air of bemusement, were two djinn. He recognized one of them — Danilar al-Harith, Zahrias’ younger brother. The other, a large hulk of a man, Aldair could not place immediately. Not that it mattered.
They had found him.
Chapter Eighteen
Although the breeze blowing around them was warm verging on hot, all of Jillian’s veins suddenly turned to ice. She didn’t know the two djinn who stood by the Harley — how could she? The only djinn she’d ever even caught a glimpse of was Zahrias — but that hardly mattered now.
What mattered was that they were here, staring at Aldair with expressions that held a strange mixture of astonishment and dislike.
“So we were right,” said the younger and slighter of the two djinn, although he could only be described as “slight” when compared to his companion, who had to be around six foot six and had the build of a pro wrestler. “We sensed a djinn presence somewhere in these hills when there should not be one. How in all the heavens and hells came you to be here, Aldair al-Ankara?”
“A lucky accident, no more,” Aldair said smoothly.
Jillian knew his current calm was only a façade, since she stood close enough to him to sense how tense he really was, wound tight as a watch spring. What would he do? Was he strong enough to overcome the two djinn who faced him? She didn’t possibly see how, not when the one looked big enough to put Aldair through a wall, even if djinn powers weren’t involved.
“You have broken your exile,” the djinn continued. “You cannot be here.”
“Am I hurting anyone?” Aldair returned. His tone was
still deceptively mild, but a muscle worked in his cheek. “Have I done anything to disrupt your lives in Santa Fe?”
The two djinn looked at one another. For the first time, the larger one spoke. “That does not matter. Banishment is eternal. You still have much to answer for, Aldair.”
“Answer to whom, Murrah al-Tayyar?”
“To my brother, first of all,” the shorter djinn put in. “But I am sure the elders will wish to hear of this as well.”
Aldair’s hands knotted into fists. The wind around them picked up, swirling as a dust devil began to move toward the two djinn. At the same time, the ground rumbled, so sharply that Jillian nearly lost her balance. She stumbled, and Aldair caught her by the wrist before she could actually fall.
“You cannot fight the two of us,” the djinn went on. For the first time, his gaze flicked toward Jillian before returning to Aldair. “And do you really want to see any harm come to your woman?”
His grip on her wrist was so tight that another time, she might have protested. Now, though, she knew he clung to her like that because he was afraid of what might happen if he should let go.
“You will leave her alone,” Aldair rasped, his stare so fierce, he might as well have been shooting blue laser bolts from those eyes.
“And we will,” the djinn said. “If you come with us. Otherwise, I cannot answer for what might happen if we should have to exert undue force to subdue you.”
For a long moment, Aldair did not reply. A tremor went through him, but one so slight that Jillian didn’t think the other djinn could have noticed. The only reason she did was that she and Aldair stood so close.
At last, he released her arm and stepped forward. “Very well. Take me if you must, but leave her out of it.”
“No!” Jillian burst out. She tried to move forward so she could stand next to him, but it was like hitting an invisible wall. The djinn who had been doing most of the talking must have deployed something like the force field Aldair had used that one night when she tried to storm out of the dining room. Furious, she went on, “You can’t do this. He — ” And then she stopped herself. She had been about to say, He hasn’t done anything wrong. But he had. Not to her. But to his own people.
Clearly, they hadn’t forgiven him.
The smaller djinn sent her a look that was almost pitying. “I am sorry. But he must come with us.”
A swirl of wind, another rumble of the earth beneath her feet, and then all three of them were gone — the two unknown djinn, Aldair. A few yellowing cottonwood leaves drifted downward, clearly disturbed by the elementals’ passing.
And Jillian was alone.
Aldair did not know this house. How could he, when he had broken ranks with Zahrias al-Harith and his people before they ever came to live here in Santa Fe? By its size and understated opulence, however, Aldair guessed this must be Zahrias’ home.
Neither did he know the strikingly beautiful blonde woman who stood at Zahrias’ side, but he guessed she must be Julia Innes, the mortal Zahrias had taken as his Chosen. She stood next to her partner but did not speak, as if she knew this was djinn business and shouldn’t interrupt.
The leader of the Santa Fe djinn wore a fearsome scowl as he stared at the captive before him. Off to one side stood his brother Danilar, along with Murrah al-Tayyar, who apparently had remained behind just in case any brute force was required to subdue their prisoner.
“Aldair al-Ankara,” Zahrias said heavily. “I had never thought to lay eyes on you again.”
“I held that same belief,” Aldair returned.
That reply appeared to do little to amuse the other djinn. His brow creased even further, and he crossed his arms. “How did this happen? And who was that woman my brother and Murrah found you with?”
“Leave her out of it,” Aldair said immediately. If he must be sent back into exile, so be it, but he could not bear the thought of Jillian being a victim of Zahrias’ over-developed sense of justice.
“I have no reason to bring her into it, unless you tell me otherwise.”
How much should he tell Zahrias? For Aldair wished to shield Jillian, but at the same time, perhaps if he explained that he had done nothing wrong, that his return to this world was only by sheer accident and not any machinations of his own, then he might be able to make a credible plea for some kind of clemency.
A very small chance of that, but one he would have to try.
“It is because of her that I am here at all,” he said. “She is one of the survivors from the Los Alamos community. Or rather, she was. Now she is my Chosen.”
That revelation made Zahrias’ dark eyes blaze, and flames flickered in and out of being around him, echoing his anger. “You had no right to do such a thing. You had a Chosen — ”
“Who is no longer bound to me,” Aldair cut in. “Actually, she is with the leader of the Los Alamos community. I am surprised you did not know that, considering how closely you apparently work with them now.”
Aldair’s reply did nothing to mollify Zahrias. Even as his eyes narrowed, Julia stepped forward and murmured something in his ear. So perhaps she was the one who paid attention to the relationships and liaisons in that community of survivors. Aldair could see why Zahrias might think such a thing beneath him.
“Very well,” the fire elemental said. “It appears that much is true. So explain how this woman came to be your Chosen.”
“That is a private matter,” Aldair replied. “But, as I had begun to tell you, Jillian was one of the Los Alamos survivors. She — ”
“Jillian Powell?” Julia asked, clearly startled.
“Yes, that is her name.”
Zahrias said, “You knew her?”
“Only a little. She kept to herself. She always seemed…sad. She lost her husband in the Dying, and it seemed to hit her harder than most.” This time, she was the one who frowned. “I honestly never thought she’d allow herself to be with anyone ever again.”
“Well, apparently she relented,” Zahrias said. “Although I must admit that I care little for her taste.”
Aldair bristled, but he told himself that he must not give in to his anger. If he was calm and cool, then perhaps these djinn who stared at him with such judgment in their eyes would see that he had changed.
Jillian had changed him.
“As may be,” Aldair said, an edge to his voice that he couldn’t quite prevent. “At any rate, she was performing work for Miles Odekirk in his lab. We still don’t know precisely what happened, but she had an accident as she was working on one of his newer devices. That accident propelled her into the outer circles, where I found her and kept her from dying.”
Zahrias and the other two djinn exchanged startled glances. “A human survived the outer circles?”
“Just long enough for her to reverse the accident, and bring us back here. But we were not sent to Los Alamos, but rather to the small town the people here called Madrid.”
“Where you hid yourself.”
A swirl of angry air flared out from Aldair before he could prevent it. Both Danilar and Murrah stiffened, clearly prepared to act as Zahrias’ bodyguards if necessary, although the leader of the Santa Fe djinn did not move a muscle.
“Would you have not done the same thing?” Aldair demanded. “Have you ever been to the outer circles, Zahrias?”
“Of course I have not. I have not transgressed as you have.”
Well, Aldair would not bother to counter that argument. Zahrias always had been woefully perfect. “If you had, you might not judge me so harshly. But yes, we remained in Madrid. It seemed a safe enough place to shelter. I had no intention of coming to Santa Fe, of causing any trouble. Surely you must see that.”
“It is true that you did not seek us out,” Zahrias replied. “But I think your discretion stemmed from a desire to save your own skin, rather than any scruples which might have told you to leave us alone. At any rate, I do not believe I am the one who can judge you now. That is up to the elders. I will send Dani to
speak with them, and I have no doubt that they will be here soon enough to pronounce their own judgment.”
Danilar did not look especially pleased to be charged with this duty, but he made no protest, only bowed his head and said, “I will go now.”
He disappeared almost as soon as he had spoken. No one present even blinked, not even Julia Innes, for of course she must be used to such comings and goings by now.
“And until they come,” Zahrias continued, “Murrah and several other of my people will keep watch on you.”
“What of my brother?” Aldair asked, for he found himself rather discomfited that Zahrias had not yet made any mention of Jasreel. How would his hated half-brother react when he learned that the prisoner was imprisoned no longer?
“He will be informed of your presence here. No doubt he will wish to be there to see the elders sentence you a second time. But for now, you must wait.” Zahrias inclined his head toward Murrah, who stepped forward.
“This way,” he said, pointing down a long hallway off to their left. Clearly, Aldair would be kept here in the house.
And why not? A prison cell meant very little to a djinn. It was only those who maintained a watch on him who would prevent him from escaping. He might as well wait here, kept close by against the arrival of the elders.
As Aldair followed Murrah down the hallway, however, he realized his own fate was not what occupied his thoughts.
What would Jillian do now? Could he trust Zahrias to let her be? Aldair realized he must, but that was not the worst of it. No, the worst was the very real possibility that he would be sent back into exile, and Jillian left here alone, the bond between them severed.
Perhaps she was strong enough to endure such a calamity…but he was not sure whether he himself was.
Calm, you’ve got to stay calm, Jillian admonished herself. If she lost it now, she’d be of no use at all to Aldair.
Unfortunately, taking deep breaths wasn’t doing much to soothe the frightened beating of her heart, the shakiness in her legs.
Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6) Page 21