At least she knew one thing, that her lover would have been taken to Santa Fe. It wasn’t as if she’d have to scour the countryside looking for him. She knew exactly where he must be.
Okay, so that was one problem taken care of. The much larger one that remained was precisely how to get there.
She stood next to the Harley, staring down at it. Her ride with Aldair just an hour earlier had been the only time in her life she’d ever even been on a motorcycle. She certainly didn’t know how to ride one.
Well, you’d better learn fast. Because it’s a long walk to Santa Fe, and this is the only working motor vehicle within miles.
Okay. She let her hand slip over the chrome handlebars, moving down to the instrument cluster. This wasn’t a new bike, and so it wasn’t too high-tech. Speedometer, tachometer, gas gauge. Basic.
And she’d had an electric scooter back in college, so at least she knew how to ride something two-wheeled, even though this Harley bore about the same resemblance to her scooter that a WWI biplane did to an SR-71 Blackbird.
She also knew that a throttle on the right handlebar controlled the power, with the brake also on the right. How she’d picked up that piece of information, she didn’t remember for sure, but it was something. Throttle up, down. The shifter was operated with your left foot; she’d watched Aldair do it as he manipulated the clutch with his left hand. He’d made the whole process seem easy.
Maybe if she was really lucky, she’d get a chance to ask him how he knew how to ride a Harley.
Gingerly, she threw one leg over the seat and settled herself on the padded leather. Her feet touched the ground, but just barely. There wasn’t much she could do about that, though. Even with the motor silent, the big bike felt heavy, menacing. Sure, maybe she could get it running, but what would happen if she took a spill?
You’d heal, because you’re Chosen. Stop being a baby.
Jillian turned the key in the ignition, then startled as the engine grunted to life. Her parents didn’t like motorcycles, had thought even her scooter too much of a risk when she had to negotiate Albuquerque traffic on her way to class. She could only imagine their looks of horror if they’d ever seen her trying to ride a Harley.
All right, time for the throttle. She eased in some gas, and the bike lurched forward as her feet dragged along the ground. Damn. She’d forgotten about that part. A little more throttle as she put her booted feet on the footrests, and suddenly she was moving forward. Not very fast, just barely enough to keep the Harley going down the street, but it was something.
Once again she throttled up, and this time she could actually feel the breeze moving over her face. A quick glance down at the speedometer told her that she’d reached the lightning pace of seventeen miles an hour. That was okay — if Santa Fe was roughly twenty-five miles from here, then she’d be there in about an hour and a half. And maybe she’d be able to go up to twenty or thirty once she was on the highway, at which point she’d have to hope to God she didn’t stall the thing while trying to shift gears.
On second thought, thirty was probably pushing it. It would be a lot easier to putt along in low gear all the way to Santa Fe. But still.
She liked concentrating on the mechanics of not crashing the Harley. That way, she didn’t have to think about what might be happening to Aldair right now. Because whatever it was, she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not until she got there, anyway.
As she pulled out onto Highway 14, though, she had a panicked thought about Patches, who was still waiting back at the house in Madrid. She didn’t know what she’d do about him, because he couldn’t exactly fit on the Harley, but —
No, he’d be okay. They’d fed him his lunch and given him a fresh bowl of water right before they left on this expedition, so he’d be fine for a good long while. Bored, and wanting a walk by the time she got back, but….
If she got back.
Of course she would. The djinns’ beef was with Aldair, not her. She didn’t much relish the thought of leaving him behind to return to Madrid to take care of Patches, but she had no doubt that she would.
Probably.
Jaw set grimly, she headed north on the highway, gradually easing up to around twenty-two miles an hour, and somehow managing to successfully shift into second gear. Even if she’d felt more comfortable with the bike than she did, she knew it wouldn’t be safe to go any faster than that. It wasn’t as if this stretch of Highway 14 was like Interstate 40 back in Albuquerque, but there were still enough abandoned cars that she had to pay attention to what she was doing, slowing to a crawl from time to time so she could maneuver around them.
She didn’t know Santa Fe like the back of her hand or anything, but she’d visited enough times that she remembered to follow the signs that guided her onto Cerrillos Road. Unlike the highway she’d just left, Santa Fe’s main artery was completely clear, all the vehicles left behind now pushed off to the sides, if they hadn’t been taken away altogether. After all, a lot of the trucks and SUVs in the Los Alamos motor pool had been collected from down here in the state’s former capitol.
So she felt safe enough about going up to twenty-five as she passed the strip malls and gas stations and grocery stores on Cerrillos, at last angling off onto Paseo de Peralta, since she didn’t know exactly where to go next. Downtown, sure, because that was where the djinn community here had concentrated. But that didn’t mean she had a clue as to the exact location where they’d taken Aldair. Since Paseo de Peralta made a large loop around the downtown area, she figured the smartest thing to do was follow that loop until she ran into someone…hopefully not literally.
Which she almost did, just as she was about to pass Old Santa Fe Trail. All of a sudden, two burly djinn stood in the road in front of her, blocking her way. Jillian let off the throttle and grabbed the brake, and the Harley began to slide sideways.
Oh, shit, I’m going to —
“Crash” never made it all the way into her mind, because it was as if an invisible hand caught hold of the bike, preventing it from toppling over. At the same time, she felt herself lifted from the Harley’s seat and deposited on the roadway. Gently, though — her teeth didn’t even rattle as her feet touched the pavement.
“What business do you have here, mortal?” one of them asked.
“I — ” The syllable barely made it out of her throat. God, Jillian, try not to sound as if you’re about to have a panic attack. “I’ve come here to see Zahrias al-Harith.”
The two djinn looked at one another. Physically, they were quite similar, with coal-black hair and dark eyes to match. Jillian wondered if they might be brothers. Then one of them frowned, and gave her a closer look, as if he’d just noticed something odd about her.
“Are you — are you Chosen? But how can you be? We know all of the Chosen in this area.”
Of course they did. She wasn’t about to confess her connection to Aldair, because she had a feeling that wouldn’t earn her many brownie points with the pair who faced her now. Problem was, she didn’t have a clue as to where any other djinn/Chosen communities might be located. Aldair had made it sound as if they were widely scattered, maybe only one per state, if even that many. So saying that she’d rode in from another of these enclaves wouldn’t sound very plausible.
“I — I can’t explain right now. I need to talk to Zahrias.”
The two djinn looked at each other again. One of them raised an eyebrow. Were they communicating mentally with one another? Jillian knew that djinn could speak in such a way with their Chosen, although Aldair hadn’t done so with her. Probably no need; it wasn’t as if there was anyone else around in Madrid to overhear their conversations.
But then one of the djinn, the one with the expressive eyebrows, gave a shrug, as if he had decided that a lone human female wasn’t much of a threat. “We will take you.”
He stepped forward, and before she could even react, had slipped an arm around her waist. Not in any kind of forced intimacy, she realized, but because
in the next second they had blinked out of the middle of Paseo de Peralta and stood in a walled garden riotous with late-summer blooms of roses and butterfly bushes and hollyhocks. Immediately the djinn let go of her and went up to the front door of the house that belonged to the garden, an imposing, updated hacienda-style abode with a tiled roof and a covered portico that appeared to run the length of the house.
To her surprise, the djinn rang the doorbell, just as any ordinary caller might. A moment or two later, the door opened, and Julia Innes looked out at them, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized the visitor accompanying the djinn.
“Jillian?”
“Yes,” she replied, trying to sound as if this was all completely normal, that being dropped out of the blue on one’s doorstep was something that happened every day. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Julia said, looking flustered and not much like her usual unflappable self. Or at least, she’d always seemed unflappable back when she was running things in Los Alamos. Since she’d been living here in Santa Fe for more than a year now, Jillian couldn’t really comment on whether that aspect of the other woman’s personality had changed or not.
But she supposed she was about to find out.
Julia stepped aside so Jillian could enter, then glanced back at the djinn who had brought her here. “Thank you, Hamidh. Zahrias and I will take care of this from here.”
Hamidh nodded and bowed formally from the waist, right before he blinked himself away — maybe going back to performing guard duty on Paseo de Peralta. Jillian didn’t have much time to think about it, because Julia was ushering her down the two-story hallway, saying, “I suppose I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see you show up. After Aldair told us — ”
“So he is here.”
“Yes. Zahrias is having two of his men keep watch on him until the elders arrive.” By this point, they had entered what had to be the living room, a space as imposing as the rest of the house, with its high ceiling and the obviously expensive abstract art that hung on the wall. Two couches of bone-colored leather faced one another across a coffee table of glass and bronze. Cool air from a central A/C unit flowed out of the vents.
Despite her worry for Aldair, Jillian couldn’t help doing a few mental calculations as she gave a quick glance around — a hazard of working for several years in a real estate office, she supposed. What must this place have cost back when property values meant something? Two million?
Probably closer to three. Not that it mattered now. The Dying had rendered those sorts of considerations mostly unnecessary.
“The elders?” Jillian asked. “They’re in charge of everything, right?”
“I think ‘in charge’ is probably a little too extreme. From what I’ve seen, they mostly try to stay out of the way, unless some kind of crisis comes up that absolutely requires their intervention. But please,” Julia added, as if she’d just realized she wasn’t being a very good hostess, “sit down. Can I get you something? Iced tea? Water? Lemonade?”
Considering how warm the day was, and how she hadn’t drunk anything since she and Aldair had left the house several hours ago, all three of those sounded pretty good. But a little caffeine might not be a bad idea. “Iced tea would be great.”
Julia smiled. “Just wait here. I’ll go fetch it.”
She left the room, heading down the hallway to the right, while Jillian was left to sit there and look around some more. Now that she’d had a chance to inspect them a little more closely, she got the feeling that the paintings on the wall had been done by the same artist whose home she and Aldair had appropriated back in Madrid. Talk about coincidences.
Or maybe not, she thought. Obviously Natalie Marquez was fairly well known, and successful. It’s not that big a surprise that some of her paintings might have ended up in a house like this.
She didn’t have time to speculate further and continue to distract herself, because in that moment Julia returned, a glass of iced tea in either hand. After giving one to Jillian, she sat down on the couch opposite hers, and fixed her with a very direct gaze. “So,” she said. “You and Aldair. You want to tell me how that happened?”
Not really, Jillian thought. How could she begin to explain the attraction which had drawn the two of them together when she was still having a hard time understanding it herself? Anyway, this wasn’t the time for confessions. It was the time to do whatever she must to make sure her lover was safe. So she shrugged and responded, “He didn’t tell you anything?”
“He said you were innocent, that we shouldn’t drag you into his problems. Not that we would have done anything like that anyway, but I have to say that Aldair al-Ankara acting selfless is a new one for me.”
From Julia’s tone of voice, Jillian got the impression that she didn’t have a very high opinion of Aldair. Not really a surprise, considering what he’d already told her about his dealings with the djinn community here.
“But he did tell you how I helped him escape from the outer circles.”
A shrug. “Yes, but he also made it clear that at the time you really didn’t know what you were doing, that you were just trying to get out of there. As any other sane person would.” Julia sipped her tea, then extracted a stoneware coaster from the bronze holder where it currently resided and set it down on the table. Her expression softened, and Jillian could see the concern in her big blue-gray eyes. “But…Jillian…forgive me for saying this, but Aldair?”
Even though she’d had a feeling this was coming, she still didn’t much like the insinuation in Julia’s voice. “He’s not who you think he is.”
At that remark, Julia’s eyebrows lifted, and she crossed her arms as she settled against the back of the sofa. “Do you know anything about him?”
“I know everything.”
The other woman’s brows couldn’t really rise any further, but she still managed to register sufficient astonishment as her eyes widened. “Everything?”
“Yes, because he told me. He told me all about trying to get his revenge on his brother. How he joined up with Khalim’s people when his plans with Jessica fell apart. Everything. No sugarcoating.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like him.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t change what happened between us.” Jillian leaned forward, hands clasped on her knees. Possibly there was no way to convince Julia of how Aldair had changed, but she knew she had to at least try. Julia’s would be a far more sympathetic ear than Zahrias’, that was for sure. If Jillian could get Julia on her side, then maybe there was some way she could convince the leader of the Santa Fe djinn that Aldair truly wasn’t a threat anymore. “We weren’t hurting anyone, living there in Madrid.”
“Funny — he said basically the same thing. And I really don’t think you were. But none of this is up to me. You understand that, don’t you?”
Anger flared in Jillian, but she pushed it back as best she could. Actually, Julia really did look halfway sympathetic. But clearly she held the opinion that Zahrias wouldn’t be swayed on the matter. And in the end, it really wasn’t up to Zahrias, either, was it? They were all waiting on the elders to arrive and pass judgment.
“I understand,” Jillian said. “I don’t like it, but I understand. Or at least, I’m trying to. But you all need to meet me halfway. Or don’t you believe that people can change?”
Julia smiled, although there was something almost sad in her expression. “I didn’t used to. Lately…I guess you could say I’m cautiously optimistic. But….” She paused, a small frown pulling at her fine brows, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how well it would be received.
“But what?”
This time, the look Julia gave Jillian was extremely direct. It was the sort of look that made Jillian want to sit up straighter on the couch. “But — all right, I know we weren’t close friends in Los Alamos. I got the impression that you really weren’t close friends with anybody. That’s okay — it was your choice. Word on the street was th
at you shot down any men who ever tried to approach you. Nicely, of course. But it seemed like you weren’t ready to stop mourning, and now….” Her head tilted to one side. “How long were you there with Aldair in Madrid?”
“A week.” That was probably a little better than falling into bed with someone after knowing them for a single evening, but not a lot of time to decide that you wanted to shack up for all eternity. Jillian could tell Julia was thinking about the same thing, although clearly she was too polite to say it. “I know it seems crazy. And I know you’re all judging him for the terrible things he did — and I’m not excusing them, I’m not — but….” Jillian had to stop herself there. Because when you looked at the whole situation through eyes unblurred by love, she knew it did seem crazy. And it wasn’t as if she was the sort of person who generally went for the “reformed bad boy” sorts of books or movies. God knows, Jack had been the very antithesis of a bad boy. At the same time, she could see why Aldair had been so angry, why he’d let that rage and resentment fester inside him for so long. She had to be glad that he’d somehow managed to get past it at last, even if he had done some very horrible things before they met.
“But….?” Julia probed gently.
“But he was punished. He spent eighteen months of our time in the outer circles. Maybe the elders won’t think that was enough. But it’s also not as if he didn’t have to pay a price for what he did.” Closing her eyes, Jillian recalled the nightmare landscape of that part of the djinn otherworld, of the bilious sky and toxic air, the way the winds felt as if they would flay the skin right off you, given enough time. “You have no idea what it was like there.”
“No, and I don’t want to ever find out. I’ve been to the part of the djinn plane where they actually lived, and that was bad enough. So I’ll take your word for it.” She stopped there, because in that moment, the sound of male voices drifted down the hallway. “I think Dani — Zahrias’ brother — must be back. He was sent to fetch the elders.”
Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6) Page 22