Awoken

by Christine Pope

  A moment later, she rose as well, brushing at the grass that clung to the knees of her jeans. Now they were badly stained, a detail that didn’t escape her, because he could see the way she frowned as she took in the damage to her trousers. She shot a wary look at him up through her thick lashes, then asked, “So what now?”

  “Now, you come back to the house. And bathe,” he added. “You’re filthy.”

  Traces of pink tinged her cheekbones. “Sorry if I offend,” she retorted. “Most people aren’t exactly at their best after being on the run in the wilderness for days.”

  He wondered how long she had been running…and what had precipitated her flight in the first place. From the way her mouth had tightened — wounded pride, or fear, or a combination of the two? — he could tell this was not the best occasion to ask. He would wait, then inquire at a more opportune time.

  If she had any secrets, she would not keep them from him for long.

  Just six inches to the right, Jordan thought bitterly as she followed the djinn back to the house. Just six inches, and I would have gotten him in the heart. I doubt even a djinn could have bounced back so quickly from that kind of wound.

  As it was, she’d hit him in the arm, and although he’d wrapped some of the silk of his robe around the affected area, he certainly looked none the worse for wear. She supposed she should be glad he hadn’t snapped her neck in retaliation. He certainly had the opportunity…and the justification.

  In grim silence, she let him lead her back into the house, and then up the stairs to one of the rooms she hadn’t explored yet, clearly a secondary bedroom, not as large as the one he’d taken as his own. However, it had its own en suite bath, making it more private than the other two bedrooms upstairs, which had to share a bathroom.

  “You will use this room,” said the djinn.

  If she’d found this house on her own, she would have been thrilled to find someplace so comfortable to crash. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed and a spectacular view of the mountains. However, since the djinn obviously expected to use the room as a makeshift prison cell, Jordan found herself less than thrilled by the accommodations.

  “I need my backpack,” she said. “My spare clothes are in there.”

  “You have no need of that,” he returned, not blinking. “I will provide something.”

  “But — ”

  “You will bathe, and you will remain in this room. Don’t bother trying to escape. I will sense you, human, wherever you go on my lands. Do you understand?”

  All Jordan could do was offer a sullen nod. Where did he think she would go — out the bathroom window?

  Actually, if he hadn’t already proven that he was more than capable of catching up to her, she might have considered squeezing herself out the window and somehow making her way down to the ground. But she had a feeling such an attempt would be beyond futile.

  “I will be back to check on you,” he offered as a final warning, then went out into the upstairs hall and closed the door behind him.

  Because she had to prove to herself that she truly was trapped in here, Jordan went to the door and tested the knob. Sure enough, it didn’t budge, even though it looked like a typical interior doorknob and therefore didn’t even have a lock.

  Some kind of djinn trick, apparently. She frowned and went into the bathroom, turned the taps in the shower. At once water shot forth from the showerhead, strong and gloriously warm.

  As horrible as the situation was, Jordan couldn’t help feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of a hot shower. She closed the bathroom door and locked it, then quickly climbed out of her dirty clothes and got in the shower enclosure, let the water beat down on her head. Oh, the feeling of having all those weary miles washed away, of getting truly clean for the first time in God knows how long. In Pagosa, they’d used the hot springs to bathe in the summertime, and queued for five-minute showers at the houses that had solar water heaters during the winter, but it had never really felt like enough.

  Where was all this water coming from, though? Did the djinn’s house have a well? Probably, just as it most likely had a solar water heater to supplement the huge solar panel that provided the electricity here. Whoever had owned this house clearly had been into off-grid living.

  They also believed in high-end toiletries, since the shampoo and conditioner that sat on the shelf in the shower enclosure were an expensive brand that Jordan couldn’t have afforded back before the Dying had forever changed the landscape of the future. She washed her hair twice, let the conditioner do its magic while she soaped the rest of herself, used the razor to get the scruff off her legs and away from her underarms. By the time she was done, she felt like an actual human being and would have been almost optimistic about the future — if it weren’t for the djinn who waited for her downstairs.

  Jordan got out of the shower and wrapped one towel around herself and one around her hair. A quick survey of the cupboards didn’t turn up a hair dryer, but she did locate some moisturizer and some serum for her hair. It should dry just fine on its own anyway, since it was fairly straight and didn’t tend to frizz.

  You’re trapped here by a djinn and you’re worried about your hair frizzing? she asked herself as she hung up the towel she’d used to blot her hair to near-dryness. I think you need to reexamine your priorities.

  Actually, she knew her priorities were just fine. Right now, she was only trying to distract herself by focusing on trivialities. To have survived this long, to have escaped not one, but two djinn attacks, only to walk right into a house owned by one of those bloodthirsty supernatural beings…well, she could only conclude that the universe had a fine sense of humor.

  She kept the other towel wrapped around her as she went out into the bedroom. The djinn had said he would provide clothing, but he could have been lying. He might have told her that just to see if she’d walk out of the bathroom stark naked.

  No, that was crazy. Djinn might look like humans — extremely perfect humans — but the ones she’d encountered sure as hell didn’t have sex on their minds. Murder, yes.

  The bedroom was empty. Or rather, the djinn wasn’t there, but the clothes he’d promised her lay on the bed. Jeans identical to the Levi’s she wore, only clean and dark and new-looking. A dark green cotton top, a sort of Indian-looking garment with embroidery around the neckline. Black leather flats. It was the sort of ensemble she might have worn to class back at college, or for a casual Friday night. How the hell the djinn had come up with it, she had no idea.

  And there was also a stack of women’s panties, lace and satin, and several matching bras in various colors. Jordan wondered where the hell the djinn had gotten the lingerie — until she went closer and picked up a pair of pale blue bikini underpants, and saw the Victoria’s Secret tag still attached. So, what…had he simply snapped his fingers and summoned these things here from the closest abandoned mall? Wasn’t that the sort of thing genies were supposed to do? She didn’t know a lot about the djinn, because communications with the Los Alamos group had been cut off before much information was exchanged, but she’d learned enough to know that djinn were basically the same thing as the genies from folklore and fairytales.

  Jordan had to admit, however, that the djinn who’d captured her was a lot better-looking than the Mr. Clean type of genie you usually saw in cartoons and illustrations.

  Then she wanted to mentally beat herself up for harboring such a thought. What difference did it make whether he looked like a Greek god? He was evil, just like all the other djinn.

  Once she was done getting dressed, she slipped into the flats the djinn had provided —which fit perfectly, as did the rest of the clothes; she didn’t quite know what to make of that — and then finger-combed her hair one last time. She hadn’t worn any makeup except lip balm for the past two years, so it wasn’t as though she precisely missed it, although she guessed the outfit would look better with a face that was a bit more polished. Like it mattered. Even back before the Dying, she�
��d only bothered with anything more than mascara and clear lip gloss when she had to go to work at the bar and grill.

  Now what? The djinn had said he would be back to check on her, but when Jordan put her ear to the door and listened as hard as she could, she didn’t hear anything. Maybe he’d only said that to put her on edge. She didn’t have too much trouble imagining one of the evil elementals engaging in those kinds of mind games.

  Fine. The last thing she wanted was for him to appear just as she was attempting to listen at the door, so she stepped away and went over to the window seat, where she sat down and stared out at the view, trying her best not to be scared out of her wits. She hugged her arms to herself, suddenly cold, although the room was warm enough, the sunlight slanting through the windows helping to make it comfortable. If anything, the place felt a bit stuffy. No point in trying to open the window, however. She had a feeling the djinn would be up here in a heartbeat if she tried anything that remotely resembled an escape attempt, and at the moment she was feeling too shaky to attempt anything drastic.

  What did he intend to do with her? Surely it would have been easier for him to kill her outright rather than make her his prisoner. But if he wanted her dead, why bother with the shower and the clean clothes? So she could make a better-looking corpse? From what she’d seen of djinn on the attack, they weren’t too worried about the damage they caused, as long as all the humans in their immediate vicinity ended up dead.

  Those memories only increased the chill in her body. A harsh shiver went through her, and she wrapped her arms even more tightly around herself, wishing she could somehow do over this afternoon, could go back in time and tell herself to stay far, far away from the big house and its falsely welcoming porch. How could she have been so stupid?

  No matter what the djinn had said, Jordan couldn’t help thinking that her foolishness would surely cost her life.

  Chapter Three

  All was silent upstairs. Hasan knew the girl must be there, because he could still sense her presence. He wasn’t quite sure what he should do next. Interrogate her, attempt to discover who she was and where she had come from? Possibly.

  She had looked hungry, though. Perhaps he should give her something to eat.

  As soon as that thought passed through his mind, Hasan wanted to shake his head at himself. Why on earth should he care for her comfort?

  Because if you were going to kill her, you should have killed her quickly and cleanly. Starving her is beneath you.

  He should check to see what she was doing, though. Yes, he could tell she was still in her room, but as the water in the bathroom had stopped some time earlier, he was somewhat at a loss as to what she might be up to at the moment.

  Well, that would be simple enough to discover. He would not knock and wait for her to respond. No, the easiest thing to do was employ his djinn talents for some discreet surveillance.

  He blinked himself outside, and then took to the air. To be safe, he wove a faint glamour around himself, just enough to hide his presence, turn himself into only a faint shimmer in the air. Djinn could not make themselves completely invisible, but they were very good at directing the eye elsewhere, at making it seem as though an onlooker’s gaze caught only the moving glint of sunlight on the leaves of a tree, or the subtle shadow of a bird flying high overhead.

  It was a good thing he had taken the precaution, though, because he saw at once that the young woman was sitting on the window seat. She did not appear to be looking outside, however, even though the view was quite lovely, with the pine-covered mountains in the distance and the warm flame of the aspens closer at hand. No, she had her arms wrapped around herself, as though attempting to ward off a chill. Her lovely head drooped, and he thought he saw the glimmer of tears behind her long lashes.

  At the sight of her obvious dejection, he experienced an odd pang somewhere in his midsection. Hasan could not precisely identify what he was feeling, only that he knew he had never experienced it before. For some reason, what he wanted to do then was go inside, reassure her that he had no intention of hurting her.

  Take her in his arms and offer her what comfort he could.

  No, that was madness. Why on earth would he want to console this wayward human, this trespasser? Had he forgotten that she had put a bullet through his arm not even an hour earlier?

  As if to remind him of her belligerence, the wound twinged slightly. It was healing well enough, and would soon be gone, but he could not forget that she had had no compunction about shooting him, even though he had done nothing to antagonize her.

  Well, except tackle her to the ground. But even that action had been born purely from the need to stop her before she shot him again. Surely no one could blame him for doing what he must to protect himself.

  And yet…she looked so forlorn. What had she gone through, to reach this place alone, with no one to help her, no one to protect her from the djinn he knew must still be patrolling the area? Not as many as there had been, true. So few humans were left now, and most djinn had retired to the lands they’d been given so they might start their new lives here on earth. Even so, some of the most dedicated still kept watch…just in case.

  He wanted to know how she had managed it. He realized then that he didn’t even know her name.

  A blink took him back inside so he stood outside the door to her room. He knocked once and waited.

  After a long pause, he could hear her fumbling with the doorknob. He realized then that the charm he’d laid on it to prevent her from opening the door was still active. A wave of his hand, and the charm was removed.

  The door opened inward. The girl stood there, a startled expression on her delicate features. No doubt she’d tried to open it before and had been thwarted, so Hasan thought he could excuse her surprise now.

  She looked much improved. Although her hair was still damp, it already appeared much shinier, and the road grime was gone from her face. The clothing he had given her wasn’t terribly revealing, but he could still see the curve of hip and thigh in the trousers she wore.

  Her eyes were so very blue. Like mountain lakes reflecting the sky.

  Hasan had to clear his throat. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Those eyes widened slightly. “Am I what?”

  “Are you hungry?” he repeated. He would have liked to call her a simpleton for not understanding what he had asked, but he knew she probably did understand. She simply couldn’t figure out why her captor would be concerned about such a thing.

  “I — I suppose I am,” she allowed.

  “Then I will bring you something.”

  He closed the door on her startled eyes and found some relief in doing so. This was the most interaction he’d ever had with a human, and he was annoyed with himself for how he had reacted to her. What did it matter that she was lovely, or had looked so very sad when left to herself? Her people had almost destroyed this world. She did not deserve any pity from him.

  The trout he had caught earlier were stored in the refrigerator. Although some of his kind enjoyed preparing food from scratch, Hasan did not count himself among them. It was so much easier to visualize the meal he wanted, and to have it appear. Yes, if he had the raw ingredients at hand, then the process did not require quite as much of his power, but he never let that restraint stop him. He used the fish because they needed to be eaten, but the rice and the vegetables to accompany them came from much farther away, as did the small loaf of bread and a pat of butter.

  When he sat down to consume his own version of this same meal, he would have wine, but he saw no reason to extend that kind of largesse to his prisoner. A glass of water would do well enough; he assumed she must be thirsty as well, though she could have already gotten herself some water from the tap.

  Although it might have been simpler to blink the tray of food into her room and have done with it, Hasan found himself loath to do so. He didn’t quite want to admit that he wished to gaze upon her again, but….

  Instead, he took
her meal with him and ascended the stairs once again. Holding the tray with one hand, he lifted the other to knock at the door. This time, there wasn’t nearly as long a wait for her to open it.

  Again, a startled look passed over her face as she took in the food he carried. He hoped she had never attempted to earn her living by playing cards, because she would have been woefully hampered by the obvious expressions displayed on her features.

  “Here is your dinner,” Hasan said.

  She took the tray from him, being careful not to touch his fingers. “Um…thank you.”

  Perhaps he should have told her she was welcome and left it at that, but it seemed foolish for him to hold her here and not even know her name. “What are you called?” he asked.

  An obvious hesitation. Then she replied, “Jordan.”

  She didn’t offer anything more than the single word, and his mouth compressed slightly. “Surely there is more to your name than that.”

  Her fingers tightened on the dinner tray. They were pretty enough, slender and graceful, even with the nails kept severely short. An angry red line cut across the back of one hand, as though she’d wounded herself at some point in the recent past. Well, if she truly had been running through the wilderness for the past few days, he could see why she might have had ample opportunities for minor scrapes and cuts and bruises. Her lips pressed together, and then she let out a small breath and said, “Jordan Marie Wells.”

  He wasn’t sure the name suited her. It sounded too brisk, too matter-of-fact. But then, humans weren’t always known for their mastery of aesthetics. “Well, then, Jordan…enjoy your dinner.”

  Her mouth opened, as though she intended to inquire as to his name. Hasan supposed he would give it to her at some point, but he did not want to delay her any longer, for her food would get cold.

  At least, that was the excuse he provided for himself.

  Before she could speak, he shut the door and set the charm upon the knob once again. He could not trust her not to attempt to escape, despite his warnings. And really, she now had everything she might need — food and water, a bed to sleep in, a private bath for her own use. No doubt his fellow djinn would say he was being far too lenient with her.