Awoken

by Christine Pope

  He enjoyed being in her company. There was something strangely pure and yet determined about her — the way she had stubbornly slept on the kitchen floor to make sure that the goat he’d rescued made it safely through the night, or the way she’d insisted that all the other goats in the area be rounded up so they wouldn’t be prey for wolves. Her behavior contrasted with what he thought he’d believed about humans, that they only looked out for themselves, that even among those who pretended to be for the greater good was a tendency toward selfishness and self-aggrandizement.

  It was refreshing. She was refreshing. If she’d been a woman of the djinn, he would have decided that she was worth pursuing. Because she was human, however, Hasan found himself torn. He was not one of those weaklings who claimed that humanity was worth saving, and who had shackled themselves to one of their mortal “Chosen” for all of eternity. No, he was not that great a fool.

  And yet he found it difficult to keep himself from staring at her mouth, from recalling how her slender body had felt in his arms as he transported them into the heart of town. She had been uncomfortable, that much was clear, and yet at the same time he’d sensed a response to him from somewhere deep within her, a reaction she probably didn’t want to acknowledge to anyone, let alone herself.

  Which put them…where? When they got to the house, Jordan said she was tired and wanted to go upstairs to lie down. On the surface, it sounded like a reasonable enough excuse. After all, she’d just passed a weary night on the hard kitchen floor, and then had done a good deal of walking. However, Hasan sensed that her real motivation was most likely a desire to get away from him, if only for a short while.

  Although he experienced a flicker of irritation at this thought, he didn’t try to stop her, only said that he understood and that he would provide a late lunch for her after she woke, if she so wished. She murmured a thank-you and made her escape, leaving him to go back out to the front porch, where he sat down on the bench and stared at the autumn-tinted landscape, trying to decide what he should do next.

  A wise man probably would send her on her way. It would be easiest. She could go out into the world, and survive, or not. Hasan rather thought she would survive, given how tenaciously she had hung on to life so far. But that would be putting her in the way of the djinn who still roamed here and there, determined to find humanity’s last survivors. If they found her, she would die.

  Or worse. None of those involved would ever admit to such deeds, but he’d heard rumors among those dedicated to cleansing the earth that sometimes comely human women were taken and used before they were killed. Hasan had never stooped to such behavior, and so his fellow djinn kept quiet about their heinous acts, at least when they were around him. Still, the thought that Jordan might suffer such a fate only cemented his desire to keep her here, at least for a while.

  Besides, if he did let her go, and she did somehow manage to reach Los Alamos, that would be one more strike against that wretched stronghold of humanity. They would have something he wanted.

  No, that was ridiculous. He didn’t want her. He only…

  …only what? His thoughts were so muddled, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

  This had been so much easier when humans were only faceless prey to him, anonymous, flawed, a few steps above vermin such as mice and rats. Once one began to think of them as people, as individuals, then they became much more difficult to kill.

  A pair of bleats made him focus on the source of the sound, which had come from off to his left. He saw a couple of goats approaching from the direction of the riverbank, more of the town’s resident herd. Good. He could gather them up and put them with their fellows. The task would give him something else to think about rather than the admittedly thorny problem of Jordan Wells.

  Hasan got up from the bench where he sat, extending his hands as the goats approached. They came up to him quite without fear, for all domesticated animals instinctively realized that the djinn meant them no harm, and instead wished to be their protectors. He had only driven off the wolf the night before because it would have killed that yearling goat. In itself, he would not have considered such a loss to be a tragedy, for prey succumbing to predators was part of the natural order of things.

  But the attack had upset Jordan, and so Hasan had stepped in.

  He was not sure he wanted to consider the ramifications of such an action. It would mean that he already cared about what she thought, what she wanted, after spending a short two days in her presence. That was not how he allowed women to affect him, even djinn women. He might permit himself to explore an attraction, to spend time with a woman, but he never allowed them into his heart. It was enough to enjoy the physicality of such a relationship without letting it grow any deeper. While he understood that it was necessary to continue his race, he had left it to others to find a partner they could spend decades with, to have a child with. He’d always moved alone through this life. He preferred it that way.

  The goats followed him to the barn, as though they knew that the rest of their herd was already safely inside. He opened the door and watched as they trotted in, perfectly trusting, perfectly fearless. As well they might be. They knew they were now under his protection.

  The odor of fresh hay had begun to mix with that of not-so-fresh goat, but Hasan didn’t mind. They were safe here. This would be their place.

  He closed the barn door and began to walk back to the house. For some reason, he liked the idea that Jordan slept within, that the place wouldn’t be empty when he returned.

  And that realization should have bothered him more than anything.

  Jordan had told Hasan she wanted to sleep, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. All right, she was tired enough that she knew she probably would have slept if she’d kicked off her shoes and lain down on the bed. However, she hadn’t come up here to sleep.

  She’d come up here to get some much-needed solitude.

  Because she could feel herself slipping into an odd sort of acceptance. So what if he was a djinn? He hadn’t retaliated, even though she’d shot him, for God’s sake. He’d fed her, given her a place to sleep, even listened to her crack-brained ideas about rounding up all the goats in town. Were those the actions of a homicidal, vengeance-driven person?

  Well, she supposed even Hannibal Lecter could be charming when he wanted to.

  She sat on the window seat, head resting against the wall as she gazed at the landscape outside, the grass rippling with the wind, the aspens in the grove beyond showing a little more gold than they had the day before. She was so tired, she probably could have slept right here on the window seat. If nothing else, she could try to give herself a crick on the opposite side of her neck. At least that way it would be even.

  Movement caught her eye, though. Jordan sat up a little straighter and watched as Hasan strode toward the barn, a pair of goats following him. One of them was white and one a sort of dark chocolate color, and they tagged along with the djinn like a couple of dogs taken out for their afternoon walk. As far as she could tell, none of the animals feared him at all.

  He went inside for a few minutes, then came back out, sans goats. His head was lifted into the wind, dark hair blowing behind him like a banner of black silk.

  God, he was gorgeous.

  That thought seemed so traitorous, Jordan had to shove it to the back of her mind and pretend it had never existed. Problem was, Hasan was still there, walking along as though he was the king of the world or something, the same wind tugging at the heavy silken robes he wore, showing off even more of his muscular chest and a stomach so defined, she thought it might be an eight-pack instead of the usual six.

  Because…damn.

  Jordan turned away from the window. No point in torturing herself with his male perfection. He was a djinn, and therefore the enemy.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. The cushion for the window seat wasn’t all that thick, and she knew she’d be more comfortable lying on the bed, and yet sh
e stayed where she was. Trying to torture herself for having impure thoughts about a djinn?

  Maybe.

  It had been a horribly long time. More than two years, because she’d broken up with the boyfriend of her senior year of college just a month before graduation. He wanted her to stay in Boulder and try for her master’s degree. She’d made it through four years with scholarships and grants and part-time work, and the thought of having to patchwork her financing for another two years was just exhausting. So she’d gone back to Colorado Springs, where she’d been forced to move in with her mother because she couldn’t afford an apartment on her own. Colorado Springs, where no one seemed too interested in hiring a recent graduate with a degree in environmental studies, but were only too glad to have another pretty girl cover the night shift at the bar where Jordan’s mother had worked for the past fifteen years.

  Anyway, dating was not high on her list of priorities, and when the Heat hit some three months after graduation and the world changed, romance and sex had to take a distant back seat to survival. In Pagosa Springs, people had formed their attachments, but Jordan kept herself out of it. She wasn’t interested, thought it was too risky, a belief only cemented when she’d had to hold her friend Suzanne’s hand as she took a pregnancy test she got at the local pharmacy, Suzanne crying that she and Cole had used protection, but she was late and didn’t know what to do….

  The test had come back negative, thank God. Suzanne had only been late because of stress and a shaky diet that probably didn’t provide everything her body needed, even though everyone in the group had also been taking supplements. But the incident only made Jordan more determined to stay aloof. Run the risk of having a baby in a world that had fallen apart? No way.

  Her libido, which she’d thought safely dormant, appeared to have woken up, and for a djinn, of all people.

  If only she hadn’t taken that damn detour into Chama. She could have avoided Hasan altogether, could have kept going to Los Alamos. Maybe there she might have met a nice guy, possibly a former scientist or engineer or something, and together they could have worked on ways to maximize the colony’s resources, something to make her feel useful. She certainly didn’t need to worry about safe environmental practices now, when all of the world’s industry had come to an abrupt halt after most of its population perished from the Heat. If nothing else, the Dying must have been great for reducing levels of CO2, or helping to keep the polar ice caps from receding any more than they already had.

  All right, maybe the safest thing to do was just admit that, even though she knew he was a villainous djinn, Hasan was also extremely hot. Acknowledging the fact would make it easier for her to stay on her guard. Besides, finding someone attractive didn’t mean you had to act on that attraction. She could allow herself to admire him and leave it at that.

  Easy for her to say. Jordan got up from the window seat and headed into the bathroom, where she washed her hands and splashed some cold water on her face. That helped a little. And although she looked tired, her walk earlier in the day had given her some color in her cheeks. She didn’t look quite so much like an extra from The Walking Dead.

  Should she go downstairs, or should she hide up here for a while longer? It would be easier to hide, but in a way, that felt like admitting defeat. She had to prove to herself that she could be around Hasan and act like a normal human being. He never needed to know that she found him attractive.

  Attractive. What a lukewarm word. She knew he was the best-looking man…djinn…whatever…that she’d ever seen. But, as her mother had been fond of pointing out, looks weren’t everything. Jordan’s own father had been an extremely handsome man. He was also a man who brought her a new bike for her fifth birthday, kissed her on the cheek and told her to be a good girl, and then disappeared forever. No letters, and sure as hell no support checks. Bridget Wells had finally been able to obtain a divorce on grounds of abandonment, but it hadn’t been easy.

  So Jordan knew all too well that a handsome face didn’t mean squat when it came to a man’s character. Or a djinn’s.

  And she’d have to keep that sober fact in mind, no matter what.

  Jordan came downstairs sometime after Hasan returned to the house. Her hair swung, shiny and sleek, down her back, and he couldn’t tell if she’d slept and then made sure to tidy herself up afterward, or whether she hadn’t lain down on the bed at all.

  Something he shouldn’t be wondering about, because the image of her asleep, her rich brown hair fanned around her on a pillow, made a surge of desire go through him. It was ridiculous, the way he’d begun to react to her. This was a human he supposedly wanted. Beautiful, yes, but not without flaws, like the light sprinkling of freckles on her straight little nose, or her brows, which were almost too thick for beauty and definitely in need of plucking.

  Focusing on those imperfections made the heat in his body recede somewhat. As she came into the kitchen, where he’d been musing on the contents of the pantry and thinking of what he might like to summon for their luncheon, she offered him a hesitant smile.

  “Was I asleep for very long?”

  “Not too long,” he replied. “I was just thinking of lunch — if you’re hungry, of course.”

  “I am, actually. All that walking and fresh air, I guess.”

  She did look like she’d gotten a bit of sun, for her cheeks were faintly pink. He had to hope that she hadn’t formed any new freckles.

  Hasan didn’t trust himself to inspect her face too closely, however, and so he waved a hand and produced several plates of sandwiches — another human invention that he’d acquired quite a taste for. These were modeled on a submarine sandwich he’d had in New York in 1967, piled high with deli meats and dressed with vinegar and oil.

  Jordan’s eyes widened slightly. “Those aren’t subs, are they?”

  “Yes. I had one once and enjoyed it very much. You like this kind of sandwich?”

  Her gaze slid away from the plates of food, although a moment earlier it had looked as though she might actually start salivating. “I did when I was younger. But all that processed meat — ”

  Younger? He wanted to laugh at that comment. Humans had such a skewed perspective when it came to the passage of time. Voice casual, he said, “Eat it, or not. I doubt one such meal can cause too much harm.”

  He reached for one of the sandwiches and picked it up, and then took a rather ostentatious bite. Jordan hesitated for a moment before she gave a small lift of her shoulders and retrieved her own sandwich. Another pause before she bit into it. Then her eyes shut, as if she was experiencing a moment of pure ecstasy. Perhaps she was. How long had it been since she’d eaten anything remotely like that sandwich?

  “Oh, my God, that’s good,” she said after she’d finished chewing. “Where do you even get the ingredients for something like that?”

  Was it worth explaining to her that as long as the individual components existed somewhere, even if on a purely molecular level, a djinn could summon them and build them into anything he wished? Or should he simply pass it off as magic, which in a way it was?

  “It is a skill of ours, to bring to us the things we need,” he said. “That is all. However, with food, it has to be something we’ve once experienced, or we don’t have the requisite information to re-create it. I never bothered to try sushi, and so I could not have any here to give to you.”

  “Too bad,” Jordan replied. “Yellowfin sashimi was amazing. But this sandwich is also amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  They were both quiet after that, eating in silence. For all her concerns about “processed meat” — whatever that might be — she ate the entire thing, barely leaving any crumbs on her plate. When she was done, she set the dish down on the counter by the sink. “Water?” she asked.

  Another wave of his hand, and two glasses and a pitcher of water with slices of lemon floating in it appeared on the counter. This time Jordan’s eyes didn’t widen quite so much, but Hasan could t
ell that she still wasn’t quite used to the way he could conjure things out of thin air.

  She drank — quite a bit, more than half the glass — and then set it down on the tiled counter. “I’m going to check on the goats, let them out to forage a bit. If I need help rounding them up later — ”

  “I’ll assist you,” he said. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Thank you.” For a moment it appeared as though she intended to say something else, but then she flicked her hair over her shoulder and disappeared into the laundry room. A moment later, the back door banged shut.

  For a djinn, meal cleanup took only the blink of an eye. The plates disappeared, scrubbed and returned to their places in the cupboard, ready for dinner.

  Hasan went to the back door and pushed the curtains out of the way. There was Jordan, making her purposeful way up the hill, long hair swinging behind her. Perhaps she should have tied it back out of the way, but he was glad she didn’t. He liked to watch it blow in the wind, the sun picking out sparks of copper and dark gold within the warm brown.

  With a frown, he let the curtains fall closed, then turned around and went back into the kitchen, and on into the dining room. He surveyed the table for a moment, trying to decide what he should conjure them for dinner. Something that would be a reward for watching over those goats.

  Or at least, that was how he tried to justify it to himself. He had no doubt that the other djinn who’d assisted him in clearing this territory of humans would laugh at him now, amused beyond belief at the notion that Hasan al-Abyad, the inveterate mortal hunter, would be mooning over a human woman and trying to decide which meal would tempt her appetite best. And no one would probably laugh harder than Qadim al-Syan, who had taken a mortal woman for his own…especially when Hasan had been so adamant about how Qadim was betraying his kind by loving a human, albeit a beautiful one.

  Well, Qadim would never have to know about Hasan’s shame. Besides, this wasn’t love, or anything close to it, but simply physical desire. What red-blooded male wouldn’t have wanted someone like Jordan — assuming it was in his nature to desire women, of course? There was a great deal of difference between wanting to bed a woman and actually giving her one’s heart.