It could become something of a game, he realized. To toy with Jordan, make her desire him. However, he would not use the djinn glamour to beguile her. While many of his people would not consider such a stratagem cheating, Hasan wanted to know he could entice her on his own, with no magical intervention. If he won and actually took her to bed, all the better. He could scratch the itch that had been building within him for some months, and then send her on her way. Perhaps he would finally reveal to her that Los Alamos did exist, that something more than a mirage waited for her at the end of her journey. Yes, that would be a magnanimous gesture. And no one would ever have to know that he’d sullied himself with a mere human.
That sounded like an excellent plan. Now all he had to do was put it in motion.
Chapter Eight
The goats appeared happy to be let out in the sun. Since the grass extended all the way to the barn, they didn’t seem inclined to wander very far, but got down to eating almost as soon as they were allowed to run loose. A weather-worn bench of faded gray wood that might have once been painted white had been set up against the western wall of the barn, and so she sat down there and watched her charges, although her mind was only half on what she was doing.
Her gaze kept shifting to the house. She couldn’t see any sign of movement within, but that was to be expected. What did Hasan do with his time, anyway? It wasn’t like he had to put much effort into cleaning up after lunch. Did he read? She’d gotten the impression that he liked to go hunting, to roam around the territory that was his, but she hadn’t seen him leave the house, unless he’d done so while she was busy inside the barn with the goats.
The spot where she sat was slightly higher than the ground where the house was built. From here, she had a clear view past the river with its border of cottonwood trees and into town — such as it was. Chama really wasn’t more than a wide spot in the road, with a few restaurants and stores, and a cluster of modest houses — and a few nice ones, although none of them as big and expensive as the home Hasan occupied. She wondered what the people who’d lived in Chama had done to support themselves. Worked on ranches in the surrounding area? There certainly wasn’t any industry here, nor much of a retail presence. Maybe the scenic railroad had provided more employment opportunities.
She really didn’t want to think about all those lives, now erased as if they’d never been. The whole time she’d been in Pagosa Springs, the survivors there had talked about what might be happening to the rest of the world, whether anyone else had managed to survive humanity’s systematic destruction at the hands of the djinn. Yes, they’d spoken to the people at Los Alamos during the weeks immediately after the Dying, had been told that there were also survivors in Southern California…but that had been years ago. Anything could have happened to them.
Cole, the pharmacist, had always argued that even with the Heat’s insanely high mortality rate, there still had to be millions of people who were immune. Hunting down and killing millions of people just wasn’t practical. But they’d seen what had happened in Colorado Springs before they fled. The djinn hadn’t worried about whether something was practical or not. After all, they had all the time in the world.
Jordan remembered the cool, precise voice of Miles Odekirk, the scientist who’d first told them who their enemies were, that the people behind the world’s destruction weren’t truly human at all. He had been very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, which in a way made it easier to handle. He had a nice voice, not really a baritone, but too low to be a true tenor, calm and measured. She’d always wished she could know what he looked like. The other person who’d spoken to the Colorado Springs group a few times was a woman named Julia Innes. She also sounded good over the radio, never strained, her words spoken in a smoky contralto that had made the men within earshot stop to listen to what she had to say. Then again, they would’ve listened even if she’d sounded like a screech owl. The information she’d offered was too important to ignore.
They’d started discussing plans to escape to Los Alamos, since the group there had devised a way of keeping themselves protected from the djinn — some kind of device Dr. Odekirk had invented. Unfortunately, the djinn had descended before the Colorado Springs group had time to get much further than the planning stages. Of the hundred-odd people who’d gathered there, residents of the city itself, or refugees from Denver and Aurora, Pueblo and Alamosa, only twelve survived to flee into the mountains and forests, struggling their way west until they found a place to hide in Pagosa Springs.
Jordan crossed her arms and fought back a shiver, even though she really wasn’t cold. The wind had died down a bit, and the sun was warm on her face. She knew she was — well, “safe” probably wasn’t the right word. Hasan had been almost too friendly today, but not in a way that she could consider creepy or off-putting. No, it was a brisk, casual friendliness, which meant…what? That he’d gotten tired of being alone, and even having a pushy human around was better than nothing?
It seemed like a reasonable enough explanation. She just couldn’t say whether it was true or not.
Because the goats took it into their heads right then to start moving away from the barn, headed upslope, she got up from the bench and followed them. If they got too ambitious about their wandering, then she’d probably have to go fetch Hasan to coax them back inside. As she’d told him, she didn’t know the first thing about herding goats. Maybe waving her arms at them and yelling “shoo!” would be enough. Or maybe doing something that stupid would only make them bolt into the woods.
It was so quiet here, only the sound of the wind whispering in the grass, broken occasionally by a bleat from one of the goats. In the background was the murmur of the pines, and was that the cry of a hawk? Jordan squinted into the southwest, thinking that she saw a dark shape spiraling down from the clear blue sky, although she couldn’t be absolutely sure. Pagosa Springs hadn’t been this quiet; it wasn’t as though anyone there made a lot of noise — actually, they did their best to keep the sound of their activities down in order to avoid attracting attention — but even so, you could usually hear someone talking in the background, or the ever-present murmur of the San Juan River.
From across the field, she spotted Hasan moving toward her. Since she’d been woolgathering, she really hadn’t noticed when he’d left the house. For a moment, she wondered why he bothered to walk at all, when he could just blink himself to any spot on the property that he wished. Maybe he knew she still found that particular djinn talent a bit off-putting, and so had decided it was better to use his own two feet to get himself around. If so, that was very accommodating of him.
She waited as he approached, and then lifted a hand to give him a wave. He smiled, white teeth glinting in the sun.
Damn, it was so hard not to stare.
“It’s been almost two hours,” he said. “Do you want to bring them back inside now?”
Had it really been that long? She’d been so lost in thought, Jordan hadn’t paid any attention to time passing. Funny how it became less important when you didn’t have your phone to check every five minutes, when you didn’t have anywhere you needed to be. Chores had to be done, but were accomplished much more fluidly.
“That’s probably a good idea,” she said. “I have a feeling they could do with some water.”
“As could you, I would guess, after being out in the sun this long.”
Yes, she was thirsty. And probably sunburned, too, although her burns never lasted very long, shifted over into a tan just a day after sun exposure. Still, she probably should have thought about that before she came out here without a hat or even a pair of sunglasses. If she was going to play amateur goatherd, she’d need to be more careful. With any luck, the Family Dollar in Chama would still have a few bottles of sunblock left around.
“Water sounds good,” she agreed. “So let’s get these guys back in the barn.”
Hasan waved at the goats, and they immediately left off cropping the grass and began to trot towa
rd home. Jordan fell in behind them, the djinn next to her. Already it felt strangely natural to have him at her side like that, even though she tried to tell herself that there was absolutely nothing natural about this situation…or about him.
“Do you eat duck?” he asked after they’d herded the goats into the barn, checked to make sure they had plenty of water, and then closed the door behind them.
“Yes,” Jordan replied. Well, back in the day, her budget hadn’t really allowed for too many meals of duck. She’d tried to avoid red meat, partly for health reasons, and partly because she knew that cattle production was really terrible for the environment. After the Dying, she didn’t have the luxury of those scruples. She’d eaten what was available, even if it went against her personal principles. Not that the Pagosa Springs group had eaten any cattle. They’d come across a few cows and guarded them carefully, needing their milk — and the cheese and the butter they could make from that milk — far more than their meat. The woods had teemed with deer and elk, and the San Juan River was rich with trout. No one had wanted for protein, that was for sure. She glanced up at Hasan, who was looking forward, face impassive as usual. “Is that what you’re planning for dinner?”
“I was thinking of it, yes.”
“It sounds wonderful. I can’t remember the last time I had duck.” Which was true enough. Maybe it had been for Liam’s birthday, the winter before the world changed? Everything had been a blur back then, life moving so quickly because of the rush to get things in order for graduation, to make sure she hadn’t missed any necessary classes. It had all seemed so important, so life and death.
There was a joke.
“Good.”
He was quiet then, as though musing on his dinner plans. Jordan knew she should ask him what exactly he intended by all this, whether he planned to keep her around until he got bored with her…but she just didn’t have the courage.
She didn’t know if she ever would.
Hasan had asked Jordan to change for dinner, and though she appeared surprised, she quickly hid her reaction by giving a not entirely convincing chuckle, then saying, “I suppose these jeans probably do smell like goat. And I need to get washed up anyway.”
He had only thanked her, because agreeing with a woman that she did indeed smell like a goat was not precisely an auspicious way to start what he hoped would be an intimate evening. With any luck, he could get her out of his system quickly, and set his sights on a much worthier companion. Danya was out of the question, but he’d heard that Amina, who’d been given the area around a town named Vail, was quite beautiful, and not so far away that they couldn’t form a temporary alliance. He would have to see.
As Jordan dressed for dinner, he set the table with a cloth of deep green brocade, and summoned plates of fine, translucent china, painted with gold around the rim. Goblets of gold as well, and a centerpiece of flowers that never grew in this northern climate — lilies, and orchids, and fragrant jasmine. He made the wax that coated some of the candlesticks disappear, so the brass gleamed as new. The curtains of heavy brown linen that hung at the windows were far too plain, and he whisked them away, replacing them with draperies in dark green, bordered with gold.
By the time he was done, the room seemed to shimmer, both from the candles he had lit everywhere, and the gold accents on the fabric and the dishware. The sun had gone down, but that was no matter, because here was an oasis of light and warmth.
Just as they had the day before, the stairs creaked, signaling Jordan’s descent. Hasan turned so he might watch her walk down the stairs. He had conjured more outfits for her, but a djinn woman’s garments of a close-fitting silken coat and filmy pantaloons rather than human clothes, and he’d wondered whether she would avail herself of them, or stubbornly cling to her jeans. To his delight and surprise, she had put on the silken coat in a warm wine color, trimmed in gold, and pantaloons striped in gold and wine and black. She’d pulled some of her hair away from her face so he could see the heavy gold earrings that swung back and forth, almost brushing her cheeks. As he’d gone about his preparations in the dining room, he’d also made a box of jewelry appear in Jordan’s room, along with the clothing. He liked to see a woman adorn herself, although he hadn’t been sure that she would dare to wear any of the jewels he’d provided.
Clearly, she hadn’t shied away from helping herself to the jewelry, for as she came closer, he saw that she also wore a stack of thin gold bracelets on one arm, and a heavy ring of gold and tourmaline on the middle finger of her right hand.
It wasn’t that she took his breath away. No, it seemed more as though he hadn’t known how to truly breathe until he saw her.
Did he dare to compliment her appearance? Some women appreciated such things, while others were made uncomfortable by praise. Although he could not claim to know her well, Hasan thought that Jordan was probably one of the latter. Better to tame her slowly, rather than offer compliments that would embarrass her, and possibly make her uneasy.
“You found the clothes and the jewelry,” he said, hoping that was a neutral enough subject.
The fingers of her left hand located the ring on the right and twisted it, while she brushed against the silken coat with the other. She did smile, but her expression seemed somewhat strained for all that. “Yes. The clothes are beautiful. And the jewelry…I’ve never — well, I don’t think I’ve ever touched anything this valuable, let alone worn it.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He wouldn’t mention that it was simple enough to summon these things, to have an image in his mind of what he wanted, and then to have it come to life immediately afterward. “Would you sit?” he asked, and pulled out a chair for her.
She looked around at the altered dining room, at the elaborate centerpiece that sat in the middle of the table. “This is quite a setup. Is it your birthday or something?”
“No. Djinn don’t celebrate their birthdays.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have so many of them.”
Jordan seemed to absorb that reply, then nodded. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Without further comment, she seated herself in the chair he’d chosen for her, and was quiet as he pushed it closer to the table.
Once she was situated, he took his own seat at the head of the table and reached for the wine, a dry rosé from the Rhone region of what had once been France. After his people had exhausted the world’s stores of wine, they would have to work on making their own, but that was no matter. That day was still a long ways off. And it would be amusing to put on the winemaker’s hat, to devote his time to that ancient art form. At least, as an elemental of the air, he would not have as much to fear when it came to ensuring that the fragile grapes survived. Any hint of a damaging frost, and he would be able to bring a warm, friendly wind to keep them safe.
“This is duck with a black currant reduction,” he said as he set a portion on Jordan’s plate. “And potatoes au gratin, and peas with butter sauce.”
“You must have eaten in some amazing restaurants,” she commented as she looked down at the food he’d given her. “That’s how you know about these dishes, right?”
“Yes, I’ve experienced them for myself.”
Something about her expression darkened. “So you spent time here in this world, enjoyed our food…and yet you still thought it was okay to exterminate the population?”
Of course he had thought it was fine. Just, even. A few well-prepared dishes couldn’t negate the very real fact that if the djinn hadn’t stepped in, this world might soon have become uninhabitable. Humans had been given a gift, and had squandered it.
He opened his mouth to say as much, then paused. Getting into an argument was certainly not how he wanted to begin this evening. After reaching for his wine glass and allowing himself a healthy swallow, he said, “It is far more complicated than that. Yes, I will admit that I — and all of my kind, really — have moved among humans, have experienced life in this world, even though we could not
actually live here. It was denied us, and given to you. But because you did such a terrible job of being its stewards, we decided to take it back.”
That comment seemed to hit home, because she didn’t protest. Or rather, her jaw set, and Hasan could practically see the possible retorts swirling around in her mind. When she spoke, however, her words surprised him. “We did do a terrible job. Or rather, some people did. A lot of us tried to change things. I protested, I marched, I spent my summers planting trees. We’re not all bad. Or at least,” she added, her tone tinged with the sort of sadness he could barely comprehend, “we weren’t all bad. There are so few of us left now that we can’t really do any harm.”
How he wished he could reach across the table, lay a hand on hers. He knew that she would only pull away from him, however, and so he forced himself to remain where he was. “The decision was not made lightly.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” Eyes narrowed, she picked up her own glass of wine and swallowed. Then, deliberately, she set it down and began to push out her chair. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“Jordan,” he said, making sure the note of warning was clear in his voice. “You will stay.”
“Or what?” she flared. “You’ll kill me, too? Lock me up in that room until I die?”
He hesitated, wanting to lash out but forcing himself to bite his tongue. Typical human exaggeration. He hadn’t locked her up last night, or today. Hadn’t he allowed her free run of his property, given in to her ridiculous demands about protecting those damned goats?
When he didn’t reply, her mouth compressed. Voice shaking, she said, “You know what? I’m tired of being afraid.”
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