Awoken

by Christine Pope

  “Tell me you felt nothing,” he demanded, arms crossed.

  That would be a lie, and she didn’t want to lie to him. “Oh, I felt something,” she said. “That isn’t the point. The point is that you’re lonely, and I’m lonely, and I suppose I would be naïve to think something like that might not happen. It doesn’t change the fact that it probably shouldn’t have happened. I mean, have you stopped to think past the two of us getting in bed together?”

  Once again he frowned, the level black brows drawing together. “We did not get in bed.”

  “No, but that’s sort of the next step, isn’t it?” Perversely, Jordan felt relieved to get the topic out there in the world, rather than trying to dance around it. “Which is why I think it’s better if we just stop now.”

  “And what about what I think?”

  Oh, hell. From his somewhat arrogant manner, Jordan had already been able to tell that Hasan was someone used to getting his own way. It must really drive him crazy to have a lowly human telling him how things were supposed to go from here. On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think that his own feelings or concerns didn’t matter. They did — but they wouldn’t change her mind, either.

  “It’s about what we both think,” she said gently. “Of course it is. But if you stop to consider where this is going, where it possibly could go…well, then it’s probably best if we both just walk away from it. I’m attracted to you, Hasan. You know that already, or I wouldn’t have responded the way I did last night. But pure attraction isn’t enough.”

  To her consternation, he reached out and took her hands, pulled her closer to him. She wanted to tear her fingers from his grasp, but she knew that would only anger him. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she could even get away. He was so very strong.

  “Walk away where?” he asked her. “Down an empty road to nowhere? You truly believe that is better than staying here with me?”

  Right then, she didn’t know what she believed. Los Alamos was a dream, a mirage. He was so very real — the grip of his warm fingers on hers, the dark hair ruffling in the wind, the curve of his lips, sensual even when he was angry with her.

  “I don’t know!” she burst out. “I don’t know anything, except that you’re driving me crazy! I should be vermin to you, shouldn’t I?”

  He went very still. “Oh, no,” he told her. “Not vermin. Not you. Never you.”

  And oh, God, he was going to kiss her again, and she knew she wasn’t going to stop him. In the next moment, his arms were around her, and he was pulling her close, his mouth on hers, hard, demanding that she open her lips to him. The richness of coffee touched her tongue as she tasted him. It was impossible to do anything except let him hold her, explore her mouth, make her more his with every passing second. Jordan knew she should pull away, but that was like asking light to escape a black hole. She couldn’t do it. She was being sucked into him, and there was no escape.

  A rumble of the earth. She thought it must have come from all the tremors passing through her body, but then a cool female voice interrupted them both, saying, “Really, Hasan? I had no idea you’d acquired a pet.”

  He pulled away from her. Jordan stumbled, then felt him put a steadying hand on her arm. She barely noticed. All her attention was focused on a woman who stood a few paces away from them, a hulk of a man — a djinn — immediately behind her. The woman was almost supernaturally beautiful, with long white-blonde hair that hung to her waist and ice-blue eyes. Her tight-fitting coat of blue and brown brocade showed off an impressive amount of cleavage, cleavage made all the more visible by the way she had her arms crossed under her breasts.

  Hasan said something under his breath that sounded almost like a curse. Then he spoke aloud.

  “Hello, Danya.”

  Chapter Ten

  Of all the misbegotten timing….

  Now that he was sure Jordan stood steady on her feet, he let go of her arm. A few yards away, Danya regarded the two of them, a smirk on her full mouth. Not smiling at all was her companion, whom Hasan vaguely recognized. Farid, that was his name, although Hasan could not recall his clan designation. He supposed it didn’t matter.

  Once again Danya’s gaze flickered toward Jordan before returning to Hasan. “I see you’ve found something to occupy yourself in your solitude, Hasan al-Abyad.”

  “How I occupy myself is no concern of yours.” Perhaps he could have found a way to be more politic in his reply, but truly, the djinn woman’s uninvited presence set his teeth on edge. And for her to have appeared just as he was locked in such a compromising position with Jordan Wells…. He would not allow himself to groan in frustration, but Hasan did wonder why the universe would treat him so capriciously when there were so many other far more deserving recipients of its largesse.

  “That is not true,” said Farid, stepping forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with Danya. “Not when you are harboring a wretched human on your lands.”

  His baleful gaze fixed on Jordan, who pulled in a breath but stood her ground. Hasan was glad to see such courage in her, even if such courage was probably derived from having him standing next to her. Yes, they might have been arguing just before Danya and Farid appeared, but clearly the mortal woman thought of Hasan as her ally.

  “‘A wretched human’?” he echoed, matching Farid stare for stare. “Who she is and her presence in my territory are none of your concern.”

  “Oh, I know Farid feels otherwise,” Danya said, one hand on Farid’s wrist in a clear effort to restrain him. The hulking djinn subsided, even though he outmatched his companion physically. Watching the way Danya’s fingers lingered on Farid’s flesh told Hasan all he needed to know about their relationship. He might have been acting as her bodyguard at the moment, but he was also far more than that. “You see, he’s been hunting her ever since Pagosa Springs. He hated the idea that one of the humans might have escaped his cleansing.”

  “It was you!” Jordan burst out. Her eyes glittered with tears — whether of sorrow or anger, Hasan couldn’t be sure. Possibly both. She turned toward him, face pale. “I thought I recognized him, but it was so crazy getting out of Pagosa that I couldn’t be sure.”

  Hasan wished he could take her in his arms and comfort her. That would have to wait, however. Of far more immediate concern was getting rid of Danya and Farid. No doubt Danya was only trying to humor her companion, for she had never been the bloodthirsty type, but Farid presented a far more dangerous obstacle.

  “She is under my protection,” Hasan said, enunciating each word carefully so there could be no question as to his meaning. “And she is on my lands. You have no jurisdiction here.”

  “Oh, my,” laughed Danya. “You are quite caught up in your little pet, aren’t you, Hasan? Should I be offended that you went from me to…to that?”

  Jordan bristled, but Hasan kept his focus fixed on Danya. “I have not ‘gone’ anywhere,” he replied. “And she is not my pet.”

  “Perhaps. Do I need to remind you that harboring beings such as she is strictly forbidden? Any human who is not Chosen is fair game, after all.” The djinn woman looked from him to Jordan, her gaze speculative, mouth slightly pursed. “And I can tell that she is not your Chosen, so really, your claim to be her protector is completely illegitimate.”

  “I will not comment on that,” Hasan said, sensing how Jordan’s eyes had narrowed at the term “Chosen.” Of course she would have no idea what the phrase meant in this particular context, but she was an intelligent young woman. She would at least be able to tell that the term carried a good deal of significance. There would be questions later, he feared.

  Right now, however, he had to do what he could to deflect Danya and her lap dog, get them away from here. The murderous glitter in Farid’s dark eyes worried him. Hasan’s erstwhile lover probably had him by the balls…literally…but that wouldn’t mean much if Farid truly decided to finish the job he’d begun in Pagosa Springs. The other elemental controlled water, which could be tricky in a figh
t. Hasan thought he should be able to prevail — djinn battles had as much to do with wits as brute strength, and Farid did not appear as if he was overly burdened with intellect — but better to avoid a physical conflict at all.

  “What I will say,” Hasan continued, “is that I have offered hospitality to this young woman, and therefore she is protected, even if she is not Chosen. I believe the elders might have something to say about that, should you violate one of our oldest laws.”

  Neither Danya nor Farid seemed to care for that response; the big djinn made a low growling noise at the back of his throat, and Danya herself let out a huff of a breath, clearly exasperated.

  “And I believe the elders will also have something to say about you harboring a human who is not Chosen,” she said. “But I will leave that up to them. Unlike you, I have no desire to incur their wrath, and so I will leave your pet alone…for now.”

  “But — ” Farid began, and Danya held up a hand, sapphire rings sparkling in the bright sunlight.

  “Enough for now, my dear,” she told him. “It is not our place to be judge and jury in this…although if the elders react as I think they will, you most certainly shall be the executioner. Let us go.”

  Another rumble of the earth beneath their feet, and the two djinn were gone as if they had never been there at all. Throughout the entire exchange, the goats had kept munching away at the grass as though they hadn’t a care in the world. With that slight earth tremor, they looked up from their grazing and glanced around, then appeared to give the goat’s equivalent of a shrug and returned to their meal.

  Jordan, however, did not appear to be nearly that unruffled. Hands on her hips, she stared up into Hasan’s face, consternation clear in every feature.

  “What the hell is a Chosen?”

  He led her back inside. Jordan submitted to his touch on her arm because, as much as she hated to admit it, her knees felt far too wobbly after that encounter with the two djinn. The way the one called Farid had stared at her — even now her heart gave odd little nervous thumps, as if it knew too well that the huge djinn had death in his eyes.

  Hasan brought her into the living room and had her sit down, then made a glass of iced tea appear out of nowhere and put it in her hands. How he’d known that iced tea was her comfort drink, she had no idea. She drank coffee in the morning to wake up, but it was iced tea she’d always turned to for the times when she didn’t want water.

  She definitely didn’t want water right now. Actually, even though it was probably only nine o’clock in the morning, what she really wanted was a shot of something strong. Tequila, or maybe whiskey. Something to help with the shaking in her body.

  “Drink,” Hasan told her, and mechanically she lifted the glass to her lips and forced down a swallow.

  “Will they come back?” she asked.

  “Most likely,” he replied, then went on quickly, no doubt responding to the panic she felt flare in her, “but not right away. I do not know if Danya truly intends to go to the elders, or whether she only said that to worry me.”

  “Who’re the elders? Are they your government?”

  “‘Government’ is too strong a term. The djinn do not have a government in the human sense of the word, for we mainly govern ourselves, following a code set up millennia ago. The elders step in when disputes cannot be settled between individuals or clans, or when that code has been egregiously broken, but only as a last resort.”

  Jordan absorbed that explanation without comment. No government, she thought. The libertarians would’ve loved that. Then she gave him a faint nod, and made herself drink some more iced tea. It did taste good, although when it hit her stomach, she realized she hadn’t yet eaten anything this morning, that she was pouring all this caffeine on top of an empty stomach. Like that mattered. If she asked, Hasan would get her some breakfast. Later, though. Right then, she needed to again ask the question that had occupied her thoughts ever since she’d heard Danya utter the word.

  “Hasan, what is a Chosen?”

  He hadn’t yet sat down, had hovered near her, as though he was a mortal man ready to run to the kitchen and fetch her something, even though of course he could just snap his fingers and get her anything she needed. Or maybe he simply wanted to be ready to bolt out of the room in case she asked something he didn’t want to answer. Normally, he was so self-assured that it jarred her to see his hesitation, the way he stood there, hands at his sides, his eyes not meeting hers.

  At last he seemed to decide that sitting down was a better option. He didn’t take a seat on the couch, however, but positioned himself on the edge of the armchair, fingers clenched on his knees.

  For the longest moment, Jordan wondered if he was going to answer her at all.

  Then he pulled in a breath, apparently a preamble to what would come next. Looking somehow past her, rather than at her, he said, “The Chosen are humans who were immune and saved from the cleansing that followed the Dying.”

  “‘Saved’?” Jordan repeated. “Saved by whom?”

  “By a group of djinn who did not agree with the majority of my people, who believed we were committing a great sin by ridding this world of the scourge of humanity. One thousand of them altogether. Each of them chose a partner from among the Immune.”

  “Wait…what?” She moved to the edge of the couch and set her glass of iced tea on the coffee table. The words Hasan had spoken were everyday English, but they didn’t make much sense to her. If what he had said was the truth, then there was all kinds of precedent for djinn to be with humans. Maybe not all djinn, but definitely these conscientious objectors. “So they’re lovers?”

  His mouth tightened, but he didn’t attempt to avoid the question. “Yes. They have settlements around the world, usually made up of approximately fifty to a hundred members of the One Thousand — the djinn who objected to the scourge — along with their partners. And their children, I suppose. I’ve heard rumors that they’ve begun to reproduce.”

  Holy hell. Djinn living with human partners, having families. It seemed impossible to her, but here was Hasan speaking of such things as though they were commonly accepted truths. Could he be lying? No, he had no reason to. Oh, he’d definitely sinned by omission, that was for sure. He could have told her of these Chosen earlier, when they were arguing and she’d said that humans and djinn couldn’t possibly be together. He’d known the truth, even as he’d decided to keep it from her. For the moment, she decided it was probably better to ignore precisely why he’d made the choice to stay silent on that subject.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “The settlement here in New Mexico is in Santa Fe.”

  A nice place to end up, if you were lucky enough to be among the Chosen. How had that happened? How had the djinn known where to find their partners? Was there some kind of lottery?

  And, ticking at the back of her brain…Why wasn’t I Chosen?

  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Clearing her throat, she decided to follow a more neutral line of inquiry first. “Who are the Chosen? I mean, how did they manage to luck out when so many others were left to fend for themselves?”

  “Most of them were between twenty and twenty-five of your years when the Heat swept over the world.” Hasan paused there, as if he’d meant to say something else, then decided against it. “When the djinn selected their Chosen, they settled somewhat close by their human partners’ place of origin. That is why the djinn in the Santa Fe community are there, rather than somewhere else — all their Chosen came from this part of the world.”

  “What about you?” Jordan asked. “I mean, you obviously don’t have a Chosen, but you’re still wandering around here in New Mexico.”

  His mouth turned down slightly at the phrase “wandering around,” but his voice was even enough as he replied, “Although we didn’t know right away precisely where we would eventually be settled, the elders did give us a general idea. That was how those of us who were not of the One Thousand ended up scattered around t
he world.”

  “The elders gave out the room assignments, so to speak?”

  “Yes, they determined who would live where. Do not ask me how they made those decisions, because they did not share their deliberations with the rest of us. And it is not our place to question their judgment.”

  Jordan could tell Hasan didn’t like speaking of any of this. His body was rigid, and he still wouldn’t look at her directly. Well, fine. She didn’t like the idea that a bunch of survivors had apparently been taken care of since the beginning of this post-apocalyptic nightmare, while she and everyone she’d known who was still alive had to fight and scrounge just to survive. And she supposed it didn’t really matter why the elders had decided Hasan would be stuck here in northern New Mexico, while someone else might have been given a cushy setup in Malibu or Hawaii. That decision was between Hasan and the elders. For all she knew, he’d done something to piss them off. Considering what an arrogant bastard he could be sometimes, she didn’t find such a hypothesis all that implausible.

  “What about Los Alamos?” she asked.

  “It is…separate from all this. The people who live there are ordinary humans, neither Chosen nor djinn.”

  “So it still exists.”

  “Oh, yes.” His fingers tapped on the arms of his chair. Jordan was still learning to read him, decipher his reactions, but she could tell that the topic of Los Alamos didn’t thrill him at all. “They have a way to keep djinn out of their territory, devices created by someone named Miles Odekirk.”

  “Dr. Odekirk?” The sound of his name cheered her up more than she’d thought it would. Since she herself had gone through so many travails over the past year and a half, she’d begun to wonder whether he had perished like so many others. But Hasan had made it sound as though the scientist was still alive.

  “You know him?” Hasan asked, clearly surprised by her reaction.

  “Well, ‘know’ is kind of a strong word. The group in Colorado Springs had some contact with the group in Los Alamos before we had to go on the run. I never talked to him directly, but I heard him speaking with the leaders of our group. I guess it’s just nice to know he’s still out there.”