djinn wars 04 - broken

by Pope, Christine

  Jace didn’t seem to be experiencing any such qualms, however. Jaw set, he advanced a few steps toward the other man. “I don’t know, Murrah. Why would we be using it?”

  Almost at once, Murrah’s gaze shifted away from them. “I — ”

  A master spy, he wasn’t. What with the way he wouldn’t meet their eyes, and only stood there, staring at the polished terra-cotta tile under his feet, he might as well have been holding up a sign that said “I’m guilty.”

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” Julia said quickly. “I’m just using the device because it was the only way to guarantee you’d stay put.”

  “It must affect him, too,” Murrah said, with a flash of his dark eyes in Jace’s direction.

  “It does affect me,” Jace said. His tone was so steady that it gave the lie to his words, although Julia could see the tension in the muscles of his neck. He was working hard to make sure he wouldn’t shake or lose his balance. “But remember, Margolis used one of these things on me for weeks. I have a lot more experience managing it.”

  “Oh,” the other djinn replied. His expression was so hangdog that Julia almost wanted to reach out and give him a hug, despite everything. “Can I — can I sit down? It’s hard to stand.”

  “Be my guest,” Jace told him. “But don’t think that means you don’t have to tell us what you know.”

  Murrah gave a sort of grunt, then stumbled over a few feet to a big chair upholstered in dark brown leather. It creaked as he sat down in it, but otherwise it appeared more or less adequate to supporting his weight.

  “So, then,” Jace went on. “You do admit that you were feeding information to Qadim and his sister?”

  “Just to Qadim,” Murrah said. “Lyanna would never lower herself to come down here.”

  Julia didn’t know if that particular revelation was good or bad. “Why would you do that, Murrah?”

  The djinn looked like a dog that knew it was about to get whacked with a rolled-up newspaper. “They’re my cousins. They asked for my help. And in the beginning, I didn’t know why they even wanted to hear about what we were doing here in Santa Fe.”

  “But you figured it out.”

  A helpless-looking shrug, while once again Murrah stared at the floor. “I began to guess.”

  “So why didn’t you go to Zahrias and warn him?” Jace asked.

  “How could I? Zahrias was the leader here, but Qadim and Lyanna are my blood. Besides, I knew Lyanna wouldn’t hurt him. She only wanted to be with him again.” Expression pleading, Murrah glanced first at Jace, then Julia. “It would have been different if he’d had a Chosen, but he didn’t.”

  The words felt like a knife lodged somewhere in her gut, but Julia forced herself to say calmly, “That may be, but aren’t the needs of the people here in Santa Fe more important than Lyanna’s needs? I mean, it wasn’t as if she needed Zahrias so he could give her a rare blood transfusion or something.”

  Murrah squirmed in his chair. “Maybe, but — ” He broke off and sent another of those pleading looks in Jace’s direction. “Tell her, Jace. She’s not one of us, so she doesn’t understand how family is supposed to come first.”

  “Family is important to us, too,” Julia said, her voice hard. With some effort, she forced aside one of countless memories of her parents arguing. Not all families were like that. “Or rather, it used to be important, until your buddies decided to eradicate the human race. Now we have to make new families, since ours were taken away.”

  “They were not my friends, the ones who killed the humans,” Murrah protested. “And I did not agree with what they did. I have my Chosen, the same as everyone else here in Santa Fe. What I did to help Qadim and Lyanna had nothing to do with that — ”

  A female voice broke in then. “What’s going on here?”

  Julia turned to see a young woman standing in the arched opening that led from the living room to a long hallway. Like all the other Chosen, she was very pretty, but there was a strained, haunted look in her dark eyes.

  “I’m sorry about this, Martine,” Jace said. “But Murrah has all but admitted that he’s been passing information along to the people who kidnapped Zahrias.”

  “Wait.” Blinking in confusion, she glanced over at her lover. “Zahrias has been kidnapped? When did that happen?”

  “Early this morning,” Julia replied. Good lord, had all that happened in the space of one day? It felt like years since Zahrias had disappeared before her eyes, ripped away from this world by a group of Lyanna’s thugs.

  Maybe she should have been relieved that so little time had actually passed, since it would seem to limit what Lyanna might be doing to Zahrias, but Jace had warned her that time flowed differently on the djinn plane. True, it had felt as if they’d been there for hours, but when they returned from their abortive audience with the elders, only about forty-five minutes seemed to have passed.

  “And you had something to do with it, Murrah?” Martine demanded.

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I had to, Martine. They were family, and they asked.”

  Her lips pressed together. Some of the vagueness seemed to leave her as she glared at her lover. “I thought we were family. All of us here in Santa Fe. Isn’t that what this community is supposed to be about? You told me that when you first saved me and took me to Taos. You said it would be all right, because you’d be giving me a new family.”

  The anguish on Murrah’s face made a sudden rush of pity go through Julia. She couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done, but it was clear that he hadn’t really stopped to consider all the ramifications of assisting Qadim and Lyanna.

  “I was,” he mumbled. “That is, I did.”

  “But obviously this family isn’t as important as your djinn family, is that right?”

  Jace cut in, obviously trying to salvage the situation, “Murrah was probably caught between a rock and a hard place, and I have a feeling he made his choice out of instinct. Isn’t that right, Murrah?”

  Looking almost absurdly relieved by Jace’s intervention, the big djinn nodded. “That is right. And I thought that Zahrias was with Lyanna before, so perhaps he would not mind so much being with her again. We could always have someone else lead us.”

  Julia couldn’t help herself. Tone acid, she inquired, “Someone who would have done a better job than Zahrias?”

  Murrah winced, and Martine added, her own voice almost as sharp as Julia’s, “That’s not the kind of decision you’re supposed to make on your own. Losing Zahrias will affect everyone here. And what about Dani? His partner just had their son. Think about that, Murrah. If family is so important, what does it mean that you allowed the baby’s uncle to be taken away from here?”

  Her words might have been physical blows, raining down on her partner, because with each sentence he flinched, and shrank as far back into his chair as someone of his bulk was able to. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Jace looked like he’d had enough, too. He held up a hand, saying, “Okay, Murrah. I know you didn’t stop to think about all this. But what we need now is to know how to find Lyanna. I’ve never met her, but you have. So will you take us there?”

  That question made Murrah shake his head. “I cannot do that. If she discovers that I’ve led you to her — ”

  “Grow a spine, Murrah,” Martine snapped, annoyance ringing through every syllable. Julia didn’t really know all the difficulties the two of them had faced since she’d been returned to him after her captivity with Khalim’s band of rogue djinn, but it seemed clear their relationship hadn’t quite returned to the loving intimacy that most djinn/Chosen partnerships seemed to share.

  “You have never met Lyanna,” Murrah said. If the look of fear in his eyes hadn’t been so genuine, it might have been comical. “I cannot take you to her.”

  “But I can,” came a new voice, one that Julia knew all too well and had hoped she would never hear again.

  As one, they all turned toward the front door. Standing just inside, arms c
rossed, was Qadim.

  * * *

  This is hell, Zahrias thought. All our lives, we thought that being confined to this plane was punishment enough, but now I know what true torment is.

  Lyanna lay in his arms, eyes hungry. After that first kiss, she had abandoned any notion of continuing with their dinner, and had led him to a softly upholstered divan placed up against one wall. Perhaps he should have been grateful that she had only taken him there, and not to her bedchamber. At least on the divan he could attempt to keep things from progressing much further.

  Her mouth had been insistent, demanding. She tasted of the wine they had drunk, but her kiss was not sweet the way Julia’s had been. Rather, it was sour, harsh, like the dregs that had collected at the bottom of his goblet. How he had allowed her to kiss him and managed to prevent himself from letting out any betraying shudders, any other signs of revulsion, he didn’t know. But for now, it seemed as if Lyanna was still fooled, that his plan to make her think that he was slowly losing himself to her charms was working.

  Unfortunately, he knew she was impatient. A few kisses were one thing. But they had shared far deeper intimacies than that in the past, and so she would not be content with these sorts of embraces for very much longer.

  He needed to get back to the garden, to the one place where he thought he might have a hope of escaping. A small hope, but better than none. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about how she might retaliate if his attempts should come to nothing.

  “An idea just came to me, Lyanna.”

  She gazed up at him, mouth pursed. “Is it the same idea I am having?”

  I very much doubt that. “The garden you showed me. It is such a lovely spot. I cannot help but think that it would be a wonderful setting for other…activities.”

  Her eyes widened a bit, and then she gave him a slow, lascivious smile. “Why, Zahrias, you are getting quite adventurous in your old age, aren’t you?”

  He lifted his shoulders.

  “But I agree,” she went on, her tone almost purring. “Let us take this wine with us…and see what happens.”

  Somehow he managed to smile at her and nod, then waited as she untangled herself from his arms and went back to the table where the wine and the neglected remnants of their dinner sat. She scooped up the decanter, and he got up and retrieved their goblets. The metal was cold against his fingers, chilling him.

  If he should fail….

  He pushed the thought aside and followed Lyanna through the chambers of the palace, past the sad watching eyes of the portraits she had stolen and the blank-faced marble statues that stood sentinel in the corridors. They haunted him, reminders of all those who had died when the Heat swept over the face of the Earth. Logically, he knew that the artists who had created these paintings and statues were dead long before the djinn had intervened so catastrophically in the history of the human race, but he still wondered how Lyanna could bear to look at them.

  Then again, sensitivity had never been her greatest strength.

  They emerged into the garden, where the perfume of the flowers growing there hung heavy on the still air. Off to one side was a table and several benches of carved marble. Lyanna went and set down the decanter of wine on the tabletop, and Zahrias came up beside her and put the goblets next to them.

  “More wine?” he asked her.

  “Of course,” she said, eyes gleaming. Clearly, she had already begun to anticipate what was to come next.

  He poured a measure of the dark vintage into each of the goblets. Lyanna lifted hers at once and took an over-large swallow, one obviously intended for its effect and not so she might savor the wine.

  Only a few minutes ago, he had been hoping for the blurred edges such mild intoxication might bring, but now he knew he must be careful. His wits needed to be sharp, even as hers became dulled.

  She took another drink, then waved at the benches. “These look terribly hard, don’t they?”

  “Perhaps.”

  A snap of her fingers, and a cushioned divan appeared only a few feet away. “I think that will be far more comfortable, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he replied, giving her a slow smile. All the better, for she’d conjured the piece of furniture into a spot where the hanging vines that sheltered the garden dropped low. Yes, they might do very well.

  He drank some of his wine, so that she might not become suspicious, but a measured sip. Then he set down his glass, plucked hers from her fingers, and pulled her against him. She let out a little gasp, amber eyes warming as she gazed up at him.

  “You are becoming forceful, aren’t you? Good — I do prefer you that way.”

  “Then let us see if you prefer this.”

  Before she could speak again, he slammed his mouth down on hers, kissing her hard, doing his very best to make her think that he wanted nothing more than to possess her body once more. Her tongue touched his, and he had to fight to keep himself from recoiling.

  She seemed to notice nothing, however, and did not protest as he moved her toward the divan, then pushed her down into the soft cushions, his body on top of hers. Her eyes closed, although whether her ecstasy was real or feigned, he didn’t know, and didn’t care. What mattered was that she had lost herself to the spell of his touch, and could not see what he was about to do.

  His powers had been denied him, but he still had his physical strength. It was easy enough for him to reach up and grasp one of the vines, then give it a hard yank. The torn piece of plant material fell from the canopy above them, and he took it and wrapped it around Lyanna’s wrists.

  Her eyes did fly open at that point, but even then he saw no betrayal in them, only a sort of lustful surprise. “Why, Zahrias — I had no idea you enjoyed playing those sorts of games.”

  “I do not,” he told her. “But one must do what one must.”

  In that instant, he pushed away from her and ran toward the wall. The vines that covered it gave him the handholds he needed, and he grasped them as he desperately hauled himself upward. Shifting light surged through the gap, telling him he was close to freedom. Only that much more —

  A hard object hit the center of his back, and he lost his grip, slipping back down nearly a foot before he regained his grip on the vines. Damn. He’d known that the makeshift restraints he’d put on Lyanna wouldn’t last very long, but he’d hoped that limited time would still be enough.

  Another blow to his back, this time higher up near his shoulder. The pain was sharp enough that he lost his grip for good this time, and fell with a painful thud to the stone pavers below. Lyanna stood over him, eyes blazing.

  “You thought to trick me?” she cried. “When all I offered you was love?”

  “That was not love,” he told her, forcing himself back to his feet. Whatever happened next, he would meet it while standing and facing her, not lying on the ground like a beaten dog. “That was not even a counterfeit of love. Love — true love — is not something you can force, Lyanna, no matter what you might think.”

  Her face twisted with fury, and the fountain off to one side gushed forth a veritable geyser of water. Only a temper tantrum, he knew; he noticed that the water’s spray did not touch the walls of the palace. Lyanna would not risk the sort of display that might actually damage the house she prized so much.

  Even so, he knew he probably would not enjoy what was to come next. She raised her hands, and he watched her calmly. He could not stop her, but he would not beg.

  Forgive me, Julia, he thought. If only I had been brave enough to declare my love for you, then none of this would have happened.

  And he braced himself for the inevitable.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Julia burst out, as everyone else only stared at this unexpected apparition. Then she paused, confused. With the device operating, how on earth had Qadim even managed to show up at the house at all?

  “I fear that my sister has overstepped herself,” he said. “And I have no wish to be
dragged down with her. If I lend you my aid, I hope that you will put in a good word for me with the elders.”

  “‘A good word’?” Julia repeated, then shook her head in disbelief. “How are you even here? The device — ”

  “Yes, it did force me to have to walk that last several hundred feet, rather than dropping in directly. You were all so embroiled in your argument that you didn’t even notice when I opened the front door.”

  Well, all right, that was possible. They had all been facing Murrah, and so had their backs to the door. Julia supposed it wouldn’t have been too difficult to open it and slip in. In this community, which was composed solely of djinn and their Chosen, no one seemed to bother with making sure their houses were locked up tight.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Jace said then. His brows were drawn together, and Julia got the distinct impression that he would have liked to lunge for the other djinn, except that neither one of them was in any shape to fight because of the effects of the device. “You’re going to help us?”

  “That was my idea, yes.” Qadim’s gaze flickered from Jace to Murrah, then came to rest on Julia. She wanted to look away, but she made herself stare back at him, unflinching.

  “And that will magically make it all better?” she said, not bothering to hide the outrage boiling within her. “We’re just supposed to forget about the people you killed?”

  “I killed no one,” Qadim replied calmly. “Margolis killed your friends, not I.”

  “He was working for you,” she shot back.

  “Perhaps, but I never gave him the order to kill those people. I told him I needed you delivered to me, safe and unharmed. That was all. Whatever else Margolis did, he did of his own volition.”

  Julia shot Jace a helpless glance. She sure didn’t trust Qadim, and yet…

  …and yet his words did have a ring of truth to them. Margolis had been growing increasingly volatile. She knew he’d been perfectly capable of killing Eric and Brent and Nancy, just because he could. Maybe he’d seen them as traitors. Especially Brent. It had been Brent who’d urged Julia to come to Los Alamos, who’d said she was the soul of the community. She could only imagine how much hearing that must have enraged the former commander. He’d marinated in that rage for months, and then when Qadim let him out, he’d been only too happy to let it consume him.