Page 33 of Mistaken

“I suppose so.”

He tipped some wine into the glass in front of him, then inclined his head toward the basket of rolls. “Please, help yourself.”

Clearly, no toast would be forthcoming. Sarah didn’t really know why she’d expected one, except that the times she’d gone over to friends’ houses and they’d made special meals, there had always been some kind of salutation before they started eating.

Then again, what would they even be celebrating? Abdul was holding her against her will — even if she had to admit her prison was a fairly luxurious one — and she was an interloper who’d intruded on his solitude. While she couldn’t defend what he’d done, she also had to admit she wasn’t entirely blameless here.

So she unfolded the napkin and plucked a roll from the basket, then helped herself to some salad, since the bowl sat close to her place setting. Afterward, she handed the salad to Abdul, who set it down so he could dish up some of the delectable concoction inside the friendly spruce green Dutch oven.

“What is it?” Sarah asked. She recognized plump white beans and sausage and shredded chicken, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen the actual dish before.

“Something called cassoulet,” Abdul replied. “From France, I believe. It is something I had once long ago.”

She wanted to ask if he’d eaten the dish here on Earth all those years in the past, but something stopped her. It was true that djinn had been coming and going from this plane for millennia, sampling human food and music and more, but — even though she couldn’t really say why she got that particular impression — she had a feeling Abdul had not been among those who’d made this world their vacation spot.

Maybe a fellow djinn had described the dish to him, and he’d decided to make it for himself.

The fragrant steam wafting up from her plate smelled amazing, though, so she picked up her fork and scooped up some.

Oh, yes, that was wonderful, hearty, and rich and a blend of flavors that didn’t fight with one another at all, but worked together to make something much more than the sum of its parts.

“It’s incredible,” she said, and his hood tipped toward her again. Not for the first time, she wished she could see his face, could know whether he smiled or remained serious, whether his eyes had lit up from her praise.

But his hood dipped low enough that she could see nothing at all, especially since, with night fallen and the only lighting provided by the candles and a few low-wattage sconces on the wall, it was hard to make out the glint of his eyes, let alone anything else.

“Thank you,” he said.

Lightning strobed then, but because Abdul was looking down at his plate, it didn’t help Sarah very much. Thunder rumbled a moment later. This time, though, she’d been expecting it and didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she reached for her glass of wine and sipped. It was also very good — not that she’d been expecting a djinn to serve Two-Buck Chuck or something — but she’d never taken the time to learn much about wine and therefore had no idea whether it was a Bordeaux or a Burgundy, or a cab from California, or whatever.

Despite the thunder and the music in the background, Sarah still thought it was too quiet in here. “Do you just conjure the wine, or do you find it somewhere and bring it here?”

“This one I brought,” he said. “It was in the cellar of a hot springs resort not too far from here. Eventually, I suppose, we djinn will have to create it from nothing, once the current stores are used up.”

“Or people will make more,” she suggested. “I heard that some of the djinn and humans in Santa Fe are starting to grow grapes again. We’ve also talked about doing that in Española — well, taking over some of the abandoned vineyards in Velarde and Pojoaque — but it’s more important for us to grow food we can actually eat, so the idea has been kind of back-burnered.”

For a moment, Abdul didn’t respond, and Sarah wondered if he was going to make a disparaging comment about the human community in Los Alamos and its various endeavors. Although everything had been peaceful enough lately, she’d heard there were still plenty of djinn who weren’t too thrilled that a group of mortals had been able to survive on their own.

But then he said, his tone mild, “I can see why foodstuffs might be a priority,” and he steered the conversation in that direction, inquiring as to what dishes were her favorites, listing ideas for meals they could have in the future. As best she could, Sarah kept up her side of the conversation, but something inside her despaired at those words nonetheless.

Exactly how long was he planning to keep her here?

The two-way radio came alive just as Lindsay was pulling a lasagna out of the oven, and she wanted to swear. She’d been hoarding her allotment of cheese for two weeks now, waiting until she had enough to make a proper dish, one based on the meal her mother used to make when she was a kid. True, purists would say it wasn’t real lasagna, not when she had to use the Los Alamos equivalent of jack cheese rather than mozzarella and parmesan, but still, she’d been wanting to try it for months.

Oh, well…the thing needed to sit on the stovetop and congeal a little bit before it could be served anyway.

Miles was nearby, since he’d just set the table and was currently doing his best to prevent Dylan from grabbing all the cutlery. With the ease of long practice, he hoisted the boy onto his hip and then went over to pick up the radio’s handset.

“This is Miles,” he said, and Lindsay set down the heavy pan she was holding so she could move closer to the little alcove that housed their two-way radio.

“Hello, Miles,” came Zahrias’ voice. He almost always sounded calm, sometimes a little stern, but there was a note of tension in his tone that Lindsay didn’t like very much. “Is Lindsay there with you?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, leaning close to the handset Miles held so it would pick up her words. “Do you have some news for us?”

“I do,” the djinn leader replied, sounding heavier than ever. “But I fear you will not like it much.”

Miles’s grip on the handset tightened visibly. “What have you found?”

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