Page 34 of Mistaken

A pause, and then Zahrias said, “I spoke to the elders. As soon as I mentioned Ghost Ranch, they became visibly tense. Then Ibram informed me that neither the djinn in my community nor the people in Los Alamos are allowed to go anywhere near the place, neither the ranch itself nor nearby Abiquiu. When I attempted to discover why they should make such a strange request, they told me that it is business of the elders and that they would speak no more on the subject.”

Lindsay darted a worried look at her husband, while his mouth tightened.

“Can they do that?” he asked. “After all, we’ve expanded well into Española and several of the neighboring communities, and they haven’t stopped us so far.”

“I fear the elders can do whatever they like,” Zahrias said. “If it is their desire that we go nowhere near Ghost Ranch, then we must abide by their wishes.” He paused there, the silence stretching out so long that Lindsay wondered if maybe the connection had failed.

But then he spoke again.

“Whatever has happened to your lost young woman, I am afraid you must leave her to her fate.”

Chapter11

Djinn slept,but Abdul did not. Or rather, after he was done exerting himself for the day, he would go to his room and lie down on the bed there so he might rest, and yet that was not quite the same thing as sleeping the way the elementals or their human counterparts did.

Now, though, he could not even close his eyes, but lay there with his gaze fixed on the ceiling, which was occasionally illuminated by brief bursts of lightning as the storm raged on. Water poured from the eaves and no doubt was pooling in the courtyard. No need to worry about flooding, though, not with his powers wrapped around the house and snaking through it as well, ensuring that the climate-control systems continued to function and everything from the roof down to the foundation was as secure as he could make it.

No, it was not fear about the roof leaking or water seeping under the door that kept him so wakeful now.

Unfortunately, it was the memory of Sarah at dinner as she praised the food he had made and talked to him about the wine, or favorite dishes she’d eaten as a child. The way the candlelight had caught in the cascades of her dark hair as it fell around her shoulders, the sweetness of her voice.

The creamy skin of her throat, and the way he could just barely glimpse the curve of her breasts in the low neckline of the silky green gown she wore.

How had she become so distracting, so lovely? He certainly had not thought much of her looks when he first trapped her here.

Then again, she had not been at her best in that moment, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and her face pale with fear. Over the intervening time, she seemed to have blossomed, to have lost her fear of him.

And while he had thought himself content with unending days alone here, now he was forced to admit that he had enjoyed these few hours with her far more than he had all those long, empty years before he had been blessed with her presence.

In the darkness of his room, he had no need of the hooded robe that shielded him from the rest of the world. An unconscious gesture, one born of long, bitter habit, made him raise his hand to his face to feel the uneven scars there, the ruin he had been hiding since the world was young.

His mouth twisted. What would she think if she were to see the thing he concealed from everyone, even himself?

As beautiful and as perfect as she was, certainly she would recoil in horror.

Not that it mattered, for he would never allow her to see him as he truly was.

It felt somehow wrong to be this cheerful as she got out of bed and headed for the shower. Shouldn’t she instead be brooding over her captivity, or doing her best to come up with a workable plan to flee to Los Alamos?

Maybe. For now, though, Sarah thought she’d much prefer standing in the shower and letting the hot water flow over her, enjoying a luxury that had been denied her ever since the djinn had changed the world forever. The storm of the night before was long gone, and when she finally stepped out and grabbed one of the fluffy towels that had been provided for her, she peeked past the curtains to see that the morning was bright and clear, with what looked like new grass already poking up in the yard outside the window.

Absolutely perfect.

The night before, she’d wondered how long Abdul would keep her at Ghost Ranch before he finally decided there wasn’t any point in preventing her from returning to her life in Los Alamos. As she’d lain there in bed, feeling just the slightest bit elevated from the glass and a half of wine she’d drunk with dinner, she’d had the traitorous thought that being trapped here maybe wasn’t so bad after all. No unending chores, no shabby little townhouse…no pretending she was something she wasn’t.

And that was the crazy part, wasn’t it? That she hadn’t felt any real need to be anything other than herself? Surely she should have been much more comfortable among her own kind, rather than trapped here by a djinn.

Somehow, though, she’d never been at ease in Los Alamos. Not all the way, not enough to completely let her guard down. A few people in her circle knew something of her past — or at least, she’d told them that she’d lost her father right before the Heat and didn’t want to talk about it — but they didn’t know everything.

No one did.

Abdul had even heard her singing, and after those first few questions, hadn’t pursued the matter, as though he’d guessed it was a subject she didn’t want to discuss.

Considering how messed up this world could be, she found herself realizing that the past twenty-four hours had been some of the most pleasant she’d experienced in a long while.

You can’t stay here forever, though,she argued with herself as she went into the closet to choose something to wear. A pretty turquoise dress seemed to match her current mood, although she knew she’d have to change if Abdul suggested horseback riding again.You’re not a guest, you’re not his girlfriend — you’re his prisoner.

Well, all right, on the surface, that was true. But could you really call it captivity if you didn’t possess a burning desire to get away?

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