Page 10 of Mistaken

Not that it seemed as if she would be alive for very long after that, considering the way the djinn appeared soon afterward, hunting anyone who’d managed to survive the terrible fever. She’d hidden in her father’s house for a few days, but then a group of fellow survivors had come along and told her they were heading to Los Alamos, that a scientist there claimed to have created some sort of device that would protect them from the bloodthirsty elementals.

She’d gone along because right then, she hadn’t known what else to do.

When she got to Los Alamos, though, she said nothing about her background in music. It seemed horrible that she still mourned what might have been when it was only a silly role in a musical, after all.

Or maybe it had been easier to let herself hurt over that than come to terms with losing her father in such a way, with it happening so fast, she’d barely had time to absorb what was happening before he was gone forever. Maybe some people might have said cancer was still better than the Heat, but Sarah wasn’t so sure. She supposed the only good thing about the situation was that at least she’d been able to properly say goodbye to him.

That was something most of her fellow survivors in Los Alamos hadn’t been able to do.

Even when opportunities to sing came along — like when Nora Almeida had organized a caroling group their first Christmas after the Dying in an effort to cheer everyone up — Sarah had demurred. It was easier to pretend she couldn’t sing at all than to have to tell people about the way she’d almost had her dream finally come true…only to have it snatched away by the cruel hand of fate.

The first time she’d sung had been almost two years after her escape from Albuquerque. The town council had decided there was enough coverage by the devices in Española that it was all right to let people go foraging there on their own, and Sarah had been sent off with a pickup truck and an admonishment to find whatever she could but to make sure to be back before sundown.

That part was easy enough; no chance that she’d allow herself to get caught away from Los Alamos when night fell. What had shocked her, though, was how she seemed to relax once she was finally by herself, and how she’d started humming as she picked through an abandoned barn on the north end of town…and then finally lifted her voice and sang.

It was like being able to breathe again after being held underwater for too long.

She still had made sure not to request too many solo assignments, just in case someone noticed that she was a little too interested in being out on her own. Even so, over time her voice had come back to her, had almost returned to what it had been when she’d stood in front of those New York producers and sung “Think of Me,” Christine’s opening piece fromPhantom.

And that was why she used it now, knowing that Carson was miles and miles away, and her friends and acquaintances in Los Alamos even farther.

Out here in Ghost Ranch, she wouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone.

Abdul paused just as he was about to clip a branch of Indian paintbrush so he could place it in a handmade ceramic vase he’d found in the gift shop earlier that day. Sweet sound drifted on the wind, something so unexpected, he had to take a moment to analyze what it could possibly be.

Was someonesinging?

He wanted to tell himself that was impossible. Perhaps someone had left a music player of some sort behind in one of the buildings he had yet to raze, and it had come to life through a kind of glitch.

But no, this didn’t sound like a recording. It was far too real.

He set the clippers down on a nearby boulder and lifted his head into the breeze so he might get a better idea of where the sound had originated. Yes, definitely a woman’s voice, clear and bright and lovely, so entrancing in its perfection that for a moment, he could only stand there and drink it in.

Reason kicked in a moment later, of course, telling him that no matter how pure and perfect those tones might be, they had to belong to a human…a human who must be uncomfortably nearby.

The voice was drifting to him from the west, toward the dirt road that led into the property. That made sense — there was only one true way in and out of here, unless someone was prepared to do some fairly serious rock-climbing.

And he found himself doubting that anyone would be able to maintain that kind of breath control while scaling down a sheer rock face.

Now he was glad he hadn’t yet torn down the visitor’s center or the museums, as they provided ample cover for him to take to the shadows and get a good look at the intruder.

Yes, there she was, walking along the dirt road, long brown ponytail caught in the wind even as she sang some sort of sprightly song about a corner of the sky, or some such. He was not very good at estimating human ages, for he had never spent any time among mortals, but she seemed fairly young, perhaps somewhere in her twenties. Middle height, slender, and…pretty. Or at least, he assumed most people would have thought her even features and oval face were attractive, although he had never been in a position to evaluate a mortal woman’s looks in such a way.

She wore serviceable clothing, jeans and hiking boots, with a denim jacket tied around her waist and a large backpack hanging from her shoulders. Her stride was neither fast nor slow, but measured, as though she’d come a long way already and intended to continue at that steady pace until she reached her destination.

Which he assumed had to be somewhere here on the grounds. Why she had come to such a remote place — and unaccompanied — he had no idea. And that meant he needed to remain in hiding while he watched her movements and decided what to do next.

The easiest thing, of course, would be for her to complete a survey of the property and then leave, but Abdul doubted he would be given such a simple outcome. It was far too close to the end of the day for her to turn around and head back to wherever she’d come from, which meant she surely planned to spend the night here.

That would never do.

He watched her as she paused in front of the welcome center, a frown plucking at the clear skin of her brow even as the song she had been singing cut off abruptly. It seemed she was disturbed by something, for even from where he lurked in the shadows of a clump of junipers and a sheltering boulder, he could see the way she glanced from the welcome center and up the hill, then back again, as if attempting to compare the scene before her with something she held only in her memory.

Could it be that she had been here once upon a time, and was trying to reconcile the highly altered layout of the campus with what it had been before? Abdul wanted to curse himself for his haste in altering the landscape to something he found more aesthetically pleasing, although he had to admit that he could never have known his sanctuary might have been intruded upon by a mere mortal. Humans hadn’t ventured here in years and hadn’t shown any sign that they wished to return.

What possible reason could she have for coming here now?

A visible lift of her shoulders, and then she kept moving past the visitor’s center, along the path that led upward to the house of worship and the labyrinth…and to the long, low home he had taken for his own.

---