djinn wars 02 - taken (12 page)

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, then pursed her mouth. “Thank God Natila wasn’t so…arbitrary.”

“What is she like?” I asked, using the present tense on purpose. Already I’d caught myself using the word “was” when I thought of Jace, and I needed to stop doing that. He was alive. He was still present, not past.

Anyway, Evony hadn’t said all that much about Natila, not after she’d described how the djinn woman had come into her life, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn a bit more. It would help to pass the time, although now, with these magically cleared roads stretching ahead of us, I knew we’d be back in Santa Fe before noon.

“She’s….” Evony seemed to pause and consider for a moment as she stared out the window. The trees outside were still sugar-frosted with snow, although a brisk wind blowing down off the Sangre de Cristo mountains was sending fine flurries everywhere as the snow shook itself from the branches of the pines and firs. “She’s fun, I guess. Back at the casino, she would make jokes about having to take baths with bottled water and eating out of cans and all that. Made everything seem not quite so hard.” Another silence as Evony kept her gaze fixed on the window, although I could see her throat working, as if she’d had to swallow back some unexpected tears. “But now I just feel mad at her.”

“Why?” I asked, surprised. That was about the last thing I would have expected Evony to say.

“Well, even though she told me the truth about herself pretty early on, she could’ve done it even earlier than that. We could’ve had running water from the beginning, and better food. And there wasn’t really any reason for us to be hanging around Española all that time. I don’t know what the hell she was thinking, especially now that I know where we could have been staying in Taos.”

On the surface, those all seemed like valid complaints. However, just like Jace, Natila must have had a reason for lingering in Evony’s hometown, although at the moment I couldn’t figure out what that might be.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her as much, but another glance at the hard lines of Evony’s profile, the way her fingers were clutched tightly around the small backpack she held in her lap, told me that probably wasn’t such a good idea. For all I knew, she was using that anger as a shield, a way to protect herself from worrying too much. If she thought she was angry with Natila, then she wouldn’t have the mental energy to grieve and fret.

“Well,” I began, then hesitated, trying to think of the best way to phrase my remark so I wouldn’t upset Evony, “it sounds as if she was trying to do her best to cushion things for you. I don’t think she meant to make things harder.”

“Maybe.” She let out a breath, then shook her head. “It’s just…you think you’ve survived the end of the world, and then you think you’ve finally found the perfect person for you…and then they aren’t who they said they were, and….” The sentence trailed off there, but I knew what she meant. Far more than I really wanted to, actually.

But because that was obvious to both of us, I didn’t bother saying anything else. Instead, I drove as quickly as I could, which still wasn’t quite up to the speed limit, despite what the djinn had done to clear the roads. Here and there were still patches of ice from the snow melting off the slopes above, not a lot, but enough that I didn’t want to take the curves with too much abandon.

It still felt like we were flying, though, compared to our agonizing drive the day before. And before too long we were coming down into Nambe, where I cut off on a side road to take our same stealthy path into Santa Fe, the one I had to pray wasn’t being observed by the Los Alamos group. I really didn’t see how they could — watching the highway made sense, but spying on every road in and out of town would be way too much for their limited manpower.

Or at least I hoped it would.

I didn’t see any sign of life as we skirted the northern edge of town and then picked up Alameda, however. Here I had to slow back down, as obviously the djinn weren’t about to tip their hand by clearing the roads in Santa Fe. That was the worst part — dropping to a crawl when we were so close to our destination, but I didn’t have much choice.

The drive along Upper Canyon was similarly deserted, and the bright sun had melted enough of the snow that the road was icy in spots. Even the four-wheel drive slipped here and there, and I clamped down on my bottom lip and prayed we wouldn’t get stuck. Zahrias had bailed us out once, but I couldn’t expect him to do it again. Not here, so far away from his home territory.

Eventually, though, we did make it to the gate to the property, and I climbed out to unlock the padlock and unwrap the chain. At least today the sun was shining, although the air had an intense bite to it, and I knew I wouldn’t want to remain standing in the snow for too long. I didn’t have to, of course, and within a minute or two, I was back inside the Cherokee and coaxing it up the incline to the house.

Since we probably wouldn’t be staying long, I didn’t bother with putting the Jeep in the garage, but instead backed it up as close to the rear door of the house as I could. Dutchie pressed her nose against the window and whined softly; I could tell she knew she was home, and wanted out.

You and me both,
I thought, climbing out of the vehicle and going to the rear door so I could let her out of the Jeep. Evony climbed out as well, and I unlocked the back door to the house, standing out of the way so Dutchie could go charging inside.

Nothing seemed to have been touched. It was cold, because we hadn’t been there to light any fires, but the refrigerator still hummed away, and none of the digital clocks on the other appliances were blinking. Clearly, the power had held, even through the storm.

It hurt to think I wouldn’t be staying here in this place of refuge Jace had provided for me…but I reflected I wouldn’t have this sanctuary at all if it weren’t for him. Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to rest here until I brought him safely home.

“I need to pack a few more things,” I told Evony as she set her weekender bag on the kitchen counter. “Not much — just a few changes of clothes. And then I need to check on the animals….” I let the words die away then as it came to me that I’d need to do something about the livestock. Leaving them on their own for a night was one thing, but I had absolutely no idea how long I would be gone this time. “Well, shit.”

“What?” Evony asked. She’d started heading toward one of the cupboards, probably to scrounge a snack or something, but at my curse she turned back toward me, eyebrows raised in question.

“The goats and the chickens. If it was summer, I’d just let them all go and hope for the best, but I can’t do that to them now. They’d never survive.” From somewhere, a memory of glowing red eyes came to me, and I recalled the coyotes who’d watched Jace and me drive by in the Cherokee on that November night not so long ago. No, I definitely couldn’t leave the animals to fend for themselves. It was almost January, and those coyotes were probably pretty hungry right about now.

“Take them with us,” Evony suggested, and I blinked at her.

“What?”

“Why not? You have a trailer — I saw it out there by the garage. Maybe the Los Alamos people will be happier to see us if we bring them a little present. A peace offering, you know?”

I could have hugged her. That was brilliant. Yes, I’d be giving up the animals Jace and I had so carefully gathered and brought here, but I had to guess that the survivors in Los Alamos would be happy to get some livestock to add to whatever they might already have. Even if they’d managed to keep the lights on the whole time, and the local grocery story had never run out of power, I doubted they’d turn up their noses at an additional supply of fresh eggs and milk.

And if I succeeded at bringing Jace home, we could always go on another foraging expedition. I had absolutely no idea how many goats and chickens had been raised on local farms, but there would have to be some left around…assuming they had someplace to shelter from the cold. Anyway, I told myself that what we’d done once before, we could do again.

“That’s perfect, Evony. Thank you.” Of course, even as I thanked her, I began to worry about how we’d get the goats in the trailer. The first time around, they hadn’t exactly been amenable, and I didn’t have Jace with me to put his goat-whisperer moves on them.

But it turned out they were a lot more tractable this time, possibly because they were hoping a ride in the trailer meant they were going to greener pastures than the dead grass in the yard and the drafty little shed Jace had built for them. I had no idea what kind of facilities were available in Los Alamos, but surely someone there had to have kept horses or something. After I maneuvered the Cherokee around and Evony helped me get the trailer on the hitch — “I used to help my brother get his cars ready for shows,” she informed me — we herded the goats into the trailer, and they went in more or less obediently enough.

The chickens were a little tougher, but I ended up putting plastic down in the back of the Jeep and then loading them in there. Good thing that Evony and I were both traveling light; she put her weekender bag on one side of the back seat, and I set my duffle on top of that. Dutchie would just have to be confined to half the seat. She didn’t look all that thrilled about it, but since she could tell she wasn’t going to be left behind, she was willing to put up with the cramped quarters. At least she was such a well-behaved dog that I wouldn’t have to worry about her bothering the chickens.

As for the rest…well, the house was tightly built, and should be all right. The drip system in the greenhouse more or less sustained itself. Yes, I’d have some maintenance to do when I got back, but I thought the plants would be okay for a few days.

Or weeks. Whatever it took.

We locked everything up again and headed out. I’d thought driving in snow was hard enough, but doing it while pulling a horse trailer was doubly difficult. The only thing that saved me was following the trail I’d already broken on the way up to the property. Well, that and the sunny, clear day itself, since at least I could see where I was going.

Westward through Santa Fe, and then finally to the highway. I paused there and took a breath. Evony glanced over at me, gaze questioning.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked her.

“Probably not,” she replied, and grinned. “But let’s go for it anyway. The worst they can do is shoot us.”

“Thanks.”

She didn’t stop smiling, though, and I pushed us up onto Highway 64, angling north and west.

To Los Alamos.

Chapter Seven

Oddly, the highway felt somewhat clearer than the roads. Maybe that was because it sat up high, and the wind had managed to blow some of the snow away. I doubted the open highways in this area had anything to do with the djinn, not in as exposed a spot as this.

And it did feel exposed, trundling along, never going more than twenty miles an hour or so. From time to time, I had to slow down even more than that to avoid stopped vehicles, the smaller ones almost buried in snow. I thought we would probably make it to Los Alamos before dark, even as creeping as our current pace felt, but it would be close.

After we’d pulled off Highway 64 onto 502, the road that led directly to the stronghold of the Immune, Evony finally broke the silence.

“Don’t you wonder where the rest of them are?”

“The rest of who?” I asked, hands tight on the steering wheel. Right then I was really wishing that the Los Alamos crew had waited until the spring thaw to make their move and start kidnapping djinn. It would’ve made this whole situation a lot easier to deal with.

“The djinn.” She glanced skyward, then over at me. “You know, the ones who didn’t want to play nice and rescue any mortals. The ones who started this whole thing.”

Damn, didn’t we have enough to worry about already? “I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said carefully. “I guess I figured they were leaving us alone because we were Chosen, and they’d made a deal with the Thousand, the conscientious objectors.”

“I suppose.” Before we’d left, I’d set fresh bottles of water in the cupholders. She picked up her bottle now and cracked the cap, but she didn’t drink, instead sitting there and tightening it and loosening it. “But what if they decide they don’t want to leave us alone anymore?”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help shooting an uneasy glance of my own upward, as if I expected to see a horde of djinn come screaming down out of the sky like a bunch of rage-fueled Valkyries. “I don’t think they would do that. The other djinn — the Thousand — would never allow it.”

“But there are only a thousand of them. Natila said there were twenty thousand djinn altogether. Talk about being outnumbered.”

“Since when have you been such a buzzkill?” I demanded, my hands tightening even more around the steering wheel. At least focusing on driving kept me from brooding too much over her words. I had a feeling if I really allowed myself to start thinking about it, I’d seriously freak myself out, and I didn’t have time for that.