Chapter 10

Sarah supposed it was possible. After all, it had been years and years since she'd heard a properly functioning icemaker. No one used them in Los Alamos, not when they required so much energy and water. People had learned to have "iced" tea that was only cooled in the refrigerator, and although an exception was made around the Fourth of July so everyone could have ice cream, all the ice was made in kitchens with newer and better freezers than the one in her townhouse's kitchen.

Still….

She went over to the fridge and opened the freezer compartment, then peered in. Yes, there were definitely cubes in the icemaker, and she supposed a batch of them could have dropped just as she was starting to lose herself in the book she'd been reading.

And after all, why would Abdul have any reason to lie to her about something so innocuous?

Absolutely none. Besides, they'd had such a pleasant day so far that she didn't want to walk back outside and start giving him the third degree about the odd noise that had disrupted her reading time. Better to let it go.

She picked up her iPad, but instead of returning to her room, she sat down on the couch in the great room so she could see the landscape outside and enjoy the soft breezes blowing through the space. The walls of the house were so thick that they acted as an excellent insulator, which meant she doubted the place would need any real air conditioning except on the very hottest of summer days…and those had been fewer and farther in between in the world after the Dying, when the climate slipped back into a more normal weather pattern.

Abdul didn't seem ready to make an appearance, though, and she wondered what he was up to. If he were a regular human, she might have said he was busy carrying the saddles down to the stable, which she thought was located on the other side of the low promontory where the house was situated. But a djinn could just blink all the horses' tack wherever he wished, so she doubted he would waste his energy on such a simple chore.

Or maybe he wasn't coming back inside because she'd decided to plant herself here rather than in her room, and he was avoiding her.

Sarah wasn't sure she liked that possibility, especially after they'd spent such a pleasant couple of hours together.

Wait…was she actually annoyed at the thought that Abdul might not be completely entranced by having her around?

That was just nuts. All right, he hadn't thrown her in a dungeon and shackled her to a wall or anything, but she needed to hang on to the simple fact that she wouldn't be in this house at all if he hadn't compelled her to stay here.

The front door opened then, and she blinked and immediately forced her attention back to the iPad in her lap. If asked, she couldn't have responded with a single coherent detail about the page she was supposed to be reading, but Abdul didn't have to know that.

"You are enjoying your book?"

Again, all politeness. She wondered if he was being deliberately pleasant to lure her into some kind of Stockholm syndrome situation.

Or maybe he'd decided there was no point in acting like a jerk.

"Yes," she lied. "I hope you don't mind me sitting out here. I just figured since you said I had the run of the property — "

"It is fine," he said hastily. "I can see why you would want to be out here, since the view is so pleasant."

That it was. Actually, as the afternoon had worn on, thunderheads had begun to build up, so near that she thought this time, they might get a real light show instead of a few clouds that dissipated after sunset. Sitting here, she'd have her best chance of seeing something fun.

"But I also wanted to ask if you had any preference for our evening meal," he went on. "I think I would like to make something from scratch."

Sarah blinked again, then set her iPad on the coffee table. "You cook? I thought — "

"Many djinn simply conjure their food, it is true," he said. "But there are those among us who like to do it the old-fashioned way, to use a human phrase. It can be a pleasant occupation to pass the time."

She'd never been too much into cooking, mostly because with school and running to auditions and squeezing in rehearsals and everything else, she barely had time to order takeout. And her father had never seemed to mind, mostly because he worked such long hours and was rarely even home when dinnertime rolled around.

However, she thought she could see why some djinn might want to take up cooking. They were so long-lived that they had a hell of a lot of hours to fill.

And she had a feeling that putting together a favorite recipe would be much more fun for them, partly because they could easily conjure up any missing ingredients or have the garlic chop itself, or whatever.

While it might have been amusing to ask for something really complicated, like beef Wellington or Julia Child's bourguignon recipe, Sarah thought that might be a little petty.

"You can choose something," she said. "I'm not super picky. About the only thing I won't eat is snails."

Was that a glint of dark eyes within his hood?

Probably not; the thing did a remarkably good job of hiding his face, so much so that she wondered if he'd cast some sort of enchantment on it to prevent any observers from seeing even a hit of the features within.

"I think we can avoid snails," he replied, and there was no missing the flicker of amusement in his voice. "But I will ponder this for a while."

After making that comment, he headed down the hallway that, she assumed, led to the main suite and whatever other rooms were located in that wing of the house. She hadn't ventured there yet, mainly because she already felt as though she was skating on thin ice and didn't want to annoy him and be banished to her room once again.

Instead, she picked up the iPad and did her best to focus on the words on the screen.

"‘Ghost Ranch'?" Julia Innes repeated, sounding puzzled. "No, I'm pretty sure there aren't any djinn out that way."

Dylan had been down for his afternoon nap when Lindsay got back to Los Alamos, so she figured that was the best time to reach out to Julia and Zahrias to see if they could shed any light on the deepening mystery of Georgia O'Keeffe's former home. Miles stood nearby, listening, although it seemed as if he didn't feel the need to jump into the conversation, not when he hadn't been on the expedition that had gone to that very spot a few hours earlier.

"No one?" Lindsay responded. Maybe the drone's sudden radio silence really was thanks to mechanical failure and nothing else, and yet she still couldn't help thinking something else must be going on here. "That is, I know most of the djinn have been settled in their homes for years now, but there's no chance that someone might have come there recently? It would explain a lot."

"We cannot say for absolutely sure," came Zahrias' deep, somehow smoky voice. "I can ask the elders. If one of your people truly has disappeared there, I believe further investigation is required. Because the elders are the ones who decide who lives where, then it makes the most sense to go to them directly."

"That would be great," Lindsay said. "None of us are really sure what's going on, but with Sarah Wolfe missing and now our drone disappearing for no reason, we can't help thinking it's more than just a coincidence."

Julia came back on the line then, sounding brisk and confident. "Well, whatever's going on, we'll just have to hope the elders clear it up. If they come back and say that no one is living there, then you can go in and search more thoroughly. In fact, I'm sure we could get a couple of our people to go along to help out. Air elementals can cover a lot more ground than us regular folks on foot."

That was a generous offer. More and more, there had been open cooperation between the community in Los Alamos and the djinn/mortal group in the state's former capital, but still, this wasn't a matter that affected the people in Santa Fe at all. Sarah Wolfe was none of their own. Yes, they'd jumped in when Isla Dunbar went missing, but in that case, they'd been fairly certain that a djinn was involved, even if they hadn't pinned down the true culprit right away.

This thing with Sarah…it was just a mystery.

"We'd appreciate that," Lindsay said. "It could turn out she just wandered off and lost track of time, but that doesn't sound like anything Sarah would do."

"We'll get to the bottom of it," Julia replied. "Hang tight, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can."

A little squawk from the speaker seemed to indicate that the other woman had hung up, so Lindsay put down her handset microphone and looked over at her husband.

"I guess that's it," she said. "Now all we can do is wait."

After some ruminating and reflecting on all the various human dishes he'd consumed over the years, Abdul decided to make a large pot of cassoulet. Perhaps it was something Sarah had eaten before and perhaps not, but the hearty concoction of beans and sausage and chicken sounded like a fitting end to a day that had involved some exertion.

Besides, the clouds that had been slowly creeping northward for the greater part of the afternoon had now reached Ghost Ranch, and it seemed as if they might get a thunderstorm or two. It would be good to have the hearty dish with some wine as the rain fell outside.

So he summoned all the ingredients and busied himself in the kitchen. Sarah realized what he was doing at once and set aside her iPad so she could ask him if he needed any help, but he told her no, he had everything in hand.

Which, obviously, was the truth. He could have snapped his fingers and summoned the meal, but he enjoyed doing it this way. However, he wasn't above using his powers to make sure the garlic was minced fine and the onions chopped into precise quarter-inch pieces.

Soon enough, the concoction was simmering on the stovetop, and he went to look out the window.

"Do you think it's going to rain?" Sarah asked. She'd once again put down her tablet and had risen from the sofa, although he noticed she stayed a ways back, as though she didn't want to intrude by coming too close.

"Probably," he replied. In fact, he thought it was a near certainty, what with the way the clouds had now covered almost all the sky, how he could feel the way they were heavy with rain, pulsing with electricity just waiting to be unleashed. "It is a good thing we did not go for a sunset ride, for I am almost certain we would have been soaked by the end of it."

"Good thing," she said, then brushed a hand against the tunic she was wearing. "I think I'll change for dinner — this outfit smells a little too much like horse."

He hadn't noticed, but then, she wasn't standing close enough for him to sense such an odor emanating from her clothing. Tone neutral, he said, "If you think so."

She chuckled. "Oh, I know so. I'll be back out in a few."

A brief pause as she leaned down to retrieve her iPad from the coffee table, and then she headed out of the room. Abdul watched her go, and couldn't help wondering what she would select to wear for that evening's meal. The shimmering teal tunic and pants that would bring out the unusual greenish-blue hues in her eyes, or perhaps the white dress, the one that was utterly simple when hanging but he guessed would be spectacular when worn?

Not that he should even be thinking about such things. He had conjured the clothing because it was beautiful in its own right, and he had always liked to surround himself with beautiful things.

Even if he could not see such beauty in himself, he could at least have it around him at all times.

No point in thinking about Sarah's clothing, not when he still had work to do. The cassoulet bubbled gently on the stovetop, and time would turn it into the delectable concoction he had envisioned for their dinner. Now he needed to focus on making some crusty rolls to go along with it, as well as determining which salad would be best as an accompaniment.

He did not want to analyze too closely why he wanted to make sure this meal would be perfect.

Sarah surveyed the wardrobe Abdul had given her, trying to think what would be the right thing to wear to dinner. That white dress with the tone-on-tone embroidery around the neckline was gorgeous, but although she couldn't tell for sure what he was making for dinner, it looked as though it was some kind of fancy stew, and she knew one splash from her spoon on the bodice of that dress and it would be all over. And all right, she guessed that his djinn magic would fix any kind of stain that occurred, but still, she didn't really like the thought of sitting there for even a couple of minutes with a big blotch on her dress.

But there was one that was similar, also sleeveless and with some embroidery on the bodice, but it was a dark green, something that seemed much safer for slurping soup or stew or whatever they were having. Like almost everything he'd summoned for her, it was also made of silk, and felt cool and airy as she dropped it over her head once she'd discarded the tunic and pants she'd worn for most of the day.

A quick touch-up of her face, and she brushed her hair to get all the tangles out. On the ride, she'd pulled it back into a ponytail so it wouldn't be in the way, but it still needed some work to get it nice and shiny again.

Too bad Abdul hadn't provided any bobby pins or clips or anything she could have used to pull it up and out of the way. Sarah supposed it was all right to leave her hair loose and simple like this, and yet the dress was just fancy enough that it seemed to call for a little extra effort.

Well, she didn't have any jewelry, either, except the silver earrings she'd worn this whole time. Back at her townhouse in Los Alamos, she had the antique bohemian garnet ring she'd been wearing when she fled Albuquerque all those years ago, but she rarely put it on these days. It was a family heirloom and had supposedly belonged to her great-grandmother on her mom's side. Sarah couldn't know for sure, since that ancestor had been long gone by the time she came along, and she hadn't been old enough when her mother had died to have gotten the whole story.

She didn't want to think about that, though. That tragedy was far back in the past and didn't have any bearing on her life now.

Whatever that life would turn out to be, considering how Abdul hadn't said a single word about letting her leave and she still hadn't come up with anything remotely resembling a decent plan for getting out of here.

When she emerged from her bedroom, the main part of the house was filled with amazing smells, delicious aromas that made her stomach want to growl even though she thought she'd had a decent enough lunch. The table was set as well, with simple, heavy stoneware in a soft sage green that went well with the other natural tones in the house.

Candles flickered on the tabletop, set in unadorned iron holders, and they also shone from the heavy mantel of twisted juniper that adorned the fireplace.

Was Abdul trying to impress her, or did he only think that a meal like this deserved a little extra effort?

Probably the latter. Sarah couldn't come up with a single reason why he should care at all what she thought.

Just as soon as she entered the living room, lightning flashed, illuminating the dark valley below. A few seconds later, thunder rumbled, strong enough that she thought she could hear the sconces rattling on the wall.

"That was close," she remarked.

Abdul had been standing at the kitchen counter, tossing some greens in a large wooden bowl, but he paused then and glanced over at her. "Yes, it was," he said. "Strong enough that it might have disrupted the power here if we still needed to worry about such things. Luckily, we do not."

Because his djinn energy was keeping the lights going and powering the gas stove. For all she knew, this house might have had solar panels on the roof, but solar wouldn't do anything to make the gas oven work.

"Dinner is almost ready," he went on. "Perhaps you would like to choose some music to listen to?"

"‘Music'?" she repeated. As far as she'd been able to tell, there didn't seem to be any kind of sound system here.

Maybe he smiled under the hood. "There are speakers concealed in those shelves over there," he said, pointing toward the built-ins that surrounded a truly enormous TV attached to the wall. "And there is also a unit that will allow you to hook up your iPad to it."

Perfect. Since Abdul had already provided enormous libraries of music on the tablet he'd given her, there must be something on there that would work as a good background for their dinner.

"Got it," she told him, and headed back into her bedroom so she could fetch the iPad. Soon enough, she had it hooked up to the Bose system that was so cleverly concealed inside the built-in, with a sort of wicker covering on the cupboards that held the speakers so you couldn't see them but sound could easily escape.

Now all she had to do was figure out what to listen to. With all her focus on musical theater — with a foray into opera one summer when she was trying to decide on the best use of her voice — she had never paid much attention to what was popular. Anyway, playing Taylor Swift or Sabrina Carpenter or Billie Eilish didn't seem like the right thing to do, not on a stormy evening when she was sitting down to dinner with a djinn.

Among the literally hundreds of playlists on the iPad, she found one that appeared to be a mix of Russian composers, Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky and Rimsky-Korsakoff. She started that one going, making sure the volume wasn't turned up too high so she wouldn't have to worry about getting blasted out of her seat if it launched into the 1812 Overture or something similarly bombastic.

Luckily, the first song sounded as if it was from Rimsky-Korsakoff's Scheherazade, lush and lovely…and maybe a little too on point for a meal she'd be sharing with a djinn, but she couldn't worry about that now. Instead, she headed over to the long table in the dining area and hovered there for a moment, not sure whether she should offer to help with anything.

"Dinner will be on the table soon," Abdul told her, effectively forestalling any inquiries along those lines. "You may go ahead and sit down."

Well, at least that would stop her from standing here awkwardly, not sure what to do. She pulled out a chair and seated herself, and placed the heavy cream-colored linen napkin from her place setting on her lap. A basket covered with an identical napkin and with a plate of butter next to it seemed to signal the rolls were already on the table, so all Abdul had to do was bring over the bowl of salad and the heavy enamel-over-iron Dutch oven full of the stew he'd made, and then he sat down as well.

"I assumed you would like some wine," he went on. "If not, I will summon something else for you to drink."

Maybe some people would have counseled her to stay completely sober, but oddly, Sarah thought she was safe enough with Abdul. If he'd had any designs on her, he'd had plenty of opportunities during the time she'd been with him for him to do whatever he wanted. Getting just the mildest of buzzes sounded like as good a way as any to end the day.

Besides, although she hadn't been anything close to an expert on wine, she knew enough that a meal like this probably deserved something more than a glass of water.

"Wine would be great," she told him.

Without comment, he reached for the bottle and laid a finger against the neck. At once, the cork pulled itself out, far more quickly and smoothly than it probably would have emerged if he'd used an ordinary bottle opener.

Sarah couldn't help grinning. "Nice trick."

"Sometimes it is better for us to use our powers," he said as he poured an inch or so of dark wine into her glass.

"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 Espa?ola — 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?"

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 Espa?ola 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."