Chapter 11

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?

Sarah wasn't sure she was ready to answer that question. It seemed a lot better to just go with the flow and see what happened. If she was presented with the most absolutely perfect plan ever to escape Ghost Ranch and get back to Los Alamos, then obviously, she'd take it.

In the meantime, though, she figured she might as well enjoy herself.

Abdul was sitting at the dining table, sipping some coffee, when she emerged from her room. As always, he wore the same black hooded robe, and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from asking if he'd ever thought about trying something a little more cheerful, like red or bright blue.

Actually, the mental image of him in a scarlet robe, like some kind of post-Heat Santa Claus, was so silly that she had to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. The last thing she wanted was for him to ask what had suddenly made her smile.

"Some tea?" he asked.

He'd remembered that she wasn't a coffee drinker. Sarah didn't know why that realization warmed her so much, except that during the entire time she'd been with Carson, he hadn't once bothered to take note of her preferences, and instead kept trying to urge her to drink coffee because it just made more sense to share a pot.

"Yes, please," she replied, and couldn't help wondering what was going on with Carson at the moment. He must be in Los Alamos by now, but were they trying to come up with a way to locate her, or had they written her off as lost forever?

No, Lindsay and Miles and the rest of the town council wouldn't do that. Sarah had no idea what they were plotting, but she had to believe they would mount a rescue operation at some point.

For some reason, that idea bothered her. Not only because she was finding herself increasingly ambivalent about staying here at Ghost Ranch, but also because she wasn't sure how Abdul would react if he was suddenly confronted by a group from Los Alamos. He hadn't been too thrilled to find her here, and she had to believe he'd be even less happy to have four or five or even more mortals appear on his doorstep.

Stop borrowing trouble, she told herself as Abdul conjured a pot of tea and mug identical to the ones he'd summoned the day before. They may decide they can't risk losing any more people out here, and that will be the end of it.

Possible, but not very probable. It wasn't only that she doubted Lindsay and the rest of the group would write her off so easily, but also that they definitely wanted to expand in this direction, and they wouldn't abandon those plans without a damn good reason.

She poured some tea while Abdul sipped at his coffee. Once again, she was struck by how they could sit here quietly like this and not feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter, could simply allow themselves to be in the moment.

He was the first to speak, though, asking, "Would you like to ride again today?"

Sarah had been thinking the same thing, although she couldn't help wondering if the trails might be a little muddy after all that rain the night before. "Maybe this afternoon," she said. "You know, to let everything dry out."

"That would probably work better," he allowed. "But perhaps there is something you would like to do this morning?"

The idea of having so much free time was still so foreign to her that she had to think about it for a moment. But then she realized that, even though Abdul had knocked down the guest quarters he hadn't found aesthetically appealing, there was still a lot remaining of the original Ghost Ranch facilities.

"Maybe we could go look at the museums?" she said. "I visited them with my father when I was a kid, but obviously, I haven't been back since then."

"That is a good idea," Abdul replied. "But you should eat something first. Another muffin, like yesterday?"

As tasty as it had been, Sarah didn't think it was a good idea to keep repeating the same thing over and over again, not when she had a djinn right here who was apparently willing to summon her whatever she liked best.

"Not today," she said, and smiled. No, she couldn't see his face, but that didn't mean she intended to hide her reactions from him. "How about a nice big plate of pancakes?"

Somehow, she thought he smiled in return.

Yes, this had been a good idea. As Sarah had feared, there were still muddy spots here and there, and it was probably best that they'd postponed their ride until this afternoon, but they were able to walk from the house along the path that led to the former visitors center and the museums, the first of which contained sketches and paintings by the woman artist Georgia O'Keeffe, while the second, smaller facility showcased artifacts Abdul hadn't been expecting, such as fossils and pieces of pottery, all the interesting items that had been unearthed when O'Keeffe settled on this remote piece of land.

"I had no idea all this was here," he said, and Sarah sent him an inquiring look.

"You didn't?" she replied, a little startled, and added, "I mean, I just figured you explored all these buildings when you first came to live at Ghost Ranch."

"I did not," he said, then paused near a collection of crystals and geodes displayed in a glass case. "That is, while I knew I would need to do something about the museums at some point, I thought it better to address those items of more immediate importance, such as refurbishing the house and improving the landscape."

"You shouldn't do anything with them," Sarah commented.

Although she couldn't see his expression, he couldn't help smiling a little at her bold tone. "Not even strengthen the roofs and clear out all this dust?"

Now she grinned. "Okay, anything that will improve these places, sure. But I'd hate to think of you just…getting rid of them."

Doing so would certainly not be respectful. While djinn in general had little use for humans, the elementals still acknowledged their creative and artistic gifts, talents that they themselves lacked. Abdul was not precisely one of them, but he also understood that to destroy the works the artists had left behind would do no one any good.

"The museums will remain," he declared. "And so will the two chapels, and the labyrinth, and anything else I deem to be of some purpose."

"There's a labyrinth?" Sarah asked then, her eyes shining with interest.

"There is," he replied. "And we can explore it later when the ground is not so muddy. I had no idea you were interested in such things."

Now her shoulders lifted. In these dusty surroundings — for he had not thought to clean this place up before they ventured in here — she looked bright and beautiful and somehow out of place, in that deep turquoise dress that bared her arms, her hair shiny and free.

What would it feel like to have those glossy strands flow through his fingers like the finest silk?

As best he could, he banished the intrusive thought from his mind. Sarah would certainly not allow him to touch her thus, and he knew he should not even be thinking of her in such a way. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to regard her as a prisoner, but he did not know exactly how he should view her.

An honored guest, he supposed.

"Well," she said, looking cheerful, "it's not like I made a habit of exploring labyrinths or anything. I suppose it's just fun that they have one here."

"Then we will definitely go to look at it later," he told her. "Perhaps after our ride, depending on the hour of our return."

"That sounds like a good idea."

They left the matter there and continued their exploration of the museum. Soon enough, it was time to stop so they could have their noonday meal, and they headed back up to the house.

As they went, he couldn't help wondering why it was that he seemed so easy with her, when he had never before been comfortable around another living soul.

The day had warmed up enough that they ate on the table Abdul had summoned on the patio. He seemed fairly mellow, so Sarah couldn't help making the request that had been floating around in her mind for some time.

"Do you think you could conjure me some proper riding clothes?" she asked, and he tilted his head at her.

"Is there something wrong with what you wore yesterday?"

Sarah brushed her hand against her silk dress, then shook her head. "Not exactly wrong, " she replied. "But I can't help thinking that some jeans and a T-shirt would probably be better in the saddle than something this fancy."

He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if she'd offended him. What she'd said was only the truth, but if he'd been trying to show her that staying here wasn't so bad by lavishing beautiful clothes on her, then she could see why he might take her request the wrong way.

But then he said, "I suppose you are right. You will find some new clothing for riding in your room — and a sturdier set of shoes."

That would definitely help. At least he'd provided pretty little ballet-style flats and thong sandals rather than far more impractical heels or platforms, but Sarah knew the shoes he'd given her would still fall apart quickly enough if she kept riding and walking on rough ground in them.

"Thanks." She reached for her glass of iced tea and took a sip, adding, "Do you think it's going to storm again today?"

He lifted his head toward the sky. To be honest, it had been something of a silly question, since right now there wasn't a single cloud dotting that entire sapphire expanse, but Sarah knew just as well as anyone else who'd lived in New Mexico for a while — let alone their entire lives — that things could change on a dime around here, especially during the summer when monsoon season started cranking up.

Apparently, Abdul thought the same thing, because when he glanced back down, he said, "I doubt it, but the air is moving quickly, and that means conditions can shift at a moment's notice. Still, we should be safe to ride, and most likely to explore the labyrinth afterward."

Exactly what she'd wanted to hear.

"Then I'll get changed after lunch," she said.

If his expression shifted, she would never know.

"Of course," he replied.

Abdul had expected to be somewhat disappointed when Sarah appeared in the new clothing he'd summoned for her, and yet he had to admit there was something to be said for the way the slim jeans clung to her legs and the scoop-necked T-shirt showed off her curves. Not to the point where she would probably comment on the fit of the garments — he was certainly no expert on such things, but he had noted in those days before the world ended that many women wore clothing that seemed painfully tight — but enough that he thought she looked as beautiful as ever, if in an entirely different way from how she appeared in her silken finery.

True, the low hiking boots he'd also provided would never be commended for their beauty, but he could tell Sarah had a much easier time of it as she swung herself up into the saddle that afternoon. Perhaps it had been better before, when she'd needed his assistance and he'd been able to hold her hand, if only for a brief moment, although it was probably for the best that they had no reason to touch one another.

She had disordered his thoughts enough already.

He had called the horses to the house and saddled them while she was changing, so they were able to leave without much delay. This time, he guided them due north, away from the house and toward a canyon he thought she would like. No waterfalls or secret springs, but a creek did run through the spot, and all was shaded by cottonwoods and sycamores, with multicolored rock faces soaring hundreds of feet above.

"How many places like this are around here?" Sarah asked as she climbed down from her horse. Her movements still weren't entirely graceful, although he could tell she was getting more comfortable about managing such things on her own.

"More than you might think," Abdul replied. He had also dismounted and now led his horse over to the stream so he could drink from the cool, clear water. "It is part of the reason why I decided to settle at Ghost Ranch. I knew that when the weather was fine, I would be able to find many places of natural beauty to explore."

"It's gorgeous." She'd followed along, and her blood bay mare drank from the water as well, obviously glad of the refreshment after the nearly hour-long climb to get here.

He wanted to say, So are you, and immediately thrust such a foolish notion out of his mind. Yes, she looked very lovely standing there with the dappled shade from the trees casting dark and light on her rich-toned hair, even in those silly hiking boots.

However, he didn't want to imagine what her reaction might be if he said such a thing, and he knew he had far greater control over himself than that. Some might have said that he had very little control or he would not have allowed him to think such things in the first place, and yet he wanted to believe there was a world of difference between allowing thoughts like those to take up space in his mind and quite another for them to actually leave his lips.

"And thanks for the boots and the jeans," she added. "It was definitely easier to ride in these clothes."

He murmured, "You're welcome," although he knew deep down that she should not have been in a position to request them at all. No, he should have sent her home immediately and not kept her here; he had acted out of anger and fear, and not because he had any reason to believe she would betray him. From everything that he'd seen over the past two days, she possessed an honorable soul.

And yet he knew he was not much in the habit of trusting others. How could he be, when he had spent all his very long life utterly alone?

"Your singing the other day," he said, and immediately she stiffened, face going blank and wary. "Excuse me, but even I could tell that yours is a trained voice. Why is it that you do not wish to use it, or even speak of it?"

A second or two passed as she stared back at him. Not, he thought, like a deer frozen by the headlights of an oncoming vehicle, but more like a wary horse who was deciding which way she should bolt.

Then her mouth turned up in a lopsided smile, and she said, "Why do you wear that cloak and hood?"

Now it was his turn to go stiff. "That is a completely different matter."

"Is it?" she returned. But then she shook her head, and something about her posture softened, as though she'd realized they were not speaking of the same thing at all. "I suppose it's kind of stupid to be so defensive about it. But I've spent all the time since…well, since before…avoiding the whole topic. I guess I just wanted to act as if it had happened to someone else."

"What happened?" he pressed. For the life of him, he could not think of a single reason why she would want to hide such a glorious talent from the world.

Another of those crooked grins touched her mouth. "How much time do you have?"

"I am a djinn," Abdul said. Not entirely true, but trying to explain what he truly was would have taken far too much effort. "I have all the time in the world."

She reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then glanced about the canyon where they stood, as though she wanted to be sure no one else was around to hear her story. Somewhat foolish, he thought, since the closest people were far away in Los Alamos and her only audience was himself and the two horses, but he told himself he should be patient.

"All right," she said. "I'll tell you."