Chapter 7

As far as he could tell, the tablet computer he'd provided for Sarah was keeping her occupied, for he heard no further sounds from her that morning. But even though he'd done as she asked and should have been able to dismiss her from his thoughts until it was time to inquire as to her lunch preferences, she lingered in his mind nonetheless, like the faint traces of a perfume left behind even after its wearer had long since left the room.

She seemed to have accepted her captivity with some equanimity after her initial protests, although he thought that wasn't so strange. After all, she was a human, and, as far as she knew, he was a djinn, and therefore she did not have many options for escape, not when she was so grossly outmatched.

If he had no need to fear any further escape attempts, Abdul was not quite sure why he should continue to feel unsettled. After a while spent in contemplation of the situation — a time during which he wandered out to the pond he had created near the house, and was gratified to see that a family of ducks had already taken up residence there — he realized there was a perfectly plausible reason as to why Sarah Wolfe would continue to linger in this thoughts.

This was the first time in his very long existence that he'd had another person dwelling in his home. Unlike the djinn, who generally had many partners during their long lifetimes, he had lived alone, apart. And unlike Ibram and Istar, who had found solace in a relationship with another of their kind, there was no one in the world precisely like Abdul. He had made his peace with the situation millennia ago, but still, he had to admit that the current situation was a novel one for him.

Not that he had any romantic designs on his prisoner. She was an inconvenience to be dealt with and nothing more. He was forced to admit to himself that he understood deep down he could not keep her here forever, and that this was a temporary measure at best, but he also didn't think she could be trusted to keep his secrets. True, he could always go to the elders and ask them to tell the humans in Los Alamos that Ghost Ranch and its environs were strictly off-limits, and yet he wasn't sure whether he could trust the mortals to respect such an edict. They definitely had a penchant for sticking their noses where they didn't belong…and probably thought their devices would be sufficient to protect them should they attempt to encroach on his lands.

In which case, they might suffer quite the shock to find out how wrong they were.

No, he would keep Sarah here until he could think of a better solution to the problem. However, he also realized it was perhaps not optimal for her to be always trapped in her room. Even if he let her out so she could enjoy some fresh air, it wasn't as if she could get away. The road was several miles from his house, and she would never reach it before he stopped her.

Also, if he showed her some hints of mercy, then it seemed likely she would be less inclined to make another escape attempt. She seemed meek enough now, but that didn't mean she might not be secretly plotting something.

Humans were devious that way.

Sarah was a little surprised to hear Abdul knock at the door; while she couldn't be sure that the time on the iPad he'd given her was at all accurate, she also knew it was nowhere close to noon, the hour when she'd expected him to come back and ask her what she wanted for lunch.

So she set down the tablet and went to the door. "Yes?"

"I wondered if you might like some fresh air."

She blinked, trying to decide whether this was some kind of joke. "Um…sure," she said after a pause.

At once, the door opened. Abdul stood just outside, wearing the same black hooded robe he'd had on the day before. Idly, Sarah wondered if he had only the one garment and used djinn magic to keep it perpetually clean, or whether he had a closet full of the same outfit and just rotated through the robes as necessary.

"It is a fine day," he said, as though it wasn't just a little nuts that he'd offered to let her go outside after making it seem as if she was going to be locked in her room forever. "You may go out in the courtyard. Do not venture any farther than that, however."

"Not even to look at the pond?" she asked, surprising herself. It might have been wiser to accept the small gift of freedom he'd offered, but she wanted to see how he would react to her pushing the boundaries, if only the tiniest bit.

His eyes glinted within the hood. "You may go to the pond," he allowed. "But no further. Understood?"

"Yes," she said. He'd given her that one concession, but his firm tone…underlaid with just the slightest hint of annoyance…told her she'd better not push for anything else.

That was fine. To be honest, it wasn't as if she could have gone much farther than that, not without trading the thong sandals she wore for something a lot sturdier.

He went to the front door and she followed, guessing that he wanted to be the one to open it for her in order to show his dominance. Under other circumstances, she might have been annoyed by that kind of flex, but now she was only glad that this didn't seem to be some kind of mind game and that he really did appear to be willing to allow her outside.

As she'd seen from her bedroom window, the day was sunny and clear, although the bank of clouds to the southeast was larger now, getting closer. If she'd been back in Los Alamos, she would have looked forward to a monsoon storm, to being safely inside while the thunder boomed and the lightning crashed. Here, though…here she couldn't help thinking Abdul might not be the most comforting companion in such a scenario.

But the storm clouds were still far off, and right now the sun was clear and bright, warm but not hot. The morning breeze caught her hair, which was still slightly damp underneath. Because it always went straight even without the help of a blow dryer or flat iron, she'd let it dry on its own…not that she had much choice, since her captor had provided a comb and brush but nothing that would allow her to actually style her long locks.

"It's beautiful here," she said, not looking at Abdul. He hadn't gone back inside but had stopped a yard or so behind her, as if he intended to keep an eye on her the whole time.

Well, she hadn't planned to bolt anyway. Not now. Yesterday's little incident had shown her there was no way she could outrun him, which meant she needed to come up with a different kind of plan. In the meantime, she'd play along and do her best to make him think she'd resigned herself to the situation.

"I can see why you'd want to settle in Ghost Ranch," she went on, since he didn't seem inclined to respond to her first comment. It was harder than she thought to force the conversation like this, mostly because she'd been so withdrawn the past few years, not wanting to reveal much about her past or what had happened in those last days leading up to the Heat. Once upon a time, she'd been outgoing, even gregarious, but the passage of those months and years seemed to have ensured that the social butterfly she'd been had slid right back into its cocoon.

Abdul shifted, moving a little closer, although he still paused several feet away from the spot where she stood near one of the Adirondack chairs. "Yes, this land has its beauties," he said. "And it is isolated, which has a charm of its own."

His voice had taken on a disapproving tinge, and Sarah could see why. He'd thought he could live here alone without interference from humans…and maybe djinn…and then she'd come blundering onto his property without a care in the world.

Rather than address his comment directly, however, she only said, "That's New Mexico for you. We've got miles and miles of empty land. I'm sure thousands of djinn could settle here and not see each other for weeks."

Was that a chuckle that had just emerged from within his hood? If it was, it had an odd, rusty sound to it, as if he didn't laugh very often.

And even though Sarah had absolutely no firsthand knowledge of the djinn race and could only go on what other people had told her, she was starting to think that Abdul was different from the rest of them in some way she couldn't exactly explain.

She wouldn't even try to ask him any personal questions, though. Since she didn't appreciate those sorts of intrusions herself, she knew she should do what she could to respect his privacy.

"The djinn have the entire world to choose from," he told her. "A world with many beauties. There are far fewer than the number you mentioned who have made this state their home, as many would rather have their residences on a beach, or perhaps in a castle or country estate."

Yes, she could see why a djinn might want a castle. Hadn't they lived in palaces in that weird plane that had formerly been their home?

"I'm surprised you kept the original house here, then," she said. "It's kind of modest by djinn standards, isn't it?"

The robes he wore hid a great deal of his body language, but Sarah still got the impression that Abdul stiffened. "It suits me well enough," he replied.

Clearly, she'd misstepped, but any attempt to backtrack would sound even worse, so she decided to let it go. "But that's why you got rid of so many outbuildings, isn't it? So the view would be nicer?"

"I did not need them," he said, his tone almost dismissive. "And yes, I think this place is more pleasing now that there aren't so many structures to clutter it up."

She had to admit he was right. Her memories from her trip here so many years ago were a little hazy, but she still could recall more buildings than she'd expected when she visited with her father, thinking that the ranch should have been all open fields, maybe with horses and cattle grazing on the dry grass.

"It was a lot different when I was here," she commented, and Abdul's head tilted, as though he was surprised.

"You have been here before?"

"Once, when I was eleven," Sarah replied. "My father and I spent some time exploring northern New Mexico, and we stayed a night in Abiquiu and came to visit Ghost Ranch the next day. We went horseback riding," she added, realizing she hadn't seen a single horse since she'd come here.

Well, maybe that wasn't so strange. She knew that the djinn had made their own odd provisions for all the pets and domesticated animals left behind after the Dying, had used their powers to ensure those animals would have ample food and shelter. Any horses that had been kept at the ranch would now be long gone.

"I hope the changes I have made weren't too shocking," he said, and now she grinned.

"‘Shocking' probably isn't the right word. It's just…different."

Another tilt of his head. "Perhaps you would like to see the pond?"

Was that his attempt to change the subject? She couldn't tell for certain, and decided it probably didn't matter so much. After all, she was the one who'd brought up going to look at the pond he'd created, so it would seem odd if she wasn't eager to see it now.

"Sure."

He lifted a hand, as if beckoning her to follow him, and she trailed along in his wake as they left the brick-paved courtyard and made their way over to the pond. The going wasn't as rough as she'd feared it might be, since there was a smooth path covered in pea gravel that led the way, and soft grass grew around the perimeter of the small body of water that definitely hadn't been there when Sarah visited this place almost two decades earlier.

Not that anyone would have been able to tell that the pond hadn't been a fixture of Ghost Ranch for decades, with the tall cottonwoods clustered around its border and the graceful weeping willows whose lacy branches trailed along its surface. At the far side of the pond, a family of ducks was just launching themselves for a morning swim, with the parents leading five fuzzy little brown ducklings into the calm, deep green water.

"It's amazing," Sarah said, then glanced up at Abdul. As before, he'd stopped a few feet away from her, as though he wanted to make sure he didn't intrude on her personal space.

Very polite for someone who seemed bent on keeping her prisoner for an unspecified amount of time.

"How do you do it?" she went on, and the hood dipped slightly, as though he was puzzled by her question.

"Do what?"

"All this," she said, extending a hand to indicate the pond and the graceful trees that surrounded it, their leaves shimmering in the morning breeze. "I mean, it looks like it's been here for decades or even more. I know that djinn can summon all sorts of stuff, but to make the landscape seem as if it's been this way forever?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded almost amused.

"As you said, we djinn can call many things into existence. It is not all that different to make a pond appear or to summon a set of trees of a particular height or age. I wished for the landscape to feel established, and not like something carelessly brought into being on a whim."

Sarah supposed she could see that. At the same time, she couldn't help thinking he must have something of an artist's eye, even though she'd heard that djinn in general weren't all that creative, and were instead consumers of human-created art rather than making anything of their own.

But still, even though she somehow doubted Abdul would pick up a paintbrush and start creating his own renderings of the beauty that surrounded him, she couldn't help thinking that he'd made his own form of art, starting with the new fields of wildflowers and carefully arranged rock formations she'd noted down by the visitors center, and ending with this pond and the trees that grew around it, as thoughtful and lovely as a Japanese garden.

"It's very beautiful," she said, an echo of her words just a few minutes earlier. Somehow, the moment felt almost too solemn, and she found herself smiling as she added, "And it definitely looks as though the ducks like it."

Had he smiled as well under his hood? Sarah couldn't detect even the slightest flash of teeth in there, so it was impossible to say.

"Yes," Abdul replied. His tone sounded friendly enough, but there was also something almost guarded about it, as if he thought they'd begun to develop some kind of rapport and now needed to draw back so she wouldn't get the wrong impression. "And I hope it will attract other forms of wildlife as the word gets out, so to speak. For now, though, I will leave you here to enjoy this place. You may come back inside when you are ready."

She blinked at him. "You're just going to…let me stay out here on my own?"

"I am," he said, apparently unperturbed. "I can sense your presence, and I will know if you try to wander away from this spot to anywhere other than the house. Besides," he went on, his voice turning dry, "I doubt you will get very far in that footwear."

Since she'd thought pretty much the same thing only a little while earlier, she didn't bother to protest. "No, I wouldn't," she said cheerfully. "But thank you for letting me stay out here for a while."

He only nodded, then turned and walked away down the path. Sarah knew he could have blinked himself back inside if he'd wanted to, and guessed that he, too, wished to stay outside in the bright morning for as long as he could, even if he'd decided it was a good idea to give her some time alone.

For a moment, she stood there as she watched him disappear around a corner of the house, then shook her head.

He's an odd one, she thought.

Even for a djinn.

The fresh air had been welcome, but now Abdul found himself glad that he was back inside, and alone. He had not thought it any great thing to let Sarah out of her room and to allow her to taste a small measure of freedom, and yet — even though he was the one who had provided the clothing — he had not been prepared for the vision she presented when she emerged from her suite after he opened the door. Her hair, which had been pulled back in a tight ponytail the day before, had lain, lush and full and just the slightest bit damp, against her bare shoulders, and everything about her appeared far more polished than he'd expected, from the faint hint of cosmetics on her face to the way the red silk gown he'd supplied had seemed to caress her body, hinting at the graceful form beneath even while revealing very little.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to provide her with pretty clothes. At the time, he had only thought that he did not want to look at his prisoner in the drab, unappealing garb that humans seemed to favor. He truly hadn't believed that a dress would have made such a transformation in the woman who'd stumbled into his sanctuary.

No, he reminded himself, she had not stumbled. She had come here with a purpose in mind, one that was directly opposed to his plans for this place. Although she seemed friendly enough…perhaps too friendly, if he wanted to put a point on it…he could never forget that her people wanted to seize this land for their own, to very likely ruin it with their buildings and their vehicles and their ravening desire to take ever more and more from this world.

He would do whatever he must to prevent that from happening.

But still, he couldn't quite ignore how lovely she'd looked as she stood there in the morning sunshine, hair glinting with hints of copper and gold against the deeper brown, or the way she'd smiled as she watched the ducks venture into the cool waters of the pond. There was something about her that seemed far more alive than anyone else he'd ever encountered, as if she needed to drink in everything and everyone around her.

And that was without bringing her voice into the discussion. They had carefully spoken about externals and nothing more, for he had no desire to share intimacies. However, even as he listened to her speak, his mind kept moving back to the preceding afternoon when he'd heard her sing as she made her way onto the property, trained and yet effortless at the same time, like a falcon diving from a great height as it returned to its master's arm. While he certainly could not count himself an expert, he also knew enough to understand that people did not sing in such a way without a great deal of training.

Who had she been in the world before?

He was not sure whether he would ever find the courage to ask.

Some people might have taken off the sandals, hitched up their skirt, and made a break for it anyway, but Sarah knew that wasn't a possibility. Sooner rather than later, her feet would be bruised and bleeding from walking on the rocky ground, and she doubted there was any way in the world she could make it far enough before Abdul caught up with her.

No, she had to be careful about this. Besides, her planned rendezvous with Lindsay and Carson was coming up the next morning. When she didn't show, they'd certainly come in search of her.

Or…would they? Not that Sarah thought they'd abandon her — at least, Lindsay wouldn't — but it seemed much more likely that they'd return to Los Alamos for reinforcements rather than go looking for her on their own. It just made sense to be careful, especially when dealing with the unknown.

So she knew she'd be here for at least a couple more days, maybe longer. That was all right. Abdul seemed to have backed down from his plan to keep her locked in her room at all times, and she supposed there were worse fates than being confined to a gorgeous property like this one and being fed whatever she liked…and getting to wear pretty clothes, the sort of stuff that hadn't been on her back for almost five years.

Maybe that was shallow, but after all this time scrapping and working hard and not having much beauty in her life, she thought she'd roll with it for the time being. She could think of her captivity here as being on vacation, a sort of mini-retreat. True, a retreat that was watched over by a hooded djinn who was on guard for a single misstep, but still, things could have been worse.

It wasn't as if he'd locked her in a dungeon or something.

When she came back inside, she didn't see him anywhere, which didn't mean much. She hadn't explored the whole house when she first came here, only the great room and the attached kitchen and dining area, so she thought he was probably either in his suite or maybe one of the secondary living spaces. From what she'd seen of the exterior, she guessed this place had to be at least three thousand square feet minimum, maybe a lot more.

And that meant Abdul would have plenty of places to hang out where she couldn't see him.

Just in case this was a test of some sort, she headed back to her room, although she left the door standing open. If he preferred for her to keep it closed, then he could come along and shut it himself — and lock it, although she didn't much see the point when he'd already made it seem as though he was all right with her coming and going as long as she stuck close to the house.

After that time spent outside, it felt a little strange to pick up the iPad and settle herself back in the chair where she'd been sitting when Abdul came along, but she told herself that it wasn't as though she could spend all day outdoors. No, it was better to know that she could read for a while and then venture back out to the courtyard or even the pond when she felt as if she needed a break.

He didn't allow her even that much time, though, because after some fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, he returned, pausing just outside the door rather than attempting to enter the bedroom.

"Perhaps you would like some lunch?"

At once, she set the iPad down on the table in front of her. Although the blueberry muffin he'd provided for breakfast had been amazing, all the fresh air had done its job, and now she knew she needed something a little more substantial.

"That would be great," she said, and couldn't help smiling. "What did you have in mind?"

Oddly, Abdul found himself more at ease with Sarah than he'd been expecting, and, rather than informing her that he'd conjure a tray of food for her, asked if she would like to have their midday meal in the courtyard.

She slanted a look up at him, expression a little startled. However, when she replied, it wasn't to demur, as he'd halfway expected, but to ask, "Is there a place to sit down and eat out there? All I saw were those Adirondack chairs."

"I can summon whatever we need," he said, which was only the truth.

So she smiled, expression sunny as the day outside, and replied, "Oh, right. I need to remember that stuff. I've just never been around a djinn before."

"You never met with any of the elementals from Santa Fe?" he inquired as he led her outside.

She shook her head. "No, I never had any reason to. Or at least, when groups from Los Alamos went there to talk to the djinn for one reason or another, I wasn't included. You're my first," she added, still smiling.

The old protest rose to his mind — I am not precisely a djinn — but he of course did not utter the words aloud. Doing so would have required far too many explanations. Better for her to think he was one of the elementals she already had some knowledge of, even if he might be one with an odd preference for completely hiding his person.

A wave of a hand summoned a handsome wrought-iron patio set, and another called into being an enormous sun sail that stretched across half the courtyard, sheltering them from the sun overhead, which had only grown warmer as the day progressed. Not exactly hot yet, but he knew that sitting out there with absolutely no shielding would have become uncomfortable soon enough.

Sarah blinked, although she didn't say anything. In fact, her expression turned almost wistful, and he wondered if she was thinking about how much easier life was for the djinn, who could summon just about anything they might need.

Well, it was easier for them in some ways, he supposed.

However, he also remained silent as he seated himself and she followed suit. If they had been dining out the way mortals used to, then this would have been the time when a server approached them to take their orders — or at least, Abdul assumed that was what should have happened. Since he had never interacted with human society the way so many djinn had over the centuries, he couldn't say for sure.

"Iced tea?" he asked. "Or perhaps lemonade or water?"

"Tea," Sarah responded immediately.

As that was also his preferred drink for his noontime meal, he summoned a large pitcher for them to share, along with a set of tall glasses. He poured some for her and then filled his own glass, and she murmured a thank-you.

"What would you like?" he inquired. She hadn't eaten very much for breakfast, although he couldn't say whether such behavior was typical of her or whether she didn't have much of an appetite due to being locked up in that suite.

He'd expected her to make a specific request the way she had the night before, when she'd asked for pepperoni pizza. However, she surprised him by asking, "What are you having?"

Because it was a bright, warm day, he'd already decided to have some sort of salad. When he told her that, she nodded.

"That sounds good. I'd like a salad as well."

Of course, he hadn't told her what kind of salad, but decided that something he'd had once, with mixed greens and chunks of chicken and bleu cheese and cranberries and candied walnuts, seemed like it would be a good choice. Immediately, a pair of identical salads appeared in front of them, and Sarah gave an approving nod.

"This looks really good. I haven't had cranberries like this since…."

The words trailed off, but he knew what she was trying to say. Although certain canned and dried foods had survived the Dying, the human survivors in Los Alamos probably would have already consumed whatever stores they had on hand, and cranberries were nothing they could grow themselves, not with the terrain here so very different from the bogs of New England.

"I am glad I could provide something you like," he said, knowing it would probably be better not to acknowledge the reason why Sarah would not have eaten anything similar to this meal for a very long time.

She also seemed to realize they'd been treading on delicate ground, because she only nodded and reached for her fork, then speared some chicken and dried cranberries before popping them in her mouth.

Afterward, they ate quietly enough, for which he was glad. He knew that djinn and mortals alike often conversed during their meals, making them last much longer than they needed to, but it appeared Sarah understood he had no need for idle chatter.

When she was done, though, she set down her fork and looked up at him. "Thank you," she said, and something in the timbre of her voice seemed to tell him she was expressing gratitude for more than merely the salad.

Was she also thankful for the way he'd allowed her to leave her room today?

Perhaps. Since it seemed she had no immediate plans to flee, he thought it better to leave matters as they were. This way, she could come out to the courtyard or the pond when she wished and perhaps would not feel quite so much like a prisoner.

Even if that was exactly what she was.