djinn wars 04 - broken (32 page)

I very much doubt that.
“The garden you showed me. It is such a lovely spot. I cannot help but think that it would be a wonderful setting for other…activities.”

Her eyes widened a bit, and then she gave him a slow, lascivious smile. “Why, Zahrias, you are getting quite adventurous in your old age, aren’t you?”

He lifted his shoulders.

“But I agree,” she went on, her tone almost purring. “Let us take this wine with us…and see what happens.”

Somehow he managed to smile at her and nod, then waited as she untangled herself from his arms and went back to the table where the wine and the neglected remnants of their dinner sat. She scooped up the decanter, and he got up and retrieved their goblets. The metal was cold against his fingers, chilling him.

If he should fail….

He pushed the thought aside and followed Lyanna through the chambers of the palace, past the sad watching eyes of the portraits she had stolen and the blank-faced marble statues that stood sentinel in the corridors. They haunted him, reminders of all those who had died when the Heat swept over the face of the Earth. Logically, he knew that the artists who had created these paintings and statues were dead long before the djinn had intervened so catastrophically in the history of the human race, but he still wondered how Lyanna could bear to look at them.

Then again, sensitivity had never been her greatest strength.

They emerged into the garden, where the perfume of the flowers growing there hung heavy on the still air. Off to one side was a table and several benches of carved marble. Lyanna went and set down the decanter of wine on the tabletop, and Zahrias came up beside her and put the goblets next to them.

“More wine?” he asked her.

“Of course,” she said, eyes gleaming. Clearly, she had already begun to anticipate what was to come next.

He poured a measure of the dark vintage into each of the goblets. Lyanna lifted hers at once and took an over-large swallow, one obviously intended for its effect and not so she might savor the wine.

Only a few minutes ago, he had been hoping for the blurred edges such mild intoxication might bring, but now he knew he must be careful. His wits needed to be sharp, even as hers became dulled.

She took another drink, then waved at the benches. “These look terribly hard, don’t they?”

“Perhaps.”

A snap of her fingers, and a cushioned divan appeared only a few feet away. “I think that will be far more comfortable, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he replied, giving her a slow smile. All the better, for she’d conjured the piece of furniture into a spot where the hanging vines that sheltered the garden dropped low. Yes, they might do very well.

He drank some of his wine, so that she might not become suspicious, but a measured sip. Then he set down his glass, plucked hers from her fingers, and pulled her against him. She let out a little gasp, amber eyes warming as she gazed up at him.

“You are becoming forceful, aren’t you? Good — I do prefer you that way.”

“Then let us see if you prefer this.”

Before she could speak again, he slammed his mouth down on hers, kissing her hard, doing his very best to make her think that he wanted nothing more than to possess her body once more. Her tongue touched his, and he had to fight to keep himself from recoiling.

She seemed to notice nothing, however, and did not protest as he moved her toward the divan, then pushed her down into the soft cushions, his body on top of hers. Her eyes closed, although whether her ecstasy was real or feigned, he didn’t know, and didn’t care. What mattered was that she had lost herself to the spell of his touch, and could not see what he was about to do.

His powers had been denied him, but he still had his physical strength. It was easy enough for him to reach up and grasp one of the vines, then give it a hard yank. The torn piece of plant material fell from the canopy above them, and he took it and wrapped it around Lyanna’s wrists.

Her eyes did fly open at that point, but even then he saw no betrayal in them, only a sort of lustful surprise. “Why, Zahrias — I had no idea you enjoyed playing those sorts of games.”

“I do not,” he told her. “But one must do what one must.”

In that instant, he pushed away from her and ran toward the wall. The vines that covered it gave him the handholds he needed, and he grasped them as he desperately hauled himself upward. Shifting light surged through the gap, telling him he was close to freedom. Only that much more —

A hard object hit the center of his back, and he lost his grip, slipping back down nearly a foot before he regained his grip on the vines. Damn. He’d known that the makeshift restraints he’d put on Lyanna wouldn’t last very long, but he’d hoped that limited time would still be enough.

Another blow to his back, this time higher up near his shoulder. The pain was sharp enough that he lost his grip for good this time, and fell with a painful thud to the stone pavers below. Lyanna stood over him, eyes blazing.

“You thought to trick me?” she cried. “When all I offered you was love?”

“That was not love,” he told her, forcing himself back to his feet. Whatever happened next, he would meet it while standing and facing her, not lying on the ground like a beaten dog. “That was not even a counterfeit of love. Love —
true
love — is not something you can force, Lyanna, no matter what you might think.”

Her face twisted with fury, and the fountain off to one side gushed forth a veritable geyser of water. Only a temper tantrum, he knew; he noticed that the water’s spray did not touch the walls of the palace. Lyanna would not risk the sort of display that might actually damage the house she prized so much.

Even so, he knew he probably would not enjoy what was to come next. She raised her hands, and he watched her calmly. He could not stop her, but he would not beg.

Forgive me, Julia,
he thought.
If only I had been brave enough to declare my love for you, then none of this would have happened.

And he braced himself for the inevitable.

Chapter Seventeen

“What the hell are you doing here?” Julia burst out, as everyone else only stared at this unexpected apparition. Then she paused, confused. With the device operating, how on earth had Qadim even managed to show up at the house at all?

“I fear that my sister has overstepped herself,” he said. “And I have no wish to be dragged down with her. If I lend you my aid, I hope that you will put in a good word for me with the elders.”

“‘A good word’?” Julia repeated, then shook her head in disbelief. “How are you even here? The device — ”

“Yes, it did force me to have to walk that last several hundred feet, rather than dropping in directly. You were all so embroiled in your argument that you didn’t even notice when I opened the front door.”

Well, all right, that was possible. They had all been facing Murrah, and so had their backs to the door. Julia supposed it wouldn’t have been too difficult to open it and slip in. In this community, which was composed solely of djinn and their Chosen, no one seemed to bother with making sure their houses were locked up tight.

“So, let me get this straight,” Jace said then. His brows were drawn together, and Julia got the distinct impression that he would have liked to lunge for the other djinn, except that neither one of them was in any shape to fight because of the effects of the device. “You’re going to
help
us?”

“That was my idea, yes.” Qadim’s gaze flickered from Jace to Murrah, then came to rest on Julia. She wanted to look away, but she made herself stare back at him, unflinching.

“And that will magically make it all better?” she said, not bothering to hide the outrage boiling within her. “We’re just supposed to forget about the people you killed?”

“
I
killed no one,” Qadim replied calmly. “Margolis killed your friends, not I.”

“He was working for you,” she shot back.

“Perhaps, but I never gave him the order to kill those people. I told him I needed you delivered to me, safe and unharmed. That was all. Whatever else Margolis did, he did of his own volition.”

Julia shot Jace a helpless glance. She sure didn’t trust Qadim, and yet…

…and yet his words did have a ring of truth to them. Margolis had been growing increasingly volatile. She knew he’d been perfectly capable of killing Eric and Brent and Nancy, just because he could. Maybe he’d seen them as traitors. Especially Brent. It had been Brent who’d urged Julia to come to Los Alamos, who’d said she was the soul of the community. She could only imagine how much hearing that must have enraged the former commander. He’d marinated in that rage for months, and then when Qadim let him out, he’d been only too happy to let it consume him.

“All right,” she said then. “Assuming you’re telling us the truth, and you do want to help us. Why?”

The djinn gave a short laugh. “It is not because of any love I have for Zahrias, I assure you. While this is a matter the elders could not touch, since it involved a personal issue, that does not mean they have not taken note of what Lyanna has done. The time has come when my people can finally claim their piece of this world. I do not wish to be shut out because of my sister’s transgressions.”

“The time…what are you talking about?”

Qadim’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile. “I suppose it is not something your djinn partners have wished to share with you. But then, you do not even have such a partner, do you, Julia?” He paused significantly while she glared at him, then added, “I would have been happy to cure that particular lack, you know. But enough of that. Save for the communities where my people dwell with their Chosen — and your odd little stronghold in Los Alamos — this world is now empty. It is time for us to begin to settle here.”

Although she’d been silent the whole time, watching the exchange among Qadim and Jace and Julia, Martine spoke up then. “What, you mean they’re
all
gone?”

“There could be a holdout here and there.” He shrugged, a gesture chilling in its indifference. “But, to all intents and purposes, yes, they are gone. Being immune was not enough to save them.”

Tears stood out, bright in Martine’s eyes. She looked away from Qadim toward Murrah, who had remained hunched in his chair. He did stand up then, laboriously, as if fighting the effects of the device. “My dear — ” he said, reaching out to her.

“Don’t you touch me,” she snapped. “You’re all the same!”

And then she fled down the hallway where she’d first emerged. A moment later, Julia heard a door slam.

An awkward silence fell, during which Murrah couldn’t seem to meet anyone’s gaze. At last Jace said, “You know, Qadim, I do believe you. Because it’s clear to me that you never do anything, except out of self-interest, up to and including throwing your sister under the bus.”

“Quaint turn of phrase,” Qadim replied. “You’ve mastered the whole ‘mortal’ thing rather well. No wonder you were able to dupe your own Chosen for so many months.”

Jace didn’t have the sort of complexion that flushed easily, but his dark eyes took on a dangerous glitter. “I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Perhaps.” Qadim turned toward Julia. “But since we are all friends here, perhaps you could turn off the device now? It’s making my head ache.”

With some reluctance, Julia flipped over the device. Her finger hovered directly above the switch that would deactivate it. What if this was all a trick, and Qadim was only trying to get her to turn it off so he could do his worst?

It was a risk she’d have to take. Anyway, she had Jace and Murrah there, and she had to hope they’d step in to save her if something went wrong. Well, Jace would, anyway. Murrah was still kind of a wild card.

Letting out a breath, she ticked the switch over. At once, the three djinn visibly relaxed, while at the same time looking about an inch taller each.

“Much better,” Qadim said. He took a step toward Julia, and she backed away at once. An ironic smile touched his mouth. “Have no fear, Julia. I do not have any designs on your person. Even if I did, I doubt Jasreel here would allow me to act on them.”