Forsaken (The Djinn Wars Book 5) Page 5

  From behind her, she heard a sound of dismay as she hit the pavement. Pain flared in her shoulder, and she couldn’t seem to pull air into her lungs. But she’d broken a bone in a skateboard fall when she was twelve, so she knew what that felt like. She didn’t think she’d broken anything this time, even though her shoulder hurt like a mother.

  Which meant she needed to keep going. The house was so close….

  Wincing, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled forward, ignoring the throbbing sensation in her shoulder. She could deal with that later. Plenty of pain meds in the shelter’s first aid cabinet.

  But when she got to the curb, she tripped over the uneven pavement, which had been forced upward by a tree root, and fell onto the sidewalk. This time the agony was so intense that she couldn’t prevent herself from crying out, even as she tried to push herself up by one hand and get back to her feet.

  Too late. Strong arms went around her and lifted her from the sidewalk. She had an impression of deep-set dark eyes staring down at her and a clean, warm scent, like sun-dried grass, before her head fell back against the swell of his bicep and the world swirled down into darkness.

  Chapter Four

  His first instinct had been to carry her to his own suite at the Hotel Andaluz. But then Qadim thought of what her reaction might be when she awoke in his bed, and decided it would probably be better to put her somewhere else. He was staying in a hotel, after all. The one thing it certainly did not lack was empty beds.

  So he took the young woman to the room immediately below his, another suite, if not quite as luxurious. A snap of his fingers summoned fresh linens from the hotel’s storerooms to put on the bed, since the old ones had been dusted with the pale gray ash that signaled some unfortunate human had met his or her demise there. Then he laid the girl down, but not before tugging off the sturdy low boots she wore, not so very different from the hiking shoes he’d appropriated.

  During all this, she didn’t stir, and Qadim frowned, worried that she had injured herself worse than he’d thought. He hadn’t seen her head hit the pavement, and so he didn’t think she had a concussion. But she was clearly unconscious, deeply so.

  The reason became clear enough as he reached out to touch her shoulder and could feel the way her left arm hung at an odd angle. She must have dislocated the joint during that bad spill she’d taken. Well, he’d fixed such things in the past when his comrades in arms had been injured, and so he knew he could do the same thing for this mortal young woman. Better that she had fainted. That way, she wouldn’t feel what he was about to do.

  He slid the pillows out from under her so she lay flat on the bed, her arm outstretched. Pulling slowly but firmly, he could almost see the bone moving under her flesh before it slid into place. Good. The area was already bruised and swollen, but he didn’t think she had broken anything.

  What she needed was the joint immobilized. Luckily, the hotel had plenty of spare sheets, and within the next moment, Qadim had torn one to a more manageable size, then gently eased her arm into the makeshift sling and fastened it around her neck. Afterward, he plumped up the pillows and laid her against them before pulling up the covers to above her waist. She was still fully dressed and possibly would have been more comfortable in something looser-fitting, but he guessed she would not be pleased to awaken and find that he had tampered with her clothing.

  Then he took one of the chairs from the sitting area on the other side of the room and set it down next to her bed. Perhaps she would also not appreciate him sitting there and watching her, but he did not think it a good idea to leave her unattended while she was still unconscious. It was probably the pain that had caused her swoon, true, and yet he would not forgive himself if her condition worsened while he was elsewhere.

  Or perhaps it was only that he wanted to stay where he could gaze at her.

  Apparently Hasan had been right, and this young woman was the human presence the air elemental had sensed. Would he have been any less implacable if he had known that his prey was so beautiful?

  For she was very fair to look upon, with a glorious mane of wavy pale red hair and clear ivory skin. Her eyes were shut now, but he remembered how they had stared at him, wide with fear, before she had fainted. Those eyes had been a deep, warm green, like the finest jade, ringed with lashes several shades darker than her hair. High cheekbones, and a straight little nose, and her mouth —

  Qadim had to force himself to stop there, for her full lips made him think of pleasures he guessed she would be quite unwilling to share. Still, he had to wonder who she was, and where she’d been hiding all this time. He thought she must be quite a resourceful young woman, for he hadn’t heard of any other mortals who had managed to survive this long after the Dying, except for the Chosen, of course, and the band of holdouts in Los Alamos.

  Perhaps she would tell him, once she awoke.

  God, her shoulder ached. That was the first thing to enter her awareness — a dull, throbbing pain in her left shoulder joint. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked down to see that her arm was bound in a makeshift sling. The second thing she realized was that she lay in a large luxurious bed, her body supported by pillows.

  And the third thing was that the djinn sat in a chair next to the bed, his dark eyes watching her with concern, and a sudden flicker of relief.

  “So you are back with us,” he said, his voice even more deep and resonant now that he spoke quietly rather than yelling at her to stop.

  “I guess so,” Madison replied, not sure what else she should say. Actually, she was mostly surprised that she was still alive. But the djinn hadn’t killed her, had actually set her shoulder and put it in a sling. At least, she assumed he must have given her his version of battlefield first aid. Why, she couldn’t begin to guess. She glanced down at the sling, clearly a hotel sheet that had seen better days. “Your work?”

  He nodded. “You will need to take care not to move it until it has finished healing.”

  Right then, staying still didn’t seem like much of a problem. Even shifting her weight slightly set off a low, heavy throbbing through her shoulder, and she bit her lip.

  “I brought some analgesics,” the djinn said, his gaze flickering toward the nightstand. Sitting there were several packets of aspirin and ibuprofen and Tylenol. He must have gotten them from the hotel’s gift shop. “I wasn’t sure which one you would prefer.”

  How did a djinn even know about over-the-counter painkillers? According to everything she’d read, the otherworldly race was immortal, or the next thing to it, and definitely not subject to mortal aches and pains. Madison decided she’d put her questions aside for later, however, and said, “The ibuprofen. I’m afraid you’ll have to open it, though.”

  “That is not a problem.” He picked up the ibuprofen packet and tore it open. His hands were strong and deeply tanned, or maybe that was his usual skin tone. After he nodded toward her uninjured arm, Madison lifted her hand and held it palm up. He tipped the tablets into her hand, then retrieved a bottle of water that had also been sitting on the nightstand.

  Since she couldn’t take the water from him until she’d put the pills in her mouth, she set them on her tongue and nodded at him to give her the bottle. He handed it over, and she managed to get both pills down simultaneously, although she’d always been somewhat inept at taking medication. Maybe this time around she was just eager to get that ibuprofen circulating in her system as soon as possible.

  The djinn watched this entire procedure, then gave a small nod after she swallowed some more water and settled back against the pillows. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  Was she? The pain in her shoulder had overwhelmed all the other lesser aches, but now as Madison paused to take stock, she realized that she pretty much hurt all over. Her knee was probably the worst, after her shoulder, but she was fairly certain she’d only banged it badly. Nothing felt broken, even though she knew she’d be covered in a spectacular set of bruises before all this was over with. It
could have been much, much worse, however. She’d been lucky.

  “I’m banged up, but I’ll live,” she replied. This whole situation felt completely surreal. Not only was she actually talking to one of the fearsome djinn, but she wasn’t nearly as frightened as she’d thought she’d be. Maybe it was the calm way he looked at her, or just the realization that someone bent on killing her probably wouldn’t have bothered to set her shoulder. She hesitated, wondering if she dared ask him the question that had been bothering her ever since she woke up. Oh, well. Nothing ventured. “But…why?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. Dark eyes fixed on her face, he said, “Not all my kind are as bloodthirsty as you might have come to believe.”

  “The djinn, you mean.”

  “So you know what we are.” The level, dark brows creased in a frown as he continued to watch her. “Have you had dealings with us before?”

  “Not directly.” She still held the bottle of water, and she lifted it and took a long drink before continuing, “I’ve…seen what you can do, though.”

  A shadow passed over his features. Up close, there was something almost breathtaking about him, about the strong bones of his face and the thick lashes that shadowed his eyes and the heavy dark hair that flowed partway down his back. No, he wasn’t pretty-boy handsome, but Madison had never had much use for pretty boys. She liked faces with character and distinction.

  You shouldn’t be thinking about his looks at all, she thought then, although something about her inner voice lacked conviction. Maybe it was just that it felt so good to be talking to someone. Anyone. Even one of these fearsome elementals. Until that moment, she hadn’t even realized how lonely she’d been, how desolate. She’d made busywork for herself so she could try to ignore how the universe seemed to have forsaken her. That same inner voice taking on a fierce note, she told herself, He’s a djinn. His people destroyed the world.

  Well, to be fair, they’d destroyed humanity. The world itself looked as if it was doing just fine.

  “That is unfortunate,” he said. His lips tightened for a second, and then he added, “We are not all like that.”

  You could have fooled me, Madison thought, but she didn’t reply immediately. For whatever reason, he’d helped her, and pointing out the murderous qualities of his fellow djinn didn’t seem like the best way of staying on his good side. “I guess not,” she said after a pause he must have noticed.

  He didn’t comment, however, but only gave a small lift of his shoulders. Then he said, clearly changing the subject, “What is your name?”

  “Madison. Madison Reynolds.”

  An expression of confusion passed over his face. “Madison? This is a woman’s name? I have not heard it before.”

  She allowed herself a grim chuckle. “Well, it didn’t used to be a girl’s name. It was supposed to be a joke in an ’80s romantic comedy movie, but enough people didn’t get the joke that it sort of became a real name.”

  Now he looked even more puzzled, his brows creasing as he attempted to make some sense of what she’d just told him.

  Relenting, she said, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. What’s your name?”

  “I am Qadim al-Syan.”

  The obviously Middle Eastern sound of the name surprised her somewhat, but she supposed it made some sense. The djinn had first appeared in that part of the world, or at least it was in ancient Arabia and its environs that those legends had originally surfaced. “Can I call you Qadim, or do you prefer the whole thing?”

  A sudden light entered his eyes, and he almost smiled. “Qadim is fine. And is it also fine that I call you Madison?”

  “Sure.”

  He paused then, watching her so closely that she could feel a flush rise to her cheeks. It wasn’t that she detected anything leering or inappropriate in his gaze, only that she wasn’t used to being subjected to that kind of scrutiny. His next question was innocuous enough, however. “Are you hungry? Should I bring you something to eat?”

  Maybe it would be a good idea to eat something to cushion the ibuprofen, but Madison knew her appetite had fled for the moment. She realized then how tired she was, how much she ached all over. Crazy as it might sound, what she really wanted to do was sleep. Normally, her survival instincts would have been screaming at her not to let her guard down, even for a second, but it seemed she had done her best to convince herself that Qadim didn’t mean her any harm. Otherwise, why would he have gone to the trouble of setting her shoulder and making sure she was settled in a comfortable bed?

  Anyway, giving herself some time to rest was just good sense. She wouldn’t be able to accomplish much of anything — including getting herself away from here, if given the opportunity — with the way she felt right now.

  “I’m not really that hungry,” she replied, and tried to ignore the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Is it all right if I just rest for a while?”

  “Of course. It would be good for you to sleep, I think. I will check on you in a few hours, when it would be time for the evening meal. You can tell me then if you are ready to eat anything.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded, then got up from his chair. The briefest of hesitations, as if he’d intended to say something else. But it seemed he thought better of it, because he only offered her another nod before he went to the door of the suite and let himself out.

  For a long moment, Madison stared at the closed door, as if she wasn’t quite sure that the djinn might not let himself right back in. But the door remained shut, and her own weariness was becoming too difficult to ignore. She did need to rest and let her body begin to heal itself. As to what was going to happen next, she didn’t have a clue.

  She figured she’d deal with that when the time came.

  Madison Reynolds. Qadim let the unfamiliar syllables roll over in his mind. He’d been speaking the truth when he’d said he’d never heard that name before, but he thought it suited her. Her name was strong and yet somehow graceful, just like the woman who bore it.

  He hoped he hadn’t been too obvious in the way he had looked at her. His every impulse had been to drink her in, to study every angle and curve, but he knew she would have found such an inspection off-putting at best. She was injured, and weary. She needed time to become herself again.

  And time as well to learn she had no reason to fear him.

  Damn Hasan al-Abyad and all his murderous brethren. Qadim had seen the darkness in Madison’s clear eyes, could only guess at the horrors she must have witnessed. During his demolition efforts, he’d come across streets where bloodstains had been baked right into the strange black substance humans used to pave their roads. He hadn’t wanted to guess at the kind of violence that had created such a permanent marker of its aftermath…and yet Madison had seen these things for herself. He supposed he should be glad she hadn’t made another attempt to flee him, even with all her injuries.

  Surely that must be a good sign.

  She had said she wasn’t hungry, but he knew her body would require nourishment to assist it with the healing process. While she slept, he would make something delectable for her to eat. He would have to hope that she wouldn’t mind if he ate his evening meal at the same time she had hers. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

  The djinn had always been able to summon the components for their meals from wherever they wished, and so Qadim had no need to worry about all the food that had spoiled in the hotel’s freezers and cupboards months earlier. He’d cleared all that away as soon as he’d determined the Hotel Andaluz would be his new home, then made sure everything was cleaned thoroughly. Many of his people did not care to cook, and conjured their meals already made, but Qadim had always enjoyed the process. There was something uniquely sensual about combining the ingredients to their best advantage, to experimenting and tasting and coming up with infinite variations of the same theme.

  And, to be fair, he also enjoyed pouring some wine for himself to help things move along. />
  Because Madison was so recently injured, he wanted to make something that would be easy for her to eat and would not require any cutting. And not too heavy, either, for he wanted her to sleep easily without an over-lavish meal weighing on her stomach. A variation of an Indian dish he’d long admired would do very well, with rice and vegetables, and using chicken instead of lamb.

  The ingredients he needed waited for him, either laid out on the counter or sitting in the refrigerator. While he preferred the softer, warmer glow of candlelight, he did think that electricity had its uses, especially when it came to preserving food.

  As he busied himself with preparing the meal, Qadim could not prevent his thoughts from wandering upward, to the ninth floor of the hotel where Madison Reynolds slept in her borrowed bed. Just the mere image of her glorious hair spread out on the pillow was enough to send a shiver of arousal through him, but he pushed it aside. He would not deny to himself that he wanted her, but she was injured and afraid. He must be gentle and kind, and hope that she would warm to him as time passed.

  Gentle and kind, he thought with a wry twist to his mouth. I doubt there are many who would use those words to describe me.

  Certainly not Julia Innes, whom he had kidnapped to help further his sister’s twisted ends. True, Qadim had ended up assisting Julia and her friends, but at the time his motivations had been anything but pure. He’d only wished to escape the Council’s wrath. But, being the Council, they’d seen through him easily enough. And now he was here in Albuquerque.

  Which had its own hidden treasures. He glanced upward, although even a djinn’s gaze couldn’t pierce through that many layers of concrete and steel to find the woman who slept nine floors above. Perhaps one day she would confide in him and tell him how she’d managed to survive more than a year all on her own, but he resolved not to prod her. If she wished to tell him, she would.