Page 14 of Mistaken

She hadn’t been lost, though. Barely before she had a chance to process what was happening, they appeared in a large room that, if not part of the same house, had been decorated pretty much the same way, with wide-plank oak floors and white plaster walls. Up against the wall opposite was a canopy bed with a black iron frame, and a chandelier of the same dark metal hung from the ceiling overhead.

“This is where you will stay,” the djinn told her, and Sarah stared at him blankly for a second or two before the words sank in.

Well, she supposed it was better than a prison cell, especially when she spied a large, luxurious bathroom through the partially open door off to one side. Still, she didn’t plan to stay here any longer than she had to.

He’d loosened his grip on her bicep just enough that she was able to pull her arm away. “Nice,” she said. “Does it come with room service?”

His head tilted toward her. “You will not starve,” he said.

And then he disappeared.

Sarah couldn’t help blinking, even though she knew that was how djinn came and went. Really, it had been stupid to try to get away from him. He was probably angrier than ever with her, thanks to the way she’d assaulted him with her backpack.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Wait and hope for rescue. What else was there to do? She wasn’t under any illusions that Carson would come riding to her aid, her knight in shining armor, but surely after he realized she’d missed their rendezvous, he’d head back to meet with Lindsay and let her know what was going on. Lindsay Odekirk was a very capable woman, and Sarah knew she’d mount a search party right away, just like she’d done when Sarah’s friend Isla had gone missing last fall.

This time around, though, Sarah knew she stood on much thinner ice. Isla had been actively kidnapped by a djinn, whereas she’d made the mistake of stumbling onto one of the elementals’ properties. It was entirely possible there wasn’t much Lindsay or anyone else in Los Alamos could do, except maybe appeal to the elders to see if they would step in.

Whatever ended up happening, Sarah had a feeling it was going to take a while, and that meant she might as well explore her prison cell.

As she’d thought, the bathroom was huge, almost the size of the bedroom in the house where she’d grown up and had still been living when the Heat came along. When her father passed away, she dimly realized that she’d inherited that house, but there hadn’t been any opportunity to do anything about it, not with the world ending just a few days later.

And she had to admit this suite was absolutely gorgeous. A free-standing tub sat under one window that offered an amazing view of the tall red rocks only a few hundred yards away, and the glass-enclosed shower had vertical subway tile in a moody shade somewhere between deep green and teal. The floors under her feet were also tile, large-format pieces in a soft beige that she thought might be travertine.

Clearly, no expense had been spared here. Who had designed this place, though — someone from Ghost Ranch, or the djinn himself? Sarah had heard they could make their houses look pretty much any way they wanted, so she thought it wasn’t too improbable to believe that he’d remodeled this house to suit his own particular tastes and needs.

All the drawers were empty, as was the enormous walk-in closet she’d passed on her way to the bathroom. Good thing she had a change of clothes and some basic toiletries in her pack.

Except that her pack was still lying in the middle of the living room where it had fallen after her aborted escape attempt. About all she could do now was hope that the djinn would show her a little mercy and blink it into the bedroom after he realized she needed it.

And that, she thought, was expecting a level of forbearance she wasn’t quite sure she deserved. It was wrong for him to hold her here like this, but on the other hand, she’d been trespassing…had been poking around in his refrigerator, for God’s sake.

No wonder he was so annoyed with her.

Well, there wasn’t much she could do now, so she went over to the little sitting area near one of the windows, which also looked south toward the Pedernal, although part of the view was obstructed by a corner of the low-slung house. Still, she could see how the sun had now truly set, and long shadows stretched across the landscape. Off in the distance, the flat-topped peak that had been the subject of so many Georgia O’Keeffe paintings turned dusky purple.

Sarah sat down and watched the world turn dimmer and dimmer.

What else could she do?

No sound from the woman’s bedroom, which told Abdul that she had — so far, at any rate — not attempted to escape. Perhaps she had learned her lesson.

He frowned as he extended a hand to have the lights turn themselves on, for the drapes to draw closed and hide the darkening landscape outside. It felt odd to have a human here in the house, albeit in one of the secondary bedrooms. An irony, he supposed, when he had always intended to live here alone.

In hindsight, it might not have been entirely wise for him to pull down all the guesthouses and casitas, for if even one of them still stood, he could have put the intrusive human female in that structure rather than under his own roof. At the time, though, he had only thought of the aesthetics of his surroundings. Certainly there was no reason for him to believe his sanctuary here would be intruded upon by a mortal interloper.

Grudgingly, he had to admit that she’d shown some spirit by hurling her backpack at him, even though she must have known such a gambit was doomed to failure. His gaze moved to the spot where the pack still sat in the middle of the living room rug.

Should he give it to her?

Still wearing a small frown, he lifted a finger, and the backpack floated across the room and into his hands. A quick inspection of the contents told him she had packed light for her expedition — a change of shirt and underwear and socks, but not a second pair of jeans. A few meager toiletries, and a lightweight bag of some kind of synthetic material rolled around itself, clearly intended for sleeping.

Nothing in there that was anything she needed, not when he could provide items that were much higher quality.

Only an intention in his mind, and the bathroom drawers were filled with makeup and toiletries, the closet full of clothing he thought would be more comfortable and becoming than her current denim and hiking boots.

Not, of course, that he cared what she looked like, but more that those plain, ugly human clothes offended his sensibilities.