Page 16 of Mistaken

Something so amazing should be savored, so she slowed down after the first two bites, punctuating the remainder of the slice with sips of chianti. That, too, was incredible; she’d never been a wine expert, but she knew whatever he’d provided, it wasn’t some supermarket brand.

Well, at least she wouldn’t starve while she was trapped here.

Go crazy from boredom? Sure.

And she’d need to find some way to stay active if she kept eating like this. Yoga every morning would help, and possibly some dance exercises. The room was big enough for that kind of activity, especially if she rolled up the rug to get it out of the way.

Maybe it was crazy to be making contingency plans like this when she didn’t even know how long the djinn intended to keep her captive. For all she knew, he was only trying to frighten her, and once she’d been thoroughly cowed, he’d send her on her merry way.

Not the most likely of scenarios, but better to think that than to allow herself to wonder if he truly intended to keep her trapped here until she died of old age.

Suddenly, the pizza didn’t taste so good. However, she made herself eat two more pieces and drink the rest of the wine, mostly because she knew she’d exerted herself today and her body needed the nourishment.

What she was supposed to do with the dirty plate and glass, she wasn’t sure. Then again, the djinn had blinked them in here, and she assumed he could blink them right back out when he decided she was finished with everything.

A peek outside the curtains told her the night was now utterly black, without a single sign that the moon intended to rise any time soon. Not quite sighing, Sarah let the drapery fall from her fingers and wondered what she should do next. It wasn’t as if there was anything in here to entertain her — no TV or books or tablet.

And because he hadn’t returned her backpack to her, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to get ready for bed.

Well, she’d splash some water on her face and scrub a washcloth across her teeth. Better than nothing, she supposed, although she would definitely let him know tomorrow morning that he needed to provide at least a few amenities if he planned to keep her here.

She went into the bathroom and blinked. When she’d come in here earlier, the large quartz-topped vanity had been empty except for a set of folded hand towels. Now, though, a dark metal toothbrush holder flaunted a brand-new brush, and several small jars with iron lids held cotton balls and Q-tips.

Startled, she opened the drawer next to her and saw that it contained toothpaste and floss. A quick inspection of the medicine cabinet revealed all sorts of moisturizers and serums, the kind of stuff she’d spent money on back in the day because she knew it was important to keep up her appearance, even though lately she’d been getting by with a single jar of Oil of Olay intended to last her for at least six months if not more. There was a small group of people in Los Alamos working hard on concocting alternatives to those beauty treatments based on the supplies they had readily available — namely, goat’s milk and various local flowers and herbs — but they still couldn’t make enough to supply everyone.

Where had all this come from? Obviously, the djinn had blinked it here, but had he found a cache in an abandoned department store somewhere, or had he simply conjured it into existence?

Hard to say; Sarah hadn’t spent any time around the elementals, but she’d heard that sometimes they simply grabbed what they needed from already available supplies elsewhere in the world, while on other occasions, they basically manufactured an item from the atomic level up.

Either way, she didn’t need to worry about washing her face or brushing her teeth.

And when she went to the closet, it was to find the previously empty space full of clothes so gorgeous, they looked more like something out of a costume house than regular everyday clothing. Long silk tunics with matching pants, airy dresses and skirts and blouses in equally luxurious fabrics.

No jeans or T-shirts, though, nothing that looked remotely practical.

Was this the djinn’s way of telling her she might as well wear something decorative since he wasn’t letting her out into the wild any time soon?

Well, she’d worry about that later. It was enough to know she wouldn’t be stuck in the same dirty clothes day after day.

Besides, she’d always loved getting dressed up. Life after the Dying had been hard in all sorts of new and uncomfortable ways, but one of the things she’d hated the most — shallow as it felt to her — was never having a reason to put on a pretty dress. And that ignored the way she’d never again need to wear a gorgeous costume like one of Christine’s fromPhantom,or the glorious ballgown that had been part of her wardrobe when she’d played Belle in a production ofBeauty and the Beastat a local theater a few years before the Heat went on its tour of destruction across the planet.

No elaborate gowns among the clothing the djinn had given her, and Sarah supposed that was probably a good thing. She couldn’t really imagine him twirling her around in an oversized ballroom. He didn’t seem the type.

Besides, she knew she would never allow herself to dance with him.

Not after what he’d done to her.

All seemed quiet behind the door of the woman’s room, so Abdul guessed she must have resigned herself to her situation and had sat down to eat the food he’d provided for her. Once he was seated at the dining room table and consuming his own very different meal — he’d conjuredosso buccoon a bed of orzo pasta, washed down with a very fine Aglianico — he found himself wondering if he had done the right thing by keeping her confined in the guest suite rather than forcing her to come out here and eat with him. For some reason, this room felt quite empty when he knew there was another living, breathing being only a few yards away.

But no, that was ridiculous. She was not his guest, but a prisoner, one whose tenure here might be of some duration. At least it seemed that she was not inclined toward any other escape attempts.

Unless she was acting quiescent now in order to lure him into a false sense of security.

Frowning, he set down his fork so he might listen more closely to the sounds in the rest of the house. All seemed utterly silent, so he knew she could not be attempting to force open a window or fiddle with the lock in the hope that it might give way.

So it seemed she was ready to accept her captivity…for now, at least.

Somewhat reassured, he consumed the rest of this meal, then snapped his fingers to have the empty plate and glass disappear. A completely unnecessary gesture, and yet it was something he did on occasion just because it gave him a sense of completion. Enough time had elapsed that he thought the woman should also have finished her food, so he did the same thing with her dinner dishes.