djinn wars 04 - broken (13 page)

“You all still doing okay in there?” she called out.

Eric and Nancy answered in the affirmative, but nothing from Brent. This was bad.

Biting her lip, Julia began to circle the Suburban, looking for the best angle of attack. It was probably crazy to think that she could tip over a three-ton beast like that when she weighed about a hundred and twenty pounds wringing wet, but she had to do something.

Glass crunched behind her and Julia whirled, a wild hope racing through her that Zahrias had somehow been watching over them, was even now approaching to offer his assistance.

But that hope died a horrible death as her gaze met that of Richard Margolis. He held a semi-automatic pistol in his hand, the business end pointed directly at her heart.

“Hello, Julia,” he said.

Chapter Seven

No. This was impossible. Margolis couldn’t be standing there only a few paces away, a gloating smile on his thin lips.

But yet…there he was.

“You look surprised,” he said. “You really shouldn’t be. You knew about the National Guard armory in Santa Fe — after all, you helped me set up an expedition to retrieve guns and ammunition there last fall.”

Her brain and her mouth didn’t seem to want to work in concert. Surely she should say something — anything — but her thoughts just kept chasing around each other.
Margolis is here. Margolis is here.
He couldn’t be here…

…and yet he was.

“What you didn’t know,” he went on in that same conversational tone, “was that the armory also had a cache of shoulder-launched missiles. The hardest part was finding one that wouldn’t completely destroy the vehicle you were driving. I didn’t want that, of course.”

Of course.

The Suburban shifted, and Julia saw why in the next second — Eric must have heard her talking to Margolis, and so had pushed himself up into the passenger-side window, ignoring the broken glass. What he hoped to accomplish, she wasn’t sure.

And in the next second, it didn’t matter, because Margolis had lifted the gleaming gun he held and shot off a quick round, hitting Eric squarely in the head. His body slumped over the window opening, blood from the wound in his temple mingling with the blood that spilled from cuts inflicted by the window’s shattered glass.

Inside the SUV, a woman cried out in despair and rage.

Julia wanted to scream as well. But for some reason she could only stand there, stricken and immobile, as if Margolis’ stare had been that of a gorgon, turning her to stone forever. Smiling at her lack of reaction, the commander walked past her and approached the front end of the upended Suburban. He grasped the bumper with his free hand and pulled, hard. The SUV tipped back over into a more or less upright position, although two of its tires noisily collapsed as soon as the full weight of the vehicle landed on them. Barely a second later, another gunshot rang out, this time coming from within the vehicle. Nancy might have been mourning the loss of her lover, but her grief hadn’t slowed down her reaction time.

Unfortunately, the bullet went wide and slammed into the concrete wall of the underpass, spraying dust everywhere. Still moving calmly, Margolis went around to the driver’s side and fired again, and that was the end of Nancy’s attempt at vengeance.

“That’s better,” Margolis said. Then he moved forward so he was even with the front seat, and peered inside and frowned. “Your friend doesn’t look so good.”

It couldn’t be possible that Margolis actually cared about Brent’s condition — not after what the commander had just done to Eric and Nancy. At last Julia found her voice. “Leave him alone.”

“That wouldn’t be very Christian, would it? The man looks concussed. Probably suffered brain damage from that head trauma. The best thing to do would be to put him out of his misery.”

God, she needed to get her mind working again. Thinking desperately, she said, “Captain, that’s Brent Sanderson. You know Brent. You were friends.” Well, they had been, once upon a time before Brent realized what kind of a person Richard Margolis actually was. But she didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention any of that. The former commander didn’t seem to be firing on all cylinders, so to speak. Maybe he wouldn’t remember that Brent had given up on him, had lent his support to Julia instead.

Margolis’ head swiveled toward her. He stared at her for a moment with flat, dark eyes, then said, “I don’t have any friends.”

Blam!

The pistol roared again, but Julia didn’t bother to cover her ears. Trying to deaden the sound wouldn’t change what she’d just seen. Brent was dead. How could Brent be dead? He was one of the good guys. He was supposed to continue his not-quite flirtation with Norma Gomez, the town’s teacher, and then one day start a family with her. He couldn’t be sitting there, still strapped into his seat, with dark blood trickling from a bullet hole in his head.

Julia jammed her fist into her mouth to keep herself from screaming — or maybe it was simply to push back the bile she felt rising in the back of her throat. In mute agony, she watched as Margolis stuck the pistol into the waistband of the camouflage pants he wore, then began digging around inside the SUV. What the hell was he up to?

A minute later, Julia saw what he’d been prospecting for. He backed out of the Suburban, left hand clutching a small dark box not much bigger than his palm.

The djinn-repelling device they’d carried with them.

“There,” Margolis said. “Gotcha.” He turned it over, then pressed the switch on the bottom to turn it off.

Julia’s voice finally reasserted itself. “What the hell are you doing?”

The commander smiled. “Keeping a promise.”

The ground rumbled beneath her feet. Julia wanted to run, but where could she go? Margolis could drill her between the shoulder blades before she got ten feet away, and even if she somehow managed to evade his shots, there was no running from a djinn.

And then the roadway seemed to erupt in a geyser of dirt and broken asphalt. Standing before them was a tall, black-haired djinn Julia had never seen before, his dark eyes flashing as he took her in.

Julia thought she had seen the face of evil before — certainly in Margolis’ features when he leered down at her just before violating her as she lay in her cell below the municipal center in Los Alamos, and again when the rogue djinn Khalim had invaded Taos and attempted to take the town for himself. But something about the gloating expression this new djinn wore made Julia want to quail in fear, to cover her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore.

“I did as you asked, Qadim,” Margolis said. “Can I have her now?”

The waiting was, as the old saying went, the hardest part. Dani had drunk perhaps two swallows of his wine before he seemed to go rigid, eyes widening. Then he had exclaimed, “It is time!” and blinked out of the room, wine glass still clutched in his hand.

Zahrias knew they would not remain in the home that Dani and Lauren had taken as their own. Miguel had made it clear that the baby needed to be born in the hospital, where he would have access to any specialized equipment or medicines he might need. So Zahrias went there as well, blinking himself into the waiting room of the maternity ward. Dani was nowhere in evidence, which meant he must be in the delivery room with his Chosen.

The location of that delivery room soon became clear enough, for Zahrias could hear Lauren’s cries and moans coming from the hallway to the left. Perhaps it was foolish for him to sit here and wait when he could do nothing, but this child would be his niece or nephew, and he thought it his duty to be here for the birth.

To Zahrias’ surprise, Jasreel and Jessica appeared only a few minutes after he arrived.

“Dani reached out to me,” Jasreel explained, while Jessica offered a tentative smile.

“After all, there should be friends and family in the waiting room, right?” she said. “Jace is family, and Lauren and I have gotten to be pretty good friends, especially after — ” She broke off awkwardly.

Zahrias knew she must be referring to Julia and her return to Los Alamos. The two women had been close, at least as far as he could tell, and Jessica had probably missed having a good female friend here in town. He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable question.

“How was your dinner?”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone short. “Phillip always prepares very good meals.”

A confused expression passed over Jessica’s face, and then she bit her lip and exchanged a sidelong glance with Jasreel. No doubt they were sharing a quick subvocal conversation, probably attempting to analyze what had gone wrong.

Having Dani pry into such a thing was bad enough, but if Jessica and Jace started probing the same subject, it would be intolerable. As a brother, Dani had some right to ask questions about Zahrias’ personal affairs, but Jessica and Jasreel did not possess those same privileges. Yes, he and Jasreel were cousins. That did not mean Jasreel could make any inquiries he liked.

Apparently the younger djinn knew that as well, because he gave Jessica a final quelling glance, and she settled back in her chair with a sigh.

“Have they decided on any names?” Jasreel asked.

An innocuous enough change of subject. Zahrias wanted to sigh as well, only in relief, not exasperation. “I don’t believe they had yet made a final determination. Dani wanted a djinn name, while Lauren expressed her preference for something, as she put it, ‘a little more pronounceable.’”

“Well, let’s hope they don’t go for a hyphenate,” Jessica said. “Can you imagine having to go through life named Jaden-Danilar or whatever?”

“I am sure that common sense will prevail.” Or rather, he was fairly certain that Dani would have the last word. Lauren could be strong-minded about certain things, but Zahrias had noticed that she tended to defer to his brother on important matters.

Another series of moans and cries carried down the corridor, and Jessica winced. “Sounds like Miguel decided against the epidural.”

“If you’re referring to one of your drugs, then yes, he discussed the matter with Dani and Lauren, and they all decided together that it would be too risky, since he wasn’t trained in its use. However, I believe Lauren has been practicing a certain method of breathing — ”

“Lamaze,” Jessica supplied. After glancing down the corridor, and flinching once again as another guttural groan traveled down toward them, she added, “That doesn’t sound like it’s going so well.”

Zahrias was inclined to agree with her. However, he had been present at other births, and he knew that one could not always judge how they were progressing merely based on the volume of the crying involved. Lauren was a strong, healthy young woman, and Miguel claimed he knew what he was doing. This would all be fine.

“Goddamn you, Dani — I
told
you I wanted to wait!” traveled down the corridor, followed by a low murmur of male voices.

Jasreel shook his head, but at that same time, a lopsided smile tugged at his lips. “And people wonder why Jessica and I didn’t run out and immediately start a family once everything seemed to calm down.”

Had others in the community been asking about that? The djinn were usually slow to have children, considering they had so much time to play with. Humans seemed to have a different take on the subject, however. Then again, Lilias had just informed him that she and Aidan would be having a child of their own sometime next spring.

“Wise,” Zahrias said, “considering we don’t precisely know how calm things are. With Margolis on the loose — ”

Jasreel’s smile immediately slipped away, and Jessica reached out and took his hand. They sat very close to one another on the angular metal-and-fabric couch, their legs not quite touching. Seeing their casual intimacy made a twinge of jealousy go through Zahrias. The two of them made it look so easy. But no, they had gone through their own trials to get to where they were now. Could he ever persuade Julia that perhaps one day they, too, might be able to share such closeness, such easiness with one another?

“Any progress on that?” Jessica asked.

Zahrias didn’t bother to shake his head. He was sure the frown he wore was answer enough. “Miles says he is still ‘tabulating,’ whatever that means. I fear he is just too stubborn to give up his investigation. Certainly there is no evidence to show how Margolis escaped, and even less to indicate where he might have gone.”