Stolen

Chapter 1-2

Leila had thought for one wild second that they must be filming a movie or TV show in her neighborhood, even though she hadn’t gotten any of the customary notices that usually preceded such an event. But what else could it be when an impossibly good-looking man in Middle Eastern–looking robes went walking down the middle of the street in a Los Angeles suburb?

The illusion had held until the djinn encountered one of her neighbors, an older man Leila knew on sight but whose name she’d never learned. The man had seemed panicked, flushed with fever. He’d gone up to the djinn in his delirium, probably trying to ask for help.

Fire had flared from the djinn’s fingertips, and a second later, Leila’s neighbor was gone, a charred, blackened corpse lying where he’d stood only a moment before. A scream had risen in her throat, but she’d clapped her hands over her mouth, made herself remain quiet as the djinn continued his slow, purposeful progress down the street. And then, body shaking, she’d grabbed her phone, intending to call 9-1-1.

But all she heard was that same fast busy signal, telling her the iPhone she’d spent so much money on was now basically useless. With trembling fingers, she shoved the phone in her purse, then tiptoed into her bedroom and quickly changed out of the skirt and blouse she was wearing and into jeans and a T-shirt and her favorite pair of running shoes. She still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she knew it was better not to face it while wearing a short skirt and a pair of high heels.

Still shaking, she’d slipped out through the backyard and into the alley beyond. Some instinct had told her that trying to take her car would make her an obvious target, that she needed to stick to the alleys and yards and side streets until she could figure out what was going on.

She’d been running ever since. What else could she do?

It was very dark back here, only a little bit of daylight from the front of the store reaching this employees-only hallway. Leila put out a hand to feel the wall, letting the solid, reassuring surface beneath her fingertips guide her to the back door. She reached out, allowed her fingers to drift until she found the doorknob. At least with the electricity out, she didn’t have to worry about setting off any alarms.

Blessed daylight leaked in as she opened the door a crack and peeked outside. Yes, there was the alley she’d hoped for, crowded with Dumpsters that would never get emptied, a small breeze blowing several pages from a discarded newspaper idly along the pavement with a ghostly crackling sound that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. The smell of rotting garbage lingered on the air, just another of L.A.’s ghosts.

Still, the place looked deserted. Partway down the alley was an abandoned Ford Explorer, parked at an odd angle. No doubt if she looked inside, she’d see the remains of the SUV’s owner in a neat pile on the driver’s seat. Unfortunately, tempting as the vehicle looked, Leila knew she couldn’t take it. The minute the engine started up — if it would even start at all, considering it had now been sitting there for the greater part of two months — every djinn in the area would descend at once.

She cracked the door just wide enough to slip out into the alley, then shut it quietly behind her. A quick glance around told her that she was still alone. From back here where she stood, it was hard to get her bearings, but she thought if she went to her left, she should be headed west, which was the direction she wanted to go. After losing the last of her companions, she hadn’t known what to do, but she thought that it seemed best to go downtown, to try to lose herself in the maze of L.A.’s streets. There had to be hundreds of viable hiding places there.

To be safe, she looked upward, but the skies were clear, much clearer than they would have been if all of the city’s inhabitants had still been alive, choking the streets and freeways with their cars. This week, the hot, dry Santa Ana winds had blown, making it much warmer than it should have been in mid-November, even in Southern California. No fires, though, thank God; Leila supposed with all the people gone, there were far fewer ways for a fire to get started — no stray sparks from a lawnmower or an engine backfiring, no carelessly tossed cigarette butts from car windows.

Anyway, she didn’t see any sign of the djinn, whether here in the alley or in the sky above her, and so she decided it was safe enough to hurry down to her left, where she spotted a street thick with more abandoned vehicles. Even if it hadn’t been for the djinn, she still didn’t know whether stealing a car would even work; so many streets were so choked with cars, they wouldn’t have been passable anyway. Maybe a motorcycle could have gotten though, but she didn’t know how to drive one. Going by foot was infinitely easier and safer.

When she got to the end of the alley, she paused again, looking up and down the street. The only movement she could see was a couple of pigeons waddling down the sidewalk. What they were foraging on these days, Leila had no idea, but they seemed fat and happy enough, and no worry of hers.

Time to go.

She eased out onto the street, hugging the wall of the storefront next to her and wishing that it had an awning or some other kind of overhang, just so she wouldn’t feel so exposed. Since there was none, all she could do was hurry forward, her feet taking her closer and closer to downtown with every step. She didn’t know the area by heart, but she did know that if she could cut over to Main Street, she could follow it through the semi-industrial area on the west side of the 5 Freeway all the way to downtown. It would be slow going, but there were enough buildings and warehouses in between here and her destination that she should be able to hide from time to time, whenever she started to feel hinky.

A shadow passed overhead, one far too large to be a pigeon. Leila glanced up and saw the djinn descending toward her out of nowhere, the cobalt silk of his garments fluttering in the breeze, silent as death.

The terror that exploded in her chest was so intense, she didn’t even have time to utter a curse. Instead, she took off running, even as her gut told her that there was no way she could outrun him now, not when he was so close.

But she had to try.

A burst of speed took her to the opening of another alley, and she zigged down there, praying it would be enough of a feint to throw him off but knowing it wouldn’t. Her heart pounded and her breath came in quick, terrified pants, but her feet still moved, pounding into the pavement, achieving a burst of speed that took her another hundred feet into the alleyway.

Now she did hear footsteps behind her, a strong, purposeful stride that echoed off the walls of the buildings to either side as his boots touched the asphalt. She didn’t dare look behind her, though, didn’t dare do anything that might slow her down.

A wall was coming toward her. Leila pulled in a gulp of air and looked from side to side. No, this wasn’t possible. The alley couldn’t be a dead end. It had to branch off to one side or another. But as she approached that wall, with its markings of angular graffiti and daubs of pigeon droppings, she realized that the alley did in fact end here. There was no escape, no way out.

Stiff with terror, she forced herself to turn. Her hands clenched into fists, broken nails digging into her palms.

The djinn stood there before her. The same breeze that had sent the newspaper rustling down the alley before now caught at his robes, causing them to ripple gently. This close, Leila could see the gold border woven into the fabric. It glinted in the afternoon sunshine, shimmering like the gold bracelets her grandmother had smuggled in her clothing when she escaped Iran after the Shah fell.

A step closer, then another. The djinn’s heavy dark hair ruffled in the breeze as well, touching his fine, wide cheekbones, causing one lock to fall over his brow.

Now the wall was at her back, the rough cinderblock seeming to bite through the T-shirt she wore. Although the day was warm enough, she thought she’d never been this cold, her entire body trapped in a sort of frozen terror.

He paused about a foot away from her, coal-black eyes scanning her entire person, top to bottom and back again, until he stopped and held her gaze for a long moment.

A shudder went through her. Would it have been better or worse if he wasn’t so unbelievably handsome? It wasn’t really fair for a destroyer of worlds to look like a male model.

Then he spoke. His voice was deep but soft, with a faint accent she couldn’t quite place. “Why,” he asked, “are you so afraid?”

Perfect English. Leila didn’t know why she hadn’t been expecting that. She swallowed, her throat so dry and tight, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to force the words out. She replied, the syllables not much more than a whisper, “Because you’re going to kill me.”

His eyes widened slightly, the straight heavy brows lifting in surprise. “Kill you? Why would you think such a thing?”

Despite her terror, she couldn’t help but experience a flutter of annoyance. Was he messing with her? Trying to lull her with gentle words, when they both knew exactly how this little scene was going to end? Another swallow, and she said, “Oh, I don’t know. Because your people have been murdering mine for the past two months?”

The djinn frowned then. “Yes, some of them have. But I am not one of those who have pursued the remnants of mankind. I have far better plans for you, Leila Donovan.”

He knew her name. How the hell did he know her name? Maybe the djinn were all-knowing, but she didn’t think that was the reason. Otherwise, he would have found her far more easily than this…unless he’d simply been toying with her the whole time.

Her fists squeezed tighter, the roughness of her ragged nails biting into her palms. “What kind of plans?”

Very gently, he reached out and unclenched her hands. His fingers were warm and strong, possibly warmer than a normal man’s should be, and although his touch was light enough, Leila could feel the coiled power in him. She wanted to pull away but held herself still, fearing what he might do if she attempted to struggle at all.

To her relief, he let go of her a moment later. That relief was short-lived, however, because instead of stepping away, he came even closer and cupped her face in his hands. Her breath caught, and she wished more than ever that she could run from him, run before he did anything else. A faint scent of sandalwood came from his clothing, or possibly from his hair. She could see the stubble dark on his cheeks and chin, the heavy long lashes that framed his night-black eyes.

“You have nothing to fear, Leila Donovan,” he said, and bent and pressed his mouth against hers.

This wasn’t happening. How could this be happening? A djinn…kissing her? She wanted to tear herself from his embrace, but found she somehow couldn’t. A warm heat was rising inside her, one she didn’t want to acknowledge but was impossible to ignore.

Desire.

No. She couldn’t possibly want him. He was a djinn. He was a murderer, no matter what he might have said to her a moment earlier. Was he just perverted enough that he took pleasure in romancing his victims before he killed them?

That thought was enough for her to regain herself, to wrench herself away from him so suddenly, his hands held empty air for a moment. Then he seemed to register what was happening, saw how she was poised to flee.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said.

One hand reached out and caught her by the arm, and the next thing she knew, she was being pulled close to him, was pressed against the heavy muscles of his bare chest. She began to struggle in his grip, but it was too late. Darkness closed in around them, and the alley was gone.