his finely crafted meals and had served a truly lovely pinot noir from the hotel’s cellars to accompany their dinner. “Maybe that’s it. I haven’t really been around them much — just that little bit in the spring when Margolis dragged us all over here. Although the one Jessica is with seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” Julia replied. There was an understatement. Jace was strong, determined, and passionately devoted to the woman he had chosen. Jessica Monroe was one lucky girl. “Most of them are.”
Brent raised an eyebrow at that remark.
“All right, the ones here in Santa Fe,” she amended. “Obviously, there’s a whole group of them who aren’t nice people at all. But the ones who tried to save humanity, who’re with their Chosen — they’re good. Different from us, but good.”
“If you say so.” Brent scooped up a forkful of rice and chewed before adding, “Just between you and me, I’ll be glad to be back in Los Alamos. It feels weird to be here.”
His commented startled her a bit. “Weird how?”
A lift of his thin shoulders. “I don’t know. Just…I mean, look at this dining room.”
“What about it?”
“It’s like…nothing changed. The lights are on, and they’ve lit the little candles on the tables, and we’re eating a meal that could be right off a menu from before.” He didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “before.” He didn’t have to. Everyone’s existence had been forever divided between now and the world before the Heat. “But the only reason it’s like that here is because this town is run by djinn, and they can use their powers for whatever they want, including making it seem like the world is the same as it always was.”
Julia picked up her glass and sipped some wine. Lush fruit spilled over her tongue, so much more complex than anything they had back in Los Alamos. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
A pause then, while Brent’s brows knitted together, as if he was wrestling with a thought he wasn’t sure he quite knew how to articulate. “But…I think it is. The world has changed — changed because of them, even if the ones here in Santa Fe didn’t have anything to do with the Dying. We need to acknowledge that so we can move forward. Because all the candlelit dinners in the world can’t change the fact that nothing will ever be the same again.”
Abruptly, Julia set down her glass. The wine she had just drunk seemed to turn bitter on her tongue, although she knew it hadn’t changed — she had. Or at least her thoughts had. “No, it won’t be the same,” she said at length, after she had sat there, silent, for a long moment, one finger tracing the curved edge of the wine glass’s base. “I guess I was hoping it would be okay to pretend a little bit, though.”
Brent’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Julia. I — I didn’t mean to spoil your dinner or anything. I mean, it must be tough enough for you, what with Margolis — ”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she cut in. “Because that will spoil my dinner. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Like…what’s your best guess on how our gasoline supplies will hold up this winter?”
Brent shook his head. “You call that stimulating dinner conversation?”
“It’s important, isn’t it?” She’d been tracking their gas supplies on her endless spreadsheets, but since he was in charge of the motor pool and did the actual dispensing of the precious fuel, he had a better idea of how seriously people were taking her efforts at conservation.
“Well, yeah.” He pushed some rice around on his plate, then said, “I think we’ll be okay. We’ve yet to tap all the gas stations in Española, and there’s stuff in some of the outlying areas as well if we need it. And then everything in Albuquerque, if we decide to venture that far afield — ”
He went on, plain, honest features serious as he weighed their various options. Julia let
“He is,” Julia replied. There was an understatement. Jace was strong, determined, and passionately devoted to the woman he had chosen. Jessica Monroe was one lucky girl. “Most of them are.”
Brent raised an eyebrow at that remark.
“All right, the ones here in Santa Fe,” she amended. “Obviously, there’s a whole group of them who aren’t nice people at all. But the ones who tried to save humanity, who’re with their Chosen — they’re good. Different from us, but good.”
“If you say so.” Brent scooped up a forkful of rice and chewed before adding, “Just between you and me, I’ll be glad to be back in Los Alamos. It feels weird to be here.”
His commented startled her a bit. “Weird how?”
A lift of his thin shoulders. “I don’t know. Just…I mean, look at this dining room.”
“What about it?”
“It’s like…nothing changed. The lights are on, and they’ve lit the little candles on the tables, and we’re eating a meal that could be right off a menu from before.” He didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “before.” He didn’t have to. Everyone’s existence had been forever divided between now and the world before the Heat. “But the only reason it’s like that here is because this town is run by djinn, and they can use their powers for whatever they want, including making it seem like the world is the same as it always was.”
Julia picked up her glass and sipped some wine. Lush fruit spilled over her tongue, so much more complex than anything they had back in Los Alamos. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
A pause then, while Brent’s brows knitted together, as if he was wrestling with a thought he wasn’t sure he quite knew how to articulate. “But…I think it is. The world has changed — changed because of them, even if the ones here in Santa Fe didn’t have anything to do with the Dying. We need to acknowledge that so we can move forward. Because all the candlelit dinners in the world can’t change the fact that nothing will ever be the same again.”
Abruptly, Julia set down her glass. The wine she had just drunk seemed to turn bitter on her tongue, although she knew it hadn’t changed — she had. Or at least her thoughts had. “No, it won’t be the same,” she said at length, after she had sat there, silent, for a long moment, one finger tracing the curved edge of the wine glass’s base. “I guess I was hoping it would be okay to pretend a little bit, though.”
Brent’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Julia. I — I didn’t mean to spoil your dinner or anything. I mean, it must be tough enough for you, what with Margolis — ”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she cut in. “Because that will spoil my dinner. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Like…what’s your best guess on how our gasoline supplies will hold up this winter?”
Brent shook his head. “You call that stimulating dinner conversation?”
“It’s important, isn’t it?” She’d been tracking their gas supplies on her endless spreadsheets, but since he was in charge of the motor pool and did the actual dispensing of the precious fuel, he had a better idea of how seriously people were taking her efforts at conservation.
“Well, yeah.” He pushed some rice around on his plate, then said, “I think we’ll be okay. We’ve yet to tap all the gas stations in Española, and there’s stuff in some of the outlying areas as well if we need it. And then everything in Albuquerque, if we decide to venture that far afield — ”
He went on, plain, honest features serious as he weighed their various options. Julia let
Similar Books
