Текст книги "Gale Force"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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complain to Paul, which stabbed me deep and hard all over again. Paul had been a part of my life

for so, so long, and now . . . now all that was tainted. I couldn't even begin to imagine how much

it would hurt, when I had time to actually feel again.

One of the few welcome calls was from Cherise, who had checked herself out of Warden witness

protection and was boarding a flight for Miami, ''because you're so not getting married without

me, bitch. Where else am I going to wear that dress?''

One major side benefit of becoming instantly famous-or infamous-was that I no longer had to

shop. Instead, I was under siege from local bridal stores all trying to throw dresses my way,

under the theory that a little discreet promotion never hurt anybody. I never thought I'd have a

sponsored by wedding, but I had more to worry about than my ethical standards.

Principally, I had to find a dress in my size in less than twelve hours that didn't suck.

That, it turned out, was far easier than it seemed. Instant organization . . . just add Cherise.

''I booked the Palms,'' Cherise said after bursting into the FBI offices, giving me a fast, fierce

hug, and giving Lewis a warm peck on the cheek.

''You-wait, what?'' I blinked, and so did he. I was barely out of the coffee-zombie stage, and

Lewis was well into his must-have-sleep cycle. ''When did you get in?''

''Exactly forty-eight minutes ago,'' she said. ''Gotta love that executive car service. By the way,

I charged it to the Warden card, so don't go all budget-conscious on me. Talking to you, Lewis.''

He blinked, again.

Cherise must have had extra coffee on the plane; it was like being hit by a pink hurricane. ''So, I

made some calls,'' she continued. ''You didn't get a hotel, right? I booked the Palms. Royal

Palm Room for the reception, outdoor gazebo for the ceremony. They're used to celebrity

weddings, no problem on the security, although I went ahead and called a couple of other firms. I

guess you'll have the FBI, too, huh?'' Cherise paused long enough to wink at Mr. No-Name

Nice Suit, who still looked fresh and well tailored. ''Mmmm, I feel safer already.''

''Cher-''

''Okay, I'm going to let the Palms handle all the catering and flowers and crap-it's going to be

expensive, but there you go. If you want to make a media circus out of the whole thing, you have

to pay for the big top and the clowns.''

''Cherise.''

''I think we should head over there now. I got you the bridal suite, naturally. Five of the couture

bridal shops are coming in an hour with their best stuff. They'll want credit on the official press

statement, but they're doing it for the publicity. No charge. They'll want the dress back, though,

unless you get blood or something all over it, in which case, you break it, you buy it-''

''Cherise!''

She stopped, blue eyes wide, staring at me. I covered my face with both hands, fighting for

control between hysterical giggles and the shakes.

''It's not a joke,'' I said finally. ''We could all be killed. We could get a lot of other people

killed. I can't have this at the Palms. The Sentinels will attack. I can't put all those innocent lives

at risk!''

Cher sat down next to me on the hard, narrow cot, and took both my hands in hers. Her manicure

was fresh, her hair glossy, her makeup perfect. I looked like I'd rolled out of the bad side of

Satan's bed, and forgotten to brush my hair, but there was real love in her eyes. Real friendship.

''Honey,'' she said, ''this isn't about you anymore. This is about ideas. Those innocent people,

they live with risk. You need to quit thinking that all us regular folks can't handle the truth.''

I didn't think she understood what she was saying, but I gave her a cautious nod.

''You want to stick it to those bastards who think David and all the other Djinn need to die,

right?''

Another wordless nod.

''When you hide, when you call things off because you're afraid of getting hurt, that's when

people like this win. Live loud, Jo. It's the only way to win. No fear.''

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear and cocked her head.

''Besides,'' she said, ''I cannot wait to see David in a tuxedo. My God, Jo. How can you even

think of depriving the world of that?''

Well, she had a point. Across the room, David was deep in conversation with Zenaya. He caught

my look and smiled, and I felt the connection between us snap taut and thrum like a guitar string.

''Suck it up, girlfriend,'' Cher said. ''All you have to do is stand there, look pretty, and say the

right things. Let us do the rest. You''-she turned and stabbed a perfectly polished fingernail

toward Lewis– ''you need to get some sleep. Best man, right? I am so not having the bags

under the eyes. Lie down, now. And I'm bringing in a stylist, because God.''

I moved off the cot, fast, to make room for Lewis.

Cherise set to work. It helped that Lewis granted her autonomy for all wedding-related decisions,

including open credit, and that the Feds, who didn't know the players in the Warden world,

anyway, just assumed she was ''one of us.'' Which I guess she was, in the greater sense. She

cheerfully commandeered everything and everyone she needed, and appointed a subcommittee-

my wedding had subcommittees!-to handle security services.

An hour later, I was in a smoked-glass limo-not a stretch, but one of the anonymous, though

perfectly well-appointed Town Car varieties-clutching a bottle of mineral water and watching

chaos on the tiny built-in television screen in the back of the seat. CNN was running Talking

Head Theater; the Wardens were staging additional demonstrations, including Fire and Earth,

and people were starting to actually pay attention. I wondered if anybody had considered the

legal implications. Talk about malpractice insurance . . .

''Paul's dead,'' I said, out of absolutely nowhere. I turned the cold glass bottle in my hands,

remembering that moment so vividly it hurt, that moment when Paul turned to face me, guilt and

anger in his face. ''I killed him, Cher. He got in my way, and I killed him.''

Nobody had told her. I watched a tremor run through her, and she bowed her head for a second.

When she raised it, her eyes were clear and bright. ''I knew he was the walking wounded,'' she

said. ''You didn't see him like I did, when he thought nobody was watching. He was scared all

the time. And angry. And he never really stopped hurting. He shouldn't have been in charge. All

those people dead under his watch-he couldn't take it, Jo. It wasn't his fault, and it's not yours,

either.''

It definitely was my fault that I'd killed him, but I didn't argue the point. I was going to have the

rest of my life to reconcile myself with that, although I wasn't sure how much time that would

be-maybe no more than a couple of hours, in which case I'd be one of those tragic tales for the

ages, slain by the bad guys at the altar and taking a couple hundred innocent lives with me

because I was arrogant enough to think my life was somehow so important, such a beacon for

change. . . .

No. Cher was right. Hiding was wrong. Reacting the way the Sentinels wanted us to was wrong.

This might be wrong, but at least it was wrong in the right direction. Somebody had to be the

symbol. I was just filling the dress.

I looked in the rearview mirror. We were being followed by black chase cars, probably federal or

private security. There was a helicopter overhead, sleek and military looking, that kept the

chubbier news choppers at bay by its mere presence. I couldn't see the paparazzi, but I knew

they were out there. Waiting.

''Hey,'' Cher said. ''You with me?''

''I'm getting married,'' I said. ''Jesus Christ, Cher, I'm getting married to a Djinn. What the hell

am I thinking?''

She smiled. ''Oh, good. You're with me.''

The Palms was a blur: smiling faces, people saying kind things, Cherise running interference.

She ensconced me in a penthouse the size of most houses, with a breathtaking ocean view, and I

sat numbly on the couch, worrying. I know, most brides worry, but I had considerably more to

worry about than whether or not I was going to trip over the hem of the dress I didn't yet have.

I was worried about Rahel, first and foremost. I'd been trying hard not to think about her. I knew

that David was focused on her; how could he not be? She was a friend. She was in trouble. And I

felt as though I was horribly betraying her, even though I knew that tactically, we were doing the

right thing.

He'll hurt her, part of me said. He knows we'll come if he hurts her.

It was kind of odd, actually, that he hadn't done it yet. What if he has? What if David is hiding it

from you? That wouldn't be too hard for him to do, because I hadn't seen him since before we'd

left the FBI building. No. He'd tell you. Unless he thought I couldn't handle the pressure.

Or unless he tore off to do something crazy, which was entirely possible.

''Hey!'' Cherise snapped her fingers in front of my face. ''Fashion show. Here. Have some

coffee. Nod when you see something you like.''

Thus began the most surreal experience of my life, and with my life, that's saying something.

How she'd done it I have no idea, but apparently my current CNN celebrity status had upgraded

me to the temporary level of an A-list star. The bridal shops hadn't just sent dresses; they'd sent

teams, with models who were fresh off Paris runways, apparently, far prettier and sleeker than

I'd ever be. I felt dull and slightly nuts, even with the freshly brewed coffee sipped from a

delicate china cup. The dresses ranged from something Cinderella would find too ruffly to

something better suited to the wedding night than the glare of the spotlight. I mean, I'm daring,

but I'm not that daring.

In the middle of the parade, a model who bore a striking resemblance to Heidi Klum (couldn't

really be Heidi Klum, could she?) entered, and for a second, I just stared, shocked. I shot Cherise

a look; her mouth was curved in a triumphant smile. She'd requested that one specially, I could

immediately see that.

And she was right. It was The Dress. The one that I'd bought, the one that had been ripped apart

in the Sentinels' last public attack on me.

Maybe-Heidi-Klum swept to a graceful stop in front of me, and the silk fluttered to perfect

layers, slightly angled and draping to that gorgeous, dramatic train in the back. When she turned,

the corseted back displayed the deep V of skin that had so entranced me the first time. Sexy, yet

demure. Sophisticated, yet still startlingly innocent.

Hopeful.

''Yes,'' I said. Bridal Shop Team Number Three– I'd forgotten the names; Cherise had been

keeping track-high-fived one another. Maybe-Klum gave me a cool smile and rustled out, back

straight, chin high. If I could look half that good in the thing . . .

Well, that took care of the dress.

Cherise did all the work, reassuring the runners-up that we still liked them and would mention

them fondly. She signed a just-in-case-of-damage credit card slip, discreetly proffered by the

winning team, and slipped the copy into a black leather binder.

''How much?'' I asked. She shook her head sadly.

''Really, you don't want to be asking that today,'' she said. ''Just go with it. Besides, we can

return it unless, you know. Now. You go take a shower. We've got the stylist coming in forty-

five minutes.''

Stylists made house calls. I was learning a lot today.

I cried in the shower, where it didn't show. I cried about all the doubt, all the craziness. Cherise

was doing a good job of keeping me moving, but this was like standing on the train tracks,

watching the Heart-break Express rocket toward you. I was in the crosshairs, and I'd given up

my safety to other people. Worse, I'd given up Rahel's life to the gods of chance and fate.

I arrived on time for the stylist, who was a temperamental, gorgeous young woman with not one

but two assistants, one of whom took charge of my nails while the others waded into the misery

that was my hair. I closed my eyes and focused on the weather, moving in slow, peaceful waves

outside the thick window. The aetheric was almost artificially calm; the Wardens were keeping

their heads down, and the Ma'at had done a fantastic job of smoothing out the ups and downs of

the day.

Whatever problems came about, they wouldn't be rain-related.

I'll skip the rest of the rituals. By four o'clock, I was laced into the dress, staring at myself in the

floor-length mirror of the Palms penthouse, balanced on shoes rushed to us from one of the most

exclusive boutiques.

I was seeing a stranger. My hair was up, piled in loose, sexy, complicated layers, secured with

diamond pins and a veil as soft as fog. My face was my own, only perfected with expert

cosmetics. The dress was, as I'd thought, exactly right.

My eyes were the only things that gave the lie to the whole illusion. They were wide, dark blue,

starkly terrified.

Cherise squeezed my hand and stood next to me, sharing mirror time. She looked absolutely,

deliciously adorable. ''You should see Lewis,'' she said. ''That man was born for formal wear.

I'd totally be all over him, except he's way too tall. I have a fear of heights.''

''Thank you,'' I said.

''For complimenting Lewis? Trust me, that's a freebie.''

''No, for-for all this. For keeping me sane. I couldn't-'' My hands were shaking again. I

closed my eyes and concentrated on calm. ''Whatever happens, thank you. I couldn't ask for a

better friend. I love you.''

''Love you too, sweetie, but I'm not marrying you.'' Cherise cocked a perfect eyebrow. ''You

notice I didn't mention what David looked like.''

No, she hadn't. That wasn't exactly like her.

''You'll see,'' she said smugly.

There was a discreet knock on the door, and one of the incredibly intimidating security

gentlemen stuck his head in to nod at Cherise.

Time to go.

''I don't think we should do this,'' I said.

But I let her lead me out, anyway.

I was taken through deserted hallways, feeling more and more isolated and surreal with every

moment. Was this how most brides felt, or only those with targets painted on their chests? Hard

to say. I just tried to swallow the growing, acrid lump of dread in my throat, and followed the

confident shimmy of Cherise's stride.

Holding open doors, hotel staff smiled at me as I passed. I had no idea where we were going, so

it was a surprise when the last set of doors opened on blinding sunlight. The strains of a highly

accomplished string quartet-good enough to overcome the barrier of surf noise, conversation,

and humidity's effect on wood and strings-hung luminously in the air. It was an absolutely

perfect day. The sky was a breathtaking ceramic blue, washed clean of all imperfections.

I felt so much dread that I was afraid my knees would collapse underneath me. They'll hit us.

They can't not hit us. And there were so many people to protect. So many people I couldn't

swear wouldn't be hurt in this.

Cherise squeezed my hand one last time and said, ''Stay fierce, Jo. We'll get through this.'' And

then she moved through the rose-covered archway, taking the arm of a tall, elegant man who I

only after the fact realized was Lewis. A drastically different Lewis. Smoking hot, in fact. She

was right: He was made for formal wear. The severe black-and-white tailoring made him look

extraordinary.

I fidgeted slightly, clutching the small, perfect bouquet of ivory roses that Cherise had handed

me, and the security men on either side of me scanned the perimeters for any threats. I spotted

Wardens, Wardens everywhere, waiting. If the Sentinels were coming, they were coming into the

teeth of the buzz saw.

If the Wardens watching me aren't undercover Sentinels . . . I had to leave that terrifying thought

behind. It was too much.

I knew mere security wouldn't stop Bad Bob, or the thing that was wearing his face. The bigger

the clash, the bigger the boom; he'd love to smash us here, in this most public of settings.

The string quartet shifted into the traditional bridal march, and the security man offered me his

arm. He looked good in a tux, too. A little beefy, but you really wanted that in a quality

bodyguard.

We passed under the arch and began the long, long walk down the rose-petal-strewn path to the

graceful, arched gazebo.

For some reason, I hadn't thought about who'd be here. Mostly Wardens, of course, mostly

friends. Cherise had even managed to get some of our old TV station colleagues here at the last

minute, including some of the crew, who were looking highly uncomfortable in their suits and

jackets, but were beaming at me in universal accord.

In the front row was my sister. Sarah looked elegant, perfectly coiffed, and terribly pissed off.

She was glaring hard at Cherise, and if looks could kill, there would have been a warrant out for

her arrest. In fact, now that I thought about it, I was a little surprised there wasn't a warrant out

for Sarah. She'd scammed a lot of money, and if her old boyfriend (psycho but strangely honest)

was to be believed, she'd been one step short of Master Criminal status. I hadn't planned on

inviting her, but in retrospect, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd shown up

anyway. If there was any chance of notoriety coming from the day, she'd be right in front to tell

her story to the cameras about growing up with the Freak.

I forgot all about that momentary stab of distraction, because Lewis moved aside, and David

turned to look at me, and the world just . . . stopped.

I knew why Cherise hadn't said anything about how David looked. There simply weren't words

in the human language to describe his vividness, his presence, his-his beauty. He was wearing a

tuxedo, very much like the one Lewis was modeling so effectively, but no matter how flattering

the clothes, it was David, and David's essence, that blazed forth in that moment.

I saw it clearly: all his love, all his hope, all his commitment. He was immortal, and this was no

act for him, no temporary amusement. I'd been told Djinn loved intensely, but in that single,

crystalline moment, I knew.

It felt like a dream. I extended my hand-no longer trembling-and his fingers closed around it,

drawing me to his side. I felt the aura fold around me, warmer than sunlight, and the euphoria

was like nothing I had ever felt.

Somewhere, the minister was speaking. I had no idea what kind of service Cherise had cobbled

together on the spur of the moment, and I didn't care; the words didn't matter. I understood why

David had asked this of me now; I understood so much more than I'd ever thought I would. It

wasn't just words.

It was a vow. And vows among the Djinn were law, immutable as physics. I could feel the forces

gathering, as the words progressed; I could see the shimmer spreading through the aetheric.

The minister had gotten to the heart of the matter. ''Do you, David, take this woman as your only

true lover, now and for her lifetime, forsaking all others, in sickness and in health, in wealth and

in poverty, in hardship and in joy?''

I saw the aetheric flare hot gold, so much power gathering, more than I'd ever seen, and David

opened his mouth to reply. . . .

''No,'' said a new voice, before he could reply. ''He doesn't.''

Ashan had crashed our wedding.

Chapter Fourteen

The power on the aetheric went wild, currents flowing around us like whirlpools, lashing and

foaming in distress. David and I turned together and saw Ashan standing behind us. From the

forbidding expression on his face, I was guessing he hadn't brought us any wedding gifts, or at

least none that wouldn't explode.

''I can't allow this folly,'' Ashan said. ''Maybe you truly believe this is right, but we can't take

the chance. You expose us all to slavery, David, not just yourself. No.''

The minister looked justifiably bewildered, and not just by the sudden popping in of supernatural

guests. I was thinking his brain had skipped right over that part. The human race was absolutely

stellar at plausible deniability. ''But I haven't asked for any objections, '' he said faintly. ''We

don't do that anymore. Really, this is most-''

Ashan ignored him. Ignored me, too. He was focused only on David, and if David was a glorious

bright star, burning with potential, Ashan was his polar opposite: leached of color; pale as an

undertaker; grim as impending death. He was even wearing black-a severe suit, with a black tie

paired with a white shirt. His idea of formal attire, I guessed. It might have even passed, if it

hadn't been for the bitter expression and the cold, cold fire in his teal-blue eyes.

''You have no place here,'' David said. I felt the power of the Earth rising up in him, rich and

thick and irresistible; Ashan was a Conduit, yes, but this was David's territory, David's home

ground, in a sense. Ashan was an intruder, uninvited and unwelcome. ''Leave us.''

Ashan slowly shook his head. ''I don't come for myself,'' he said. ''I come for all of us, to ask.

Don't do this, David. Don't destroy us again, for your personal satisfaction.''

I'd expected assault, not a plea, and especially not a plea that had the ring of sincerity to it.

David didn't respond. He gazed at Ashan, fire in his eyes, but he didn't lash out.

Ashan said, even more quietly, ''I also didn't come alone.'' He didn't move, not even his gaze,

but I felt the shocking flare on the aetheric, and suddenly there was a presence beside him. It was

human in shape, but not human at all-a wild power, barely contained by flesh. His skin was hot

red, shifting with patterns of color, and his eyes were the pure white of the hottest flame. I'd

never seen him take human form before, but I knew him.

The Fire Oracle had left his protected home in a crypt in Seacasket. I hadn't even known he

could.

With a whisper rather than a flare, another presence shaped itself out of the air on Ashan's other

side. Milk-glass skin, a vessel containing fog and ice. The Air Oracle was only barely human as

well, and androgynous in form. Two of them. The Air Oracle had no fixed abode that I knew of,

but still, it took a major event for it to manifest so publicly.

I knew, without even asking, that it had never happened before. Not in all the history of the

Djinn.

Another surge of power, this one familiar, so bitterly and sweetly familiar. My daughter,

Imara– human and far more than human, beautiful and unreachable and remote. She looked sad,

but sure of herself-a mirror of my face and form, but with a totally individual core she'd

inherited from both me and her father.

She was standing with the others, against us.

David closed his eyes, and I knew it hurt him as much as it did me. When he opened them, his

eyes had gone dark, almost human. ''You're sure,'' he said. ''Imara?''

I thought for a few heartbeats that she might defect, might throw her support to us, but then she

bowed her head. ''I'm sure,'' she whispered. ''Too dangerous. So much at risk. You can't, Dad.

You just . . . can't.''

Silence. The audience was whispering. I couldn't imagine what they were making out of this.

Lewis had moved Cherise out of the line of fire, in case there was going to be any, but somehow

I knew this wasn't going to come to fireworks. Not this time.

David slowly turned back to me and said, very simply, ''I do.''

My mind went blank for a second, and I felt the seductive flow of power wash over me. Half

done. This was an exchange of vows; his was powerful, but not complete without my consent.

The minister nervously cleared his throat, eyes darting from David, to me, to Ashan, to the three

Oracles.

''Do you, Joanne-'' His clerical voice was about half an octave higher than it ought to have

been. He cleared his throat and tried again. ''Do you, Joanne, take this man-''

''Wait,'' I said.

All of the Djinn-even Ashan-let out a sigh, and David's grip on my hand tightened painfully.

His eyes went wide, and his skin bone-pale.

''Jo-''

''Just wait,'' I repeated. ''Ashan, the Oracles-you admitted yourself that you don't know what

will happen, David. How can we do this? How can we change the rules like this when we don't

even know what's coming for us?'' My voice broke. My heart broke. I was watching the fire die

in him, and it hurt. ''It isn't about us. It's about them, all of the people who depend on us!''

''I'm willing to take the risk,'' he whispered. ''Believe in us, Jo. Please. Believe.''

His hand came up to trace my cheek, and I felt tears well up in my eyes and burn trails down my

cheeks. His fingertips came away wet from my face, and he raised them to his lips.

Please.

I might have changed my mind. I can't swear that I would have, or I wouldn't; the fracture

between my head and my heart ran right down to my soul.

I didn't have time to find out.

The aetheric caught fire. At first I thought it was David, erupting in frustration and anger at me

for what I'd done, but then I realized that it wasn't him at all.

We were under attack.

David spun away from me. So did the other Djinn, all facing outward, blindly seeking the threat.

''You know what to do,'' David shouted to Ashan. ''Protect the Oracles!''

A silver scar formed on David's right cheek, then darkened, and the infection I'd seen earlier at

Ortega's house began to spread its tendrils again under his skin, moving frighteningly fast.

''David!'' I grabbed for him, but he spun away, avoiding me. Doing his job. Dispatching his

waiting Djinn according to some plan he hadn't shared with me. . . . Lewis was moving, too,

shouting at the Wardens. Everybody had a plan, it seemed, except for me.

I felt the black wave sweep over me. It wasn't meant for me; it was centered on David, but even

the edges of it made me feel faint and sick.

He collapsed against me, shuddering, and I felt a scream trying to rip loose from him. I was the

only thing holding him up, the only defense he had left.

The Oracles vanished, leaving gusts of hot wind in their place that fluttered the pale layers of my

gown. David's weight pulled me down. It seemed as though he was growing heavier with every

passing second.

Ashan stood there, immobile, impassive, perfect.

''Help!'' I screamed at him, and grabbed his hand. It felt like cold marble. ''Damn you, he's

your brother! Do something!'' The two of them were the same, united by purpose and power, if

not by the ties of blood that humans understood.

Ashan pulled free of my grip. ''If you want him,'' he said, ''save him. He won't save himself.

He could, if he wished.''

I couldn't hold David up. Lewis lunged forward and tried to help take his weight, but there was

something strange happening here, something worse than anything I'd expected.

''God,'' Lewis muttered. ''Hold on, we're trying to put up the shield. Hold on-''

The Sentinels attacked from all around us, on every front. I heard some physical confrontations,

and saw a bloom of fire erupt somewhere off to the side, followed by shouts and screams.

Security piled on top of me and began hustling me away; I gathered up my train with both hands,

clutching it out of the way of traffic. Lewis had arranged our forces in teams, but even so, the

assault was shocking in its suddenness and force. I grabbed Lewis's arm as he pushed past and

shook it fiercely. ''They're using Rahel to get to him! If you're going to counter, it has to be

now. Right now! Go!''

''Already on it,'' Lewis snapped, and spun away. ''Stay here. Draw them if you can.''

David was down on the ground, surrounded by fierce-eyed Djinn protectors ready to fight

anything that came for him, but they let me through. I sank down at his side in a flutter of silk

and held him. He was gasping and trembling, eyes molten gold but with ominous sparks of

darkness flying through them. The gray mottling on his face was taking on a shocking life of its

own, moving dark tendrils beneath his skin. Seeking out the aetheric pipeline that made David

the Conduit. Once it had that . . .

''Let her go!'' I shouted, and grabbed him by the lapels. ''David, you have to let Rahel go,

please!''

He shook his head. His hand grabbed for mine and clenched tightly. ''Say it,'' he said. His voice

was raw in his throat, almost primal. ''Say the words. Say it!''

I felt tears trembling in my eyes. The whole world was coming apart. I heard the crack of gunfire

somewhere off to the side, and more screaming. Someone was shouting about a Warden down;

someone else was warning of a Sentinel attack coming in the form of a tidal wave from the

ocean.

This couldn't be right. It couldn't be.

I squeezed my eyes shut, felt the tears burn down my cheeks, and whispered, ''Oh God help me,

I do. I do.''

There was an eerie second of utter silence, not even the wind moving. Conflicts stopped, pinned

on the instant, and I felt something inside me shifting, aligning like a puzzle box.

And a wave of pure golden power flowed into me, through me, and out.

I opened my eyes and saw David watching my face with a look I could think of only as awed

relief. The gray faded from his face, back to a silvery scar. Gone.

And I felt the echoing power between us build, and build, and build, waves on the beach,

pounding and ceaseless, cascading out into the other Djinn, enhancing their raw power and

refining it into surgical weapons.

I'd just made the New Djinn a quantum leap more powerful, by giving them a second anchor

into the aetheric.

I'd also just gotten married, even if the minister hadn't quite gotten around to saying the words

before he'd fled to the hills, along with most of the others.

The Djinn snapped a glowing shield of power over us, brilliant as shimmering gold. It covered

not just the two of us, but all of the Palms-hell, it went so far out that it might have been

covering all of Florida. Whatever the Sentinels were doing, they quit doing it, fast, rightly

recognizing that they had just been dealt a very serious blow. It would take them time to figure

out exactly what had happened.

''Did you know?'' I felt giddy, halfway to heaven. Endorphins kicking in. ''Did you plan that?''

David grabbed me and kissed me, long and hard, with a good deal less restraint than most

bridegrooms would have shown under similar circumstances. His hands roamed, stroking down