Текст книги "Gale Force"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

Соавторы: Rachel Caine
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I can stand that. You mean too much to me, Jo.''

It was the closest he'd come to admitting how he felt about me, and he'd done it right out in

public. The room-full of Wardens-was deathly still, though whether they were waiting for

more revelations or for me to reject him, I couldn't tell.

''I know,'' I said softly. ''I won't.''

Cherise cleared her throat. ''If you need somebody to, you know, ride along and-''

''No,'' I said flatly. ''Not this time. This is no job for anyone who can't throw a lightning bolt, a

car, or a ball of fire the size of Cleveland. I don't want you anywhere near Bad Bob.''

She looked disappointed, but not really surprised. Despite the chaos of the day, there wasn't a

smudge on her. Kevin put his arm around her and looked down; elfin and lovely and entirely

human, she looked up into his face. The smile they exchanged made my heart ache.

''You're going?'' she asked him. Kevin shrugged.

''Might as well,'' he said. ''Got nothing else planned for the day. My Nintendo's busted.''

''Watch your ass,'' she told him.

Ah, young love.

''Ready?'' Lewis asked me. I nodded. I still wished I could live a normal life, have what I

wanted, be at peace. I should have taken all of my vacation. I was just now starting to see the

wisdom of waiting for trouble, instead of courting it. ''Can you get David to help at all?''

I shook my head. ''No. He's-staying away.''

Lewis looked very, very grim. ''You mean, he's walled himself off on the aetheric. The way

Jonathan used to do.''

''I can't be sure. He's not giving me anything back about where he is, but it would make sense.''

David could save himself, and his people, by shutting himself off like that for as long as

necessary. Ages, if need be.

Lewis pulled in breath to say something, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor;

he held up his hands and walked away to confer with the others.

He didn't have to say it. I'd already figured out that if David had really withdrawn into his

stronghold on the aetheric, I might never see him again.

Not even to say good-bye.

To say that there was a military operation at work on the beach when we arrived was an

understatement. One handy thing about the Wardens coming out in public was that we no longer

had to make do with covert ops-style equipment. No, this time we had cops, FBI, air

surveillance, coast guard boats . . . everything but the dancing bear and big top.

I was pretty sure that none of it was going to mean a damn thing to Bad Bob, in the end. Mortal

firepower was beyond insignificant to him, except as an inconvenience, and with the Djinn off

the board, we had very little left to counter him.

Just me, the battered and damaged white queen, with a little fleck of black to betray her true

allegiances.

Lewis and I sat in a surveillance van, the tricked-out kind, watching monitors in all different

spectrums. There was no movement from the beach house. SWAT teams had gone into position,

stealthily moving from cover to cover inside the overgrown estate grounds. It wouldn't help

them. Bad Bob knew they were there; he had to know. He probably just didn't damn well care.

Humans weren't his thing, and in fact they mattered very little to him except as window

dressing.

''Nothing on any of the monitors or sensors,'' one of the Wardens reported. ''Maybe he's not

there.''

''He's there,'' I said. I was watching the house itself. I couldn't sense or see anything, and I had

absolutely no basis for believing what I'd said, but somehow, I knew. I just knew. ''He's got

ways to conceal himself. Probably using Rahel.''

''We need physical recon,'' Lewis said.

''I think that's my cue.'' I didn't wait for them to approve; I didn't wait for the protests. I just

jumped down onto the road and walked up to the gates. I looked up at the perimeter camera, and

felt Bad Bob's smile like a fetid ghost all around me.

''Jo, wait!'' That was Lewis, trying to order me back.

''For what?'' I asked him, and he had absolutely no answer to that. I read it in his eyes, though.

He wanted me to say something, anything, to make this easier. But I didn't have it, and neither

did he.

So I went on.

The gates creaked open, and I walked alone, shadowed by the SWAT commandos and FBI

tactical units, up the winding path. I remembered walking it with David, in happier times; Ortega

was still alive then, still delighting in all his lovely things. I hadn't feared Bad Bob, except as a

ghost safely sealed in my memories.

The night was cool, and there were clouds blowing up at the horizon. A natural front, nothing

sinister about it. Overhead, the stars were chips of ice, sharp enough to cut.

If I'd been walking with my lover, with my husband, it would have been magical. I love you, I

whispered to him, along the bond between us. I will always love you. I'm sorry.

I felt nothing in response.

I walked up the steps, moving steadily and without hesitation. I reached for the knob, and opened

the front door. It was unlocked. I'd known it would be.

Bad Bob was sitting in a leather wing chair next to the fireplace, feet up, puffing on a cigar. He

had a bottle of liquor next to him-scotch, this time. He raised the bottle, and I levitated it to me.

The taste of liquid gold burned the roof of my mouth, then poured down my throat and started a

sickening burn in the cold pit of my stomach.

''It's not poisoned,'' I noted, and sent it back. He caught it effortlessly out of the air and chugged

a few mouthfuls, then put it aside.

''Wouldn't waste good scotch. Or good poison,'' he said. ''Wouldn't kill you, anyway, would it?

Nothing kills you. Goddamn cockroach, you are. You'll survive a nuclear winter.''

''Look who's talking,'' I said. I sat down on the edge of the couch across from him. There were

a few lights burning, not many, and the whole effect was ghostly. Outside the windows, the

beach was dark, the water slick and almost flat-a calm sea. ''You've been dead a few times, I

hear.''

He chuckled. ''Hurricane Andrew should've killed me,'' he said. ''Came damn close, actually.

But there was always just one more damn challenge, one more thing to do. One more life to save.

You know how it is.''

''That's your story? That you were in the business of saving lives?'' I leaned back and folded my

arms. ''Oh, come on.''

''I'll put my scores up against anybody's. Including yours.''

''You killed people!''

''How many collateral goddamn damages have you had over the past few years, girl? What the

fuck makes you the hero of the story? No, more to the point: What makes me the villain?''

I stared at him, not exactly sure what he was doing. I'd come here intending to make him kill me,

or to destroy him in the process, if that was possible; to wound him badly enough that Lewis

could finish him off. I hadn't expected him to be so damn defensive about, of all things, his

record as a good guy.

''Your hands aren't clean,'' he pointed out. ''Hell, you've stood by and let people die, if nothing

else. How come I'm the bad guy?''

''Because-'' I ground my teeth together. ''Because nobody ever became evil overnight.

Because the bad guys don't see what they do as evil; they see it as their own personal good.

Sound familiar?''

He took another slug, straight from the bottle. ''Joanne Baldwin, big-time hero. If I hadn't given

you that Demon Mark, you'd still be paddling around the shallow-personality pool, wondering if

you could destroy a tornado fast enough to make the shoe sale at Macy's. Not good, not evil. Not

anything.''

''I don't understand.''

''Yes, you do.'' He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. ''I've made

you strong. I'm going to make you stronger. Stronger than any goddamn Warden in history. And

I'm going to do that by changing the whole ecosystem of the planet– by destroying the Djinn.

Makes humans the real apex predators of this little ball of rock. And I'm putting you in charge of

it.''

It hit me what he was trying to say. ''You-you think this is a good thing for me. For the

Wardens.''

''I don't give a shit if it's good or bad. It's what's necessary. I always do what's necessary.''

Bob's grin flashed. ''Sometimes that's also fun, though.''

I didn't want to hear any more. Outside the windows, the seas began to chop as the wind moved

faster, as temperatures shifted and swirled. He was playing with the weather. Taunting us.

Sending temperatures into a downward spiral out near Cuba, creating an imbalance that would

surely force intervention.

''I'm going to kill you,'' I said. ''Demon or not. Dead or not. You're not walking away today,

not if it costs me every last breath I have. If you made me what I am, then what I am is coming

after you.''

He sighed. ''Ah, Jo. Wave a red flag, and you run at it like a bull, every time. You think I didn't

know that?''

Which was exactly how I wanted him to think. My gaze had fixed on something black and

glittering, mounted like some exotic trophy weapon on the back wall of the house, right out in

the open, almost as a taunt.

The whole house was lethally radioactive. I was, in effect, already dead. Even as an Earth

Warden, I couldn't diffuse that much radiation through my system without damaging my own

cells. Maybe Lewis could, but not me. My daughter had cut herself off from me-had been

forced to.

The power I was drawing from David in a steady stream was keeping me alive, but it wouldn't

save me over the long haul. It was a treatment, not a cure.

I turned away from Bad Bob and walked to the Unmaking. It was glimmering with its own black

aura, sending its poisonous tendrils deep into the house, into the aetheric.

''You don't want to do that, honey,'' he said. ''It's suicide.''

I picked it up.

The outside of it felt shockingly hot. A slightly rough texture when I ran my fingers lightly

down, finding the balance point. The horrible thing was heavier than I'd expected, and my

muscles began to shake, trying to rid me of the burden.

Bad Bob hadn't moved. He raised the cigar to his mouth and puffed, eyes half closed. ''You got

the wrong idea, Jo. You can't kill me this way.''

''You're probably right,'' I panted. I fought, but lost, the battle for control of the weather system

that was rotating in past Cuba, moving high and fast and wild. It collided with warmer air, and

the clouds built walls of thick, heavy gray. Lightning burned inside it, living and dying in rapid-

fire flares. ''But I'll bet it slows you down for the others to finish.''

''They'll have their hands full trying to keep half of Florida alive by nightfall. If I make things

bad enough, the Djinn will have to show their faces just to keep the balance, and once that

happens . . . they're mine.'' His pale blue eyes focused on me. ''Put it down, kid. You're just

killing yourself faster.''

I shook my head. Sweat dripped down my face, matted my hair. ''No. Make me. I know you

can.''

''Why should I?'' he asked. ''You want to kill me, kill me. Do it. Maybe you'll be right. Maybe

it'll just be that easy.''

I lunged, both hands barely able to keep hold of the black spear, and as I did I had an involuntary

flash of sense-memory, of Jerome Silverton digging that black shard from a dead Djinn, and of

my dream of David lying dead in the street, pierced just like this.

I dragged myself to a wild, panting halt, flat-footed, staring at Bad Bob's blue eyes. The tip of

the Unmaking trembled just an inch from his chest. He made no effort to get away.

''Do it,'' he said. ''Maybe I'm not your enemy after all. You ever think of that?''

Sweat burned down my face, in my eyes, and I felt my hands spasming, trying to drop this thing

that was already killing me. It wouldn't do any good, but you couldn't blame my body for trying

to save itself.

He was trying to tell me something. There was a message under all this, a message unknown and

beyond translation, but somehow, one I was receiving.

Bad Bob had expected me. He wasn't the type to go in for self-sacrifice, and he knew how to set

the hook firmly.

How to use the best possible bait . . . himself.

He had the power to stop me, if he wanted. Why wasn't he?

He'd taunted me. He'd threatened my daughter. He'd done everything he could to drive me to

this moment. He'd used my vows with David to open the Djinn up to the Rule of Three. We

knew he had Rahel. And Rahel had a gift . . . for mimicry.

The last piece fell into place with a physical shock. This wasn't Bad Bob.

It was Rahel. It had to be Rahel, forced to take on his shape, be his puppet, his sacrificial goat.

I felt a pulse of power in the black torch on my back. Bad Bob was getting impatient with me. I

wasn't following the script.

I closed my eyes and reached for the cord that bound me to David. Energy was flowing through

the connection, thick and golden, a torrent that was racing through my body in a frantic effort to

keep me alive. It wasn't working anymore. I need you to show me, I whispered. I need to see.

Help me see.

I went up into the aetheric. It was hard, so very hard that it was like ripping off my own skin; I

barely made it into the lowest levels, and my Oversight revealed the room in dull reds and

blacks.

It wasn't Rahel in the chair after all. Rahel was outside, heading to the van. Bad Bob was

holding me here, and going after our flank by attacking Lewis.

I needed to act. If Rahel was out there, that meant that Bad Bob was in front of me. Had to be. I

just had to strike that last inch. . . .

I saw a bright copper flash, just a flash, with the last fading strength of Oversight before I fell

back into my skin, and I knew. I knew the truth.

David hadn't gone to the aetheric. Bad Bob had used Rahel to lure him here, and he'd bound

him, just as he'd bound Rahel.

David was sitting in the chair in front of me, and I was an inch away from taking his life. I'd

come so close, so horribly close, to making the wrong choice. One more inch, just one, and my

life would have been over, even if I'd survived this day.

David had been trying to warn me all along. Maybe I'm not your enemy.

Oh God.

I tried to keep my expression the same, except for a slight involuntary widening of my eyes. I

was barely hanging on; subtleties would be lost, if Bad Bob was– and I knew he would be-

watching.

He wouldn't want to miss seeing me make such a catastrophic mistake.

I know it's you, I tried to say to David, through our locked stare. Trust me. If Bad Bob had put

him in thrall, he wouldn't have much room to maneuver, and no room to give me any real

assistance. All I could hope was that Bad Bob, clever and cruel as he was, hadn't thought of

everything.

And of course, that I had, which wasn't too damn likely.

''Where?'' I shaped the word only with my lips, burning my question into Bad Bob's eyes,

trying to get across one simple, impossible message. For a second I thought I'd guessed wrong,

that I'd just destroyed myself for nothing and missed my only chance, but then those blue eyes

darted quickly away, to a point just behind me and to my right.

The doorway. Of course. Bad Bob would want to see this up close.

One thing about the Unmaking; it was pointed on both ends. I didn't have enough strength and

control left to turn, so I lunged backward, angling toward the doorway. One step, two, fast and

hard, letting my own exhausted weight do the work as I drove the weapon in reverse, straight for

the real enemy.

I felt the end of the spear slam home, and felt the whole thing vibrate like a struck bell. It shook

my hands off its heated surface, and my whole body threw itself into an uncontrollable spasm,

every muscle sparking and spasming and driving me hard to the floor.

In the chair next to the window, the fake Bad Bob continued to sit, watching me-unable to

move, because he couldn't move.

I writhed over on my back. Sweaty hair clung to my face, obscuring my vision, but as I swiped it

away I saw Bad Bob-the real one-standing over me, staring down at the black rod that had

punched completely through his stomach and emerged glittering and bloody from the other side.

He laughed. ''Good thinking,'' he said, and blood fountained out over his chin and bubbled in

his mouth. ''Damn, girl. Still got an arm.''

He fell heavily to his knees, face draining white, and gripped the Unmaking with both hands. I

wriggled backward away from him as he began to pull it free of his body, one torturous inch at a

time. His hands were shaking, turning gray, but he kept at it with single-minded intensity.

And what he pulled out of his body was thicker. He was creating more of it, generating it from

his own body.

But it looked as if it hurt like a son of a bitch.

I crab-crawled back until I bumped into the legs of the man sitting in the chair, and looked up at

him. I saw a single flare of Djinn fire break free of the disguise.

''David,'' I whispered. I got no response, of course. There was a container somewhere; there had

to be if Bad Bob had bound a Djinn-something glass, something breakable. But even though

the beach house was relatively uncluttered, I didn't have time or strength to search. Bottles in the

kitchen, the refrigerator, hidden in cupboards, forgotten in the attic-it could be anywhere.

Bad Bob grunted with effort as he pulled, one convulsive jerk after another. The Unmaking was

sliding slowly out of him. I watched the sharp end disappear into his back. Another two or three

pulls, and he'd have it out, bigger and more powerful than ever.

I'd bought us some time, but it was running out. Outside, I heard explosions, and felt the ground

tremble under my feet. Rahel had reached the van, and she was going after Lewis. It was a free-

for-all outside.

I closed my eyes and found what little small, still pool of Earth power I had. I'd never had time

for real training, real control, but for this, I didn't need it. It's always easier to destroy than to

create.

I attuned myself to the specific frequencies of glass, crystal, and porcelain, and sent out a pulse

of power that rippled out from me like a sonic boom.

It hit the bottles in the bar and exploded them in a mist of silica. Crystal decanters and tumblers

vibrated apart. The wave reached the windows and blew them out in sprays of glitter. It rolled

over Bad Bob, past him, and shattered everything that could be shattered, continuing relentlessly

through the entire house, as far as I could push it.

He could have hidden his bottles somewhere else, but he'd want to keep them close. Warden

instinct. I pushed the wave front as far as I could, but my strength failed before I reached the

gates of the estate.

''Bitch,'' Bad Bob whispered, and with one convulsive jerk, pulled the spear completely out of

his body. The gaping wound crisped black at the edges, then began to knit itself closed.

In the chair, the false image of Bad Bob flinched, and I felt the timbre of power in the room shift

and flow as the force that had been holding David apart from me cut off.

I'd destroyed the bottle.

David was free.

The golden thread between us vibrated and snapped tight again.

In a second, he had his hands around me and was pulling me up, preparing to carry me through

the open window.

''No you don't,'' Bad Bob gasped, and pointed his finger at us. I froze, off balance, unable to

control my muscles. Dammit! I'd forgotten about the torch mark on my shoulder blade. It wasn't

only David he'd been able to manipulate.

''If you won't play, you pay,'' Bad Bob said, and grinned with bloody teeth. He reversed his grip

on the Unmaking, found the balance point . . . and drove it straight down, into the floor-through

the floor, into the concrete.

Through the concrete, into the bedrock of the earth.

I felt the sentience of the planet cry out, a wave of horror and emotion that overrode every

synapse in my body. I felt her agony. She hadn't been hurt so badly in a long, long time. David

cried out, and I felt his hands slide away. He lunged past me, heading for Bad Bob, but after one

step he pitched onto his side, convulsing.

Conduit to the aetheric and Mother Earth, he was also the most vulnerable to her pain.

The earthquake hit with the force of a bomb, shattering steel and wood and concrete as if it were

so much glass. I sensed the perimeter troops, Warden and human alike, being tossed around like

dice outside. I heard explosions, cracks, the sound of trees groaning in agony and breaking off in

lethally heavy pieces.

I couldn't move. Bad Bob didn't move, either; he stood staring at me, one hand still outstretched,

the other gripping the shaft of the Unmaking still sticking out of the ground.

Walls roared, cracked, and shattered. The floor rippled like liquid, then, the carpet shredding, it

broke into jagged fragments. Dust became a mist, then a storm.

The roof joists snapped, and the entire thing inverted into a V, crashing toward us.

Bad Bob never stopped grinning. He waved merrily, ripped the Unmaking out of the ground in a

single mighty pull, and vanished.

I dropped like a discarded puppet, rolled into a ball, and felt the first heavy piece of debris hit

me. It was the wing chair, tipping on top of me. I curled underneath it for protection and

screamed as the entire house came down in a rush of smoke, sparks, and crushing chaos.

The chair might as well have been made of plastic.

Breathe.

I couldn't. Something was on my chest. I couldn't get enough room to allow my lungs to expand.

My diaphragm fluttered, trying vainly to pull in air. I choked and tried to reach for power, but it

felt slippery, greasy, elusive. All my strength was gone.

You have to stay calm. Master your panic.

I had a house on top of me. Not that easy to stay calm.

You're alive.

And dying fast.

David-

I heard the distant groan of wood being moved. Rising noise, scrapes, the tortured scream of

metal.

Can't breathe. I concentrated on putting my body into a state of meditation, to minimize oxygen

burn. Slow and steady, wait, wait . . .

Something shifted, and I felt a piece of debris as heavy as the fist of God slam down on my

lower chest. Ribs snapped in hot little starry snaps. I heard myself whimper, and then the weight

shifted again, vanishing in a cloud of dust, and the pressure against me was gone.

''Oh Christ,'' someone said. It sounded like Lewis. I tried to open my eyes, but it was too much

of an effort. ''We're losing her.''

A warm hand was under my head, cradling it. I felt a strangely comforting sense of cold creeping

through my limbs, tunneling through me toward my heart. Energy cascaded through me, trying

to fight the chill, but the chill was stronger. Harder. More determined.

''No.'' It was David's voice, choked and despairing. ''No, no. Jo, hold on-''

I pulled in a delicious breath and let it out, one last time. I wished I could open my eyes and see

him, but in my mind I saw him as he'd been at the wedding, alight and golden and perfect.

I hadn't wanted to hurt him this way.

It didn't hurt at all, slipping away on a tide of darkness. It felt . . . peaceful. Hello again, I said to

death. I was resigned, if not ready.

And then I was caught by a sharp, red-hot hook. The tide tried to pull me, but the hook-burning

through my body, back to front, on my right shoulder blade-held fast. Heat flared and blazed-

not the gentle healing of Earth power, something else. Something wild and dark and harsh,

burning black in every nerve.

The next breath I took I let out in a raw, thin scream. I opened my eyes, and saw Lewis leaning

over me, and David, and Marion Bearheart. Kevin was standing in the background, looking

helpless and oddly vulnerable. Dozens of others were behind him. The sky ripped open with

lightning, and rain began to fall in a cold silver curtain.

I laughed. My body put itself back together in hot, agonizing snaps and jerks, every nerve

carrying every second of the pain to my brain.

And the pain felt so good.

Lewis let go of me, staring in bafflement that was turning fast to grim horror.

David didn't move, but I saw the same thing in his face-the same revulsion and sickness.

''You think I'd let her go that easy?'' It was Bad Bob's voice, but coming raw from my own

throat. ''You think I'd let any of you go that easy? She's the future, boys. My future.''

The laughter that exploded out of me was like a black, nauseating cloud, and this time even

David flinched away from it. I rolled up to my hands and knees, covered in fine dust like flour

where I wasn't streaked in blood.

Alive. Whole. Even the radiation sickness had been flushed out of me.

The torch on my back burned, burned so hot. . . .

''So who's the bad guy now?'' I taunted. He taunted.

There wasn't any difference now.

I turned my face up to the rain, and laughed, and for the first time, I understood why he was as

he was, what about this was so intoxicating. No ties. No worries. No burdens. Just power, as pure

as it came. People didn't matter. All that mattered was winning.

I didn't care about David, or Lewis, or any miserable little collection of cells walking the planet.

They were all just meat and fuel for the engine.

And it was so . . . beautiful.

Then Bad Bob let me go, once he'd shown me the world as he saw it, a landscape where flesh

and blood were as meaningless and desolate as sand and rock. I felt the fire gutter and die on my

back, and my whole body jerked and folded in on itself.

Mourning for what I'd just lost.

I felt tears burning in my eyes and knew that the worst thing of all this was that I couldn't be sure

anymore that if he offered me the choice to feel that again, of my own free will, that I wouldn't

take it.

So who's the bad guy now?

The circle of people around me waited tensely. I lifted my face again, and said, ''He's gone.''

My words were almost lost in a blast of wind flying in from the ocean, blowing dust and debris

and tattered palm leaves into the air. ''I have to go after him.''

The Wardens shifted, looking at each other, at Lewis. He slowly shook his head. ''We're not

doing that,'' he said. ''Christ, Jo. What just happened to you?''

David knew. He reached around and pulled the back of my shirt down, and I saw Lewis's face

turn a sick shade of white. ''Oh God,'' he said. ''We need to get it off you.''

''I don't think laser removal is going to cut it,'' I said. I felt hollow, cored out. Beyond anything

but gallows humor. ''It's deep. I don't know how to shut him out.''

''Then you can't go,'' Lewis said. ''We need to keep you safe. If he can use you-''

''He can use me here. Against you. I need to-I need to finish this.'' I swallowed hard. ''He's

still got a Djinn. Rahel. And he's going to use her to make that thing he has even stronger. The

next time he puts the Unmaking into the Earth, do you really think any of us is going to survive

it?''

I turned and looked at the night sky. Impossible to see how much damage had been done, but I

saw fires, heard sirens in the distance.

''I can block him,'' David said. ''If you'll let me. But it will hurt.''

He hadn't said a word about being bound, about my almost killing him in the beach house; I

supposed there would be plenty of time for that later. But for now, I nodded.

David put his hand flat against my bare skin on my back, and I felt power surge up from beneath

me, racing through my body, concentrating in a red-hot ball around the torch tattoo. Burning. I

trembled and felt David's other hand close around mine, sending me strength and support.

''I'm here,'' he whispered. ''I'm here, my love.''

I stood it for as long as I could, and then turned with a cry and threw myself into his arms. The

white-hot pain in my back faded slowly, but it didn't go away. I couldn't see what he'd done, but

it felt as if the mark had been overlaid by something else. Contained.

Masked.

''It won't last,'' David said, and stroked my hair. ''I'll have to renew the block when it

weakens.''

Joy. ''How often?''

''That depends on how hard he's trying to reach you.'' His arms tightened around me. ''I'm so

sorry.''

That covered . . . everything. For now. I took a deep breath and stepped back, smiling despite the

continuing low sizzle of pain. ''Can you stay?''

''I'll try,'' he said. ''You're right. My people have to try to stop him. We don't have a choice.

He's hurting the Mother directly now. We're her only defense.''

''Not the only one,'' Ashan said, striding out of the darkness. Behind him stretched all of the Old

Djinn, hundreds of them. The mightiest Djinn force I'd ever seen in one place-maybe the

mightiest ever assembled.

On David's side, the New Djinn began to take shape out of the shadows-maybe just out of self-

defense. The Wardens, caught in the middle, looked understandably worried. These two clans

had been in cold-war status for ages, but the war had heated up, and I wasn't sure what Ashan

would consider defense these days.

His cold, teal-blue eyes turned on me. I felt him considering whether or not to strike.

''Try and I'll destroy you,'' David said, low in his throat. Lightning ripped the sky again,

breaking into dozens of streams of light.

''Amusing as that contest would be, you're probably right,'' Ashan said, and his smile was as

cold as the rain. ''She's our guide into the abyss. We can use her to track our enemy. And to

tempt him into the open.''

''Wait,'' Lewis said. ''What are you saying? You're all going after him? All of you?''

''The New Djinn are vulnerable. The Old Djinn aren't-at least, not yet. Besides, we have no

choice now,'' David replied. ''We can't let him go. He may actually be able to destroy the

Djinn.'' He paused, and looked at the Wardens. ''This isn't your fight anymore. Go home.''

''Hell with that,'' Kevin said. ''I'm not taking orders from you.''

''Tell him,'' David said, spearing Lewis with a glare. ''Tell them all.''

Lewis looked around at the Wardens, taking his time. When he spoke, he had the unmistakable

ring of command in his voice. ''He's right. I make the decisions for the Wardens. You'll all

follow my orders.'' He paused for deliberate effect. ''And my orders are that the Wardens will

send a support team with Joanne and the Djinn.''

''And where exactly are we planning to send them?'' Marion asked.

I looked up at the clouds, then out to sea.