by Rachel Caine
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.
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.
“He’s gone where he thinks we can’t follow,” I said. “To the Cradle of Storms.” As far as I knew, no Warden had ever ventured out to sea in that area and made it back to shore alive. The storms out there were sentient, and they were vicious. And a Warden, any Warden, became a Jonah. Any ship they were on became prey.
And I was about to lead a whole team of them into the jaws of death.
This was not the way I’d planned to take a honeymoon cruise to Bermuda.
Sunrise came. Sunrise always comes, no matter how dark the night—it’s one of those tired truths of life, one you can take as either positive or negative as the situation calls for.
For me, this morning, it was just the morning after the night before. No change, except that there was more light to see the damage.
The burning sensation on my back had faded into a dull buzz, but the whole area still felt warm and tender to the touch. I still felt hollow and empty, and I ached for . . . something—something to feel; something to make this morning worth living through the night.
I felt too disconnected from the others, who had things to do. I wandered away—not too far, watched constantly by an FBI surveillance team—and sat alone on the beach, a blanket around my shoulders. I watched the sun gild the rolling waves and thought about Hurricane Andrew rolling in over these waters; about a Warden named Bob Biringanine wading out into the pounding surf and giving up his soul.
“Can I join you?”
I shaded my eyes and looked up. David was standing next to me, looking out at the ocean. Sunrise looked good on him, but he seemed remote and guarded.
“Sure. Pull up some sand,” I said. He folded himself down with raw, beautiful grace, and put his arm around my shoulders. I let my head rest against his chest, and felt a little of the darkness bleed out of me—just a little.
“I should go help,” I said dully. “There’s so much to do. So many people hurt—”
“And you’re one of them,” David said, and pulled me into his lap, cradling me in his arms so he could look at me at close range. He gave me the distant Djinn X-ray stare for a second, and then the distance faded away. “So much pain, Jo. You can’t hold that much pain. You have to let it go.”
“It’s all my fault,” I said. “I could have—”
“You could have done a million things differently, and Bad Bob would have been the same creature,” David said. “He’s no longer human, Jo. He hasn’t been human for a long time. You’re not to blame for what he does.”
“Only for what I do. I should have said no. If I’d said no to you, none of this—”
“If you’d said no to me, Bad Bob would have found another way to control the Djinn. Maybe just by taking you away from me.” His lips found mine, gentle and sweet and salted from the sea spray. “You make me vulnerable, yes, but you also make me strong. Jonathan knew that. He knew this was coming, and that he wasn’t capable of fighting it, not alone. He knew the two of us would be, together. I love you. I will always lov
e you. With or without a vow, a ring, a wedding. Yes?”
“Yes,” I whispered. Our lips were still touching. “I—yes.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. We understood each other completely in that moment.
The sun cleared the waves, burning through the clouds in bands of hot gold and orange, and in its warmth, in his arms, I got my wish.
However brief the moment, whatever would come, we had peace.
Sound Track
Once again, there were songs that got me through. Here they are, in case you’d like to play the home iPod game. . . .
"Life is Beautiful" Sixx:A.M.
"Three Wishes" The Pierces
"Mary Jane's Last Dance" Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
"Secret" The Pierces
"Give It Up" LCD Soundsystem
"Citizen Soldier" 3 Doors Down
"Your Woman" White Town
"Hey Man, Nice Shot" Filter
"Believe" The Bravery
"I Need to Know" Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
"Daft Punk Is Playing at My House" LCD Soundsystem
"Tess Don't Tell" Ivy
"Mama" Genesis
"Box Full o' Honey" Duran Duran
"Last Man Standing" Duran Duran
"Hunting for Witches" Bloc Party
"Smalltown Boy" Bronski Beat
"How Does It Feel" Eskimo Joe
"Sloe Gin" Joe Bonamassa
"The Good Ones" The Kills
"Falling On" Finger Eleven
"Ride" The Vines
"What if I Came Knocking" John Cougar Mellencamp
"Hello Again" The Cars
"Living Dead Girl" Rob Zombie
"You're a Wolf" Sea Wolf
"Cuts You Up" Peter Murphy
"Cry for You" September
"Privilege" Balligomingo
"Flamethrower" J. Geils Band
About the Author
Rachel Caine is the author of more than twenty novels, including the Weather Warden series. She was born at White Sands Missile Range, which people who know her say explains a lot. She has been an accountant, a professional musician, and an insurance investigator, and still carries on a secret identity in the corporate world. She and her husband, fantasy artist R. Carl Conrad, live in Texas with their iguanas, Pop-eye and Darwin, a mali uromastyx named (appropriately) O’Malley, and a leopard tortoise named Shelley (for the poet, of course). Visit her Web site at www.rachelcaine.com.
