Chill Factor

TEN

The Ma'at manhandled Kevin somewhat-impersonally, at least-but Marion and I went willingly. We slipped through the chaos behind the hastily erected disaster barriers, heading for the Luxor. The heat quickly made the blankets unbearable, so we shed them at the first available park bench for the homeless.

I kept a hand clenched on the leather of the purse slung around my body, the other splayed over the still-warm spark of life in my womb. I was carrying too many lives. Too much responsibility.

None of the Ma'at said a word as we headed for the Luxor. We were going against the flow of traffic, everything and everyone moving toward the smoky smudge that marked the Bellagio event. The lobby of the Luxor was deserted, except for a marked security presence who eyed us nervously but waved us past when Lazlo displayed some kind of credentials. Back to the private rooms again, but to a larger one this time. Ballroom-sized, but with the feel of an old school gentlemen's club, the kind without strippers. Lots of dark woods and deep carpets, port and sherry and uniformed butlers in tails.

Their symbol, set in stained glass above the door, was an ankh.

"Sir." The head butler, who looked as severe and professional as any of the Ma'at, headed straight for Lazlo. "What do you require?" British accent, of course. Nothing else would do for a place like this.

"I think some brandy might be in order. Thank you, Blevins."

Blevins inclined his head. I wondered what school you attended to learn how to be arrogant and servile at the same time, and still maintain that enormous amount of personal dignity. His eyes-blue as summer skies, startlingly-swept over me, then Marion, then Kevin. He turned on his heel and walked away.

We were led to chairs. Kevin was forcibly planted in one, and held there by a Djinn I remembered. Mr. Clean, he of the heroically bare chest, little brocade vest, and puffy trousers, not to mention shaved head and earring. The one that Rahel had taken a bite out of earlier.

He smiled at me with shark teeth. There was no welcome hiding there. "I remember you," he rumbled. "You came looking for trouble before."

"I found it," I said. He inclined his head.

A solemn voice behind me called my name. "Jo."

I turned, winced at the bite of bruises, and saw Lewis approaching. Or rather, being rolled up to us. He was in a wheelchair now, faded and thin, worse by far than he'd been when I'd been sucked out the window. He was crashing. There were hectic spots of red high in his cheeks, but his hands were trembling and he looked feverish and not altogether sane.

He wasn't looking at me, even though he'd spoken my name; his eyes were fixed on Kevin, and I didn't like what I saw there.

"We come to a turning point," said Lazlo solemnly. "Boy. It's time to give back what you stole."

I could have told him what Kevin would say, so I wasn't surprised when the kid snapped back, "Bite me, Grandpa. I'm not giving up anything."

"He no longer has Jonathan," I said. All eyes went to me. I straightened my shoulders under the pressure. "The bottle's gone."

"Gone?" Lazlo repeated softly. There was danger in there, hiding in the silky half-whisper.

"Quinn has it," I replied. "As you probably know, right? He's your dog."

Lazlo shut his eyes wearily.

"You killed Siobhan!" Kevin yelled, and tried to get out of the chair to lunge at Lazlo, or anyone else in reach. I wasn't sure whom he was directing the accusation toward, but I figured it was probably all of us.

"I'm afraid we did, but not deliberately." Lazlo rubbed his forehead and forced himself back to dignified attention. "And I'm afraid we put you in danger as well, Miss Baldwin. It was not our intention."

"It's been Quinn all along," I said. "Right? Quinn wanted Jonathan. I'll bet it was his idea to 'rescue' me, too, when I first arrived."

Nobody made a sound. I turned toward Kevin. "Quinn put Siobhan in there to try to steal the bottle. Kevin, I think she did like you, but I'm pretty sure Quinn had some kind of hold over her. He was a cop, after all." Siobhan had picked up Jonathan's bottle when I'd dropped it. She'd put it in her pocket. She'd given me back the decoy.

Like I'd noticed from the start. She was a professional.

"He's the one who shot Siobhan?" Kevin asked. His hands were still shaking, but he looked feral now, especially spattered with her blood. Ready to gnaw his own arm off if it would get him a step closer to Quinn. "Why? Why would he do that?"

"Because I ducked," I said flatly. I turned toward Lewis, knelt down next to his chair with my arms braced on his knees. "He was shooting at me, and it wasn't about Jonathan. Not that time."

He looked at me through bleary eyes. "Then what?"

"Question for a question. What's his first name?"

Someone made a sound halfway between a huh? and an uh-oh, she's lost her mind; I didn't bother to check who. Lewis looked at me with feverish, red-rimmed eyes and said, "His name is Detective Thomas Quinn."

Which wasn't what I'd expected. It threw me for a second, but then Lazlo cleared his throat. His lips twisted like a man having surgery done with a sharp spoon and no anesthetic, and he said sourly, "Thomas Orenthal Quinn." Laz was already ahead of the curve. He'd heard my story. He knew.

"Orry," I said. "No wonder he wanted me dead. He couldn't know how much I remembered. He didn't know whether or not I'd recognize him-I didn't; it was too long ago, I never really saw his face, but he couldn't take the chance that I was running some big-time double-crossing game. I think he would have killed me earlier, but he was afraid to do it in the Luxor. Afraid you'd know. He felt better after he heard me tell the story to Ashworth, but he still didn't trust me. When I ended up over there again, he figured I might have figured it out. Couldn't have that."

Jonathan had said it: The lines connected through me. I was the nexus of so many things here, including-especially-this.

Thomas Orenthal Quinn: Orry. Chaz Ashworth III had died taking me to his boss, Orry… and at the time, I'd assumed that Orry's business had been all about drugs. It probably was, in the beginning. Easy money for both of them.

I'd been right in the same room with the man who'd inhabited my nightmares for years, and I never even knew it. Hell, I'd even liked him.

Suddenly the enormity of it crashed down on me… David, turning to ash and shadows; Siobhan, dying in my place; Lewis, dying right now, dying as I watched. I could see it happening. I'd let Jonathan be taken away when I'd had the answer in my hands, because I hadn't been fast enough or good enough or smart enough to see.

"Joanne?" Marion's voice, Marion's warm hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and realized how tired she was. Her Djinn had been taken from her, held ransom for her good behavior. Quinn had been working the angles for a long, long time.

A cold shiver went down my spine. "When did your Djinn disappear?"

"Five years ago." From her expression, I'd bet that Marion could have told me down to the day, hour, minute, and second.

I felt my hands curl into fists. Five years ago. "How long have the Djinn been disappearing?"

"In numbers?" Lewis asked. "About six years. Maybe less."

Since Chaz. Since Orry in the desert.

Since I'd gone into that dark, dark cave and he'd asked me questions.

I felt Lewis take my hand, and despite the weakness I knew was ravaging his body, he managed to squeeze it tight enough to make me wince.

"David?" he asked. He read the answer in my eyes. "What happened?"

"Rahel. She…" My throat threatened to close up when I thought about it. "She was after Jonathan. David wouldn't let her…" I couldn't get the rest of it out. It had been a battle nobody else had seen, could see, except for me-the Ifrit would have been invisible to most human eyes.

"Where are they?"

My hand went involuntarily to the leather purse hanging slung around my body. "I put David back in his bottle. Rahel… I claimed her. Put her in the bottle Siobhan used to switch for Jonathan."

Lewis let go of me and held out his hand. "Give her to me." I started to unzip the purse, then hesitated. "Not a whole lot of time left, Jo. Do it."

I took out the bottle and gave it to him. No sensation one way or another; I hadn't felt any click of connection with Rahel, and I didn't feel any loss of it now. But Lewis did, clearly; I saw him suck in a breath and sit up straighter, and for just a second his dulled eyes took on a ferocious gleam.

"She fed off of Jonathan?" he asked.

"Not really sure how much of it was Jonathan and how much was David, but she took a lot." I felt my stomach do that slow drop and roll again. "David- he's bad. I don't know if he's-"

"He's not dead," Lewis said. The way he said it, almost dismissively, made me give him a sharp look and want to follow it up with a sharp right hook, except it wouldn't have exactly been a fair fight. In a tussle between Lewis and a plastic grocery sack, I'd give two to one on the bag.

He opened his fist, and I realized that Siobhan's blood had transferred from my hand to his; it was smeared in dull red clouds over the bottle. I squinted, because it looked as if those dull red clouds were moving. Swirling over the surface of the glass.

Being absorbed.

I felt a fast, hot surge of nausea. What's the matter, Rahel, eating Djinn wasn't enough for you? Now you're snacking on human blood, too?

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped at him, and pulled myself back upright to step away, glaring. He considered the bottle balanced on the palm of his hand for a few seconds, then looked up at me with an unreadable expression.

"I don't think I have to do anything. Mazel tov," he said, and dropped the bottle to the carpet. Then he levered himself out of the wheelchair, lifted his foot, and stomped on the glass hard enough to shatter it.

Something pulsed through the room in a silent explosion. It was a ruffle of wind in the real world, a white wave of pure energy in the aetheric; I felt it tug hard inside me as it passed, and the Djinn-child inside of me vibrated like a tuning fork. I instinctively took another step back and covered my stomach with both hands, but the kick I felt wasn't pain; it was something like delight.

A flash of hot gold from the corner of my eye, and then a shadow, moving… shadow taking form, function, grace. Walking with a loose-limbed stride as she formed herself out of the air, out of legend and memory and power.

Rahel's hair was short now, the cornrows reduced to an elegant half-inch crop around the perfect noble sculpture of her head. It set off the line of her cheekbones, the full, lush curve of her lips.

Her eyes blazed hot, hot, hot amber.

She was wearing black, which I'd never seen her do. Black silk shirt flowing over her lean, muscular body, showing off just enough curves to make her feminine. Kind of a retro look for her, very seventies. Hip-hugging black pants, wide belt, no-nonsense kick-ass boots.

"Snow White," she said, and the smile looked real. Not exactly comforting, but certainly real. She gave me a slight, significant bow, then turned her attention to Lewis as he sank back down in his wheelchair. It was sort of a controlled fall. "You seem unwell, my friend."

"Yeah," Lewis croaked. "Had better days."

Rahel reached down and put her hands on either side of his face. Quite a contrast; her skin was a deep blue-black, unsettlingly reminiscent of the hard, glistening shade she'd worn as an Ifrit, and instead of an Ifrit's diamond-sharp claws she had fingernails again, painted a rich, hot gold.

"So I see," she murmured, staring into his eyes. I couldn't have held that stare, not for any price. Lewis blinked, but managed not to flinch too much. "I have suffered, Lewis. Like you. I understand what it is to lose yourself, to know hunger and pain and rage. I understand what it is to face an eternity of it, without relief."

"I'm still human," he said. "Eternity's a little shorter for me."

"So you think?" She shook her head a little. "Eternity is the same for all things."

"Why are you back here?" I whispered. "How did you-"

Rahel's attention turned my way, but her eyes didn't. She made her reply directly to Lewis. "Because there was death."

"Human death," I said, and then I shut up fast, because I remembered just how Jonathan had become a Djinn in the first place, along with David… on a battlefield, surrounded by human death. Then the death spreading, spiraling, fueling a transformation… "Death gives life. That's what Jonathan told me." It meant that there might be another way for Imara… no. I couldn't think about it now. Not now.

"The power is very strong," she said. "Though if I had not drawn so much from such powerful sources, I could not have managed it. Human death tipped the scales; it did not balance them."

She leaned very close to Lewis, so close she was inches from kissing him with those lush, glistening lips. "I can give you what you need."

His smile jerked into something oddly humorous. "You're an exhibitionist now?" His voice had fallen into a silky lower range, resonating in his chest. I knew that tone. It had dropped my knickers on the floor in a lab back in college.

"Tell me you want it." Rahel's voice had gone into the dark, too, ripe and sexy and barely more than a whisper. "Tell me what you will give me for it, my love."

"Undying gratitude?"

"You'll have to do better than that." Her lips just grazed his, and I saw his skin flush redder.

The whole room-the twenty-odd members of Ma'at who had trooped in with us, the silent waitstaff, Marion, Kevin, the muscle-bound security men-we all stood, spellbound, watching this. I don't know about anybody else, but I was starting to expect clothes to come off, which would have had the virtue of being completely, wildly inappropriate, and would scandalize the socks off of the Ma'at.

And then Rahel smiled wider. "Tell me what you'll give me."

"Freedom," Lewis said, and kissed her. Big-time. A hungry, openmouthed kiss. I heard the shocked gasp go through the room. Butler dude-Blevins?-looked so disapproving that I felt like I'd wandered onto the set of a Merchant Ivory film.

Rahel pulled away, standing straight. Lewis's pulse was beating fast; I could see it pounding in his neck. Rahel looked perfectly composed.

"You already gave me that," she said. "I require your love."

I finally saw Lewis look completely idiotic. Yep. That was an utterly blank look, blank as a codfish. "What?"

"Love," she said distinctly. "Devotion. Shall you give it? Or shall I go now and leave you to deal with this as you please?"

He licked his lips. Probably still tasting her there. Myron Lazlo's shock finally wore off enough for him to step forward and say sternly, "This is neither the time nor the place to-"

"Silence!" she hissed, and snapped an open hand his direction, gold talons suddenly looking a lot less like a fashionable manicure and more like something you'd use to gut fish. "I do not speak to you, man. It was not a general invitation."

Lazlo wisely decided to back off. In fact, everyone backed off a couple of respectful, precautionary steps. It was just Lewis, his wheelchair, and the Djinn.

She looked good in black. Strong, lethal, sexy as hell. I wondered if it was something she'd picked up from Jonathan or David, in that free-for-all fight for survival.

"Tell me you want to live," she said to him.

"I want to live," Lewis said, and his eyes flicked from her to Kevin, behind me. I heard the kid's feet shuffle on the carpet. He was scared. The sight of Rahel had clearly given him a bad turn, and now he was starting to really feel claustrophobic. "He doesn't die, Rahel. That's my condition."

"Lewis, I don't know what kind of game she's playing with you, but she can't fix this," I said. "I asked David. He said no Djinn had the power to reverse what Jonathan had done without killing them both… except Jonathan." It had been a constant topic of conversation for close to a week as we drove around Las Vegas, trying to figure a way to solve the problem. David had been definite about it.

"True," Rahel purred. She turned to face me. Rahel had always had a certain feline quality, something as natural to her as breathing to me, and I felt the force of that again. A cat playing with her food, watching it run and squeak and hide. Djinn were scary people, when they had no reason to regard us with affection. "I can't. But, you see, little flower, I'm not really me anymore. I am more than I was. Less than I will be. And I never said I would do it alone."

It happened so subtly that I almost missed it-did miss it, at first. It was only when an empty space behind her filled that I realized she meant it literally.

She really wasn't alone. Not in the least. The gray-haired, gray-eyed man behind her, with the pale, perfect skin… I remembered him, not fondly. Ashan. Jonathan's second-in-command, with David stuck in a bottle. Chilly bastard, full of power that boiled off of him in the aetheric like heat waves.

More of them, silently appearing in the room, mixed in and around us. A girl with raven-wing hair and elaborate eye shadow, dressed in crimson. Eyes like neon signs in a peculiar shade of magenta. A little girl named Alice in a blue-and-white pinafore. A skeletally thin, tall creature so androgynous that I couldn't decide what he/she was, except a fashion fatality.

Djinn. Lots of Djinn. Free Djinn.

I focused on little Alice, who favored me with a shy smile. "Hey, kid," I said. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Cathy isn't one of the Wardens anymore," she said. "She had enough. I'm free now." Alice's blond head inclined toward Lazlo. "She's with them now. Me too."

The room wasn't big enough to hold all this power, all this humming, vibrating potential. I heard glass rattling in a steady, musical jitter. Too many of them, too close together; I could feel the place heating up.

Lazlo could feel it, too. He said, "Enough. Your point is made, Rahel; there are a lot of you, and I know that you can help or hurt us, as you like. We trust you to make the right decisions, as you trust us. That's the principle of Ma'at. Balance."

"Balance," she agreed. "The Free Djinn have no quarrel with you. But we will not allow one of yours to go unpunished. Or ours to go unrescued."

Whatever second wind Lewis had gasped in was fading fast; his skin had taken on that ivory cast again, white around his mouth and eyes, and I could tell he was in pain. Maybe it was the presence of the Djinn. Maybe it was more than that, his body degrading and folding in on itself as it raided its own tissues in a search for power. He was burning himself from the inside out.

Rahel slowly crouched in front of his wheelchair and laid her golden-tipped fingers on his knees.

"Ashan," she said. "Grant me your strength."

He moved to place a hand on her shoulder. Mr. Clean silently came to take Ashan's hand. The black-haired girl in red parted the humans in her way and laid fingertips on the back of Rahel's close-cropped head.

They came, one by one, moving like ghosts. Those that brushed past me made me feel sparks and chills from the contact. Each touching Rahel, or each other. Forming a network of power, in a very specific configuration.

Lazlo realized it first. He grabbed my elbow, hustled me over to Kevin, and said, "Take his hand."

"What? No!" Kevin yanked free. His eyes were huge and panicked. "You're not fucking with me, man! You'll kill me!"

"Kevin, shut up and do it." When I reached for his hand, he gave it to me in the form of a punch. It landed solidly in my solar plexus. I felt breath evacuate as if I'd been vacuum-sealed, and croaked for air as I doubled over.

But I grabbed his fist and held it in both hands, tightly. Death grip. Lazlo, bless him, held on to the kid's other arm. Once gravity and leverage were on our side, I transferred my grip to Kevin's shoulder to keep him down.

"Let me go, you fucking bitch!" He was screaming it now, writhing, trying to get away. I felt the air curdling. He was lashing out with powers, too panicked to do something targeted, but he could cause a lot of damage even unfocused if we let him. I sharpened my hold on my own energies, began to weight the air around him to damp down the chaos he was causing…

… and Myron Lazlo said, "No, Joanne. That isn't how we do things. Let him try."

"He isn't just going to try," I gasped breathlessly.

Tough to talk when my diaphragm didn't want to pull in air. "He's going to make what happened at the Bellagio happen here, don't you get it? Only worse!"

"I know." Lazlo closed his eyes. His face went serene. Not empty, just… peaceful. Behind him, Ashworth laid a hand on Lazlo's blue-suited shoulder, and then there were more of them, forming a human chain that matched the Djinn's across the room. Two circles of power.

Balancing.

What the Ma'at were putting out wasn't energy; it was absence. Where the Wardens concentrated on the subatomic world, manipulating molecules, adjusting the vibration speed and makeup to rebuild the world in our image, the Ma'at went deeper. I couldn't see how, until I let myself go still and quiet with them.

Kevin's energy raged like a forest fire on the aetheric, power enough to destroy the city, level forests, break the land into rubble. And power moves.

But the Ma'at surrounded it. Contained it.

Negated it.

"For every action, reaction," Lazlo murmured. "For every vibration, a cancellation. We don't seek to win the struggle. We seek to stop the game."

I remembered the card game. The cards floating over the table. Even as it formed in my head, I heard Lazlo sigh. "You see power where no power exists. We didn't float the cards. We simply negated the forces that acted on them to make them fall."

Kevin, furious, screaming, red-faced, tried to rip the walls of the room apart by digging deep into the bedrock below the hotel. He didn't care anymore who he hurt. Maybe he never had.

My instinct was to act, to do something, but I waited, watching.

Marion's hand slipped over my shoulder in a warm, gentle touch, and when I looked at her I saw tears in her eyes.

"I see," she said. "I see what to do. All this time we destroyed them, and we could have saved them…" She was talking about the Wardens she'd been ordered to neuter-or kill. This was a revelation for her, and it couldn't possibly be a happy one.

The Ma'at, in their quiet, invisible way, focused their powers to still the vibrations. It was a basic principle of wave motion; hit the right frequency, and the wave disappears. At a molecular level, everything resonates at specific speeds, to specific notes.

Even the earth.

Even Kevin.

The Ma'at didn't fight what he did; they fought what he was, at the source… stilling him, quieting him.

Stopping him, as a mother's hand stills a child's lips.

Kevin wasn't screaming anymore, I realized, and I looked down. His tear-streaked face was open and vulnerable. Defenses gone. I felt him trying to get beyond his own skin; he had Lewis's earth powers, and that meant that if he wasn't particular about how he used it, he could easily blow my heart open or crush my brain into jelly inside my skull. The temptation to do something, anything to protect myself was almost overwhelming, but I had to trust Lazlo. The best I could understand it, if I introduced a chaotic vibration into what the Ma'at were laying down around him, it would destroy any chance of success.

Boy, Kevin wanted me dead. Really, really dead. I could feel it coming off of him in red waves, see it like a poisonous cloud curling around him on the aetheric.

The cool whisper of the Ma'at was keeping that in check. It was a little like a piece of Saran Wrap holding back a heavyweight boxer's punch. I tried not to let the analogy make me nervous.

"Now," Lazlo breathed. "Take her hand."

Her, who?

I looked down.

Alice. Her innocent smile clashed with the vastness of the power I sensed in her. She was old, this little one. Far up on the Djinn scale of People You Don't Want to Mess With.

I extended my hand. She wrapped her small fingers around it.

We completed the two halves of the pattern.

Yin and yang.

Human and Djinn.

Positive and negative.

On the aetheric, the pattern swirled, lit up in glorious glowing color, and it was breathtaking. Complex and graceful as a sand painting, each piece in exactly the right place. I watched the colors race around… green for earth, blue for air and water, red for fire, sparking off of each human they touched, then shading subtly lighter as they moved through the chain of Djinn, gathering strength…

… to cascade through Rachel's touch into Lewis. A rainbow of light, turning brilliant white as it coiled inside of him. His body-a failing ruin of shadow and darkness-took on form and color. Not healed-that would take time-but no longer destroying itself.

No longer dying.

Let him keep what he is. I heard that through the clasp of hands, felt it move through us like a breath. Human and Djinn, formed into one living, thinking thing. Lewis was part of that. So was Kevin. There was a bright red bonfire burning inside of him-his natural powers, the ones that the Wardens expected Marion to rip away from him. It could be done now, without risk. Even without risk to Kevin, for that matter. He'd survive it. We'd all see to that.

But that was Lewis's voice, whispering, Let him keep what he is. Because he understood, maybe better than anyone, that Kevin couldn't live without that touch of fire in his soul. He wasn't demanding, or ordering. The Ma'at was a strange kind of democracy-the exact opposite of the Wardens, which was (for good or bad) an association of independents. In this formation, this… symbolic machine… we debated in silence, on the strength of emotion and feeling rather than words or logic. We argued from our souls.

And, in the end, we knew what we had to do.

Marion took her hand off of my shoulder, and the pattern dissolved into silence. Into forty-odd human and Djinn, each with their own agendas, their own hates, loves, needs. Each separate and apart, as the Wardens were separate and apart.

That was why the Wardens had never truly succeeded. They couldn't. They didn't understand.

This was power.

Kevin burst into tears.

I left my hand on him, not to hold him down, but to give him comfort.

"You hurt me," he was whispering. "She's dead, and you hurt me. Siobhan's dead. I couldn't protect her."

He kept crying, rocking back and forth. His whole body was shaking. I looked across at Marion, whose face was luminous and calm again.

"Yes, he's still dangerous, I know that," she said. "And he has a lot of potential. Now that I know it can be nurtured and controlled, I'd be a fool to destroy that for him."

"Guess he's going to need a mentor," I said. And, when she opened her mouth, "Don't look at me. I don't even like the kid."

Oh, that smile. That self-satisfied, knowing smile on Marion's lips.

"I don't," I insisted.

Kevin continued to cry.

"Oh, give me a break." I turned toward Rahel, who was still kneeling next to Lewis. "Rahel."

She rose to her feet in one of those smooth, inhuman motions that comes standard-issue with Djinn DNA-assuming they have such a thing-and turned to face me, chin down, eyes fierce, smile fiercer.

"Snow White," she said.

"My turn," I said. I saw people stepping away from what they saw in my face. "You fixed Lewis, you fixed Kevin. You know what I want."

She studied me without fear. "I can't. You already know that. What David is can't be fixed so easily."

"You were worse off, but you're just fine now, aren't you?" I gestured to indicate the whole Rahel package. "Don't give me any crap, Rahel. I'm not in the mood."

"It doesn't work that way."

I took one step closer and refused to look away, no matter how hard it was. My fury gave me strength. "You heal David, or I swear, I'll tear you apart. I'll make it my mission."

Silence. She didn't answer me. Alice did, little-girl Alice with her neon-blue eyes and ancient smile.

"She can't," Alice said. "She was healed because she took power from the stronger, and because of the death. There's no one here stronger than Rahel now. And no death."

"I could arrange that." I glowered at Lazlo, who raised his eyebrows fastidiously.

"It wouldn't matter," Alice said. "You need Jonathan, and he would have to give of himself."

Rahel nodded. "I will go with you to retrieve him. He can't remain in the hands of a…" She made a face and said a word in Djinn. A few of the other Djinn looked shocked. Alice actually blushed.

Whatever. "Good. Anybody else want in on this?"

The Djinn looked at each other. One by one, they voted silently with their disappearances, until all that were left were Ashan, that cold bastard, and Alice.

Ashan gave me an utterly subzero stare and said, "I will hold you responsible if you fail," and then he was gone.

Alice gave me a wide-eyed regretful look, shrugged, and skipped off into the shadows.

So much for Djinn loyalty, apparently.

"Fine. Me and Rahel." I leveled a finger at Lazlo, who was conferring quietly with two more of the Ma'at. "Yo! Laz!" He didn't respond immediately. When he did, he turned toward me with a genteel frown, as if I'd made some sort of rude biological noise. "I'm going after Quinn. Who have you got?"

"I'm going," Marion said immediately. "You'll need me."

"You're in. Thanks." I waited for Lazlo to step up to the plate. "C'mon, man. He's your guy; don't you think you ought to at least come along? Maybe present a nice distraction while I find a way to take him down?"

Lazlo retained his dignity, even in the face of my sarcasm. I didn't consider that a positive.

"Detective Quinn has been of assistance to the Ma'at from time to time, but only as an associate," he said. "We encountered him several years ago when he helped save one of our members. Since then, he's been very useful to us in keeping tabs on the movements of Wardens through this area, and also in locating and freeing Djinn from imprisonment. But he's got little or no power of his own, and we don't see him as a functioning member of our organization."

"Really." My voice had gone flat. "Don't hurt yourself, covering your ass like that. The Ma'at are in this up to their necks. Sure, Quinn was in with Chaz, smuggling drugs, back in the day, but then Quinn discovered something more interesting. How much would a Djinn in the bottle be worth on the black market, Laz? Millions, to the right rich bastard. Even a regular human can use them-not as effectively as a Warden, but they'd be pretty damn cool toys." I glanced over at Kevin, thinking involuntarily of his stepmother. "You guys made him your enforcer, right? When you heard about Djinn that you might be able to retrieve and set free, you sent him out to 'rescue' them. How often did he fail?"

Lazlo looked unsettled. "Failure was expected. No one can retrieve every-"

"How many times did he come back empty-handed?"

Silence. And then Ashworth said, "At least twenty in the last few years."

Marion indicated Lewis. "What about the ones Lewis took when he left the Wardens? Where did they go?"

Left was euphemistic, at best. Escaped with his life might have been a little more accurate, but I held my tongue. Wasn't Marion's fault that she had the job of getting rid of the Wardens' most dangerous problems. In fact, I was happier that she had it than anyone else I'd ever met; at least she was fair, gentle, and strong. Nobody liked an incompetent executioner.

"Freed," I said on his behalf. "Lewis set them free himself because he doesn't believe in keeping Djinn as slaves."

And then I realized what I'd just told her. What she'd witnessed, here in this room.

She knew that Djinn could exist outside of the bottles, now… that they could live on their own terms, with power and significance. That they could interact with us freely.

Just what I didn't want the Wardens to know.

Only Marion hadn't exactly looked shocked.

"You already knew about the Free Djinn?" I asked. She inclined her head. "How?"

"I'd be a fool if I didn't."

"Does anyone else-"

I got her warm smile. "There are many fools wearing the symbol of the Wardens. You ought to know that, Joanne. Truthfully, they're so caught up in their own lives, I doubt they notice much else. The world is full of secrets, anyway. Most people see what they want to see, and nothing more. I sometimes think it's the secret to sanity."

The Ma'at were buzzing around me. Lazlo was saying something, fairly loudly, about the Ma'at not being soldiers, which was true enough; I didn't hold it against them. Besides, I wasn't absolutely sure I trusted any of them to have my back, not against Quinn. He'd been part of their organization for too long for them to disavow him now.

Rahel was watching me, arms folded. Smiling.

"Well?" I asked. "Just the three of us?"

"Four," said a new voice. Lewis levered himself out of the chair, took a second to get his balance, and walked toward us. Around him, the Ma'at's frantic discussion fell silent. "I'm going."

"You can't-" Charles Ashworth began querulously, then shut his mouth with a snap when Lewis cut a look his way. "Fine. Kill yourself, then. For my part, I'm finished with this nonsense."

He turned and walked away, flourishing that damn cane to shove people out of his way. Rahel evidently thought by her grin that this was the best entertainment she'd had in years. She got in his path and blocked the door. They played a silent game of keep-away until Ashworth decided his dignity was worth more than a dramatic exit, and tried to look like it was his own idea to stay.

"That is, if you want me to go," Lewis said dryly, and I realized that I hadn't acknowledged the effort it had taken for him to rise and walk. Maybe his pride was hurt. I hadn't exactly come over to weep on his collar about how glad I was he'd survived.

I was, in fact, glad, but damn if I was going to show it now. There was work to be done.

"Depends. You going to fall over?" I demanded. He had his own cane in hand. It was starting to look like as much of an affectation as Ashworth's.

"Why? You going to catch me?"

"I never could resist a fainting hero," I said. As a gift horse, he was pretty creaky, but the color in his face was better, and I could feel that soothing vibration coming from him again, the one that made me feel all was right with the world in his presence. I experimentally reached out and touched his hand.

Zap. Blue sparks jumped. We both made faces and put more space between us. Things were definitely back to normal-electricity and that deceptive, seductive burning in my skin from his touch that had nothing to do with current taking the path of least resistance. I wouldn't be sharing any beds with Lewis again soon, no matter how innocent the intention. Couldn't totally guarantee my own willpower.

"So that's it? The four of us?" The Ma'at were taking themselves off as quickly as the Djinn had done… if in a less ethereal manner. A few younger ones were hanging around, mostly fascinated by the spectacle of enemy Wardens in their midst (I still couldn't bring myself to think of Lewis as Ma'at, even though I knew he was), not to mention the magnificence of Rahel in her sleek black silk.

"Five," Kevin said. His voice cracked on the word.

We all looked at the kid, then at each other. "Not like I'm joining up or anything. It's just… he killed Siobhan. And you can't leave me here. With them."

Whether it had been true love or not, there was suffering in Kevin's eyes. An awareness of something beyond himself, even if it had just been for one other person in the world. Even psychopaths can love. I couldn't remember who'd said it, but it seemed applicable.

We reached a sort of silent consensus, a la Ma'at, and Lewis said, "Stick close to me, kid."

Kevin's never-flat hackles rose. "So you can what, suck the rest of me dry?" We all stared at him. He flushed. "You know what I meant."

"Well, I meant stick with me because Quinn's going to see you as the biggest threat, since he'll think you've still got my powers," Lewis said. "I plan to use you as a human shield."

Kevin eyed him. "Yeah?"

"Would I lie to you? Besides, you kicked the crap out of me, kid. I'm still weak. I need the support." Oh, clever Lewis. The one thing Kevin craved and never got… respect. Responsibility.

Kevin tried not to look impressed. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

Marion sent me a clear you-trust-him? look. My feelings for Kevin were too complicated to put into squints and eyebrow moves, so I just deadpanned. Truth was, I suspected Jonathan felt something for the kid, too, and that would help us. Quinn had a lot of liabilities he didn't yet understand.

"Stupid question," Marion said apologetically, "but exactly where will we find him? We can't track the Djinn, not even Jonathan. Unless you…?" She addressed it to Rahel. Rahel shook her head. "Okay, then how do we find him?"

"Jonathan told us," I said.

She looked mystified. "He was cut off in midword."

"Doesn't matter. I know what he was trying to tell me." I turned to Ashworth, who was glaring at me with undisguised contempt. We weren't mending any fences, I sensed. Not that I was worried about it much. "Your son's house," I said. "Fantasy Ranch. The one in White Ridge. Do you still own it?"

"No," he said, and turned to go. Rahel blocked him again. Glaring ensued.

"Who bought it?"

Ashworth's hand tightened on the cane; I watched the knuckles go white. "I'm sure you already know," he said.

"Thomas Orenthal Quinn." I didn't have the slightest doubt. "Keeping it all in the family."

"I never liked the slippery bastard." Ashworth kept walking, cane stabbing carpet. "Go and be damned. Do me the courtesy not to die in my son's house, if you please." This time Rahel stepped aside and let him exit with dignity intact.

White Ridge. Fantasy Ranch. Orry.

I was going back into my worst nightmare, but at least this time, I wasn't going alone.