Total Eclipse

Chapter Six

I screamed. I couldn’t help it—the shock and enormity of it was horrifying.

I saw the man I loved most in the world burn.

It took place in a matter of a second, no more than a flash of light against my retinas, but there it was, frozen in horrible detail.

His skin flaring into black and red lace as it burned away.

His muscles shriveling, revealing white bone beneath.

A single X-ray flash of his entire skeleton coming free of its disappearing flesh.

A faint drift of ash falling to the floor.

Gone.

No.

That was my world, breaking apart into tiny, hazy fragments too small to notice. Too small to matter.

Like all of us.

Like humanity itself.

I heard that horrible, rending screaming of the Djinn on the ship. I saw Imara, falling on the steps of the chapel in Sedona with the life leaving her eyes. I saw my old friend Paul getting in the way of a burst of power from my hand. Destroyed. Murdered, by me.

I saw all the lives, the thousands and millions of lives, which were going out right now, like sparks drowning in darkness.

No more. No more. No more!

I realized that I was still screaming, only now it had turned to words. “What did you do? What did you do?”

The Oracle floated there, wrapped in a ball of blinding white fire, as uncaring as the sun.

My scream turned into a shriek of utter rage, and I stumbled to my feet, lungs burning under the pressure of the fury that was boiling out of me, and I lunged for the Oracle. He could damn well take me, too, the uncaring son of a—

David manifested himself out of the air and caught me in strong, solid arms before I could finish my suicidal dash. Not the same David who’d just disappeared in that horrible flash. This David was different, and achingly familiar. Pure, smooth skin with faintly metallic burnishing. A little more perfect than human. Copper flames dancing in his eyes.

This was the Djinn David.

“Easy,” he said, and his voice was the same, gentle and low and strong. I melted against him, weak with relief, breathless. “Easy, Jo. I’m here.”

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was shake and hold on. His fingers combed through my hair, and I felt the sweaty tangles relax, felt my filth and disarray swept away in a tingling tide. His way of showing his love and concern for me. It always had been.

“Jo? Were you about to throw yourself into the Oracle after me?”

I swallowed hard and tried to laugh it off, because his tone seemed so baffled and concerned.

“Of course not,” I said. “It was getting cold out here. Needed to warm up.”

“Sorry,” he said, and kissed me, and that was the same warm depth of emotion and love and promise as always. “I had to move fast, once I realized what he’d done.”

“The Oracle?” I looked over his shoulder at the silent, glowing orb.

“He separated out the powers from Kevin and contained them, but it was only temporary. Lightning in a bottle. If I didn’t take it back right away, it would have been too late.”

“So you decided to commit suicide, on the off chance it would all work out. Nice. Thanks for giving me a vote.” I was trying to sound unconcerned. It wasn’t working, not at all. There was an edge to my voice, a raw hurt, and he pressed a kiss against my forehead with such gentleness my breath caught in my chest.

“I was dying either way,” he told me. “I never would have left this place alive as a human. I didn’t have the strength. It was the only chance I had.”

“Did it—” I couldn’t ask that question, not directly. “Did you feel it?”

David’s face shut down, but his eyes remained warm and loving, focused on my face. The Djinn fires burned a little brighter.

“We always feel death,” he said. “It’s that memory that makes us different from the Old Djinn. We remember what it feels like to lose ourselves to the dark.”

The Oracle pulsed light, just once, and David turned back to it. As Kevin had done, David had silent communion with the power that lived in this place. Unlike Kevin, it took a long time, and at the end of it, David didn’t fall down. He just took a step back, looking thoughtful. Was that a frown? Yes, I was pretty sure he was frowning. He was staring down at the ground, so I couldn’t be sure. One thing I was sure of, the place was heating up again, temperature climbing one steady degree every few seconds. In no time at all, the oven would be set to broil again.

“Uh, honey?” I finally said. “What about me? My powers?”

He looked up and shook his head. “Not from him. He could take them out of Cherise and hold them for a few moments, but he can’t put them into your human body. You’d have to be reborn as a Djinn, and those powers are designed for a human form, not one like mine. It wouldn’t work. You’d never survive. I’m not sure Cherise would, either.”

My day just kept becoming more awesome. “So what are we going to do?”

“For a start, get out of here,” David said. “To protect himself, the Oracle has put up barriers against the influence of the Mother; it’s one of the most difficult things he’s ever done, and he’s very upset. When he’s upset . . .”

“. . . It gets hot,” I said. “Yeah. Got that part.”

“I could survive, but the three of you won’t. I need to get you out of here before the temperature rises too far.”

“What were you thinking about?” I asked.

“What?” He had his back to me now, conveniently examining the walls.

“You were thinking about something after you cut it off with the Oracle. What did he say?”

“Oh, you know Oracles,” David said, and ran fingertips over the crack Cherise had put into the rock. He shook his head, and under his hand the crack bonded itself and disappeared. “Not that way.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“What did the Oracle say?”

“Jo, don’t—”

I put my hand on his shoulder, and felt the heat radiating from the skin beneath his shirt. “What did the Oracle say?”

His muscles tensed under my touch, and I saw the color in his eyes flicker, less copper, more red. He didn’t like it when I used the Rule of Three on him—which was why I rarely did.

“The Oracle said the Mother is waking up,” he said. “And there’s no way to stop her. If he tries, he’ll just be consumed along with the rest of the Djinn. He’s trying to remain separate as long as he can.”

“He has to at least try to talk to her, tell her our side!”

“No. He doesn’t.” David moved steadily around the circular room, avoiding Cherise’s sleeping form and Kevin’s unconscious body, both lying close together. “He’s not the guardian of humanity. His connection runs between the Djinn and the Mother. That’s all. He owes you nothing.”

That was direct, and painfully true. “But—”

David stopped, hands hovering over one part of the wall. “Get Cherise,” he said. “When this opens, I need you to drag her through, then come back for Kevin. I’ll have to hold it open.”

“Then how are you going to get out?”

He gave me a fast glance. “I can go anywhere now. You can’t.”

Oh. Right. That made sense.

I grabbed Cherise under the arms and dragged her to where David was standing. She mumbled a little—waking up, which wasn’t a good thing at the moment. “Hurry,” I told him. He didn’t bother to nod; his full attention was fixed on the wall in front of him. As I watched, it wavered, then fell into dust, revealing that black, oily surface like what we’d pierced to get here in the first place. Once that was done, David remained where he was, unmoving, staring.

“Go,” he said, just the one word. I wondered how much strength this was taking. A lot, I assumed.

I towed Cherise backward through the cold, clinging liquid, fell for a thousand years, and landed with a jolt as I tripped over a tombstone and went sprawling. Cherise was with me, lying in the bright green grass. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and charged back through the barrier. Falling, cold, et cetera . . . it was almost routine now. I grabbed Kevin and did a rinse-and-repeat, only this time I sidestepped the tombstone as I got thrown out of the barrier.

The black liquid shadow vanished with a pop. Gone. I left Kevin and Cherise tumbled up together and went to look inside the mausoleum. Just a plain old jumbo-sized family crypt, with marble benches and plaques on the wall. Sunlight filtered in graceful Tiffany patterns through the far rose window, bathing the room in brilliant, soothing color.

“David?”

My voice echoed on the cold stone. There was no answer.

As I turned around I ran into him. He was standing right behind me. I smacked a fist into his chest, but not too hard. “Don’t do that!” I yelped, and he smiled. In the sun, he looked chillingly beautiful. I’d kind of gotten used to his slightly rough human looks. This was all that, only distilled into perfection.

I wondered how he saw me now, with his Djinn sight. Not the Warden I’d been. No power. No real value in the world. It hit me with a jolt that David was seeing me as just any other human, and for a moment I felt true, horrified panic and loss. He’d loved me for what I was. Did he love me for what I was now?

He touched me gently under the chin and bent to kiss me. It was a thoroughly sexual kiss, all heat and heart, and the warmth spread through my body like liquid, gathering somewhere around my womb. It felt . . . wonderful. He didn’t break the kiss until we both heard the mumbling from Cherise break into actual words.

“. . . hot, have to get out . . .” She sat up suddenly enough to dump Kevin’s head off her lap, and he groaned and rolled over, facedown. “We have to get out—oh. Wow. Did I get us out of there? If I did, I’m awesome and oh God my jaw hurts! Ow, what the hell!” Cherise had a bruise forming there where I’d clocked her—red right now, but it’d be a spectacular sunset before it was done, I’d bet. “Little help?”

I smiled at David, stepped back, and went to offer her a hand.

She hauled herself up, looked down at her clothes, and groaned. “I look like a bag lady who got dressed out of an incinerator after it was burning. How come you look so good? And I stink like a mule, too. Ugh. Did we get anything out of that at all? Because if we didn’t, I’m totes billing the Wardens for . . .”

I glanced over at David. He had his arms folded, watching us quietly. Waiting for Cherise’s monologue to end, I presumed. Which, eventually, it did, and she ended up staring at him as her voice trailed off.

“Oh,” she said. “Is he back? All magic-y again?”

“Yes,” he said, without an ounce of amusement. “I’m back.”

She cocked an eyebrow, almost back to the old, sunny Cherise. “Nice paint job. Very plush.” She stopped short of asking for a ride, which was, considering it was Cherise, tactful restraint. “So you got us out.”

“With your help,” David said, very generously. “Yours, and Kevin’s.”

Kevin, for answer, rolled over on his back, stared up at the sun, and groaned again. “I hurt all over,” he said. “Did I lose at mixed martial arts? Maybe with a ninja?”

“Have you ever even tried mixed martial arts?” Cherise asked, and held out a hand to him to pull him to a sitting position, then to his feet. “Because you should. Those guys are smoking hot. In a bad-guy sort of way.”

Cherise wasn’t this shallow, but she could give a really good impersonation of it when she wanted. Right now, she was (literally) whistling past this graveyard, which, no matter how picturesque and perfect, was a less than ideal place for us to enjoy our continued survival.

Kevin knew all that, which surprised me. He folded Cher in an embrace, bent and whispered something in her ear, and then took her hand. They started walking down the gravel path toward the road.

At the gates of the graveyard, I saw the gleaming shape of the Boss pull up, idling with an intimidating growl. Our anonymous Djinn chauffeur was behind the wheel. I’d just started wondering where he’d gotten himself off to, but I supposed Whitney had pulled him well out of danger. She wasn’t the type to sacrifice important assets unless it was absolutely necessary. I think she trademarked the phrase You’re on your own.

That chain of thought linked, fast as the speed of light, back to David, and I suddenly rounded on him, fists clenched. “Wait!” I said. “Why are you still you?”

The only thing, as far as I knew, that had protected David from becoming subject to the whims and will of the Earth had been the fact that his powers had been taken from him. Once restored, he should have been dragged into the collective hive mind with the rest of the Djinn.

I hadn’t surprised him with my question. He sighed and stopped walking before he could run into me, but he didn’t answer. Not at first. Finally, he looked up at the smoke-gray, unnaturally smooth sky. “She can’t reach me,” he said. “Not here. The Fire Oracle has an excellent shield up. It may not last, but it’s kept him safe this far. When I leave here, I won’t have that protection.”

“You knew this could happen,” I said. “You knew, and you did it anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said. “I still don’t. My options are very limited, Jo. I wish it weren’t the case, but it is, and we have to accept that.”

“What options?”

“I could stay here with the Oracle. If I go outside the borders of Seacasket he can’t help me anymore.” David shook his head. “Staying here isn’t really an option. I can’t do much here to help you, and I can’t protect you.”

“You can protect yourself.”

“Not really my focus.”

“There’s nothing wrong with—”

“Second,” he interrupted, “I could leave with you and try to resist the Mother’s call. It’s possible I could, for a while; I have before. But that was when she was only partially aware. You heard what the Oracle said: she’s waking up. I won’t be able to stay apart from her for long. She’ll be much, much stronger.”

I swallowed, throat tight, and waited for the other shoe to drop. Presuming there were three shoes.

“Last, I can go directly from here to the aetheric, to Jonathan’s house. It’s kept Whitney safe and uncompromised. It’ll do the same for me. I can do you some good there, as long as the avatar stays with you.”

“But—” It was hard to get the words out. “But you won’t be with me.”

“Staying with you was never a choice,” he said. “That’s what I meant. My options are limited, and all of them take me away from you. If I’d stayed human, I’d have died in the cavern. If I stay with you, I’ll turn against you. If I leave, I won’t be able to be with you, to—” Djinn or not, David was distraught. He was just handling it much better than I was. “But I’ll always do what I can. Always. It may not be enough, Jo. I may fail you.”

He sounded so unhappy about that, and it broke my heart. “You’ve never failed me,” I said. “Never. And you never will, because this isn’t a pass/fail kind of score, David. I love you. I want you to be safe. That’s all.”

I meant it, though my knees had started trembling at the thought of leaving this place without his presence at my side. It wasn’t even so much the power he could bring to bear on our behalf—it was the sheer comfort of him. I needed him.

And I was going to have to do this without him, or lose everything. David on the opposite side of this was a death warrant for all of us. He was just too powerful.

I smiled. It actually felt warm, and real, and confident, even if I truly was scared to death deep down. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll be fine. Walk me to the car before you go, okay?”

He took my hand, and for a moment we just stood together, drinking in each other’s warmth, the reality of our bodies standing in the same space, the same time.

He kissed me. It felt so warm, so sweet, so real that I felt tears burning in my eyes. It was so perfect with him, and we never had time.

He kissed away my tears, put his hands on my shoulders, and leaned his forehead against mine for a long, lovely moment, and then, without a word, we walked together to the waiting Mustang. David handed me into the passenger seat. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, and I felt his lips against my skin like the warmest summer sun.

“We’ll be okay,” I told him again. He nodded, shut the door, and as the Djinn behind the wheel gunned the motor and sent the car hurtling down the deserted, silent street, I turned to watch David.

He disappeared into a mist. Gone.

“Wait,” Kevin said, and twisted around to look. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

“He’s not coming,” I said.

“But—”

“We’ll be okay,” I said again, firmly.

I was, I realized, a damn good liar. I could make everybody believe it, except me.