Chill Factor

by Rachel Caine

Page 36

  I snapped my head around, lifted a hand and gathered the wind like a hard coil, and sent it arrowing for Quinn.

  It slammed into him hard. A microburst, containing a wind shear not strong enough to do him any harm- physically-but plenty strong enough for just what it had to do.

  Break a bottle in his front jacket pocket.

  I felt it pop, like a sudden change in air pressure.

  Quinn flopped down on his back, twisting silently in agony. For a few seconds Jonathan didn't move, and then he slowly bent down and reached in Quinn's pocket.

  He took out a handful of broken glass and sifted it onto the sand.

  "You don't own me anymore," he said, and crouched down next to the dying man. "Do you have any idea how much this is going to hurt?"

  Quinn managed to choke out a few words, after all. ". . . ordered. . . defend. . . life. . . "

  "I didn't let her kill you," Jonathan said, and smiled. It was the most princely, evil smile I could imagine ever seeing. "It'll probably take you days to die. I'll watch over you the whole lime, maybe remind you of all the good things you've done in your life. It's the least I can do. "

  Quinn's eyes widened. Whether it was mercy or luck, something inside his body snapped. Blood gouted out of his mouth and nose, and he arched his back once, for an aching ten long seconds. . .

  Then collapsed.

  "Is he dead?" I asked quietly.

  Jonathan leaned over and studied him closely. Then he reached down, hauled him up by the arm, and before anyone could stop him, pitched Quinn limply over the cliff into the swollen, rushing floodwater.

  "Yep," he said, and walked away. He called back over his shoulder, "I'm going home. Take care of the kid. Keep him out of trouble. "

  "Wait!" I yelled it, desperately. "What about David?"

  He stopped walking, but he didn't turn back. His shoulders tightened, and then slowly relaxed.

  "You broke him," he said. "You fix him. "

  He vanished before I could get out more than half a curse.

  The Wardens agreed to a meeting back at our old stomping grounds, the Holiday Inn outside of White Ridge. I'd spent an entire day showering, bathing, showering, and sleeping with David's sealed bottle resting in my arms; when I came downstairs the next day I looked rested, relaxed, and heavily abused. Bruises up and down my body. Wrecked fingernails. Sunburn on my face, not to mention the muscle tears and sprains that made holding on to a smile an effort.

  Thank God for aspirin and Vivarin.

  Paul was waiting, along with Marion, Lewis, and a few others. Wardens all, at least in name.

  "Jo. " Paul tried to put his arms around me. I backed him off with a look and took a seat on the couch. After a pause, he followed suit. He glanced from me to Lewis, me to Marion. "I guess we can call this a qualified success. "

  "Qualified," I repeated. "What did we qualify for? Bonuses? Free parking?"

  "Look, it's just. . . " Paul fidgeted, then fixed me with a steady stare. "The kid's missing-Kevin. Jonathan's gone, and I don't have to tell you what kind of a loss that is for us. We're just lucky that things are moving back toward normal. "

  "Normal?" I sounded like a parrot.

  "The earthquake thing, it's better. There's going to be a couple of big ones, but in remote areas and not too much damage. The warming trend's slowing down. We're still heading for an ice age, but I don't see that we can do shit about it without-"

  "Without Jonathan. " I rested my aching, torn hands in my lap. I was wearing jeans again-hip-huggers, in memory of Siobhan-and I'd gone for open-toed flip-flops, considering the state of my cut and bruised toes. "Jeez, sorry about that. Guess we'll just have to hope for the best. "

  Paul clearly wasn't liking my polite, nonconfrontational attitude. "What's up with you? I'm telling you that you failed. If you'd stayed out of things like we agreed-"

  "Then we'd all be dead," I said sweetly. "But hey, next time? I'm booking a spa, getting a massage. Wait for the end in style, you know?"

  He didn't respond. I dropped the sweetness from my tone. "Fine. Let's get to the important parts. What's the damage?"

  "You've been lying to us, sweetheart. "

  No kidding. Where to start? "About what?"

  "Jonathan, for starters. " Paul's eyes were full of bitterness. "He's not in the goddamn register. He doesn't fucking exist, Jo. Where'd he come from? You know, don't you?"

  "No. "

  "Are there more like him out there? More Djinn?"

  I kept quiet, watching Marion's impassive face. She knew. And she wasn't talking.

  "Jo, I'm giving you a chance to speak up, here. Take it. "

  "Gee, thanks. But no. "

  I moved from looking at Marion to looking at Lewis. He was a closed book, too. Quiet. Self-contained. He'd taken Kevin in hand, as I'd known he would; the kid was safely tucked away with the Ma'at, back in Vegas. Lewis would watch out for him.

  Whether he would be able to watch out for me was an open question. I was the one thing that could break the secrecy of the Ma'at and the Djinn.

  We'd all said the same thing: David's bottle had been destroyed. He was lost. The blue glass was hidden in the bottom of my purse, wrapped safely in a cocoon of bubble wrap.

  I still had him, if he lived. If he could recover.

  Paul was getting impatient. "I want you to understand that you're part of the chain of command, kiddo. You have a boss-that's me, in case you didn't know-and you do what your boss says from now on, or I'm going to have to consider removing you from the association. You get me? That means you give up your powers-Marion and her guys see that it's done humanely, but it's done. That's how it would have to happen. "

  Over his shoulder, Marion gave me a tiny, definite shake of her head. Behind her, a shadow flickered into existence, then into three-dimensional life. He was beautiful. . . tall, broad-shouldered, with impenetrable midnight eyes-not brown, a true, lightless black-and long dark hair frosted lightly with gray. Lines at the corners of his eyes that softened him into something more human. He was dressed, like Marion, in blue jeans and cowboy boots, but his shirt was a matte blue silk, something that begged to be petted.

  Marion's Djinn. Marion's lover. He was back. That was the silent message from her. I didn't know if it meant she'd openly disobey orders, but she wasn't following them with a whole heart.

  I said, with a weird sort of calm, "Oh, yeah, Paul, I totally get you. " I stood up. "Thanks for the opportunity to get reamed out for doing the right thing, and by the way, doing it better than any of you seem to have managed. But I hope you don't mind if I decline the verbal abuse. "

  He opened his mouth, and shut it again fast when I turned and headed for the door, for the bright, merciless sunshine. I had brand-new credit cards, provided courtesy of Rahel. Wads of cash, from the same source. A fast car, waiting outside.

  I could go back to Vegas, catch a tan, heal up. Eventually, I'd need to figure out what to do, but hell, I figured I deserved a vacation.

  And the Ma'at damn well deserved to fund it.

  "Jo," Paul called after me. I turned, slid on sunglasses, and gave him my best, brightest smile.

  "Bite me," I said. "I'm not playing Warden anymore. Go save the world without me. I quit. "