by Rachel Caine
"No." That was surprising; I had not expected so definitive an answer, not from a Djinn as old and canny as Venna. "I'll convey your message to the one who was here. Just this once, Cassiel, as a favor. Don't ask me again, or I'll hurt you."
She said it with no particular heat, but I knew she meant every word. And she was more than capable. For all her little-girl prettiness, Venna was a vast, dangerous being, and if I displeased her . . .
I bent my head in silent acknowledgment.
Venna misted away. I realized that I had made a fatal human error--I hadn't asked how long it would take. Time was measured differently among the Old Djinn, and so was humor; she might fulfill her promise, but take several human lifetimes doing it. That would be inconvenient.
Whatever her motives, Venna took pity on me. It was only a moment before another Djinn faded into view, perched on the same block she had occupied. This one was far taller, an adult male dressed in human-style trousers and a white shirt. Beneath the businesslike clothing, his skin was a rich copper, but still almost within human ranges; only a shade or two redder than Luis's, I thought. His eyes, however, were nothing like human. Colors swirled and merged in them like living opals.
I doubted the people around us could even see him. There was a slight blur to his figure, and when I turned my head away, he disappeared from my peripheral vision altogether.
"You have questions," he said. "I'm not surprised. I'm Quintus." He held out his hand to me, human fashion, and I took it with great care. He felt like a penny left in the sun. "I didn't set the fire, if that's what you wanted to ask."
"I didn't think you had," I said. "My name is--"
"We all know your name, Cassiel. We've all been warned." His voice was deep as a bell but soft, as if I were a great distance away. "I'm sorry. I would like to help you, if I could."
"You don't even know me."
That earned me an amused quirk of his eyebrows. "I'm not one of your Old Djinn. When I was alive as a man, I never required that I know people to help them," he said. "That's the difference between Old and New Djinn, in a nutshell, I suppose--you only help your own, and then only when the spirit moves you. Well, if you want to know about the fire, I can tell you this: it was a Warden who set it."
"You're sure?"
"Of course." His smile turned dark and bitter. "I'm well acquainted with the Warden in question. I was once her slave."
I let a few seconds of silence pass before I asked the obvious. "Who is it?"
"Why do you think I would tell you?" he asked, and confusion froze me for a long second, while his smile stretched. "I was once her slave; I didn't say I don't like her. The two, you know, are not mutually exclusive."
They were to me. "You won't give me her name."
"No, because I know why she did what she did. It was an act of desperation, Cassiel. You should know all about those." He paused, gaze fixed on the fire. "No one is injured, no one is dead. Let it go."
"It was directed at me. Or my Conduit, which is the same thing. I can't ignore it."
"The matter's closed. The Warden won't be coming after either of you again. I swear that to you. I'll see to it personally."
I didn't want to believe Quintus, but there was something so solid and open about him that I finally, grudgingly nodded. "Very well," I said. "But if your Warden mistress breaks her word and comes for either Manny Rocha or me again, I'll break her. I'll go through you if I have to. Are we clear on this?"
He didn't smile. "Perfectly clear," he said. "I would do the same, in your position." He offered his hand again, and we clasped firmly. "Call on me if you need help, Cassiel. I find the world isn't as exciting now that I'm not in the thick of the fight."
An odd way to see things. I only wanted out of it, and back to my peaceful existence well away from this world and all its grubby problems.
He nodded, I nodded in return, and Quintus misted away. I had, I thought, made an ally. How reliable of one remained to be seen, but it helped me feel a little less alone, on this day when so much seemed against me.
One of the passing firefighters stopped and frowned at me. "Ma'am? Do you need help?"
"No." The kind of help I needed, I doubted I would get from him.
Manny, after his initial focus on making sure others were safe, was livid over the loss of his office and records. Our floor of the building was a total loss. I doubted one scrap of paper remained unburned.
"I kept telling you, bro, get all that crap archived. You ever listen to me? No." Luis, in the fashion of brothers throughout history, was not being helpful. "When's the last time you cleaned out those files, anyway?"
Manny sent me a don't-you-dare-speak glare. "Few weeks ago," he snapped. "And for your information, I did archive some stuff. Last year. Or--yeah, maybe a couple of years ago."
Luis just shook his head. Now that the crisis was past, he seemed to be finding this quite funny. "Look at it this way: You get to start fresh. Replace that crappy furniture that was left over from the Eisenhower administration."
"I liked that desk!"
"Nobody ever accused you of having taste, man."
We were making our way, slowly, to Manny's car. Luis had his own truck parked a little farther away. The fire trucks were still here, blocking off rows of cars, but ours seemed unimpeded. The police had taken our statements--or rather, taken Luis and Manny's statements. I had said little, except to support their general protestations of ignorance about the cause.
I wasn't at all sure the police officer had believed any of us. I wouldn't have, in his place. We definitely seemed suspicious.
We were almost to the car when Manny groaned. "Oh, man, just what I need."
"What?"
"The boss."
He meant the Weather Warden, Scott, who'd been so unpleasant during our last encounter. Scott was striding toward our small group, and his hangdog face was mottled red with fury.
I stepped out in front of Manny, taking the focus of his angry eyes, and Scott halted his advance.
"Are you threatening me?" he barked. I didn't respond or move, except for the wind lashing my soft white hair around my face. Somehow I knew that my very stillness would be more intimidating than an answer. "Manny! Call her off!"
"I don't own her," Manny said. "She's a person. Talk to her like one."
Scott clearly didn't want to stoop so low, but he nodded stiffly. "Please step aside, Cassiel."
I held my place for long enough to make him uneasy, then moved back, beside Manny.
Once again, I had acted to protect humans. It's self-interest, I told myself. Nothing but that.
Some part of me still wondered.
"What the hell happened here?" Scott asked.
Manny was nervous; I could feel it coming from him in waves. He managed to keep his face expressionless.
"I don't know," he said. "It looks to me like either a Djinn or Warden attack, but we'll need a Fire Warden to get to the bottom of it. Could have been plain old human arson or some kind of electrical problem, even. Hard to tell."
Whatever Scott thought about that, he let it go. "Greta's out of town, handling a fire around Santa Fe. She'll be back in the morning. She'll do the investigation." He paused for a few seconds, then jerked his head to the side. "Talk to you alone for a minute?"
Manny joined him--again, not eagerly--and the two of them walked a few feet away. In the chaos of the parking lot, that was enough to shield them from human senses, and my own were so blunted that I could only pick out a few words here and there. It was sufficient to tell me that Scott was determined to paint this attack as some kind of shortcoming of Manny's.
"Hey," Luis said, and his hand touched my arm lightly.
"What?" I frowned at him.
"You look like you want to rip Scott's colon out through his nose. Thought I should mention it, in case you didn't want it to be quite that obvious."
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. I had not been guarding myself as well as I'd thought, and th
at was cause for concern. How did humans manage all these complicated feelings, so easily betrayed by their faces and bodies? I'd thought I was learning, but obviously, I had far to go.
Luis was watching his brother and Scott with a cool light in his eyes. "That guy's a bureaucratic asshole," he said, "but the biggest danger Manny has from him is a busted performance review. Considering how few Wardens there are walking around these days, that's not exactly a mortal danger." His gaze shifted to me, and once again, I had an unwelcome flash of that vivid, unsettling dream, of the way his dream-skin had felt against mine. "Unless you know something I don't."
"Know something," I repeated.
"About the fire?"
"I know it was caused by a Warden," I said, "but I don't know the Warden's name. I've been assured that it won't happen again."
Whatever Luis had been expecting, it had not been that. "What? How do you know that?"
I shrugged. "Djinn."
He opened and closed his mouth, plainly searching for words and finding nothing. It was a satisfying display, which I watched with interest. He finally managed to gather his thoughts. "Listen, I don't care what the Djinn told you--and since when do they talk to you? I thought they threw you out--"
"They did."
He shook that off. "Whatever the Djinn said, somebody wanted both me and Manny standing in front of that door when it opened, and that means they were out to kill us. Call me crazy, but I think that they may not stop at just the one try!"
Quintus had seemed very sure about his former master, but it was possible that he was not in possession of all the facts . . . or that he had lied to me. Djinn did not usually lie to each other, but I was no longer one of them, no longer connected. . . .
I did not like the sick feeling in my stomach that came with these thoughts. If he lied to me, I couldn't tell. That was worse than unsettling. That was devastating.
"I don't know," I said, and my voice sounded soft and fragile. "I don't know if I can find out, Luis."
"You want to save Manny, don't you? He's your meal ticket. Seems like it might be a good idea to keep on asking around." Luis's full lips quirked into something that resembled a smile, but somehow was not. "Even if you don't care if I get barbecued."
"I do," I said, and then wished I had not spoken at all, because his eyes widened and he looked at me. Saw me as something other than his brother's annoying, impaired partner.
I felt something inside me respond, a stirring I had not known, except in the dream. It was primal and dark and deep, and it felt . . . good.
I looked away, studying the ground, willing the feeling to subside. I felt warm, and too much in my skin.
"Good to know," Luis said, his voice carefully neutral. "Looks like my brother's done getting his ass chewed. Vamanos."
Luis opened the passenger's-side door of Manny's car for me, and offered me a hand. I looked at it in confusion, then put my fingers in his palm, very lightly. He guided me into the car, and before he let go, Luis's thumb moved very lightly across my knuckles. It was an impersonal touch, or it should have been, but it traveled through me like a wave of light.
"See you later," he said, and shut the car door.
When I finally did raise my head, he was walking away, hands in his pockets. Another uncontrollable wave of heat flamed through me, and subsided to a banked glow deep inside.
I have no need of this, I told myself. I need no complications. All I want to do is survive.
My body, it seemed, thought differently of the matter.
I was so intent on watching Luis that I flinched when Manny opened his driver's-side door, thumped into the seat, and slammed the door with so much violence the car rocked. I looked at him, and his expression was still blank. His hands were rigid as they gripped the steering wheel, and his knuckles turned white from pressure.
"Bastard," he finally said, and turned the key to start the engine. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"Are you all right?" I asked.
The glance he threw me was bitter, black, and wild. "Sure. I'm just perfect. Why the hell wouldn't I be?"
I did not ask again, and we sat in silence as he drove too fast, too recklessly, all the way to his home.
Chapter 6
ANGELA WAS WAITING outside for our arrival--I didn't think Manny had called, but I supposed that Luis might have done so. She looked tense but carefully composed, and rose to her feet to embrace Manny as he came up the front steps. She framed his face between her hands, gave him a long, loving look, and said, "Go get cleaned up; you smell like an ashtray."
He kissed her quickly and went inside, which left the two of us standing together.
"Do I smell like an ashtray?" I asked.
Her lips curled unwillingly into a smile. "I'd guess you do, but I'm not getting close enough to sniff you." She cocked her head slightly, studying me. "You do look more like a scarecrow than usual, es verdad. After Manny gets through, maybe you can shower. I can find you something to wear."
"No," I said. "I'll wear what I have." The thought of wearing someone else's clothes made my skin crawl with horror. "But I would be glad of the shower."
"No problem." Angela opened the screen door for me as we entered the house. "Keep it down; Ibby's taking a nap."
Ibby, in fact, was not. The child bounced up from the couch and jumped in place, face alight with pleasure. "Cassie, Cassie, Cassie!"
I sighed. "Cassiel, please." For all the good I sensed it would do. Angela stifled a laugh.
I had no idea of the human protocol for such things, but I knelt down, and the child rushed my arms. Warm, chubby arms around my neck. A moist kiss on my cheek. "Ewwww, you smell like burning things," Ibby said.
"I'm about to wash it away," I said soberly. "Will that be better?"
She nodded vigorously, curls bouncing. "Were you at a fire?"
"Yes, Ibby."
"Were there firemen?"
"Yes, quite a few."
"Was it a big fire?"
"Big enough."
Ibby's dark eyes widened, and she looked around the room. I didn't understand at first, until her eyes filled with tears and she wailed, "Where's Papa?"
I had no experience of crying children, but luckily, Angela quickly encircled her daughter in her arms and patted her on the back. "Hush, mija, Papa's fine. Hear that? He's taking a shower right now."
"Was he in the fire?" Her small voice trembled.
"He was there with Cassiel," Angela said, and her gaze touched mine for a moment. "But look, they're both fine. She's fine, and Papa's fine. So what are you crying about, Ibby?"
Ibby's sobs became sniffles. "Nothing. I'm not crying."
"Good girl." Angela kissed her cheek and let her slip back to the floor. "Go play, mija."
Ibby wandered down the hall toward her room, pausing at the bathroom door to listen to the fall of water. She looked back at me doubtfully, and I nodded. I was trying to convey that her father was, in fact, fine; I couldn't tell if she believed that, but she went to her room at the end of the hall, and after a few moments I heard music playing.
Angela let out a slow breath. "She gets so anxious when she thinks something's happened. She knows Manny's got a hazardous job. We try to keep it away from her, but she's a smart girl. She knows."
I wanted to tell her that Manny was in no danger, but in truth, I couldn't be sure of that. Luis's words had robbed me of my confidence, made me doubt all my certainties. "I told you, I will watch over him," I offered. It felt awkward, but still, it also felt . . . right. I saw relief spread through her. She trusts me to keep my word. That felt oddly important--and also a weight on my shoulders.
"That'll make Ibby feel better," Angela said. She didn't say, and me, but I understood that to be true. "You probably need something cold to drink."
I was, in fact, thirsty, and I followed her to the kitchen, where she chatted about meaningless details of the day, as if we were friends. I supposed we were, in a way. I sipped the iced tea she prepared and
nibbled at a cookie from a plate on the table.
Manny came in, hair damp and curling from the shower, dressed in fresh clothing. He grabbed a cookie and ate it in two bites. Angela kissed him on the cheek and gave him a glass of iced tea, and the two of them talked in Spanish for a moment. I was content to let the sounds wash over me. There was something oddly calming about such normality, even if it was so very human.
Ibby crawled up into the chair next to me and reached out for a cookie.
"Ibby!" her mother said sharply. The child pulled back and looked abashed. "Ask."
"May I please have a cookie, Mama?"
"Yes, you may have one."
Ibby surveyed the plate and took the largest. I approved of her strategic approach.
"What did Scott say to you, Manny?" I asked. I reached for a second cookie. After all, I was both older and larger than the child. It seemed fair.
"That I should have sent the files off for archiving months ago," he said. "Some kind of regulations. Like we didn't have other things to worry about."
"He blames you?"
"Let's just say it won't come out in my favor in the report."
"Do you think--" I paused, because I realized that this might not be the best moment to pose the question. Still, it needed to be asked. "Do you think someone was aiming for you or Luis, rather than the destruction of the office?"
Manny looked tired. The fine lines around his eyes were etched more deeply than before, and his skin seemed more sallow. "Maybe," he said. "I don't know. I don't know why anybody would come after me."
"And Luis?"
He didn't answer. Angela did. "Lots of people got problems with Luis," she said. "He's the kind of guy who makes enemies, you know? A lot more than Manny."
I understood that, on some instinctive level; Manny was more concerned with his family, and while he had courage and determination, his goals were centered on his wife and child.
Luis was different. I couldn't tell what Luis desired, or what drove him, and that made him dangerous to me.
"Mama, may I have another cookie?"
"No."
"Cassie had two."
I broke my cookie in half and offered it to Isabel. "Cassiel," I said.
She giggled.
The laptop that Manny had provided me with was at my apartment. Upon arrival, I logged in, as Manny had shown me, to the Warden computer system and began to research Luis Rocha.