Gale Force (17 page)

I felt my eyebrows pull up, but I wasn’t really surprised, not deep down. Lewis had a lot of secrets, but he’d always been intrigued by Rahel, and she was drawn to his power, if nothing else. Maybe it wasn’t the world’s great love affair; maybe it was just casual, but it eased some anxious part of me to see that Lewis wasn’t still pining after me.

Okay, it vexed that part of me, too, but that’s a personal problem.

Rahel effortlessly folded her shape back into Cherise’s cute, compact little body, tossed her blond hair with a flair so familiar it would have fooled even me, and winked at him. We all stared after her as she left, Cherise’s trademark little gray alien tattoo waving at the small of her back.

I didn’t even notice what she was wearing as Cherise; that was how much she’d thrown me off stride, and after all, I’d
known
who she really was.

Lewis turned his attention to David, still standing silently in the corner. David cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders away from the wall. ‘‘She’ll be all right,’’ he said. ‘‘No, she’s not full strength, but that could play well, considering what she’s doing. There’s no danger. Rahel can always leave if things get too hard.’’

He sounded too casual about it. I felt an uneasy lurch; there it was, again, that strange blind spot, as if the Djinn just couldn’t see the threat when it was right in front of them. What was it about these Sentinels? How could they have that kind of power—or were they just taking advantage of a weakness I’d never really seen before? I’d always thought the Djinn were invulnerable, except when they took on each other, or a Demon.

I’d been feeling good about my plan, but the good feeling was going away fast. ‘‘But we’re going to give her backup, right? Just in case?’’

‘‘Of course,’’ David said. ‘‘What’s next?’’

As far as he was concerned, it was settled. I exchanged a look with my boss, and Lewis raised both hands and shrugged. ‘‘It’s your show. Go run it.’’

‘‘Then it’s time for us to do some distracting, to keep them focused on their main targets. You get to live the dream, my love,’’ I said. ‘‘You get to take me shopping.’’

David and I began to make sure we were seen, often, in public—usually hand in hand. It was nice in one way, and nerve-racking in another, as, waiting for trouble, we both kept half our attention on the world around us.

Ominously, it didn’t come. I’d been hoping to lure the Sentinels into more threats or attacks, and I’d especially wanted to keep their focus extended out toward us, instead of turning toward the all-too-vulnerable undercover operatives we’d sent to them.

To bring things to a head, and present the Sentinels with even more of a target, Lewis called a mass meeting of the Wardens. Even on short notice he got about a third of the total membership—an impressive number. Not quite as robust as the UN General Assembly, but with nearly as many languages, nations, and attitudes represented. The lecture hall had seen better days, and still hadn’t fully recovered from the devastation of the last Djinn assault, but it was still impressive, paneled in teak with mahogany trim, opulently chaired, with an illuminated sun symbol of the Wardens on the ceiling that served as a massive light fixture. I’d always liked the room.

Today, I kept looking for the exits.

Ostensibly, the program was a half-day presentation from various National Wardens on threat assessments in their fields of specialty—all of which were true and timely indeed, and much needed. We’d had far too many changeovers in staff, and too many crises for comfort. A little training and communication was positive, and desperately needed.

But really, the main point of the meeting was pure theater, and I was the starring act.

It came toward the end of the meeting, as Lewis was making his closing statement. He paused, glanced over his shoulder toward where I sat behind him, and said, ‘‘I have one last item of business, and I think you’ll all be pleased to know that it’s a positive one. Joanne Baldwin has an announcement.’’

My palms were damp, my knees were weak, and my heart raced as if it were trying to use up its entire quota of lifetime beats in the next ten minutes. I hoped I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. Scratch that; I hoped I didn’t look as
panicked
as I felt.

At least I’d dressed for it. If I couldn’t be self-confident wearing a kicky Carmen Marc Valvo dress and a pair of honest-to-God Manolo Blahniks in matching tangerine, I needed to turn in my fashion police badge. My hair looked good—wavy and glossy and glamorous. My makeup was fine, even though I was fairly sure I could use another touch-up on the powder to get rid of the shiny spots.

All I had to do was sell as good as I looked.

I stepped up to the podium as Lewis gracefully relinquished it, and the spotlight found me, and all of a sudden it was time. No more thinking, no more nerves. You leap, and hope for the net.

‘‘Hello,’’ I said. ‘‘I’d like to thank Lewis for allowing me to make this announcement today, because I think it’s an important one. The Wardens have been through so much over the past few years; we’ve lost great colleagues to unavoidable accidents, and worse, to each other. We were drawn into a conflict with the Djinn that nobody wanted, and we suffered for it. So many lives were lost, and none of us can ever forget that.’’

There was utter silence in the lecture hall—not even a nervous cough. I knew that many people in the audience—probably most—had lost friends, lovers, family. They’d survived, but many still held on to the pain, and the bitterness. Those were the prime recruiting ground for the Sentinels.

The ones who hurt the most.

‘‘That’s why this is important,’’ I continued. ‘‘You all know me. You all know that I owe my life to a particular Djinn who’s been my friend and my protector through all of this. What you may not know is that it’s more than gratitude; I love David, and he loves me. And we know it’s not easy, and it may not be popular, but I’m here to announce that we’re going to do something no Warden and no Djinn have ever done in history.’’ I felt short of breath now, elated, scared, exhilarated. ‘‘We’re going to pledge ourselves to each other in marriage, and I hope that you’ll all join us in the next couple of months for a great celebration of our wedding. We believe that in making this vow, we’ll bring the Wardens and the Djinn together again, in friendship, respect, and cooperation.’’ I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very exposed. ‘‘Thank you all.’’

For a heart-stopping second, there was still nothing—no sound at all. And then a lone pair of hands clapped, somewhere in the darkness, and then a few more, and then it turned into a round of applause. Not cheers and champagne, but it seemed positive enough. Lewis reclaimed the podium and I went back to my chair and sank into it, feeling relieved and a little sick with adrenaline.

The next bit of theater belonged to Kevin, who was standing at the back of the hall, looking surly and militant, as only Kevin could do. When a lull came after the applause, Kevin said, clearly enough to carry throughout the room, ‘‘I thought screwing a Djinn was off-limits. What, you’re special?’’

There was an audible intake of breath, and heads turned. Somebody laughed, but it was quickly smothered. Lewis, who’d been about to speak, seemed thrown off balance. He focused on Kevin with a baleful stare, and said, ‘‘If you want to offer your congratulations, Warden, do it to her face. I’m sure Joanne will be glad to take them personally.’’

That got general laughter. People knew me all too well. I stood up slowly, making sure that everybody saw my expression.

Kevin pushed away from the wall. ‘‘Yeah? Well, I’m just saying what everybody in here is thinking. We just got done burying people who were killed by these bastards, and now she’s going to marry one? Not just a Djinn, but the Big Kahuna? What’s the matter, Jo? Blowing off the Warden rules wasn’t enough of a thrill anymore?’’

‘‘Shut up, Kevin.’’ We’d worked this out, but I was still taken aback by the venom in his voice. Kevin had a huge backlog of hate stored up, and some of it was meant for me; it was an officially approved opportunity for him to vent some of it, and I was going to have to be the one to control my reactions.
He’s a kid,
I reminded myself.
He’s a kid who’s been wounded, over and over. Cut him some slack.

My slack-cutting hand was getting tired.

‘‘Shut up? In your dreams, bitch.’’ He stepped up again, this time addressing the entire hall. ‘‘Look, you can see where this is going, right? You think the Djinn are just going to forgive and forget all the time we spent sticking them in little bottles, making them do our shit work? You think they don’t hate us for that? Don’t kid yourselves.
She
thinks this is some kind of peace process. It’s not. It’s obscene. Believe me, I know
all about
obscene. Especially when it comes to people using the Djinn for sex.’’

‘‘That’s
enough,
’’ I said, and moved to the edge of the stage. ‘‘Enough, Kevin.’’

‘‘Don’t think so. Bad enough the two of you popped out some kind of mutant kid—’’

I saw red, and fury burned up from around the base of my spine and jolted into my head like a physical shock.
Son of a bitch.
He’d never said he was going to drag Imara into this, and while I was prepared to overlook personal insults to myself, my kid wasn’t part of the deal. Some of the audience agreed with me; they were shouting him down. But a significant portion was either silent or nodding in agreement, shooting me frowns and dark looks.

‘‘We need to move away from the Djinn, not get all cozy all over again,’’ Kevin continued. ‘‘She just wants everything to go back to normal. What the hell was so great about that, anyway? What about the rest of you? You think we should just rip up the blood-stained carpet, remodel, and get over it? Or should we figure out what the Wardens are
supposed
to be? Not depending on Djinn, not letting them into our heads or our homes or our
beds
—’’

‘‘What’s the matter, Kevin?’’ I asked. ‘‘Some hot Djinn chick turn you down?’’

We’d scripted this part. I hadn’t wanted to do it—had argued against it, in fact—but now I took just a tiny bit of satisfaction in seeing him visibly flinch. The pallor that set into his face, followed by a vivid flush, wasn’t acting. I was bringing up old demons, opening old wounds.

‘‘No,’’ he said. ‘‘I turned
them
down. But it didn’t matter. They had their orders, and the Djinn always follow their orders, don’t they? My
mother
made sure of that.’’

Rumors had floated around over the past year about Kevin, about his stepmother, Yvette, who was truly one of the most morally grotesque people I’d ever met. About her illicit use of Djinn for personal gratification, and for other, even less savory, purposes.

Kevin had suffered at her hands. I didn’t know whether or not she’d turned her Djinn on him in a sexual sense, but I didn’t doubt it. It would have been a tragedy for the Djinn as well as Kevin, but Kevin wouldn’t necessarily feel that.

The worst part of it was that for at least some period of time, Yvette had owned
David
. I’d never asked him what his history was with Kevin, and neither he nor Kevin had ever really come clean about it.

I hoped I wasn’t hearing the truth of it, right now, but the pain and rage in Kevin couldn’t possibly be mistaken for anything else but honesty.

‘‘I hope you get what’s coming to you. Both of you,’’ he spat, and turned to leave.

‘‘Wait a minute,’’ I said. ‘‘You think you just get to make a dramatic exit?’’ I sent a gust of wind past him and blew the doors shut with a heavy thud. ‘‘Sit your ass down, Kevin.’’

‘‘Bite me.’’ He whirled back toward me, and there were tears glittering in his eyes, real and agonizing, and I almost stopped it there, almost went to him and put my arms around him and told him he didn’t have to do this.

Lewis got in my way. ‘‘Sit,’’ he said flatly. ‘‘I’m not telling you again, Kevin. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll do it for you.’’

In answer, Kevin formed a fireball in both hands, glared at both of us through the unholy orange glow, and then turned and threw the fireball straight at the doors. It hit and detonated with enough force to blow the doors open and off their hinges.

He walked out.

‘‘No,’’ I said, and put out a hand to stop the guards who started after him. ‘‘No, let him go. If he wants to leave, let him leave. This isn’t over, but there’s no point in destroying the place. Again.’’

That got a weak wave of nervous chuckles. Some of the Wardens out there looked as if they were suffering a PTSD moment; I completely sympathized. This was turning out to be less theatrical and more gut-wrenching than I’d ever intended, but I supposed that was a good thing, ultimately.
It’s for his own protection,
I reminded myself.
If the Sentinels can’t buy his defection after that, it can’t be done.

But I was going to have a hell of a lot of fence-mending to do. And I felt filthy inside, as if I’d dragged my soul through a sewer.

Lewis took my hand, out of sight behind the podium, and squeezed. He knew what I was feeling. I moved back to let him get to the microphone, and he said something to close the meeting. . . . I wasn’t really listening. I was staring at the smoking, destroyed doorway where Kevin had made his grand exit.

God, please, watch out for him,
I thought.
If anything happens to him . . .

Lewis must have finished, because in the next moment people were getting up in the auditorium, chattering excitedly, making their way toward the exits. And Lewis put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me off into the shadows at the back of the stage, where he whispered, ‘‘I think it was all right.’’

‘‘Brutal,’’ I said. My voice sounded strange. ‘‘I didn’t want to put him through that.’’

‘‘He signed up, Jo. It’s something he wants to do. Let him be a hero for once.’’

‘‘Yeah, well, it’s hard to just stand by and watch.’’