Thin Air
Authors: Rachel Caine
Praise for the Weather Warden Series
Windfall
“The writing is so fluid, the story so quick-paced, I can't possibly put the book downâthere is a compulsive need to find out What Happens Next.”
â*Purple Pens
“The fast pace, intense emotion, cool magics, and a sense of hurtling momentum toward some planet-sized conclusion to the overarching story are keeping me a fan of the Weather Warden series. I continue to enjoy Joanne's girly-girl yet kick-ass nature.”
âRomantic SF & Fantasy Novels
“Caine ups both the pace and the stakes in the fourth entry in her stellar series. Joanne is as appealing as everâ¦. Unflinchingly honest with herself and more than willing to acknowledge her own failings, Joanne cannot help but draw the reader's sympathy and affection. Colorful supporting characters lighten this thundercloud of a novel, but on the whole this is the darkest, most enthralling, and most powerful novel yet from the talented Caine.”
â
Romantic Times
(top pick, 4½ stars)
Chill Factor
“With chick-lit dialogue and rocket-propelled pacing, Rachel Caine takes the Weather Wardens to places the Weather Channel never imagined!”
âMary Jo Putney
“The Weather Warden series is fun readingâ¦more engaging than most TV.”
â
Booklist
“
Chill Factor
successfully builds upon the story lines begun in
Ill Wind
and continued in
Heat Stroke
, bringing them all to a furious climax. Caine just keeps getting better and betterâ¦. Like a good hurricane, she builds slowly offshore and, once ready, tears inland to wreak literary havoc in an unpredictable manner.
Factor
, like the rest in the series, is a breath of fresh air in the urban fantasy field, and I continue to look forward to Rachel Caine's further offerings.”
âSF Site
“Caine has cleverly combined the wisecracks, sexiness, and fashion savvy of chick lit with gritty action-movie violence and the cutting-edge magic of urban fantasyâ¦a convincing and intensely compelling contemporary fantasy, with a kick-butt heroine who will appeal strongly to fans of Tanya Huff, Kelley Armstrong, and Charlaine Harris.”
â
Romantic Times
Heat Stroke
“A neat, stylish, and very witty addition to the genre, all wrapped up in a narrative voice to die for. Hugely entertaining.”
âSF Crowsnest
“Sexy and suspenseful, this follow-up to
Ill Wind
exceeds the previous volume in sheer excitement and edge-of-your-seat suspense. Caine creates vibrant, over-the-top characters. Joanne is at once funny and heartbreaking in her attempts to adjust to her new way of life.”
â
Romantic Times
Ill Wind
“The forecast calls forâ¦a fun read.”
âJim Butcher
“A fast-paced thrill ride [that] brings new meaning to stormy weather.”
â
Locus
“Crisp characterizations, snappy dialogue, an interestingly different magic system, some sexy romance, and lots of thrilling encounters with storms and heavy weatherâ¦. Joanne herself is an appealing heroine, with a wry sense of humor that enlivens even the darkest encounters.”
âSF Site
“I dare you to put this book down.”
â
University City Review
(Philadelphia)
“Fans of Laurell K. Hamilton and the Dresden Files by Jim Butcher are going to love this fast-paced, action-packed, romantic urban fantasy.”
â
Midwest Book Review
“Caine writes with a super-quick pace that carries the reader from beginning to end effortlessly. Caine's writing reminds me of Laurell K. Hamilton in her early daysâ¦. Dig in to this great new fantasy series.”
âPurple Pens
B
OOK
S
IX OF THE
W
EATHER
W
ARDEN
S
ERIES
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
ISBN: 1-101-12868-2
Copyright © Roxanne Longstreet Conrad, 2007
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARKâMARCA REGISTRADA
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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To all the great people who have been so enthusiastic
about the adventures of Joanne and David, and
the world of the Wardens. It's been a long, strange
trip, but you've made it the best ride of my life.
So far, anyway.
Joe Bonamassa
(www.jbonamassa.com)
Josefine Corsten and Sondra Lehman, without whom this book would not have been possible
The winners of the 2006 NaNoWriMo competition:
Janice Smith (1st place), Telaryn, Amanda M. Hayes, Rhienelleth, Carrie Miller, Mysticmoose, CKocher, Tainry, Writerfangirl, Navah Wolfe, Kaylana-Nicole, Laura Roman, Seeksadventure, Jenn Moffatt, April Urbain, Karl F. Hubert, Jennifer Carey, Zoe Winters, Jennifer Kammerer-Pulley, Jennifer Minnick, Katinka Espersen, Amanda Smith, Alexa Silver, Brian A. Crawford, Crystal Sarakas, Charity Vandehey, Carla Lee, Larinzia, Andrea Miccaver
My friends (especially P. N. Elrod, Kelley, Marla, Claire, Becky, Katie, and Becky!) and my family (especially my husband, Cat)
Grateful thanks to Donna Cummings, who fearlessly waded in on short notice to give feedbackâ¦
Speaking of fearless, kudos to my fearless agents, Lucienne Diver and Kevin Cleary
And most especially, thanks to my editor, Liz Scheier, for her tremendous faith in me
I was lying on something cold and wet, and I was naked and shivering. Afraid. Something was very, very wrong with me.
I reflexively curled in on myself, protecting as much of my body as I could, as awareness of the world washed over me in hot, pulsing waves.
Biting, frigid wind. Ice-cold sleet trailing languid fingers over my bare skin. I forced my eyes open and saw my arm lying on the ground in front of me, hand outstretched, and my skin was a pallid, blue-tinged white, red at the fingertips. Frostbite.
I ached all over, so fiercely that I felt tears well up in my eyes. And I felt
empty
, cored and thrown out like an old orange peel.
I forced myself to look beyond my own hand and saw that I was lying in a mound of cold, slimy leaf litter. Overhead, bare trees swayed and scratched the sky, and what little could be seen between the skeletal branches was gray, flocked with low clouds. The air tasted thin in my mouth.
I tried to think where I was, how I'd gotten here, but it was a blank. Worse, it terrified me to even try to think of it. I shuddered with more than the cold, gasping, and squeezed my eyes shut again.
Get up
, I told myself.
Up.
I'd die if I stayed here, naked and freezing. But when I tried to uncurl myself from the embryonic position I'd assumed, I couldn't get anything to work right. My muscles jittered and spasmed and protested wildly, and the best I managed was to roll myself up to my hands and knees and not quite fall flat on my face again.
I heard a voice yelling somewhere off in the woods. Sticks cracking as something large moved through the underbrush.
Run!
something told me, and I was immediately drenched in cold terror. I lunged up to my feet, biting back a shriek of agony as muscles trembled and threatened to tear. I fell against the rough bark of a tree and clung to it as cramps rippled through my back and legs, like giant hands giving me the worst massage in the world. I saw sparks and stars, bit my lip until I tasted blood. My hair was blowing wildly in the wind where it wasn't stuck to my damp, cold skin or matted with mud and leaves.
I let go of the tree and lurched away. My legs didn't want to move, but I forced them, one step at a time. My arms were wrapped around my breasts to preserve a warmth that I couldn't find, either within me or without.
My feet were too cold to feel pain, but when I looked back I saw I was leaving smears of blood behind on the fallen leaves. Cuts had already opened on the soles.
I kept moving. It was more of a lurching not-quite-falling than running, but I was too frightened to wait for any kind of improvement. Had to keep going.
More shouting behind me. Voices, more than one. The hammer of blood in my ears kept me from focusing on the words.
Someone did this to me
, I thought.
Put me out here to die.
I didn't want them to find that they'd failed.
Not that they really
had
failed, yet.
Up ahead was a tangle of underbrush. My body was already covered with whip scratches and a lacework of blood against cold white skin. I needed a way aroundâ¦. I turned right, holding to a massive tree trunk for support, and clambered up a short rise.
Just as I reached the summit, a shadow appeared at the top of it. I gasped and started to fall backward, but the shadow reached down and grabbed my forearm, pulling me up the rest of the way and then wrapping me in sudden warmth as his arms closed around me.
I fought, startled and scared, but he was a big man, tall, and he managed to pin my arms to my sides in a bear hug. “Jo!” he shouted in my ear. “Joanne, stop! It's me! It's Lewis!”
He smelled like wood smoke and sweat, leaves and nylon, but he was warm, oh, God, warm as heaven itself, and against my own will I felt myself go limp and stop fighting. For the moment.
“Jo?” He slowly let his arms loosen and pulled back to look down at me. He was taller than I was by half a head, with shaggy-cut brown hair and a long patrician face with big, dark eyes. A three-day growth of beard was coming in heavy on his cheeks and chin. “We've been looking for you for days. Are youâ” He stopped himself with an impatient shake of his head. “Never mind, stupid question. Obviously you're not okay or you'd have contacted us. Listen, we're in trouble. Bad trouble. We need you. Things have gone wrong.”
I realized, with a terrible sinking feeling, that I had no idea who he was. And then the sinking turned to free fall.
He must have known something was wrong, because he frowned at me and passed his hand in front of my eyes. “Jo? Are you listening to me?”
I had no idea who I was.