All Your Wishes (32 page)

We have gone back in time
, the djinn said in my mind
. You wished to save your lover. It is too late for that, nor am I willing to cross his deity. But I have brought you to a time and place where you can bid him farewell.

Without hesitation I turned and raced after the gurney. Too late, I tried to shift around a man who was pushing a crash cart toward the curtained cubicle where they'd taken Bruno, but instead of colliding with him, I passed right through him. Apparently I was here, but my body wasn't.

There was no time to think about that. I stepped through the curtain and came face to face with Bruno's spirit, which was staring down at the body on the gurney in shock. A doctor shouted for people to clear before zapping him with a defibrillator's electrified paddles. The body bowed, its chest rising off of the gurney, but the heart machine continued its relentless, monotonous beep.

Bruno …

Celia?
He looked at me.
What? How?

I threw my arms around him and they didn't pass through. He was there, real, warm to the touch, his soul whole even if his body wasn't.

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
My non-body was wracked with sobs as tears poured unheeded down my cheeks.
I love you. I've always loved you.

The body was electrified again and I felt Bruno shudder in my arms.

So I'm dead?
His voice was shocked.
Are you …

No. The djinn brought me here.

A djinn? Celia!
He squeezed me tight.
You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't.

I couldn't save you. I wanted to, but I couldn't. But I had to say good-bye.

Oh, honey.
He gently cupped my cheek in his hand. Leaning down, he kissed me, his warm, gentle lips pressing against mine.

I felt a surge of power that I'd felt only once before—not magic, something different, purer, and more powerful. It was exactly the same feeling I'd encountered when my sister's ghost had finally been called home.

We were out of time.

As if from I distance I heard the doctor announcing the time of death for the official record. A slit of light appeared by the head of the gurney, swiftly becoming a doorway that hovered six inches off the floor. The rectangle was filled with light so bright I couldn't look at it directly.

A tall, male shape dressed in blinding white stepped out.

What is this?
Power sang through each word and I found myself falling back a step. Bruno stepped protectively between me and the figure, using his soul to guard mine.

The angel, for that was what he was, stood at alert, his expression stern and forbidding.

The djinn, who'd appeared behind me when the slit first appeared, raised her hands in a placating gesture.
She is here to tell him good-bye. That is all. We have no quarrel, you and I.

The angel gave her a long, wary stare, then stepped aside. He gestured for Bruno to precede him.

Bruno turned to me. With a sad smile, he pulled me into his arms one last time, trying to put everything he had, everything we were to each other, into that last embrace.

I love you, Celie. I always have, and always will.

I couldn't answer. Tears had choked words and breath from me. So I held him tight, willing him to know, to understand.

His arms tightened around me one last time. Then he let me go. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward, into that doorway of brilliant white light. The angel followed, closing the door behind him and leaving me in a room that seemed very dark without it.

 

26

I
stood staring
after them for a long, long time. The djinn waited patiently. In the background, medical personnel covered the body and left, moving on to new patients, new emergencies. I heard someone talking about a burn patient, Connie DeGarmo.

That registered dimly: Connie DeGarmo was Bruno's aunt Connie, Sal's wife. But I couldn't rouse much interest.

Bruno was gone. Dead. Yes, he'd gone to heaven—but that didn't make the loss of him any less hard.

When I was as ready as I was going to be, the djinn took my hand. Magic washed over me and we were back in the cavern, back in the present. We reappeared maybe a second after we'd left. The scene in the cavern was just the same. No one had moved—in fact, most of them probably had no idea I'd been gone. Cox knew; I could see it in his eyes. The look he gave me was filled with a lot of caution and a little distrust.

I couldn't blame him. In his place, I'd feel exactly the same.

He was still giving me a hard stare as the djinn withdrew the stickpin that held her brooch in place, keeping the bit of jewelry in her hand as the fabric of her dress fell to pool on the floor. At a twitch of her fingers, the left sleeve of my uniform shirt dissolved to mist. I held perfectly still as, with great care, she used the sharp pin to etch a perfect circle, a few inches wide, in the flesh of my upper arm. Blood welled up, but only a little. The scratch wasn't deep. She pressed the brooch, which was now the size of my palm, against the wound. Magic filled the air, but instead of the heat I normally felt, this was cold, so cold I shivered, my teeth chattering. The skin beneath the brooch turned red, then nearly gray, before the metal simply melted away before my eyes, leaving behind a mark that was both scar and tattoo. It had the shape of the
sujay
and tiny gems were embedded at each of the compass points.

Your third wish, granted. Never again will any creature be able to possess your body against your will.

Three wishes: Healing Kevin, saying good-bye to Bruno, and this. No strings attached. I knew I should be grateful, and eventually I probably would be. But now, it was all too much. I was spent, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Turning her back on me, the great djinn strode over to the altar. She pivoted and backed into her place, her body growing and changing until it was, again, a colossal figure carved of brown stone, reaching up to the cavern ceiling.

 

27

The army
medics patched me together enough to go home. Once there, I slept for two full days, only climbing out of bed to use the facilities and eat. I didn't watch the news. I really didn't want to know how much damage Hasan had caused the world. He'd done more than enough damage to me.

On the fourth day, Dawna sent Kevin to drag me out of bed. She was healing, but it would be a while before she was completely herself again. She sent Kevin because I had a flight to catch. I had appointments to keep. The military types who'd assisted me were to be given special commendations at the White House. I was invited to attend and I wanted to show my support. Cox and his people had been amazing; they completely deserved the high honors they were getting.

The president had offered me civilian honors, but I'd decided to pass. I'd done my best, but it hadn't been enough. I didn't know how many had died, but even one was too many.

I dressed conservatively and made sure I ate before and after the flight. The trip itself was uneventful, as was the limo ride to the White House. Security was tight enough that my skin reddened and blistered as I passed through the building's perimeter, but everything had healed up by the time I'd swathed myself in sunblock and taken my assigned seat in the Rose Garden.

The autumn day was chilly, but the garden was still beautiful. Classical music played softly in the background. My seat was in the second row, behind the family members of the honorees. Everyone was dressed in their absolute best. Some faces shone with pride. Others, probably relatives of the fallen, bore signs of grief. A few children shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One, a bright-eyed blond in pigtails and pink ruffles who couldn't have been more than two, stared at me with wide eyes over her mother's shoulder.

Cox and his surviving crew, in full dress uniform, were lined up in front, beside the lectern with the presidential seal. They looked good. Some of them would have fairly spectacular new scars, but they all stood tall and proud, at parade rest. Cox's hair had gone completely white and his eyes, which now glowed, had taken on the color of the topaz he'd been holding during the ceremony. Tucker, who had stood at the west point of the compass, had white hair too, his eyes as vivid green as the emerald he'd used. Awaiting their commander in chief, the whole team nonetheless acknowledged me subtly. Every one. It made me proud.

The music changed to “Hail to the Chief.” We stood. Cox and his people came to full attention.

The president of the United States had arrived.

I found myself blinking away tears as emotions threatened to overwhelm me. The ceremony wasn't long. Medals were awarded. Each soldier got a personal thank you and a handshake from the president. Cooper was presented with another set of knives. Maybe I shouldn't have been so impressed; after all, my great-aunt Lopaka rules the sirens. But I'm an American, and I choked up. I almost regretted declining my honor.

Cox, his team, most of the families, and many of the other spectators, including me, went directly from the Rose Garden to Arlington National Cemetery, where Specialist Morales was buried with full military honors. She'd been posthumously awarded the highest honor the military could grant a mage. Her father accepted it and the folded flag from her coffin, his face solemn, as her mother sobbed in the arms of her son.

Vargas's funeral was just as sad. Her big, apparently close family was obviously devastated. Full military honors were given, and when they fired off the honor volley it was as if they'd fired straight into her mother's heart.

*   *   *

While I was in DC, I met with Dom Rizzoli, who debriefed me. Then he did something totally unexpected. He gave me a hug. At first, I held back, but it felt good having his arms around me. When he said, “You did good, Celia,” I even believed him. But the cost had been so damned high. Too high. Living without Bruno … I wasn't sure I could bear it, even though I knew I had to. It wasn't like I had a choice.

I went to a lot of funerals in the next couple of weeks. The service for Jones was small and simple, and attended predominantly by very scary people who looked remarkably ordinary. Dawna, Chris, Kevin, and I all went.

Jones had been there when I was turned into an abomination. He'd been beside me when we rescued Kevin from the Zoo. I hadn't liked him. He had plenty of power, a brilliant mind, and, as far as I could tell, absolutely no conscience. It was a frightening combination. No, I hadn't liked Jones much—but I'd respected the hell out of him.

I sent flowers to Rahim's funeral. It didn't seem right to attend. I didn't think Abha would hold anything against me, nor Ujala. They'd paid our bill—which was quite large, in the end—without complaint. Still, I stayed away.

For Pradeep I sent nothing. I still had hard feelings about the guy. I'd learned from contacts at the Company that the contract he had taken out on me died with him when he was killed on the beach in Florida, with Tarik and the others, trying to work their own version of the magic needed to trap Hasan. He was felled by the bad guys, who'd used one of those heart attack guns on him.

I hadn't liked Pradeep, and the fact that Tarik had betrayed his family and calling was only partly mitigated by his eventual change of heart. Still, I had nothing but sympathy for both Divya and Abha. I felt even worse for Ujala. He'd been forced to go through something no kid that young should face, and he was taking on duties grown men would blanch at. He had power and intelligence, but he was going to have a hard life. Still, I was glad the djinn in the cavern had said what she had to him. It's important to a kid that his father be remembered with respect.

Bruno was given a huge Catholic funeral mass at the Cathedral. Since he'd never been part of the Mafia, he wasn't an excommunicate. Matty didn't officiate; he sat with his family. Part of me wanted to sit in the general audience, with El Jefe, Ram Sloan, and other professors who'd worked closely with Bruno, or with Dawna, Chris, and Kevin.

Instead, I was in the third row with the dignitaries, sitting between my great-aunt, Queen Lopaka, and King Dahlmar of Rusland, who was married to my cousin, Adriana. As often happened on state occasions, my aunt insisted Baker and Griffiths act as my security team. I didn't argue. We'd worked together before; they were good at their jobs without being annoying about it and I liked them quite a bit. Griffiths was an imposing redheaded male; Baker a blond woman with a beautiful smile and the gift of clairvoyance. Both were businesslike, alert, and armed to the teeth in their somber black suits.

Because of the solemn occasion, they, and all the other security types, were trying to be discreet. It wasn't easy. There were so many of them present. But nobody objected. Bruno had been murdered: murdered by a traitor to his uncle, who had also planted the detonation charges that took out Sal and Connie's mansion. Every time I thought about it, I was overwhelmed with grief and rage.

I was just a wreck. Even when Bruno and I hadn't been together, he'd always been a presence in my life. Now he wasn't—except in memory. Knowing he was in heaven and at peace didn't fill the void of his absence. My friends tried to help, but they were grieving too. John Creede called, and sent flowers to the funeral. He couldn't come. Because of the trouble he'd gotten into by helping out at the Needle, he still couldn't return to the United States.

Just a few short weeks after Bruno's funeral, his mother, Isabella Rose, died. Matty was devastated all over again. I was so glad he had Emma to lean on.

Isabella had wanted her funeral to be a small family affair, and it was. But they insisted that I was one of them, so I attended, sitting beside Emma. Isabella and I hadn't really liked each other, but we'd both loved Bruno, and eventually we'd reached a point of mutual respect.