Thin Air (24 page)

“I said I'd bring him,” she said, and I felt a massive energy surge sweep over my body, staggering me, and I almost saw the golden arc of it blow past.

It seemed to outline a human body, glowing hot, and then the glow vanished and there was only a man standing there, unsteady and pale as a dead man.

He pitched forward to the floor, retching.

I knew
exactly
how that felt, actually. I'd felt it when I'd flown Air Venna from the Great Northwest to Las Vegas, nonstop.

“I thought you said teleporting could kill people,” I said.

“It didn't.”

Even though I knew it was a mistake, I took a step toward them and heard that he was gasping for breath in helpless, hopeless sobs. He looked up, and the dim light gilded a pale face, pale hair.

“I shouldn't be here,” he said. “I can't be here—” And then he just…stopped, staring at me.

“Ashan?” I asked. He should have rung some recognition bells, I knew that, but…nothing. A frustrating lack of context. “You know who I am?”

He licked pale lips and wiped away his tears with shaking hands. “You're gone,” he said. “I killed you. I killed both of you.”

He lunged at me, and slammed the heel of his hand into my shoulder. He seemed as surprised as I was—apparently, he'd been expecting a ghost, not flesh and blood. And I hadn't expected him to move quite that fast. “Whoa!” I said, and skipped back out of reach. “Watch the hands!”

Ashan didn't exactly look well. He was wearing some kind of a gray suit, but it was dirty, smudged, and torn, and he smelled. I mean,
really
smelled. His hair was greasy, and all in all, he looked like somebody who'd never discovered the basics of hygiene. Which I suppose would follow, if he'd been busted from near-angelic status to the merely human. Venna clearly hadn't taken the time to clean him up, or maybe she hadn't been able to convince him to even try.

He kept looking at me like he wasn't sure he was sane. Well…actually, he looked like he'd blown past the borders of actual sanity some time ago. I glanced over my shoulder. Venna was still there, watching with unnervingly bright eyes.

“You have to be dead,” he said. “I watched you die. I
felt
you die. And I paid the price.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said. “Guess what? Good news. You get to make amends and help me get my life back.”

He was
fast
. Faster than he ought to have been, and I hadn't moved far enough. He crossed the space, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me down to the floor with such violence that I could barely comprehend it, much less react.

Upside down, Venna's face was still inscrutable. Great. No help from that quarter.

My instincts reached for power…and failed.

There was no access to the powers I'd started to get accustomed to, not here. This was like a bubble, cut off from the outside. Cut off from the aetheric.

“Get off!” I squeaked, and twisted, trying to throw Ashan's weight to one side. He wasn't heavy, but he was wiry, and he had an unholy amount of strength. I had no leverage. I grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and yanked, and he howled and used his free hand to grab my wrist. I bucked, got him off balance, and we rolled down the aisle of the chapel, spitting curses, and this time
I
ended up on top,
my
hands on
his
throat. Holding him down.

“Go on,” he spat at me. “Break my neck. Kill me like I killed your child. Put me out of my misery, you pathetic bag of meat!”

I went very still. I must have looked like a crazy woman, my hair sticking to my sweaty face, my eyes wide, my lips parted on a truth I didn't want to speak.

He'd killed my
child
.

That was what Venna hadn't wanted to tell me. I was facing Imara's murderer, with his life in my hands.

This time, Venna did react. She stepped forward and said, very quietly, “You can't. You can't kill him.”

Oh, I was pretty sure I could. And
should
.

Didn't the daughter I couldn't remember, whose pain had soaked into the very stones outside of this place, demand that much?

It wasn't so much the moral quandary that stopped me as the fact that something changed in the room, right at that moment. Not Ashan—he was a stinky, horrifying excuse for a human being, and right at that moment I had no reason in the world not to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt my daughter. I didn't figure that Venna would really be able to stop me.

What changed was that the three of us were no longer alone.

Venna took in a deep, gasping breath—more reaction than I'd ever heard from her—and moved slowly back, until her shoulders fetched up against the polished wood of the side of a pew.

And then she slipped down to her knees, put her hands in her lap, and bowed her head.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “I see now. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought them here.”

And there was someone sitting in the blackest shadows of the room, an outline of a person, nothing more, but a sense of presence and power sent little shocks up and down my spine.

I hesitated, staring at that dark shape, and then I sat up, grabbed Ashan by his filthy collar, and yanked him to a sitting position. “Who is it?” I asked Venna.

She didn't answer.

“Venna!”

Whoever it was, Ashan looked destroyed. The expression on his face was horrifying in its vulnerability. His eyes filled with tears, and his whole body trembled with the force of something like grief, something like rage, more toxic than either one of those. I let go, because he didn't even know I was there, and he crawled away from me,
crawled
, to kneel at the end of the pew where the shadow figure sat.

“You can't be here,” he said. “You can't.”

But whatever the shape was, it didn't move, didn't speak, and didn't seem to notice him at all. I got slowly to my feet and watched Ashan tremble, and suddenly killing him didn't seem like a priority. He was suffering, all right. Suffering in ways I couldn't begin to understand.

Good.

All around the chapel, candles came alight—one after another, a racing circle of warm flame.

And I saw who was sitting in the pew. I guess I should have known, from Venna's reaction, and from Ashan's, but I still wasn't prepared.

She looked human, but there was no way she was anything like it; she had a stillness to her that not even Tibetan monks could attain. She was wearing a full brickred dress, shifting and sheer in some places, solid in others; it fluttered in a breeze I couldn't feel, and her full lips were parted on what looked like a gasp of delight, as if she'd seen something truly wonderful that none of the rest of us could grasp.

And then her eyes, a brilliant shade of hot gold, shifted to fix on me.

Ashan pressed himself down on the floor, totally abasing himself, and I thought,
No, this can't be true. This can't be happening.

Because it was my daughter. My Imara, the Imara of the memories I'd gotten from Cherise and Eamon. And yet…not her at all.

Not until she smiled, and shattered my heart into a million pieces.

“Oh,” I whispered, and felt my knees go weak. “Oh, my God…” I didn't know what to say, how to feel. There was this storm of emotion inside of me, overwhelming in its pressure, and I wanted to laugh and cry and scream and, like Ashan, get down on my knees in gratitude and supplication. But I wasn't Ashan, and I didn't. I braced myself with both hands on the back of a pew and stared at her until my eyes burned.

She didn't speak.

“Imara?” I asked. My throat felt raw, and I could barely recognize my own voice. “Are you…?”
Alive? All right?
I didn't even know what to ask.

Venna said, “The old Oracle was dying after the Demon wounded her. The Mother made a new Oracle in her place from the energy that was lost. I didn't know it would be Imara.” Venna sounded very quiet, very small. “Does it help?”

Help? My daughter was there, smiling at me. How could it not help? I swallowed. “Can she…can she hear me?”

“Not the way you think. She hears who you are, though. And she knows.”

“Knows what?” I felt a bizarre mixture of pain and grief and anger fizzing up inside, overwhelming the relief.

“Everything,” Venna said soberly. “She knows you still love her.”

There was something about Imara that kept me from rushing to her, touching her, babbling out everything I felt. Something…other.

But that look, that smile…those were pure love.

“It's why you could do what you did on the beach, when you made the Earth obey you,” Venna said. “And how you can touch people's memories. Because through her, you touch the Earth. You've got all three channels now. Earth, Fire, Weather. You're like Lewis.”

She didn't look particularly happy about it. Imara's smile faded, and she looked down at Ashan, cowering near her feet. Her eyes shifted color to a molten bronze.

I didn't need words to understand that look, and it chilled me.

If Venna noticed, she didn't mention it. She was frowning now, looking as disturbed as I'd ever seen her. “This isn't going to work.”

“What? What do you mean?” For a terrifying second I thought she was talking about Imara, that there was something wrong, but no; Venna looked too calm, too still.

“She's new,” Venna said, and rested her hands, palm down, on her thighs. “She hasn't come into her full power yet. And that means she can't help Ashan—even if she wants to.”

I doubted sincerely that what Imara had on her mind for Ashan could go by the description of
help
.

“So that's it?” I asked. “We just give up?”

Venna threw me an all-too-human look of exasperation. “No,” she said. “We take him to another Oracle, that's all. I'll—take him out of here.”

I didn't watch how she did it, but I heard Ashan scrambling, and heard him cry out, once. Then they were gone, and the door shut behind them.

I didn't take my eyes off my daughter, the Oracle.

“Can you hear me?” I asked. “Imara?”

Her eyes slowly swirled back to that lovely shade of gold, but she didn't smile this time.

I waited, but the candles began to dim, slowly winking out one by one. While I could still see her, I said, “Please say something. Please, baby. I need to know that you're okay.”

She was just a dim shadow against the deeper shadows, a glimmer of gold eyes in the dark, when she whispered, “Hang in there, Mom. I love you.”

And then she was gone.

I sat down hard on the pew, put my face in my hands, and prayed. Not to my daughter. Not to the Earth, whoever that was.

I prayed to God, whose chapel it was. Who'd built this glittering, beautiful, hurtful world with all its magic and deadly sharp edges. I needed a higher power to get me through the rest of this, because I didn't think I could do it by myself.

I don't know if He answered, exactly, but after a few minutes I felt a kind of peace inside, a stillness, and an acceptance.

My child wasn't suffering, and she wasn't totally beyond my reach.

Maybe that was enough.

I scrubbed my face clean of tears, got up, and went to find Venna.

 

Venna had Ashan—actually, he was on his knees, and she had one hand on his shoulder. It didn't look like restraint, exactly, but I was sure it was. He looked worse in the merciless glare of the motion-activated spotlights on the concrete stairs—bleached, grimy, with an unpleasant light of madness lurking in those blue eyes.

He'd killed my daughter. And if he'd gotten his way, she'd have been completely dead, not sitting in there in the chapel, elevated to some level I couldn't understand. In a very real way, he'd still taken her away; Imara the Oracle wasn't Imara at all, not the way I'd known her.

You never knew her at all
, some cold part of me said.
You never had a past; you never had a daughter. Remember?

That was the point. I didn't remember. And Ashan had done that to me.

Miles to go before I could see that put right.

“So,” I said. “Where now?”

I'd expected her to hesitate, but instead, Venna promptly said, “Seacasket.”

“Pardon?”

“It's in New Jersey.”

I hadn't forgotten geography. New Jersey was a long way from Arizona. A long, long way.

“We should go,” Venna said. “I can drive when you get tired.”

Yeah, like I was going to let a kid behind the wheel of
that
car. Even a many-centuries-old kid. “One other thing,” I said, and pointed a thumb at Ashan. “
He
needs a bath. I'm not smelling him all the way to the East Coast.”

Ashan shot to his feet, running like a rabbit for the rocks, not the stairs. “Hey!”

He slammed face-first into an invisible wall, staggered back, and whirled to face us. Venna had broken his nose, and it was streaming blood. Not a good look for him. When he tried to come at me, Venna stopped him again with just as much force.

“Ashan,” she said to him. “You know you can't fight me. I'll just keep on hurting you.”

He tried it again, as if he hadn't heard her, and I winced this time at the sound of flesh and bone hitting the barrier. “He's
trying
to make you hurt him,” I said. “He wants you to kill him.”

Venna blinked. “That's odd.”

“That's human. And kind of crazy.”

“I will
never
understand mortals,” she said, sounding aggrieved. “How do I stop him without hurting him?”

“Let me handle it.”

This time, when he lunged at us, I took the Taser out of my purse, switched it on, and zapped the holy living shit out of him. Ashan convulsed and went down. I crouched next to him. His eyes were unfocused, and there was blood dripping from his chin in a gory mess. “Ashan. Can you hear me?”

He could. He just didn't answer. I could tell from the immediate flicker of rage in him that I had his attention. The shock had incapacitated him, but it hadn't done much to make him like me any better.

“Venna's going to keep you from doing any damage to me, or yourself,” I said. “Right, Ven?” She gave me a look that could have doubled as a crematorium. “Sorry. Venna.”

“Yes.” She wasn't forgiving me anytime soon for an attempt at a pet name; that was clear from her tone. “Up, Ashan.”

At first he couldn't get up, and then it was clear he didn't want to. The smile Venna gave him was evil enough to haunt a serial killer's nightmares.

“If you don't,” she said, “then I'll make you, brother.”

Brother?
I didn't know if that was literal or figurative, but either way, it worked; Ashan climbed silently to his feet and walked down the steps without trying to run, pitch headlong to his death, or take me with him. I looked back up at the Chapel of the Holy Cross; it was quiet, no signs of life. No sign of my daughter haunting its warm, incense-scented shadows.

I wanted to run back up the steps and throw my arms around her, but somehow I knew that it wasn't the time. Not here. Not now.

Not until this was over.

Venna saw me looking, and said, “We should go.”

Ashan coughed, and spit a mouthful of blood at Venna's feet. She raised one eyebrow and made it disappear. Just like that.

I raised the Taser and activated it, letting him get a good look at the jumping spark. “Get in the car, Ashan.”

He slid into the backseat. I pointed a finger at Venna. “Watch him,” I said.

“Of course.” She gave me a cool raise of her eyebrows, as if I were being completely stupid, and climbed in the passenger seat.

I stood there for a few seconds with my hand on the car door, looking up at the chapel. For a second, I thought I saw…something. A flicker of red, a dress fluttering in the wind.

A smile.

“I'll see you soon,” I promised her, and got in the driver's seat.

We drove out toward the main road, and when I reached an intersection I idled and waited for traffic. Venna seemed lost in thought, but she finally said, “I can conceal us from most, but he is going to be a problem.”

“Venna, could you ever once in a while use a
name
? Would it kill you? He, who? Ashan?”

“David,” she said, with a little too much enunciative precision. “He's been looking for you. I can keep him from finding us for now, but I'm not sure I can do it for long. He's very smart.”

“He's looking for me?” I felt a surge of gratitude and relief, and then I remembered that it wasn't a good thing. “Oh. Looking for me because he thinks I'm the wrong one. The fake Joanne.”

“Yes.”

“And where is he?”

She shrugged. “I said I could hide us from him, not keep track of him. It's not that simple. You'd better get going.”

“Do you think this is going to work?”

Venna looked suddenly very young, and very uncertain. “I don't know,” she said. “It's never been done before. And I didn't expect that the Earth Oracle would be Imara. That complicates things.”

I swallowed, suddenly very cold. “What if it doesn't work?”

“Eventually,” Venna said, “the Demon will win. And I don't know what will happen then. I really don't.”

We looked at each other in silence for a second.

“Go east,” she said. “We've got a lot of ground to cover.”

 

I love to drive, but this wasn't driving, it was being trapped in a car with a crazy man (who kept muttering things in a language that I didn't understand), a Djinn who was by turns cute and creepy, and constantly operating under the threat of impending, though nonspecific, doom. It was the Paranoia Ride, which I was sure wasn't going to catch on at Disney World. Venna wasn't exactly comforting company, and Ashan…I hadn't liked him at first sight, I'd begun to hate him when I'd realized what he'd done, and now I outright loathed him. Venna had, at my request, dumped him into a shower at a roadside motel, and I'd bought him some fresh clothes to replace the filthy suit he'd been wearing. Clean, he looked and smelled better.