Thin Air (28 page)

He folded his arms and glared. “What? And don't even think about touching me, bitch.”

“You seem pretty angry about being fooled. Just what did she do to get you on her side?”

He went white, then mottled red. He didn't answer.

“Paul,” I said. “Look, I don't remember you, okay? All I have is memories from a few people—”

“Yeah.” He snorted. “Heard what you did to Marion and the folks at the clinic. Sounds like
you're
the menace, not the other one.”

“—and a whole lot of guesses. You and me, we were never…?” I was keeping my voice very low, although I wasn't stupid enough to assume that the rest of them couldn't hear me if they wanted to eavesdrop. Especially David.

Paul shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable. “None of your business.”

“I'll take that as a no. Then why am I thinking you're looking at me in a whole different way than you were the last time I met you?”

He gave me a miserable look and scrubbed his hands over his dark five-o'clock shadow. “Jesus fucking Christ, don't go there.” His voice had dropped to an urgent whisper. I matched it.

“Did she? Go there?”

Of course she had. He looked helplessly at me, and I understood. Evil Twin had set out to win over every single person that I could count on, and Paul had an Achilles' heel…he wanted me. So…she gave him what he wanted. And somehow she'd kept David from knowing it. (Because otherwise Paul wouldn't be standing here intact and unharmed. I knew that without the benefit of any memories.)

I shook my head. “Paul, that wasn't me.
She
wasn't me.”

“So
you
say. Sorry, but I'm not buying the next load of crap to get trucked by.” He was looking a little ill now. “That was
you.
Joanne. Christ, I've known her—you—half your life. I'd know the difference!”

The scariest thing about it? Maybe he was right about that. Maybe the Demon really had become more me than me.

“She showed you what she wanted you to see,” I said. “She showed David the faithful lover. She showed each of you exactly what would get her the maximum mileage….” God, what had she shown Lewis?
One hell of a good time.
I tried hard not to even consider it. “She wanted you on her side. Against me.”

“I repeat: I got zero reason to believe you. And I'm not hearing anything to convince me.”

I spread my arms. “I'm not a Demon. You can check.”

“How do you think we do that? It's not the fucking Inquisition around here.”

“Ask Marion. She'd know. She can see Demon Marks.” Which begged the question…“Why didn't she recognize Evil Twin?” I asked it aloud, not expecting an answer, but surprisingly Paul actually had one.

“She wasn't awake,” he said. “After you pulled your stunt that night in the clinic, she was in a coma. She came out of it this morning.”

“When the person you thought of as me left,” I said. He frowned and nodded. “Well, that's a coincidence. Lucky E.T. didn't just kill her.”

He looked suddenly ill.

“What?”

Paul's mouth opened and closed, then opened again to say, “Marion's breathing stopped three times in the night. If there hadn't been an Earth Warden with her…”

Evil Twin didn't dare act directly, then, not if she was trying to carry on her campaign to become the one true Joanne. That had saved Marion's life. No doubt E.T. would have been delighted to have dispatched one of the only people in the world who could see her true, unpleasant nature. But Faux Joanne probably would have managed to keep her in a coma indefinitely, until an opportunity came around to quietly shuffle her offstage.

Paul's gaze, which had unfocused to mull things over, sharpened back on me. “How do I know you weren't behind that?”

“We could play this game all day, Paul, but the point is, I'm here, Marion's awake, and she's not pointing at me and screaming, ‘Demon,' now, is she? So you're going to have to take something on faith.” My turn to fold my arms and frown. “Paul, if I was in love with David, I'd never have slipped off with you. Not that you aren't studly, but…”

He looked deeply uncomfortable. Shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. Adjusted the limp tie at the collar of his much-rumpled business shirt, which was finely tailored but not up to the rigors of a Joanne Baldwin crisis. “Yeah,” he mumbled to the floor. “I guess I knew that. I've known you a long time. You're a tease, but—”

“Tease?”

“Flirt,” he amended hastily. “Jesus. Touchy, ain't ya? Look, whatever happened, the point is, she didn't get what she wanted, right?”

I wasn't so sure of that. “What
did
she want?” I pushed away from the door and paced a little, nervous and chilly. “She wanted to cut me off from any support, sure, but it was more than that. She went out of her way to enlist people. She wanted to be part of the Wardens. Why?”

“Because you were?”

I shook my head. “It wasn't just that she wanted a life. It's more than that.” I remembered the way she'd felt in the clinic when she'd been about to kill me. And even back in the forest before the helicopter rescue. She'd refined her methods, but what she wanted wasn't just to be
me.
“Before she came after me, she took over Kevin. She wanted something, and it wasn't just about finding me, because she took him over when he was fighting the California fire—when was that?”

Paul pulled a handheld computer from his pocket and booted it up with a press of his thumb. He had big hands, but he was good with them, tapping out commands with effortless speed. “Same day,” he said. “Same day you disappeared in Sedona.”

I nodded. “Then I need to talk to Kevin. Now.”

 

Summoning Kevin for a personal chat took about an hour, during which somebody provided lunch; I'd forgotten how good food could taste, and devoured two sandwiches without pausing for much beyond swigs of bottled water. Oh, it was good. I'd been willing to settle for some of Lewis's stale trail bars.

When he arrived Kevin wasn't alone; he screeched up the drive in a black Warden-issue SUV, the kind with the sun symbol aetherically embossed on the side, and for a second I was afraid that Evil Twin had come home for a
High Noon
–style showdown.

But when the passenger door opened, it was Cherise who got out. I was unreasonably cheered to see her, because she looked a hell of a lot better than she had—fresh, scrubbed, cute as a button in her snowflake-patterned tight sweater and blue jeans.

She had to be feeling better. Her nail polish matched the outfit.

“Jo!” Cherise was the only person I didn't need to win over; she flew across the room and hugged me like a sister. Well, from what I'd been through with Sarah, more like the sister I
wished
I had. “God, you look like
hell
! Hygiene, honey! Look into it!”

“Been busy,” I said.

“Too busy to comb the crap out of your hair?” But she was kidding, and her grin faded fast. “What's going on? I thought you were better.”

“Was I?” I gave her a long look as we stood at arm's length, and she slowly shook her head.

“Oh, man, that wasn't you, was it? Dammit. I knew something was wrong; I
knew.
” If she had, Cherise had been the only one. Ironic, since she was also the only one of the entire group without some superpower or other, beyond looking fabulous under difficult circumstances. “You didn't seem like…
you.
”

“But I remembered you.”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “But still. So. Evil twin?”

“Evil twin.”

“That's hot.”

“Not so much, from this side.”

“Oh, come on, I'd
kill
for an evil twin. How cool would that be?”

I reached out and put a hand on Cherise's shoulder. “Cher, I think she's the one who hurt you. And Kevin.”

I felt her flinch, but somehow she managed to hold on to her smile. “Okay. I take it back. Wouldn't kill for an evil twin, but I might kill
her
.”

Kevin had come in sometime during our conversation, stomping snow off his heavy Doc Martens and shooting distrustful looks around the room. He wasn't judgmental about it. He didn't like anybody, except, of course, Cherise. He unzipped his black jacket—it was a Raiders down jacket, with the pirate logo on it—as if he were intending to pull out an Uzi and mow us all down, but that was just his normal urban 'tude.

“You yanked my leash?” he said to Lewis, who was sitting next to the fire with a cup of coffee. Lewis lifted his mug in my direction. “Great. Not her again.”

I ignored his hostility. Seemed the best way to deal with him, all the way around. “Kitchen,” I said. “Let's do the inquisition over some lunch.”

It was a pretty strategic move, seeing as how it put me within reach of a plateful of chocolate-chip cookies someone had left behind, and Kevin was too busy shoving turkey on rye into his mouth to give me much grief. Cherise quizzed me on ingredients, natural versus processed, organic versus pesticides, and other questions that I cheerfully lied my way through to get her plate filled. She even nibbled her way through a quarter of a cookie, looking mortified the whole time that she was doing it.

“You ask us here just to feed us?” Kevin mumbled around a mashed-up mouthful of sandwich. I resisted the urge to tell him not to chew and talk.

“I need to ask you about what you remember,” I said. “When you were taken over that day.”

He stopped chewing, swallowed, and put the sandwich down, growing fascinated by the pattern of the tablecloth. I felt for him, but I couldn't let it go this time. “Kevin,” I said. “She was in your head. That means you know things that can help me now.”

He shook his head. His hair looked lank and oily, and I wondered if he ever washed it. I marveled at my urge to mother him, considering how much he disliked me. And how generally unlikable the kid was.

“She's still out there,” I said. “She could do to other people what she did to you. For all I know she's already doing it. You can't seriously be okay with that.”

Another mute shake of his head. I didn't know what it meant, but it was at least a response.

“You don't want to remember,” I said. “I know. I get that. But we don't have a lot of choices now. We have to find her.”

“What's this ‘we'?” He looked up, and his eyes were dark with resentment. “It's never about the ‘we' with you. When you say ‘we,' you just want something. And then you'll leave me behind.”

“I won't. Not this time.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“No idea. But I'm telling you the truth. If you want to go with me, I've got no issues with that. You've got more motivation than most people out there to take her down, right? I could use that.”

He frowned. “What if Lewis says no?”

“You think Lewis is the boss of me?”

He chewed another bite of sandwich while he thought about it, then gave me a grudging nod of acceptance. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

I took in a deep breath and looked at Cherise, who'd put down her barely nibbled cookie and was watching, wide-eyed. “It's what I did to Cherise before. I want to look at your memories and—”

I didn't get to finish, because Kevin slammed his chair back with a screech of wood on wood, and headed for the door. I summoned a blast of wind to slam it shut in his face—too much wind, too clumsy, and I had to bleed off the resulting energy into a surge of static that made sparks flare in the light fixtures.

“Screw you! You're not touching me!” Kevin yelled, and grabbed the doorknob. Another unintended consequence of my ham-fisted use of power: It was hot enough to burn. He yelped, cradled his hand, and backed away.

I got up and took his hand in mine, palm up, and smoothed my fingers over the burn. This was easier, somehow. There was a rich, quiet flow of power coming up from my feet, channeled up from the ground, and it spilled like golden light through my body and out of my stroking fingers, to coat his wound and sink in deep.

In seconds the burn was gone.

“Shit,” Kevin said, and pulled his hand back to stare at it. Then he looked at me. “Thought you were Weather.”

“Well, you know, I joined one of those Power-of-the-Month clubs, and it looks like I've completed the set.”

His fingers curled in over the palm, hiding it. “I don't care what you are. I still don't want you in my head.”

Kevin had issues, with a capital I. “I'll limit it to just what I need to know,” I said.

“And what, I'm supposed to trust you?” He gave me a scorching look of contempt. “Please.”

“Kevin.”

“What?”

“I'm asking,” I said. “I'm just asking. I won't force you to do it. I won't take it from you. But without you I don't know how we're going to do this; I really don't. You're important.”

I kept it simple, and straightforward, and he frowned at me, looking for the trick. For the spin.

There wasn't any. I meant exactly what I said.

He looked away, to Cherise. She was uncharacteristically quiet and sober, and she slowly nodded.

“I'll be right here,” she said. “Right here.”

Kevin sank down in his chair, hands scrubbing his knees in agitation, and gave me one quick, jerky nod of acceptance.

I didn't wait for him to have second thoughts. Sometimes it's better to pull the Band-Aid off quickly.

I put my hand on his head and dropped into the world according to Kevin.

He was just a kid when his dad got married to the Evil Hag Bitch from Hell, just a kid, and she wouldn't leave him alone; she was always touching him, coming on to him; he was a kid….

I tried to pull away from the memories, but Kevin's mind was full of mines, booby traps, sinkholes of horrible things. He'd been a good kid once, or at least no worse than most boys his age, but throw in a stepmother who wasn't above teasing him, then using him, then outright molesting him…

Kevin's mind was a house of horrors. I was afraid to move; everything I did seemed to resonate through him, and there was no clear path, no direction. I tried viewing him in the map of lights that had become my guide, but his lights were gray, bloodred, almost nothing clean.
Oh, Kevin.
It broke my heart how much he'd suffered, and that the memories never left him. And no matter how careful I was, things shifted, bled, broke open as I moved.

And things oozed out, whether I wanted to know them or not.

The night she finally did it, the night she turned off the lights and crawled into bed and Did It, it all got confused; it all got mixed-up; he felt horrible and wrong and excited and sick and scared and worried, and there was something wrong with him, wrong, and what would Dad think? But Dad was asleep, drunk off his ass, and that was that, this was this, and even though he didn't really want it he did; there was something sick about it he couldn't control, and—

God, stop!
I yanked myself away, but the memory was like tar—it wouldn't come off. Wouldn't go away.

—after it was over she went away and he tried to sleep but there was something wrong in his head, something he couldn't start, couldn't stop, couldn't control, and it was this heat, this shimmer, and he could almost…

When he woke up, the house was on fire. His bed was on fire. And he could hear his father screaming.

And the fire didn't burn him, it dripped out of him like sweat, and his stepmonster Yvette had shrieked at him to STOP, KEVIN, STOP, but he didn't know how, and whatever she did didn't help, and when he found his dad and tried to drag him out, the skin just—

I pulled free of Kevin's horrors with a yank that I felt through my entire soul, and tried to touch as little as possible while I sped through those filthy, polluted halls of memory, avoiding the traps where things whispered and beckoned, looking…

Looking for a clean path.

And I was shocked to find that it was…me.

 

“She's a bitch,” Kevin said to Cherise. They were sitting in the back of an airplane, rattling through turbulence, and he was staring at the back of my head a few rows farther up. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Cherise said cheerfully. Turbulence seemed to agree with her in some strange way, or maybe it was just the extra glow she seemed to have with Kevin. Resentment was just part of who he was, but in Cherise's company it evaporated like ice in summer. “She can be, sure. But she's a good person, Kev. Like you.”

He snorted. “You don't know me.”

God, that was true. Kevin had done terrible things, but he'd also had even worse done
to
him. I couldn't blame him. I couldn't imagine the strength it had taken to get him through it in the first place.

“Besides,” he said, “she's just looking for a reason to turn me in. She thinks I'm dangerous.”

I realized something important. Kevin honestly feared me, and he honestly respected me, too. He didn't like me. He'd never like me, not in the way that Cherise did, but it mattered what I said to him. What I did.

I had become an authority figure in his eyes. Kevin hated authority figures, but he needed them, too. Same for Lewis…respect, contempt, and need, all rolled up in a toxic mixture together.

“You are dangerous,” Cherise said, and winked at him. She reached out and took his hand in hers. He loved the way her small fingers wrapped over his, loved the way she smelled, the way she sounded and looked and felt. Cherise was the one thing in his life that he loved without judgment.

Without resentment.

He'd do anything for her.

God, she was pretty. Not just pretty—beautiful. And she was so…bright. Yvette had been pretty, but in a cheap kind of way, a slutty way, but Cherise…when she smiled it was like the sunshine. What the hell she was doing hanging with that stone-cold bitch Joanne…

(whom he nevertheless respected…)

…
Cherise was somebody he could help. Somebody warm and soft and someone who needed him
, needed
him. And when he got between her and trouble, she made him feel…He was too young for her, she'd teased him, but she hadn't treated him that way, not really.

And she hadn't used him. She'd just been…amazing. Sweet and kind and funny and normal, in ways that he'd never known before. She didn't want anything except his company and his time. She wasn't looking for an advantage—hell, she had guys crawling over broken glass to ask for dates. She didn't need
him.

And yet somehow she did, and that made this so much better.

And that made it so much worse, when he failed in the forest.

I'd found it. The trail turned dark again, as if Cherise's sunshine presence had gone behind a cloud, and all his internal demons had crawled out of their holes, never more than a heartbeat away.

I took a breath and sank deep into his memory.

 

At first it was good. Better than good. The Wardens had given him assignments, and he'd surprised himself with how good he'd been at it. Lewis had been an ass at times, but he'd shown him stuff, and Kevin had learned, although he hadn't wanted to let on that he was paying attention. Wasn't cool to be too eager.

So when the Wardens dropped him on the front lines of the California fire near Palm Springs, he'd taken Cherise with him. Wasn't supposed to; he'd been told to leave her at the base camp, but she'd wanted to come, and he'd wanted an audience, right? Somebody to impress.

So it was all his fault.

At first it had worked just the way he'd wanted. He'd been taught how to set controlled fires to create firebreaks, and he could do it faster and better than the regular firefighters, without any risk of losing control no matter how long the fire line got. He'd done a good job, a really good job, and Cherise had kept him supplied with water and sometimes kisses of congratulations, which had been pretty great. Because she'd asked him to, he'd worked with some crotchety old bastard of an Earth Warden to save some horses who were trapped on the hills, and the light in her eyes as the small herd galloped past them, safe, had been better than any sex he'd ever had.

And then it had all gone bad right around dark. First he'd felt it as an ache in his chest, and he'd thought he'd caught some smoke, but he couldn't cough it out. There was something wrong with him, and there was something wrong with Cherise, too, and he couldn't stop it. Couldn't help her. It was like the whole world was dying around him; he could feel it slipping away, and…then it came back, and things had returned to normal for a few minutes, and he'd held Cherise and told her it was all going to be okay, and that had been a lie.

The fire jumped one of the breaks he'd set, so he went closer to try to stop it before it could leap treetops. He told Cherise to stay back, so he didn't see it happen, but when he extinguished the flames racing through the dry underbrush, he turned back and…

She was on the ground, and there was a thing, a
thing
with its hands buried in her chest.

Kevin screamed and threw himself at it, and it batted him away into a tree. He saw blood and stars and felt something wrong with his head, like he'd hit it too hard, and when he got up again Cherise was standing there like nothing had happened.

But it wasn't Cherise, and that wasn't her smile, because it wasn't the sunshine.

It was something else.

“Kevin,” she said, and came toward him. “Honey, it's okay. It's all okay. I need you.”

Cherise had known to say that, not the thing inside, and that was what stopped him from backing away. That, and the bleak, black knowledge that nothing ever really worked right for him in the long run. Of course this had to happen.

It always did.

Oh, Kevin
, I thought from that separate quiet place where I stood.
It doesn't have to. You have to have faith.

But he wasn't listening, and anyway, this was already done, already past, and he was giving up because he just thought there wasn't any real point in trying.

So he didn't fight when Cherise reached out and put her hands on his head—
exactly the way I'd done it when I'd entered his memories
—and the Demon began to tunnel through his head like a huge tapeworm, digesting his memories, relishing the pain and the horror and the struggles in a way that nothing human should. It
learned
him, every part of him, and it learned his body down to the cellular level.

And from that point on I wasn't in Kevin's memories anymore.

I was in
hers.

She was cold inside. Ice-cold, all clean logic and calculation, empty of kindness or compassion. She made Eamon, messy and awful as he was, seem like Father Christmas in comparison. She wanted only one thing, and it was the iron-hard central core of who she was:
She wanted to go home.

And she would do anything, use anyone, destroy the world to get there.

Starting with Cherise, because she'd been close and vulnerable, but really starting with Kevin, because he was what she needed. Power. Strength. Energy.

She used him like a straw, an empty vessel good for nothing but as a conduit between her and what she craved…raw aetheric energy, the stuff that powered all Wardens. She would have preferred to consume a Djinn for the sheer force of the experience, but since the Djinn had slipped their bonds to humans, it was far riskier to her. No, a Warden would do to satisfy her hunger.

She had tried the girl first, but the pathetic meat hadn't been able to deliver much of a meal; humans barely brushed the aetheric, and so were of little use. But she kept Cherise, aware of the emotions it roused in the boy; the angrier and more afraid he was, the more energy the Demon was able to draw.

It was horrible, and it was cruel, and it interested her for a long time. Too long.

She used Cherise and Kevin to stalk other Wardens. Those she did not bother to control, only to drain and slaughter, but Cherise and Kevin provided her with a self-sustaining well of anguish that she would not easily give up.

And then something happened. Something startling.

There was a shift of energy on the aetheric, titanic in its intensity. It was like some soundless explosion, and everything rippled. The Demon felt it and chased after, not even sure what she was chasing, but there was something floating there in the emptiness, something
free
and powerful….

She battened on to it and consumed it, mindless in her raging hunger. Back in the forest, Cherise and Kevin fell like abandoned puppets, and the Demon…changed.

She took on form and weight as what she'd eaten took hold of her.

She'd taken my memories, along with a substantial jolt of my power. She'd found the pieces Ashan had ripped away from me in the chapel in Sedona. The Demon didn't know what had happened to her, didn't have a sense of
self
in the same way that a human did. The change was painful for her, startling and—a new emotion—frightening. She no longer wanted only one thing. Memories confused her, made her want more things, made her ache for what she did not understand, had never had, and she couldn't put it out of her mind because the problem was
in
her mind.

Never to be corrected, because it had been made part of her, imprinted deep.

My memories had damaged her.

I'd woken up afraid, alone, cold and naked, without any memory of who or what I was; she knew, and she was still afraid, still cold, still naked in her own mind.

Demons could not become human, but now she craved the rest of what I'd once had, and she understood something that, as a Demon, she never could: The Wardens were a force, not individually, but
as a group.
They could be used. Directed.

Made to do her bidding.

She woke up Cherise and Kevin and sent them in pursuit of the remnants of Joanne Baldwin—the sole threat to her existence. She could sense me, not in an aetheric sense but in some other, primitive way that I didn't fully understand; now that I felt it, though, I knew I'd never mistake it.

I stood silently by as the Demon piloted Cherise and Kevin through the forest, hunting Lewis, hunting me, finding us, pursuing. She used them ruthlessly, but all the while she was learning.

Learning a terrifying amount about how to bend people, how to find their buttons, how to get what she wanted.

Because she knew what she wanted now, and it wasn't just being me.

She wanted to open a door between worlds and bring other Demons here to nest, feed, and grow into what she had become.

She wasn't going home.

She was bringing home
here.

It was a memory, and I'd seen some shocking things, but a chill still zipped up my back as I saw the Demon step out from behind a tree to face Cherise and Kevin. She was me, or partly me, anyway. Her eyes were black and empty, and she was a cheap plastic doll made in my image.

She had no further use for her toys. They were a liability now, not a help, and she knew they were on the verge of failure. Their deaths didn't bother her, but she couldn't take the risk of a tool breaking at a critical moment.

She ripped her awareness out of them as brutally as she'd put it in, and Kevin had fallen, stunned, as Cherise staggered away crying into the dark, cold world….