Thin Air (34 page)

There was an audible gasp from the Warden side of the room, and both of the groups of Djinn smiled ever so slowly. The Ma'at exchanged uneasy glances.

“You can't do that!” Ah, it was my old friend Emily, from Maine; I hadn't seen her since Eamon had drugged her and abducted me out of the cab of her truck. Good times. She was a solid, blocky woman, prone to clunky shoes and flannel shirts and mulish expressions. “You can't force us to agree with you!”

“It ain't a democracy, Auntie Em,” Paul noted dryly. “I think he can. You don't like it, just let me know what time's good for that clinic appointment.”

“Don't you threaten—”

I slammed the Manolo down hard on the table, “Emily! I will personally make sure you end up strapped to a gurney. And I won't be nearly as nice about it as Lewis; you can bet your ass on that! Now
sit down
!”

Silence. Most people in the room knew pieces and hints of what had happened to me in the last week, and more than a few had heard some version of a story that I'd had a daughter, and lost her in a Djinn attack. It wasn't wrong in the main, just fuzzy in the particulars.

The thing was, I wasn't seen as entirely sane, so nobody really wanted to cross me. I could only imagine that I looked just as ragged-edged as the stories indicated. That, combined with such a spectacular loss of control, suggested that a certain amount of caution might be in order.

Things were very, very still. Lewis was looking at me. So was everyone else.

“Jo.” David's very quiet voice next to me. I felt the pressure of his hand on my shoulder, then the friction of his fingertips stroking my hair. He wasn't using magic of any kind, except the whisper that was always present between us. “Easy.”

He was right. There was emotion boiling up in me, and I couldn't afford it, not here. Not now. I pulled myself sharply back with a flinch that I was sure was visible.

David slowly settled back in his chair, still watching me with total, gentle attention.

Lewis had started talking again. “I think we're agreed that since this isn't the natural time for this magnetic flip to begin, we should counter it while we still have the chance. Now, the Ma'at have developed a whole new way of looking at the manipulation of power on the aetheric plane, and there's a lot we can—”

“Who are these people? Why were they operating in secret?” demanded a Warden from the floor, who was too angry to let a little thing like my mood swings stop him.

“They were formed to try to undo some of the damage the Wardens were doing to the environment,” Lewis said. “They never interfered directly with us.”

“No, but they were undermining us! No wonder our success rate kept getting worse! Lives were lost!”

Lewis kept the microphone, despite impatient waves from Myron to pass it back. “The Wardens' success rate was getting worse because we were undermining
one another
,” he said. “Among other things. You know there were a lot of things wrong in the organization, including Wardens selling out innocent people for profit.” He wasn't pulling any punches. So far as I knew, nobody had
ever
put it that baldly, at least outside of very private, hush-hush conversations at the highest levels. “Demon Marks have subverted key members. Senior Wardens have taken kickbacks from criminal organizations. Wardens at all levels are guilty of outright murder. So let's not pretend that anybody in this room has a monopoly on being right.”

That last word fell into a vast, ringing silence. Somebody shifted uneasily in a folding chair, waking a squeal of metal like worn-out brakes.

“I'm not making accusations,” Lewis said. “I'm stating facts. These things happened. And they're not going to happen anymore.”

“Or?” someone stage-muttered. It might have even been from the Ma'at.

Lewis smiled slowly. I wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of that one. “They're not…going…to happen…anymore,” he repeated very softly, and held the entire room's stare. The place had gone very quiet, and the air was crackling with potential energy. “We're not going to be the bad guys. The Ma'at have things to teach us. We probably have a few things to teach them, too. Now. Everybody choose.”

One Warden stood up and walked out, not bothering to mitigate the shriek of metal chair over bare floor. We all winced, even the Djinn. The door banged shut behind his grand exit.

I didn't try to stop him. Besides, I'd already blown out the windows. Not much of a big gesture left to make.

“One down,” Lewis said, unruffled. “Anybody else want to join him and stop wasting our time?”

The rest of them exchanged glances and settled back more comfortably into their places.

I reclaimed the microphone and nervously clutched it in both hands. “We worked out that we should have three teams: Fire, Earth, and Weather, with Ma'at and Djinn equally distributed among them. The Djinn will interface us directly with the Oracles of each of the three types to ground us.”

Someone out there gave a disbelieving snort. “It'll never work.”

“Maybe not. But I'd take it as a personal favor if you could try.”

That caused a stir, albeit a discreet one. Nobody knew quite what to make of me, really, but the rumor had already flown like lightning through the ranks of the Wardens—and no doubt the Ma'at as well—that I was falling into the more-than-human category. They didn't know I, like Lewis, was now a triple threat…that I controlled all three elements. I wasn't too comfortable with anyone knowing quite yet.

I wasn't sure what it meant, either personally or professionally. Or even if, long-term, I planned to stay a professional Warden. I was kind of interested in what the Ma'at had to say, although I still didn't much like their leadership.

Half of the Djinn were looking at David, half at Ashan. What a scary bunch they were—all packaged up nicely in human form, but with a slight edge to them that let everyone around know not to get too comfortable. It was going to be quite an adjustment between the Wardens and the Djinn. Wardens had lorded it over the Djinn for thousands of years. Djinn had worked as slaves, handed off from one master to another, their will subjugated to the needs of the moment or their masters' whims. That kind of thing doesn't just stop because somebody waves a magic wand, not even in our world. Too many of those Djinn had been abused, and all of them were wary of it ever happening again.

Ashan nodded, after keeping David in suspense for long enough to make his point. David said, “The Djinn will cooperate in this. All of us.”

Lazlo cleared his throat. “The Ma'at will of course help any way we can,” he said stiffly. “We'll be happy to demonstrate our way of channeling forces. It might be helpful for this. Of course, we're shorthanded, and the Ma'at were never as widespread or powerful as the Wardens….” He was backpedaling so fast that if he didn't watch it, he'd fall under the wheels.

The Djinn suddenly transferred their attention as a unit from David to Lazlo. It was like being hit with a truck, and then being knocked into a black hole. I watched his throat work, pale, wrinkled skin trembling as he struggled to stay calm.

“But of course,” he amended, “we will give our full support.”

The Ma'at had never participated in the slavery of the Djinn. The Djinn that helped them—Rahel among them—were always free to come, go, or stay. It was an easy and practical arrangement, and the Djinn had a level of trust in the Ma'at that they did not have—and might not ever have—in the Wardens.

But the Ma'at had no illusions about the Djinn, as the Wardens had…. We'd gotten lulled into a false sense of security over the millennia of ordering around creatures far more powerful than we could ever hope to be. We thought that if a predator took orders, it was no longer a predator.

We'd learned better these past few weeks.

We got down to the operational details. I let Lewis and Lazlo handle the fierce debate. I was mainly there to act as a moderator, and wield a mean shoe when necessary. And terrify anybody who got out of line, of course.

David was still holding my hand. I looked sideways at him without turning my head, and saw he was openly watching me.

He leaned closer, put his mouth to my ear, and said, “What do you think? Can we do this? Together?”

“It's day one of the new world,” I said. “These things take time. But yeah, I think we probably can. It'll be messy and bumpy, but we'll get through it. And next time it'll be a little better.” I turned to look at him, and our eyes met. I felt that warm shiver go through me again, as if we were still connected in some odd, unexplained way, although the bond of master and slave-Djinn was long dissolved. “David. Are you going to be all right?” I meant in this thing with Ashan.

He shrugged. “It's complicated.”

“What, and
this
isn't?” I raised an eyebrow at the debate, which was rising in volume. “Spill.”

His eyebrows climbed, too. “Why?”

“It might have escaped you, but what affects the Djinn pretty much seems to roll downhill to humanity. So I'd like to know now, instead of later, when I'm fighting for my life. Also, I love you, and I'll kick his fine Djinn ass if he hurts you.”

He glanced around the room, looking innocent. Entirely false. I had reason to know. “You really want to talk about it here?”

“No,” I said. “I want to talk about it someplace a lot quieter than this, with a hot tub, but if we leave, things are going to slide downhill without us, and you know it.”

He nodded slowly. “This had to happen, Jo. The Old Ones weren't going to endure having someone like me as their conduit. I'm not like Jonathan. I can't…step away from the world and take the long view.”

“Too close to humans,” I said, remembering what Venna had said. “Too close to me.
I
caused this.”

“No,” he said. “And change isn't destruction. It's just change. Maybe we're adapting into two species—the Old Ones as pure Djinn, the rest of us into something that can—and should—remain closer to you. To help.” He glanced over toward Ashan, who was watching us with eerie concentration. So was Venna, frowning slightly. “When they're finished today they'll go, and they won't interact with humans unless they have to, for the good of the Djinn or the good of the Mother. But my people will. We'll stay with the Ma'at. We'll stay with the Wardens. We'll stay part of everything.” He lifted my hand to his lips. “Everything.”

My heart rate picked up a few dozen beats per minute. The debate was slowing down, Lewis was making notes on a big wipe-board with names and procedures, and already there was a sense of purpose in the room. A sense, strangely, of excitement.

It was day one, and we were going to change.

And change wasn't a bad thing.

“Well,” I said, “when this is over, you're mine, David. I expect to have your full, undivided attention for at least twenty-four hours. Maybe longer.”

He kissed my hand. There went the heart rate, edging up again.

“You have it,” he said, “for the rest of your life. When this is over, we can go for a drive. I understand the seats recline in the Mustang.”

I closed my eyes and soaked that in, and then I stood up.

I addressed the entire room. “Let's go save the world.”

Because from this day forward, that was officially our job.

Once again, music saves my sanity. Enjoy this track list on your iPod…I sure did!

 

 

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