''He can see it, and yeah, he knows it's a problem. The Djinn thinks the Wardens have some
kind of psychosis. They say that if the thing was there, they'd be able to sense it.''
Great. ''How do they explain Silverton? Me?''
Cherise looked grim. ''They think one of you screwed up, accessed something you shouldn't
have. They can't explain it, but they don't believe the Wardens' explanation, either.''
''Not even David?''
''No,'' she said softly. ''Not even David. Sorry, babe.''
Wow. That was . . . strange. And I was too tired and too sick to do anything about it. Cherise
didn't need to worry about me going all heroic and crazy on her; all I wanted to do was hide
under my blankets and pretend it was all just a bad dream.
And for a while, that was exactly what I did, as the morphine dragged me off to a dream-rich
sleep.
Two days later, I was interrogated by a panel of Warden elders: Guillard from Switzerland, Jones
from Australia, and Lewis representing the U.S. I felt a little better, and they'd let me walk to the
shower and wash my hair, which made a difference in both body and soul.
There was also a Djinn in the mix-a short, round little thing with that indefinable glimmer to
her skin and eyes. She was introduced as Zenaya, and gave me a slight nod but no other
indication of how she stood on the subject of me.
No David. That was deeply troubling.
I went through things, step by step, detailing what I'd seen and experienced. Zenaya said
nothing, but her eyes flashed an eerie green when I talked about the dead Djinn, and the manner
of his death. I addressed a question to her. ''Wouldn't you know if one of your people
disappeared?'' I asked. She shrugged slightly. ''Wouldn't David know?''
''Yes,'' she said. ''But he says he finds no one missing.''
''Ashan?''
Another green flash to her eyes. She folded her arms. ''Ashan says his Djinn are all well. He
says nothing more.''
Which might or might not mean anything. Ashan wasn't chatty at the best of times. ''But I saw
him. And trust me, he was a Djinn.''
''How could you tell?'' Zenaya asked me, very reasonably. I started to answer, then hesitated.
Because I really wasn't sure how I knew. I just . . . knew. ''His aetheric signature,'' I finally said.
''Only the Djinn look like that.''
''Leaving aside that point,'' Guillard said, in his rich, dark chocolate voice, ''clearly you came
into contact with something highly dangerous. Earth Wardens have not been able to correct some
of the damage you sustained. We are dependent on simple human methods, which is why we've
had to hospitalize you for so long.''
Lewis nodded. He wasn't looking at me; he kept his gaze focused on the window, on the rain
outside. ''Sometimes damage just surpasses our ability,'' he said. ''That could have been the
case this time.''
''No,'' I said. ''David tried to heal me, and you know he should have been able to. He has
before.''
Lewis had no answer to that. Whatever he was thinking, he was keeping it close to the vest, and
he wouldn't damn well look at me. I wondered why. Was he angry about Silverton? He had
every right to be, I supposed. I'd screwed up, big time, and a Warden had paid with his life.
Guillard asked more questions about the black shard, things to which I had no real answers
except to give a recitation of my conversation with Silverton in the basement. And then the
whole thing was over; Jones and Guillard wished me well and departed, and Zenaya left without
a backward glance.
Lewis stayed. He still wouldn't look at me. Out of sheer stubbornness, I refused to speak first. I
sipped water and tugged irritably at my drying hair, trying to get it to stop poodle-curling around
my face. I used to have straight hair. I liked my old straight hair.
When I finally turned my attention back to my guest, Lewis was staring at me, and what was in
his eyes wasn't anger at all. Or even disappointment. It was something neither one of us could
ever really acknowledge, and it was big and powerful and breathtaking.
He cleared his throat and looked down, and said, ''You scared the shit out of me.''
''Yeah. Sorry, I had no idea it was going to be that dangerous, or I'd have done more, taken
better precautions-''
He waved that aside. ''Silverton was your expert; you were listening to him. So if there's blame,
it's his, and he's beyond all that now, poor bastard. Even if you'd pulled back as soon as you
found the dead Djinn, it would have been too late to keep you from getting sick. This stuff is
badly toxic. We couldn't have left it there. As it is, we've had to inform NEST, and they're
following up with radiation treatments for anyone who reports in sick to the hospitals.'' NEST
was the Nuclear Emergency Support Team, out of Homeland Security. I didn't want to imagine
how that conversation had gone.
''But by taking it out of the Djinn's body-''
''The Djinn's body must have been containing it, to a certain extent. You exposed yourselves to
a massive dose,'' he said. ''Silverton more than you, because he actually touched it, even with
protective gloves.''
It could have just as easily been me. Maybe Silverton had known the risks when he'd reached
into that cavity to grab the thing; maybe he'd just been unlucky. No way to know. I'd come close
to dying lots of times-I'd actually gone over the edge, once or twice-but this felt different.
This left me shaky and deeply unsettled.
''Is it true? That the Djinn really can't sense it at all?''
''The Djinn think we're all suffering from some kind of mass hallucination,'' Lewis said.
''David's being kind about it, but it's a blind spot for them. A big one. I don't know how we're
going to convince them.''
''If me lying in this hospital bed doesn't-'' I felt light-headed, short of breath. ''David has to
believe me. He has to.''
Lewis gazed at me, expressionless. ''I hope he does,'' he finally said. He leaned over and kissed
me chastely on the forehead. ''About your wedding-''
Oh, man. I'd known we'd have to have this conversation sometime, but I really wasn't ready for
it. ''Lewis, I'm sorry-''
''Don't,'' he said. ''Trust me. It won't make things any better. I'm okay. And I'm happy for you.
I'm just worried. This thing-the Sentinels. They already didn't like you. I can't imagine they'll
be sending any congratulations about the ultimate mixed marriage.''
He left before I could say anything else.
I closed my eyes and floated in a morphine cloud, trying to figure out who, outside of the Djinn,
could create the black shard that I'd seen. Who was capable of that kind of lethal, subtle action?
I didn't know.
I had dreams of distorted, screaming Djinn, of people being destroyed one by one, of the city in
flames, of myself, walking through the rubble in a beautiful, perfect wedding gown.
Of David lying in the street, dead, with a black shard driven entirely through his body.
I woke up shaking.
Chapter Four
So . . . I healed.
David came to visit, of course, and he stayed as long as his duties would allow-longer than he
should have, by the expressions of the Djinn sent to remind him of other duties at hand. But
despite what I'd confidently said to Lewis, I could tell that David didn't wholly believe me about
the black shard, or the dead Djinn. He couldn't. There was some kind of selective blindness that
he couldn't control, and that was weird and scary. It didn't matter, though. The Wardens figured