''If you hadn't,'' David said, ''they'd have come back for you already.''
Dressing took on a whole girding-for-battle significance now that I knew my enemies were
going to be watching me. I bathed, scrubbed, exfoliated, shampooed, shaved, tweezed,
moisturized. I spent half an hour on my hair, and another half an hour on makeup. Choosing the
right sundress required another long stretch of time. When I finally appeared in the doorway,
David was stretched out on the couch, feet crossed at the ankles, reading a battered paperback,
which he dropped on his chest at the sight of me.
''Yeah?'' I twirled for him, just fast enough that the floating hem of the light floral sundress
showed my thighs. ''Healthy enough?''
He pressed his lips together and struggled to sit up. ''That's one word for it.''
''What's another?''
''Seductive.'' That note in his voice made me shiver, but I put my shoulders back and shook my
finger at him anyway.
''You said we needed to get out. So out we get, Mister.''
He sighed, stood up, and slipped into his coat.
''David?'' I hated to say it, because this was a kind of dividing line, and I wasn't even sure why.
''The coat. If you want to be taken for human, only flashers wear coats in Fort Lauderdale in the
summer.''
He seemed honestly surprised. ''But-ah. Yes. Right.'' He took it off and put it back on the
chair, petting its olive-drab surface as he did, like a favorite pet he was sorry to leave behind.
''Everything else okay?''
I gave him the walkaround. ''Not bad,'' I said, ''but we can do better.''
''Oh no,'' he said.
''That's right. We're shopping for you, buster.''
I knew all the good places to shop, but if I hadn't, even JCPenney would have been able to
supply a decent alternative to the ever-present checked shirt that David seemed to think was the
height of fashion. But I wasn't going for better; I was going for make women stop and stare,
though with David, that wasn't exactly difficult.
He was made for Versace.
The salespeople thought so too; David was bemused by the whole affair, clearly wondering what
the hell he'd gotten himself into, but as always, he was willing to experiment with the most
trivial of human pursuits. I conspired with the lead saleswoman to do before and after digital
pictures. Going in, David was a good-looking man, a bit conservative with his blue-and-white
checked shirt and jeans.
Going out, he was so attractive that he was a menace to passing traffic. He wore a black, skin-
tight Versace knit shirt, long-sleeved to give him sleekness, and his black Diesel jeans that
hugged his ass and thighs, and flared out at the ends just enough. Because we were in Florida, I
gave him a bit of a surfer fashion sensibility, and it suited him brilliantly. The coppery tan could
have been stoked by days paddling in the surf. I added a very fine Hugo Boss sports coat, in
midnight blue, and when he put it on, the salespeople gave a collective sigh and snapped
pictures. He turned toward me, eyebrows raised, a slight flush in his cheeks.
I've made a Djinn blush, I thought. There was a weird satisfaction in that. Also, I planned to try
to make him blush more, in private, later.
Some part of me, during all this public playacting, kept monitoring the aetheric for any signs of
Sentinel activity. Nothing. It was dead quiet, weirdly so. Maybe I really had given them a shock
with not dying on cue.
I started to pay for the clothes, but David slipped a wallet from his pocket and pulled out a jet-
black American Express card. I caught a look at the name as he handed it over.
DAVID CYRUS PRINCE.
David knew what I was thinking, and he met my eyes briefly, then smiled at the salesclerk and
signed the credit card receipt. We left the store with his old clothes and shoes in a bag. I couldn't
stop stealing glances at him, darkly gorgeous as he was; every woman we passed, young or old,
plain or model-in-training, gave him an involuntary stare.
''That,'' he said, ''was a waste of time. I could have just manifested the clothes, if you'd shown
me what you wanted me to wear.''
''The point is to be seen,'' I reminded him. ''Besides, buying clothes is something humans do.
You want to be human, right?''
''Right.'' His lips quirked, and he tried to suppress a smile. ''That's the first time I've ever
purchased clothing, you know. For myself.''
''It's good to stretch,'' I assured him. ''Mr. Prince.''
The two of us strolled through the warm, humid morning. My dress rippled and flowed in the
ocean breezes, my hair looked fantastic, my shoes were kicking ass, and I had the most beautiful
man I'd ever seen on my arm.
Still, I was constantly looking for a knife headed for my back. Our backs.
Nothing.
We shopped all morning, then ate lunch in a cafe next to the ocean. I could see that David was
settling into his new look, which pleased me; I had the feeling that Djinn changed styles
reluctantly. He couldn't help but notice the attention he was attracting, and unless Djinn were a
whole lot less like humans than I suspected, attention wasn't unwelcome.
Otherwise, he wouldn't choose to be so gorgeous to start with.
Over chicken salad and iced teas, he asked me about our afternoon plans. I proposed more
shopping. He counterproposed other things, which I confess sounded more interesting, but I'd
pledged to keep to my timeline.
I really needed to find that wedding dress.
So after lunch, we went to Zola Keller, and I started the arduous task of trying on thousand-
dollar-and-up couture. Which is not nearly as much of a hardship as you might think. I went
through twelve styles, none of them quite right, and then . . .
And then it happened.
The moment the clerk unzipped the bag, I just knew. As the weight of the Italian silk settled
around me, I knew even more. When she laced the back and prepped me for the mirror, I knew
I'd found exactly what would drive David wild.
Unlike most wedding gowns, this was no Disney princess knockoff; it was sophisticated, subtle,
sexy. Layers of silk dropped in subtle angles from the low-cut bodice, but it in no way resembled
any kind of wedding cake. The fabric rippled in silk waves, layer upon layer, sweeping into a
fantastic train.
But the back was what did it-a laced corset, fitted to show a deep, sexy V of skin down the
spine beneath the lacings. It was demure enough, but I could sense, like a vibration on the
aetheric, that it would drive him absolutely mad.
''I'll take it,'' I said. The clerk raised both eyebrows.
''Don't you want to know-''
''If you tell me the price, I'll chicken out, so no. I don't want to know. Just ring it up.''
She cleared her throat. ''I really think I should warn you about the cost-''
''You really shouldn't,'' I sighed.
The Warden AmEx was about to get a serious workout. Even though she was undoubtedly
making a commission, my saleslady looked concerned for the state of my financial future. As
well she should. If it cost anywhere near what it looked, I was going to be paying approximately
the cost of a new car.
She fussed around with the dress, looking for necessary alterations and marking them. A
thorough professional. We discussed indoor versus outdoor, potential hazards of having a court
train to manage, and other things that I couldn't imagine ever discussing again in my entire life.
But it was done. I had a dress. And it was the dress.
I walked out of the dressing room feeling happier than I had in weeks, trailing the salesclerk like