was spread flat against an invisible barrier. As I watched, he moved his hand from side to side. I
could see his skin flattening as it came into contact with . . . something.
''What is it?'' I moved back to the threshold and waved my hand through the air. No barrier. I
could even make contact with David's hands, but I couldn't pull him through. ''What the hell . . .
?''
''Wards,'' he said. ''Set to keep Djinn out. You'll have to take them down before I can come
inside.''
Wards-magical boundaries-were an exclusive specialty of Earth Wardens, and they were
usually fiendishly difficult to unravel. They could be set to exclude anything the Warden
designed it to exclude– Djinn, in this case, but I'd seen them engineered to hold out humans,
and even specific individuals.
I was, theoretically, an Earth Warden, but I hadn't exactly been trained in the finer points. It was
on the to-do list, but from all that I understood, breaking wards was definitely a graduate-level
course. Maybe even postdoctoral. ''Any idea who put this up?'' I asked. Not Bad Bob, at least;
he was purely and completely a Weather Warden. But he'd had a lot of friends, and most of them
had been . . . questionable.
''Yes, but it won't do you any good. He's dead. Bad Bob had me kill him.''
The matter-of-fact way that David said it made me freeze for a second, and not just in the not-
moving sense. ''You . . . killed for him.''
''I had no choice at the time.''
''I know that. I just didn't know-'' I shook my head. ''I'm so sorry, David. He had no right.''
David said nothing to that; he clearly wanted to drop the subject, and I obliged by focusing on
the structure of the wards holding him outside the door. They were strongly made, and if they'd
survived the death of their maker, they were independently fueled by some source. If I could
locate the source, I could disable the wards-like pulling the battery. Problem was, a good Earth
Warden (and this one had been very, very good) could imbue nearly anything with aetheric
energy and set it on a slow, steady discharge. It could be something as innocuous as a teacup
hidden in the back of the pantry, or as obvious as a big switch labeled TURN OFF WARDS
HERE.
I systematically examined the house and its contents on the aetheric, looking for any telltale
sparks, but nothing became obvious. David was unable to give me any pointers; the Earth
Warden who'd created the wards had also done a damn fine job of erasing any tracks the Djinn
could use to identify the control mechanism.
This left us at a standstill, ultimately. I couldn't break the wards. David couldn't enter.
''Okay, bad idea,'' I sighed, then shut the front door and sat down with David on the steps. A
cool breeze was blowing in off the ocean, and we sat for a while watching the surf roll in.
''Maybe it's a good thing we couldn't get you inside. I know there must be– echoes.''
''Not as many as there were at Yvette's house, but yes, the history's very close to the surface
here,'' David said. He sounded remote and cool, as if he'd withdrawn into himself for protection.
''I'd rather not stay, if we can find somewhere else to go.''
I'd always liked the beach house; it had been my favorite of the Warden properties in this part of
the country. But that had been before I'd known the truth, and the depth of all the cruelty that the
people I'd trusted were capable of inflicting on others. ''That Earth Warden. Was he the only
one Bad Bob made you . . . ?''
''No,'' David said, and got up. He looked down at me with dark, impenetrable eyes, and offered
me his hand. ''Still trust me?''
I took it and let him pull me to my feet. ''I will always trust you,'' I said. ''Thank you for
trusting me.''
He kissed me, just a gentle brush of lips. Something about this place turned him cautious, opened
old wounds, and I could tell that even if I'd found a way to break the wards, it would have been
hard for him to stay inside these walls. ''Do you mind if I choose the next stop?'' he asked.
''Hey, you're the guy with the black AmEx and unlimited credit line,'' I said. ''Speaking of
which, you know that humans pay their debts, right?''
He didn't look at me. He was staring at the beach house, with a shadow in his eyes that I'd never
seen before. ''So do Djinn,'' he said. ''When they can.''
Chapter Ten
David's choice for our temporary refuge was just outside of Miami: another beach house, but if
the Warden retreat was one that would comfortably fit a B-movie lead actor, this was A-list all
the way. A Mediterranean-style villa, probably large enough to hold twenty people in comfort on
a long stay, it had a gracious, sweeping stretch of grounds, a sculptural waterscaped pool, and its
own white-sand private beach, a near-impossibility in Miami. I shuddered to think what the place
would cost to maintain, much less buy.
''You're kidding,'' I said. David came around to the driver's side and opened my door. ''David,
really. You've got to be kidding. Rich people don't find this kind of thing very amusing when
they come home to find us performing Goldilocks and the Three Bears in their bajillion-dollar
mansion.''
''It's all right,'' he said. ''It belongs to a friend.''
''A friend?''
''A very good friend,'' he clarified, and flashed me a smile. ''We'll stay in the guesthouse, if it
makes you feel any better.''
We made it only about three steps from the car when two huge, evil-looking Rottweilers came
bounding out of the darkness, silent and intent on ripping our limbs off one at a time, but both
dogs came to a fast, skidding halt when they came within five feet of us, or, more accurately, of
David.
''Hello, boys,'' David said, went down on one knee, and petted the two ferocious attack beasts.
They licked his face and rolled over to have their tummies patted. ''See? It's fine.''
''It would be fine if you'd let me know when you were going to show up. By the way, you're
ruining my guard dogs,'' said a voice from the grand marble sweep of the stairs leading up to the
house. Lights blazed on, bright enough to land aircraft, and I squinted against the glare. A man
came down the steps, moving lightly despite the fact he was past his athletic days. In his fifties,
with a pleasant, interesting face and secretive dark eyes, he was dressed in blue jeans and a
comfortable old T-shirt that had DON'T PANIC, along with the little green guy from Douglas
Adams's Hitchhiker series as a graphic.
The jeans were expensive. So were the deck shoes. I couldn't decide if he was a well-paid
caretaker or a slumming owner.
''Good to see you, too, Ortega,'' David said, and gestured toward me. ''Joanne Baldwin.''
There was something about Ortega that felt just slightly off to me . . . not the clothes, not the way
he looked, not the smile he gave me. I couldn't define it, not immediately, and then I realized
that the feeling was familiar. It was the indefinable sense that I'd had around David, when I'd
first met him-a vibration that I'd grown used to now.
I nodded to Ortega. ''How exactly does a Djinn come to own a place like this?'' I asked. He
laughed, and his eyes flashed lime green, then faded back to plain brown.
''Very good,'' he said. ''But then, I expected no less. So, this is the one causing all the trouble?
The one you intend to marry?''
David nodded. Ortega gave me a benevolent sort of smile.
''Charming,'' he said. ''And dangerous. But I suppose you know we're attracted to that. Well,