Bob had focused all the power of the Sentinels on me, and I'd realized that I wasn't going to be
strong enough, in the end.
None of us was going to be strong enough, not alone.
''If he's still at the beach house,'' David was saying, as if he couldn't see I was melting down,
''he won't be there for long. We need to get word to Lewis.''
I shook my near-panic off with what I hoped wasn't a visible effort, and focused on the problem
at hand. ''Contact Rahel. Tell her to get Kevin out of there. I don't want him caught in the
middle if we spring a trap. We're screwed if Bad Bob has the contacts in the Wardens that I
think he does. He was too well liked, even after the facts started coming out. Too many good
people still like him. They wouldn't even think of it as betraying us to do a little under-the-table
heads-up to him.''
David nodded. ''Ortega. I need for you to go to Rahel and give her the message. Tell her to
extract Kevin. I don't care what she has to do. I don't care how noisy it is. Just tell the two of
them to get out.''
''Me?'' Ortega looked completely thrown. ''But I-''
''It's an emergency,'' David said, and again, I felt that pulse of command and control. ''I'm
sorry, I know you don't like to leave this place, but it has to be done.''
Ortega looked utterly miserable now. ''Can't you go? She won't listen to me. She doesn't even
like me-''
''No,'' David said. ''I can't.'' He didn't explain. Ortega heaved a great sigh, nodded, and
blipped away.
David didn't relax. He looked grim and angry, and avoided my eyes.
''Why didn't you go?'' I asked. ''I mean, I'm grateful. I'm just surprised.''
''Because if you're right, and if they have what I think they have, they will be setting a trap,'' he
said. ''A trap designed specifically for me. They want to lure me in. I hope that they haven't
managed to get everything together yet to spring it. That's why I'm sending Ortega.''
''Because they'd be planning to get you.''
''The Conduit,'' he said. ''If they can destroy me, they can destroy the structure and power of
the Djinn. You were right, Jo. I didn't believe it, but you were right. They've found our one true
weakness, and I don't know how we're going to defend against them. Maybe Ashan was right.
Maybe the only way to win is to withdraw.''
''And leave us to fight alone.''
He turned toward me, and I saw the fury and frustration in his eyes. ''Yes.'' His hands clenched
and unclenched. ''The book. We need to get it to his vault. I don't want it out where anyone can
stumble across it.'' He forced some of his anger back with a visible effort; it wasn't directed at
me, but at the world. At Bad Bob. ''I'm sorry, Jo. I can't touch it. Can you carry it?''
I picked up the weight reluctantly, afraid that even latched it might still have the power to seduce
me, but it was quiet. Just leather, paper, ink, and iron.
Just a book that held the secrets to destroying an entire race.
No wonder it felt heavy.
The vault-of course a mansion like this would have one, along with a genuine, honest-to-God
panic room-was crammed with stuff. Valuable stuff, to be sure. I was no expert, but I knew that
early comics were worth money, and he had shelves full of them, each carefully bagged and
labeled. Coin collections. Stamp collections. Toys. Rugs. Artifacts. I edged into the big steel-
cased room and waited while David reorganized the collections enough for me to put the book
down in an open space on a table. ''Does he ever sell any of this stuff?'' I asked.
''No,'' he said, moving a collection of what looked like vintage one-sheet posters. ''But he buys
a lot on eBay. Put it down here.''
I did, gratefully, and stepped back from it. So did David, letting out a slow breath.
''Ortega,'' I said. ''Is he going to be okay?''
David didn't answer. I understood a lot in that moment-his frustration, his anger. There was a
good deal of self-loathing in there. David was not Jonathan, who'd held the position of Djinn
Conduit before him; he wasn't naturally the kind of man who could make ruthless, cold
decisions and sacrifice his friends and family when necessary. Lewis was like that. David was
more like me-more willing to throw himself in front of the bus than push someone else, even if
it was the tactically right thing to do.
''He'll be okay,'' I said, and took his hand. ''It's a simple enough job, and they won't be looking
for Ortega. Hell, I'd never have had a clue he was a Djinn if I'd met him in any other context.''
''I know,'' David said. ''I just wish I'd told him that I didn't blame him for trading the other
copy of the book. I don't. His obsession is to collect things. Ortega has always been an innocent
when it comes to humans; he could never see the potential for evil in them. That's why Bad Bob
took advantage of him.''
''He doesn't seem very . . . Djinn.''
David led the way back out of the vault and swung the massive door shut, then spun the lock.
''No,'' he agreed. ''Ashan wanted to destroy him completely. I wouldn't allow it. Ortega doesn't
have much power, for a Djinn-barely more than a human. He's never been able to really
become what he was meant to be.''
''Which is?''
''Cold,'' David said. ''Like the rest of us.''
I kissed his hand. ''You're not cold.''
He looked at me, and I saw the shadow of what he'd done haunting him. ''I can be,'' he said.
''When I have to be.''
We went back downstairs, edging through the boxes, trying to find empty space. Ortega had left
himself a small nest, a room filled with the most beautiful things of his collection . . . exquisite
crystal, breathtaking art, blindingly lovely furniture. I hated to sully it with my human presence,
but my feet were tired, and the Victorian fainting couch was exquisitely comfortable.
David didn't sit. He paced. None of the beauty touched him; he was focused elsewhere, on things
far less lovely. I used the time to make calls; Lewis had been maneuvering Wardens slowly into
position in Florida, using his most trusted people as well as the Ma'at, who still were outside the
Warden system and therefore would be more trustworthy in something like this, if less powerful.
I broke the news about Bad Bob-which was met with a suspiciously long silence, as if he'd
already known and had hoped to keep it from me. That would have been par for the course.
I also gave him the update about the book, and realized midway through that I didn't actually
know what it was David had read that had so unnerved him. It didn't tactically matter to Lewis,
but it mattered to me, so after I finished the call, I asked.
''The Unmaking,'' David said. ''I didn't think-until I read it in the book, I didn't think what
you were describing could be true. The Unmaking is the opposite of creation.''
''Antimatter.''
He nodded slightly. ''You see it as science; we can't see it at all, but the Ancestor Scriptures tell
us that if it can be brought forth, it will feed on and destroy all Djinn, and we won't be able to
see it. It's been thought to be nothing but a ghost. A boogeyman.''
''But it's real,'' I said. ''It's the black shard, the one we found in the dead Djinn. That was a
dead Djinn.''
''It's how they grew more of the Unmaking,'' David said. I saw his throat work as he
swallowed. ''It feeds and grows inside a Djinn. What you found was just the husk, discarded and
left behind. The Unmaking itself is far, far more powerful. That's how the Sentinels are able to
wield so much power; they steal the energy that pours from the Unmaking's destruction of the