was to be believed, she'd been one step short of Master Criminal status. I hadn't planned on
inviting her, but in retrospect, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that she'd shown up
anyway. If there was any chance of notoriety coming from the day, she'd be right in front to tell
her story to the cameras about growing up with the Freak.
I forgot all about that momentary stab of distraction, because Lewis moved aside, and David
turned to look at me, and the world just . . . stopped.
I knew why Cherise hadn't said anything about how David looked. There simply weren't words
in the human language to describe his vividness, his presence, his-his beauty. He was wearing a
tuxedo, very much like the one Lewis was modeling so effectively, but no matter how flattering
the clothes, it was David, and David's essence, that blazed forth in that moment.
I saw it clearly: all his love, all his hope, all his commitment. He was immortal, and this was no
act for him, no temporary amusement. I'd been told Djinn loved intensely, but in that single,
crystalline moment, I knew.
It felt like a dream. I extended my hand-no longer trembling-and his fingers closed around it,
drawing me to his side. I felt the aura fold around me, warmer than sunlight, and the euphoria
was like nothing I had ever felt.
Somewhere, the minister was speaking. I had no idea what kind of service Cherise had cobbled
together on the spur of the moment, and I didn't care; the words didn't matter. I understood why
David had asked this of me now; I understood so much more than I'd ever thought I would. It
wasn't just words.
It was a vow. And vows among the Djinn were law, immutable as physics. I could feel the forces
gathering, as the words progressed; I could see the shimmer spreading through the aetheric.
The minister had gotten to the heart of the matter. ''Do you, David, take this woman as your only
true lover, now and for her lifetime, forsaking all others, in sickness and in health, in wealth and
in poverty, in hardship and in joy?''
I saw the aetheric flare hot gold, so much power gathering, more than I'd ever seen, and David
opened his mouth to reply. . . .
''No,'' said a new voice, before he could reply. ''He doesn't.''
Ashan had crashed our wedding.
Chapter Fourteen
The power on the aetheric went wild, currents flowing around us like whirlpools, lashing and
foaming in distress. David and I turned together and saw Ashan standing behind us. From the
forbidding expression on his face, I was guessing he hadn't brought us any wedding gifts, or at
least none that wouldn't explode.
''I can't allow this folly,'' Ashan said. ''Maybe you truly believe this is right, but we can't take
the chance. You expose us all to slavery, David, not just yourself. No.''
The minister looked justifiably bewildered, and not just by the sudden popping in of supernatural
guests. I was thinking his brain had skipped right over that part. The human race was absolutely
stellar at plausible deniability. ''But I haven't asked for any objections, '' he said faintly. ''We
don't do that anymore. Really, this is most-''
Ashan ignored him. Ignored me, too. He was focused only on David, and if David was a glorious
bright star, burning with potential, Ashan was his polar opposite: leached of color; pale as an
undertaker; grim as impending death. He was even wearing black-a severe suit, with a black tie
paired with a white shirt. His idea of formal attire, I guessed. It might have even passed, if it
hadn't been for the bitter expression and the cold, cold fire in his teal-blue eyes.
''You have no place here,'' David said. I felt the power of the Earth rising up in him, rich and
thick and irresistible; Ashan was a Conduit, yes, but this was David's territory, David's home
ground, in a sense. Ashan was an intruder, uninvited and unwelcome. ''Leave us.''
Ashan slowly shook his head. ''I don't come for myself,'' he said. ''I come for all of us, to ask.
Don't do this, David. Don't destroy us again, for your personal satisfaction.''
I'd expected assault, not a plea, and especially not a plea that had the ring of sincerity to it.
David didn't respond. He gazed at Ashan, fire in his eyes, but he didn't lash out.
Ashan said, even more quietly, ''I also didn't come alone.'' He didn't move, not even his gaze,
but I felt the shocking flare on the aetheric, and suddenly there was a presence beside him. It was
human in shape, but not human at all-a wild power, barely contained by flesh. His skin was hot
red, shifting with patterns of color, and his eyes were the pure white of the hottest flame. I'd
never seen him take human form before, but I knew him.
The Fire Oracle had left his protected home in a crypt in Seacasket. I hadn't even known he
could.
With a whisper rather than a flare, another presence shaped itself out of the air on Ashan's other
side. Milk-glass skin, a vessel containing fog and ice. The Air Oracle was only barely human as
well, and androgynous in form. Two of them. The Air Oracle had no fixed abode that I knew of,
but still, it took a major event for it to manifest so publicly.
I knew, without even asking, that it had never happened before. Not in all the history of the
Djinn.
Another surge of power, this one familiar, so bitterly and sweetly familiar. My daughter,
Imara– human and far more than human, beautiful and unreachable and remote. She looked sad,
but sure of herself-a mirror of my face and form, but with a totally individual core she'd
inherited from both me and her father.
She was standing with the others, against us.
David closed his eyes, and I knew it hurt him as much as it did me. When he opened them, his
eyes had gone dark, almost human. ''You're sure,'' he said. ''Imara?''
I thought for a few heartbeats that she might defect, might throw her support to us, but then she
bowed her head. ''I'm sure,'' she whispered. ''Too dangerous. So much at risk. You can't, Dad.
You just . . . can't.''
Silence. The audience was whispering. I couldn't imagine what they were making out of this.
Lewis had moved Cherise out of the line of fire, in case there was going to be any, but somehow
I knew this wasn't going to come to fireworks. Not this time.
David slowly turned back to me and said, very simply, ''I do.''
My mind went blank for a second, and I felt the seductive flow of power wash over me. Half
done. This was an exchange of vows; his was powerful, but not complete without my consent.
The minister nervously cleared his throat, eyes darting from David, to me, to Ashan, to the three
Oracles.
''Do you, Joanne-'' His clerical voice was about half an octave higher than it ought to have
been. He cleared his throat and tried again. ''Do you, Joanne, take this man-''
''Wait,'' I said.
All of the Djinn-even Ashan-let out a sigh, and David's grip on my hand tightened painfully.
His eyes went wide, and his skin bone-pale.
''Jo-''
''Just wait,'' I repeated. ''Ashan, the Oracles-you admitted yourself that you don't know what
will happen, David. How can we do this? How can we change the rules like this when we don't
even know what's coming for us?'' My voice broke. My heart broke. I was watching the fire die
in him, and it hurt. ''It isn't about us. It's about them, all of the people who depend on us!''
''I'm willing to take the risk,'' he whispered. ''Believe in us, Jo. Please. Believe.''