Sunrise came. Sunrise always comes, no matter how dark the night-it's one of those tired truths
of life, one you can take as either positive or negative as the situation calls for.
For me, this morning, it was just the morning after the night before. No change, except that there
was more light to see the damage.
The burning sensation on my back had faded into a dull buzz, but the whole area still felt warm
and tender to the touch. I still felt hollow and empty, and I ached for . . . something-something
to feel; something to make this morning worth living through the night.
I felt too disconnected from the others, who had things to do. I wandered away-not too far,
watched constantly by an FBI surveillance team-and sat alone on the beach, a blanket around
my shoulders. I watched the sun gild the rolling waves and thought about Hurricane Andrew
rolling in over these waters; about a Warden named Bob Biringanine wading out into the
pounding surf and giving up his soul.
''Can I join you?''
I shaded my eyes and looked up. David was standing next to me, looking out at the ocean.
Sunrise looked good on him, but he seemed remote and guarded.
''Sure. Pull up some sand,'' I said. He folded himself down with raw, beautiful grace, and put
his arm around my shoulders. I let my head rest against his chest, and felt a little of the darkness
bleed out of me-just a little.
''I should go help,'' I said dully. ''There's so much to do. So many people hurt-''
''And you're one of them,'' David said, and pulled me into his lap, cradling me in his arms so he
could look at me at close range. He gave me the distant Djinn X-ray stare for a second, and then
the distance faded away. ''So much pain, Jo. You can't hold that much pain. You have to let it
go.''
''It's all my fault,'' I said. ''I could have-''
''You could have done a million things differently, and Bad Bob would have been the same
creature,'' David said. ''He's no longer human, Jo. He hasn't been human for a long time.
You're not to blame for what he does.''
''Only for what I do. I should have said no. If I'd said no to you, none of this-''
''If you'd said no to me, Bad Bob would have found another way to control the Djinn. Maybe
just by taking you away from me.'' His lips found mine, gentle and sweet and salted from the sea
spray. ''You make me vulnerable, yes, but you also make me strong. Jonathan knew that. He
knew this was coming, and that he wasn't capable of fighting it, not alone. He knew the two of
us would be, together. I love you. I will always love you. With or without a vow, a ring, a
wedding. Yes?''
''Yes,'' I whispered. Our lips were still touching. ''I-yes.'' There didn't seem to be anything
else to say. We understood each other completely in that moment.
The sun cleared the waves, burning through the clouds in bands of hot gold and orange, and in its
warmth, in his arms, I got my wish.
However brief the moment, whatever would come, we had peace.
Sound Track
Once again, there were songs that got me through. Here they are, in case you'd like to play the
home iPod game. . . .
OUTCAST SEASON: UNDONE
by Rachel Caine
See the world through a Djinn's eyes. . . .
For millennia, the Djinn Cassiel, so powerful as to be preceived as omnipotent by humanity,
lived apart from mortals and dismissed them as unworthy of her thoughts or energy.
But after refusing a direct order from her ruler, she has been banished, cast out, and cut off from
the source of her power-forced to take physical form to survive. What's worse, without
receiving a regular influx of energy from a human Warden, she will die.
Now Cassiel the great, Cassiel the terrible, is living in New Mexico and assisting the Earth
Warden Manny Rocha with his filing. But as she gets to know Manny and his family-his wife,
his daughter, and his intriguing brother, Luis-she begins to develop a reluctant affection for
them.
And Cassiel will learn that humanity may be worth more than she ever suspected.
Coming in February 2009 from Roc
About the Author
Rachel Caine is the author of more than twenty novels, including the Weather Warden series.
She was born at White Sands Missile Range, which people who know her say explains a lot. She
has been an accountant, a professional musician, and an insurance investigator, and still carries
on a secret identity in the corporate world. She and her husband, fantasy artist R. Carl Conrad,
live in Texas with their iguanas, Pop-eye and Darwin, a mali uromastyx named (appropriately)
O'Malley, and a leopard tortoise named Shelley (for the poet, of course). Visit her Web site at
www.rachelcaine.com.
ROC
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, August 2008
Copyright (c) Roxanne Longstreet Conrad, 2008
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