A hand on my shoulder made me jump. It was Lewis, yawning, all lean and shirtless and tousled, hair sticking in a dozen directions, eyes heavy-lidded.
“Hey,” I said, and moved away from him. “I made a big pot.”
“I’m going to need a syringe to inject it directly into my bloodstream.”
“IV kit, third cabinet. Rinse it out when you’re done. I’ll need it later,” I said. My hair was still wet. I leaned over the sink and twisted it into a rope, drizzling out a stream of silver water. Lewis busied himself with coffee cup retrieval, sorted through the thrift-store assortment, and handed me a GOT COFFEE? mug with a pop-eyed, jittery Too Much Coffee Man on it. He took Garfield.
“Did you sleep?” he asked me.
“A little.” I’d dreamed, too. Not good dreams. “I’m sorry I got weepy on you. Bad night.”
“I understand.” He poured himself a cup, mutely offered the same to me, and I nodded. “David doesn’t love you.”
I nearly fumbled the cup he was holding out. “What?”
“David doesn’t love you,” he repeated patiently. “He lives for you. I don’t think you understand the difference. Djinn don’t just love. It isn’t a game to them, and it isn’t something they fall out of when it gets old. That’s why the Wardens have rules about these things. Not just because compelling a Djinn against his or her will is—unsavory—”
I thought of Yvette Prentiss, and her use and abuse of her Djinn. And David.
“It’s rape,” I said. “Might as well call it what it is.”
He nodded, sipped coffee, and continued. “Sex, yes. But I’m talking about love. The rules are there to protect Djinn from their own instincts, as well as from anything humans might force them into. Because when they fall in love, it’s … not on a human scale. And people get hurt. I’m worried, Jo. You and David—I know you love him. But the thing is, it’s the kind of love that can destroy both of you. So be careful.”
If he was trying to scare me, he was doing a good job. “David would never hurt me.”
“He hashurt you.” Steam blurred his expression. “Listen, last night you warned me about Kevin. I have to do the same. I like David, and I respect him, but you have to know who and what he is. His instincts won’t always run in your favor. Just… be careful, will you?”
I intended to be. “I have to go to the studio. Will you guys be here when I get back?”
“I don’t know. We really should get on the road, try to get lost. I don’t want to put you and your sister in danger. Well, any more danger than you already seem to have attracted, anyway.”
“You’re too tired to hit the road,” I said reasonably. “If you’re going to flee for your life, at least stay long enough to get some decent meals and rest. Sarah’s a hell of a cook. You can take my bed while I’m gone.”
There’s nothing like the first swallow of coffee after a night of exhaustion; it was like a cattle prod to the spine, a fierce jolt of reality. I savored it and held his stare. “So,” I said. “Are you and Rahel together?”
“What makes you think I’ll answer that?”
“Cold light of day. You’re warning me about falling in love with a Djinn. I’m just curious.”
His expression clearly reflected skepticism of that. “Rahel and I understand each other.”
“Which means, what? You play chess? You give each other backrubs?”
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.” Well, well. Lewis had developed a prim streak. For a guy who hadn’t hesitated to get wild with me on the floor of a college lab, that was a bit hilarious.
“I’m just pointing out that there may be a pot/kettle issue on the table here regarding sleeping with the Djinn.”
“Funny, I didn’t invite you into my private life.”
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Pot.”
“Kettle.”
“Bite me, Lewis.”
“Very mature.”
“Bite me hard!”
“Grow up.”
“You first!”
We stopped, staring at each other, and for no apparent reason, burst into laughter. Flagrant, stupid giggles. Stress and near-death will do that to you. I had to set my coffee down for fear of acquiring more burns he’d have to heal.
When we settled down again—which took a while—I said, “Okay, I’ve thought about it. I’m not going to work today.”
I picked up the phone. Lewis reached over and took it away from me. Our fingers brushed, and he was very close to me.
“You are,” he said. “I don’t think you should stay here.”
“But—”
His fingers twined with mine. “I’m not blind and deaf, Jo. You think I don’t know? You think I can’t feel it?”
I felt horribly off balance. Were we flirting? Had we been flirting? Was he coming on to me? I’d thought he understood…
Lewis said, “No buzz.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He raised our clasped hands. “No buzz. No resonance. No feedback. Jo, you can’t hide it from me. Your power is gone.”
He wasn’t talking about flirting. He was talking about my Warden abilities… and he was almost right. My power wasn’t completelygone, but it was definitely operating at such a low voltage that he wasn’t drawing a spark from it anymore.
Lewis, who’d always drawn fire and power out of me, couldn’t even feel a tingle anymore.
That wasn’t seduction in his eyes. It was pity.
“Jo—” He let go of my hand and moved damp hair back from my face. “Go to work. I don’t want you here in case things get ugly. You’d get hurt.”
“Sarah—Eamon—”
“I can keep them safe; nobody’s gunning for them. You, however, don’t have enough sense to stay out of the line of fire, and you’ll be a target. Go. Do whatever it is you do.” He winked at me. Winked. “And besides, I love watching you on TV.”
Mona was running a little rough. In-town driving really didn’t agree with her, of course; she needed open road and high RPMs and curves to conquer. Her heart just wasn’t in the few miles to the studio. I patted her console and promised her a weekend in the country soon, not to mention a nice detailing.
Cherise’s convertible was parked in its accustomed space when I arrived. Top up.
I scanned the horizon. Yep, the clouds were crawling closer. Rain later today, for certain.
I checked in with Genevieve, who laconically pointed out my costume hanging on the rack. I did a double take.
“What… ?”
Genevieve, who had for some reason added some white streaks to her hair during the night, as well as a raspberry stripe from front to back, sucked on her cigarette and shrugged. She had a new tattoo as well. I’d never actually seen a woman with a naked woman tattoo before. It seemed recursive.
“You’ve got a new gig, sweetheart,” she said in that tobacco-stained voice.
“Want my advice? Avoid the Fruit.” She meant Cherise, whom Genevieve had nicknamed Cherry back in the early days. Hence, the Fruit.
The costume hanging on the rack was an aqua-blue bikini.
I gulped and held it up. Not enough fabric to it to make a blindfold. It would be different if I was strutting it on the beach, or—better yet—wearing it for David, but for an audience in the hundreds of thousands… I felt faintly violated.
“Um, do I have a—”
“Choice?” Genevieve’s laugh sawed the air. “You’re funny, kiddo.”
I tried a smile, went behind the screen, and changed.
It was worse than I’d thought. I’d had the perfect bikini—in fact, I still had it in a drawer at home—and this wasn’t it. It was way too Penthousefor public view, and it was designed for someone of Cherise’s build, not mine. I felt like I was modeling fabric swatches. The thick bathrobe was a relief. I came out to give Genevieve a miserable look, and she raised one overplucked eyebrow in commiseration.
And then proceeded to torture my hair with hot irons until she was satisfied.