For a heart-stopping second, there was still nothing - no sound at all. And then a lone pair of hands clapped, somewhere in the darkness, and then a few more, and then it turned into a round of applause. Not cheers and champagne, but it seemed positive enough. Lewis reclaimed the podium and I went back to my chair and sank into it, feeling relieved and a little sick with adrenaline.
The next bit of theater belonged to Kevin, who was standing at the back of the hall, looking surly and militant, as only Kevin could do. When a lull came after the applause, Kevin said, clearly enough to carry throughout the room, "I thought screwing a Djinn was off-limits. What, you're special?"
There was an audible intake of breath, and heads turned. Somebody laughed, but it was quickly smothered. Lewis, who'd been about to speak, seemed thrown off balance. He focused on Kevin with a baleful stare, and said, "If you want to offer your congratulations, Warden, do it to her face. I'm sure Joanne will be glad to take them personally."
That got general laughter. People knew me all too well. I stood up slowly, making sure that everybody saw my expression.
Kevin pushed away from the wall. "Yeah? Well, I'm just saying what everybody in here is thinking. We just got done burying people who were killed by these bastards, and now she's going to marry one? Not just a Djinn, but the Big Kahuna? What's the matter, Jo? Blowing off the Warden rules wasn't enough of a thrill anymore?"
"Shut up, Kevin." We'd worked this out, but I was still taken aback by the venom in his voice. Kevin had a huge backlog of hate stored up, and some of it was meant for me; it was an officially approved opportunity for him to vent some of it, and I was going to have to be the one to control my reactions. He's a kid, I reminded myself. He's a kid who's been wounded, over and over. Cut him some slack.
My slack-cutting hand was getting tired.
"Shut up? In your dreams, bitch." He stepped up again, this time addressing the entire hall. "Look, you can see where this is going, right? You think the Djinn are just going to forgive and forget all the time we spent sticking them in little bottles, making them do our shit work? You think they don't hate us for that? Don't kid yourselves. She thinks this is some kind of peace process. It's not. It's obscene. Believe me, I know all about obscene. Especially when it comes to people using the Djinn for sex."
"That's enough," I said, and moved to the edge of the stage. "Enough, Kevin."
"Don't think so. Bad enough the two of you popped out some kind of mutant kid - "
I saw red, and fury burned up from around the base of my spine and jolted into my head like a physical shock. Son of a bitch. He'd never said he was going to drag Imara into this, and while I was prepared to overlook personal insults to myself, my kid wasn't part of the deal. Some of the audience agreed with me; they were shouting him down. But a significant portion was either silent or nodding in agreement, shooting me frowns and dark looks.
"We need to move away from the Djinn, not get all cozy all over again," Kevin continued. "She just wants everything to go back to normal. What the hell was so great about that, anyway? What about the rest of you? You think we should just rip up the blood-stained carpet, remodel, and get over it? Or should we figure out what the Wardens are supposed to be? Not depending on Djinn, not letting them into our heads or our homes or our beds - "
"What's the matter, Kevin?" I asked. "Some hot Djinn chick turn you down?"
We'd scripted this part. I hadn't wanted to do it - had argued against it, in fact - but now I took just a tiny bit of satisfaction in seeing him visibly flinch. The pallor that set into his face, followed by a vivid flush, wasn't acting. I was bringing up old demons, opening old wounds.
"No," he said. "I turned them down. But it didn't matter. They had their orders, and the Djinn always follow their orders, don't they? My mother made sure of that."
Rumors had floated around over the past year about Kevin, about his stepmother, Yvette, who was truly one of the most morally grotesque people I'd ever met. About her illicit use of Djinn for personal gratification, and for other, even less savory, purposes.
Kevin had suffered at her hands. I didn't know whether or not she'd turned her Djinn on him in a sexual sense, but I didn't doubt it. It would have been a tragedy for the Djinn as well as Kevin, but Kevin wouldn't necessarily feel that.
The worst part of it was that for at least some period of time, Yvette had owned David. I'd never asked him what his history was with Kevin, and neither he nor Kevin had ever really come clean about it.
I hoped I wasn't hearing the truth of it, right now, but the pain and rage in Kevin couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else but honesty.
"I hope you get what's coming to you. Both of you," he spat, and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You think you just get to make a dramatic exit?" I sent a gust of wind past him and blew the doors shut with a heavy thud. "Sit your ass down, Kevin."
"Bite me." He whirled back toward me, and there were tears glittering in his eyes, real and agonizing, and I almost stopped it there, almost went to him and put my arms around him and told him he didn't have to do this.
Lewis got in my way. "Sit," he said flatly. "I'm not telling you again, Kevin. If you can't control yourself, I'll do it for you."
In answer, Kevin formed a fireball in both hands, glared at both of us through the unholy orange glow, and then turned and threw the fireball straight at the doors. It hit and detonated with enough force to blow the doors open and off their hinges.
He walked out.
"No," I said, and put out a hand to stop the guards who started after him. "No, let him go. If he wants to leave, let him leave. This isn't over, but there's no point in destroying the place. Again."
That got a weak wave of nervous chuckles. Some of the Wardens out there looked as if they were suffering a PTSD moment; I completely sympathized. This was turning out to be less theatrical and more gut-wrenching than I'd ever intended, but I supposed that was a good thing, ultimately. It's for his own protection, I reminded myself. If the Sentinels can't buy his defection after that, it can't be done.
But I was going to have a hell of a lot of fence-mending to do. And I felt filthy inside, as if I'd dragged my soul through a sewer.
Lewis took my hand, out of sight behind the podium, and squeezed. He knew what I was feeling. I moved back to let him get to the microphone, and he said something to close the meeting. . . . I wasn't really listening. I was staring at the smoking, destroyed doorway where Kevin had made his grand exit.
God, please, watch out for him, I thought. If anything happens to him . . .
Lewis must have finished, because in the next moment people were getting up in the auditorium, chattering excitedly, making their way toward the exits. And Lewis put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me off into the shadows at the back of the stage, where he whispered, "I think it was all right."
"Brutal," I said. My voice sounded strange. "I didn't want to put him through that."
"He signed up, Jo. It's something he wants to do. Let him be a hero for once."
"Yeah, well, it's hard to just stand by and watch."
"No kidding," he said, and smiled a narrow, bitter smile. "How the hell do you think the rest of us feel about watching you?"
I got a lot of "That was uncalled for!" supportive comments on the way out, but not quite as many as I'd expected; the majority of Wardens seemed to want to stay out of the line of fire. Couldn't really blame them for that; most of them had reason to be gun-shy.
What bothered me was the significant number who seemed to be huddled together whispering in the halls, who fell silent when I came near. I felt stares on me all the time. A few nodded, but it didn't feel like support. None of them were my friends, and most of them were people I knew only by reputation. Were they Sentinels? Potential recruits? No way I could tell, but it made the back of my neck itch.
Lewis escorted me to the elevators, staying protectively close. We'd agreed that David should stay away for this part; it would have been harder with him in the room. So Lewis was taking his bodyguarding duties seriously, even in the relatively secure confines of the Warden's own halls.
"You really think somebody's going to try to take me out here, with all these Wardens around?" I asked, as we waited for the elevator to arrive. He had his hand on my arm, and he didn't smile.
"Let's just say I'm not counting on anything right now. Where's David meeting you?"
"Downstairs in the parking garage." I shook free of Lewis's grip. "Honestly, back off, would you? I'm not glass, and I can take care of myself. I'd have thought I'd proven it by now. I'm a big girl. I can ride the elevator all by myself."
I could tell he was just itching to go all macho and protective on me again, but he managed to hold himself back, raising both hands in surrender and stepping away. "Fine. Just don't come crying to me if you end up dead. Again."
The elevator's arrival saved me from having to make a snappy reply. I got in, a few other Wardens crowded after, and I saw Lewis make a visible effort to stay where he was. I'll be fine, I mouthed as the door slid closed.
I wished I were as confident as I appeared to be.
Still, nobody tried to kill me on the way down, although a few unfriendly looks were thrown my way by one or two of my fellow vertical travelers. One made up for it by delivering a cordial congratulations on the upcoming wedding, although he politely called it a "celebration," as if he wasn't quite sure of the legality of the whole event. Well, neither was I, actually.
We made a couple of stops, including one at the lobby level, where half the passengers disembarked.
Next stop was the secured parking area, and as the doors opened, I was relieved to see the familiar form of David leaning against a support pillar, looking deceptively casual. He was wearing his full-on normal guy disguise - jeans, checked shirt, slightly mussed hair. Glasses to distract from his eyes, although at the moment they were solidly unremarkable. And the coat, of course. He hardly ever showed up without the coat, even in the humidly close heat of late summer in New York City.
"You know, you're going to have to start learning how to dress for the seasons," I said without preamble, taking his offered arm as we headed for the car. "No more of this one-outfit-fits-all thing."
He smiled. "Are you threatening to take me shopping again?"
"Threatening? No. It's an absolute certainty. Besides, we're supposed to stay public, aren't we? Present a distraction?"
"Shopping is a distraction?"
"It is the way I do it," I said. "By the way - what's my new last name?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I'd like to know how I'll be signing checks in the future. Mrs. Joanne . . . ?"
"What's wrong with Baldwin?"
"Nothing. In fact, I may hang on to it, but if you're planning to do the normal-life thing, you need to have an identity other than David, King of All Djinn."
He shot me one of those amused half smiles. "Seriously, King of All Djinn? That's funny."
"Answer the question. What's your last name?"
"Whatever you want it to be."
I remembered that he'd used a credit card at a hotel early on in our relationship. "What about David Prince?"
He sighed. "If you like."
"You don't?"
"Jo, I don't care. Even when I was actually built to care about those kinds of things, I didn't have a family name. It was always David, son of - " He stopped, and something indefinable flashed across his expression. I waited. "Son of Cyrus."
"Cyrus? Your father's name was Cyrus?"
"It was a very honored name at the time."
"Then your name ought to be David Cyrus."
He looked thoughtful. There was something going on behind his eyes, something I couldn't guess and probably had no context to understand even if I could. He'd never mentioned his human father, or his human mother, or anything about that period of his life before it had come to a cataclysmic end on a battlefield, with thousands of men pouring out their life energy. His best friend, Jonathan, had been like Lewis, a Warden with all three powers, and deeply beloved of Mother Earth; David hadn't been able to let go when Jonathan had passed over and been reborn as a Djinn. David had been reborn as well.
I wondered how much real memory he had of those early, fragile years of his human life. Of his birth parents, before that rebirth. He'd seemed surprised that he'd remembered his father's name . . . and seemed affected by it, too.
At length, as we passed rows of parked cars, David said, "Cyrus sounds . . . fine."
We arrived at the parked, sleek form of the Mustang, which was in perfect, gleaming condition, for having had its windows blown out less than a day before. David opened the passenger door and gracefully handed me in, like a princess into a carriage. He shut the door and headed around to the driver's side, and we didn't speak again until we'd exited the garage and were already on the road, heading for the bridge.
"You haven't said how it went," he said.
"It was harder than I'd thought," I confessed. "Not the we're-getting-married part. The Kevin part."
David nodded. "I was concerned about that. He's . . . fragile, in some ways. And he has good reason for a lot of his anger. Putting him in this kind of position is a risk, at best."
The next bit of theater belonged to Kevin, who was standing at the back of the hall, looking surly and militant, as only Kevin could do. When a lull came after the applause, Kevin said, clearly enough to carry throughout the room, "I thought screwing a Djinn was off-limits. What, you're special?"
There was an audible intake of breath, and heads turned. Somebody laughed, but it was quickly smothered. Lewis, who'd been about to speak, seemed thrown off balance. He focused on Kevin with a baleful stare, and said, "If you want to offer your congratulations, Warden, do it to her face. I'm sure Joanne will be glad to take them personally."
That got general laughter. People knew me all too well. I stood up slowly, making sure that everybody saw my expression.
Kevin pushed away from the wall. "Yeah? Well, I'm just saying what everybody in here is thinking. We just got done burying people who were killed by these bastards, and now she's going to marry one? Not just a Djinn, but the Big Kahuna? What's the matter, Jo? Blowing off the Warden rules wasn't enough of a thrill anymore?"
"Shut up, Kevin." We'd worked this out, but I was still taken aback by the venom in his voice. Kevin had a huge backlog of hate stored up, and some of it was meant for me; it was an officially approved opportunity for him to vent some of it, and I was going to have to be the one to control my reactions. He's a kid, I reminded myself. He's a kid who's been wounded, over and over. Cut him some slack.
My slack-cutting hand was getting tired.
"Shut up? In your dreams, bitch." He stepped up again, this time addressing the entire hall. "Look, you can see where this is going, right? You think the Djinn are just going to forgive and forget all the time we spent sticking them in little bottles, making them do our shit work? You think they don't hate us for that? Don't kid yourselves. She thinks this is some kind of peace process. It's not. It's obscene. Believe me, I know all about obscene. Especially when it comes to people using the Djinn for sex."
"That's enough," I said, and moved to the edge of the stage. "Enough, Kevin."
"Don't think so. Bad enough the two of you popped out some kind of mutant kid - "
I saw red, and fury burned up from around the base of my spine and jolted into my head like a physical shock. Son of a bitch. He'd never said he was going to drag Imara into this, and while I was prepared to overlook personal insults to myself, my kid wasn't part of the deal. Some of the audience agreed with me; they were shouting him down. But a significant portion was either silent or nodding in agreement, shooting me frowns and dark looks.
"We need to move away from the Djinn, not get all cozy all over again," Kevin continued. "She just wants everything to go back to normal. What the hell was so great about that, anyway? What about the rest of you? You think we should just rip up the blood-stained carpet, remodel, and get over it? Or should we figure out what the Wardens are supposed to be? Not depending on Djinn, not letting them into our heads or our homes or our beds - "
"What's the matter, Kevin?" I asked. "Some hot Djinn chick turn you down?"
We'd scripted this part. I hadn't wanted to do it - had argued against it, in fact - but now I took just a tiny bit of satisfaction in seeing him visibly flinch. The pallor that set into his face, followed by a vivid flush, wasn't acting. I was bringing up old demons, opening old wounds.
"No," he said. "I turned them down. But it didn't matter. They had their orders, and the Djinn always follow their orders, don't they? My mother made sure of that."
Rumors had floated around over the past year about Kevin, about his stepmother, Yvette, who was truly one of the most morally grotesque people I'd ever met. About her illicit use of Djinn for personal gratification, and for other, even less savory, purposes.
Kevin had suffered at her hands. I didn't know whether or not she'd turned her Djinn on him in a sexual sense, but I didn't doubt it. It would have been a tragedy for the Djinn as well as Kevin, but Kevin wouldn't necessarily feel that.
The worst part of it was that for at least some period of time, Yvette had owned David. I'd never asked him what his history was with Kevin, and neither he nor Kevin had ever really come clean about it.
I hoped I wasn't hearing the truth of it, right now, but the pain and rage in Kevin couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything else but honesty.
"I hope you get what's coming to you. Both of you," he spat, and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You think you just get to make a dramatic exit?" I sent a gust of wind past him and blew the doors shut with a heavy thud. "Sit your ass down, Kevin."
"Bite me." He whirled back toward me, and there were tears glittering in his eyes, real and agonizing, and I almost stopped it there, almost went to him and put my arms around him and told him he didn't have to do this.
Lewis got in my way. "Sit," he said flatly. "I'm not telling you again, Kevin. If you can't control yourself, I'll do it for you."
In answer, Kevin formed a fireball in both hands, glared at both of us through the unholy orange glow, and then turned and threw the fireball straight at the doors. It hit and detonated with enough force to blow the doors open and off their hinges.
He walked out.
"No," I said, and put out a hand to stop the guards who started after him. "No, let him go. If he wants to leave, let him leave. This isn't over, but there's no point in destroying the place. Again."
That got a weak wave of nervous chuckles. Some of the Wardens out there looked as if they were suffering a PTSD moment; I completely sympathized. This was turning out to be less theatrical and more gut-wrenching than I'd ever intended, but I supposed that was a good thing, ultimately. It's for his own protection, I reminded myself. If the Sentinels can't buy his defection after that, it can't be done.
But I was going to have a hell of a lot of fence-mending to do. And I felt filthy inside, as if I'd dragged my soul through a sewer.
Lewis took my hand, out of sight behind the podium, and squeezed. He knew what I was feeling. I moved back to let him get to the microphone, and he said something to close the meeting. . . . I wasn't really listening. I was staring at the smoking, destroyed doorway where Kevin had made his grand exit.
God, please, watch out for him, I thought. If anything happens to him . . .
Lewis must have finished, because in the next moment people were getting up in the auditorium, chattering excitedly, making their way toward the exits. And Lewis put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me off into the shadows at the back of the stage, where he whispered, "I think it was all right."
"Brutal," I said. My voice sounded strange. "I didn't want to put him through that."
"He signed up, Jo. It's something he wants to do. Let him be a hero for once."
"Yeah, well, it's hard to just stand by and watch."
"No kidding," he said, and smiled a narrow, bitter smile. "How the hell do you think the rest of us feel about watching you?"
I got a lot of "That was uncalled for!" supportive comments on the way out, but not quite as many as I'd expected; the majority of Wardens seemed to want to stay out of the line of fire. Couldn't really blame them for that; most of them had reason to be gun-shy.
What bothered me was the significant number who seemed to be huddled together whispering in the halls, who fell silent when I came near. I felt stares on me all the time. A few nodded, but it didn't feel like support. None of them were my friends, and most of them were people I knew only by reputation. Were they Sentinels? Potential recruits? No way I could tell, but it made the back of my neck itch.
Lewis escorted me to the elevators, staying protectively close. We'd agreed that David should stay away for this part; it would have been harder with him in the room. So Lewis was taking his bodyguarding duties seriously, even in the relatively secure confines of the Warden's own halls.
"You really think somebody's going to try to take me out here, with all these Wardens around?" I asked, as we waited for the elevator to arrive. He had his hand on my arm, and he didn't smile.
"Let's just say I'm not counting on anything right now. Where's David meeting you?"
"Downstairs in the parking garage." I shook free of Lewis's grip. "Honestly, back off, would you? I'm not glass, and I can take care of myself. I'd have thought I'd proven it by now. I'm a big girl. I can ride the elevator all by myself."
I could tell he was just itching to go all macho and protective on me again, but he managed to hold himself back, raising both hands in surrender and stepping away. "Fine. Just don't come crying to me if you end up dead. Again."
The elevator's arrival saved me from having to make a snappy reply. I got in, a few other Wardens crowded after, and I saw Lewis make a visible effort to stay where he was. I'll be fine, I mouthed as the door slid closed.
I wished I were as confident as I appeared to be.
Still, nobody tried to kill me on the way down, although a few unfriendly looks were thrown my way by one or two of my fellow vertical travelers. One made up for it by delivering a cordial congratulations on the upcoming wedding, although he politely called it a "celebration," as if he wasn't quite sure of the legality of the whole event. Well, neither was I, actually.
We made a couple of stops, including one at the lobby level, where half the passengers disembarked.
Next stop was the secured parking area, and as the doors opened, I was relieved to see the familiar form of David leaning against a support pillar, looking deceptively casual. He was wearing his full-on normal guy disguise - jeans, checked shirt, slightly mussed hair. Glasses to distract from his eyes, although at the moment they were solidly unremarkable. And the coat, of course. He hardly ever showed up without the coat, even in the humidly close heat of late summer in New York City.
"You know, you're going to have to start learning how to dress for the seasons," I said without preamble, taking his offered arm as we headed for the car. "No more of this one-outfit-fits-all thing."
He smiled. "Are you threatening to take me shopping again?"
"Threatening? No. It's an absolute certainty. Besides, we're supposed to stay public, aren't we? Present a distraction?"
"Shopping is a distraction?"
"It is the way I do it," I said. "By the way - what's my new last name?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, I'd like to know how I'll be signing checks in the future. Mrs. Joanne . . . ?"
"What's wrong with Baldwin?"
"Nothing. In fact, I may hang on to it, but if you're planning to do the normal-life thing, you need to have an identity other than David, King of All Djinn."
He shot me one of those amused half smiles. "Seriously, King of All Djinn? That's funny."
"Answer the question. What's your last name?"
"Whatever you want it to be."
I remembered that he'd used a credit card at a hotel early on in our relationship. "What about David Prince?"
He sighed. "If you like."
"You don't?"
"Jo, I don't care. Even when I was actually built to care about those kinds of things, I didn't have a family name. It was always David, son of - " He stopped, and something indefinable flashed across his expression. I waited. "Son of Cyrus."
"Cyrus? Your father's name was Cyrus?"
"It was a very honored name at the time."
"Then your name ought to be David Cyrus."
He looked thoughtful. There was something going on behind his eyes, something I couldn't guess and probably had no context to understand even if I could. He'd never mentioned his human father, or his human mother, or anything about that period of his life before it had come to a cataclysmic end on a battlefield, with thousands of men pouring out their life energy. His best friend, Jonathan, had been like Lewis, a Warden with all three powers, and deeply beloved of Mother Earth; David hadn't been able to let go when Jonathan had passed over and been reborn as a Djinn. David had been reborn as well.
I wondered how much real memory he had of those early, fragile years of his human life. Of his birth parents, before that rebirth. He'd seemed surprised that he'd remembered his father's name . . . and seemed affected by it, too.
At length, as we passed rows of parked cars, David said, "Cyrus sounds . . . fine."
We arrived at the parked, sleek form of the Mustang, which was in perfect, gleaming condition, for having had its windows blown out less than a day before. David opened the passenger door and gracefully handed me in, like a princess into a carriage. He shut the door and headed around to the driver's side, and we didn't speak again until we'd exited the garage and were already on the road, heading for the bridge.
"You haven't said how it went," he said.
"It was harder than I'd thought," I confessed. "Not the we're-getting-married part. The Kevin part."
David nodded. "I was concerned about that. He's . . . fragile, in some ways. And he has good reason for a lot of his anger. Putting him in this kind of position is a risk, at best."
