Firestorm

dead bolt… The metal was simply frozen in place.

I didn't bother to look behind me. 'Emily,' I said, 'let's not do this. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm dirty, and my arm hurts like hell. I am not in the mood to play. Just let me get out of here, and I'll pretend that you're not begging for a fight, because by God if you want one, you're threatening the right girl.'

Earth Wardens have power over growing things, living things, and also over metals and woods. The door wasn't going to open if Emily didn't want it to do so, not unless an Earth Warden with greater abilities stepped in. And it was unlikely I'd be able to blow it open, either, not without bringing the whole house down with it. Our powers weren't necessarily the kind that canceled each other out. Imara was an ace in the hole, of course, but I hesitated to put her to use. I wasn't really interested in damaging one of the few surviving Wardens, given the current state of the world.

'Sorry,' Emily said. 'I've got some real problems here. You can be of use.'

I sighed and turned around to face her. 'Okay, then, let me ask you this: How am I supposed to trust a Warden who holds back on the healing just to bogart my Djinn? Because you could have at least fixed the arm, Emily. That was a low blow.'

She went just a shade paler, but held her ground. She'd never lacked in guts… just brains. 'They say you're behind all this.'

'All of what?'

'Bad Bob. The rips in the aetheric. The Djinn going crazy. Is it true?'

That hit me with a cold, hard shock… Definitely, I'd been responsible for Bad Bob getting his comeuppance, not that many people were ever going to believe he'd actually deserved it. And David and I together had been responsible for the poisoning of the aetheric, when he'd created me as a Djinn. And as for the Djinn going nuts— well, I wasn't sure I had sole responsibility for all that, but I probably couldn't sidestep it altogether, either. If it hadn't been for my actions, and David's actions, Jonathan wouldn't be dead right now, the Djinn agreement would still be peacefully in place, and the Earth would be sleeping quietly.

I elected not to say any of that, however. I just set my jaw and stared back at her, daring her to continue.

'The fire's across the border, in Canada,' she said. 'It started small, but it's growing. The Wardens overseeing that territory are dead. Lewis says they can't spare anybody else, last time I checked. I'm on my way there, and I need your Djinn. I'm not going to apologize for doing what's necessary.'

'She's not my Djinn,' I said. 'Nobody owns them anymore.'

'Yeah. Yet you're riding around with one as your chauffeur.'

'It's complicated.'

'Obviously. And there are major population centers in the path of a Class Four wildfire. That's a little complicated, too.' She hesitated, then locked her eyes on mine. Surly and difficult, she might be, but I had never known her to be a liar. 'I need your help. It's just me and another Fire Warden who's already there. Those people need somebody to save them, and we're it.'

Truth was, I agreed with her. If I turned my back on people who actually needed saving, I was losing my way. Losing my honor. Something inside me insisted that you couldn't save humanity by sacrificing your principles.

I didn't like the way Emily had elected to do this, but I could understand why she'd mousetrapped me. She was desperate. I'd have done the same thing, in her place. Because the lives I'd save would be more important than the nebulous big picture. Maybe that made me weak. Maybe that made me unsuitable for the role of great hero. Lewis would have walked away without hesitation—with regret, not hesitation—but I wasn't, and could never be, Lewis.

'I'm not putting Imara in danger,' I said.

'But—'

'She's my daughter, Emily. My daughter.'

Emily's mouth opened in surprise, then closed. She finally, reluctantly, nodded.

'Tell me what you need,' I said. 'I'll do what I can.'

'You'd damn well better.'

'Oh, and—?' I made a gesture with my sore arm. She looked ashamed. Briefly.

'Might as well,' she said, and reached out to finish up the healing. 'You're no good to me passed out.'

Imara wasn't any too supportive of my decision to hang around and brush up on my firefighting. 'This isn't a good idea,' she said. 'You're not well. And the fire's too big.'

We were standing outside, by the car. I put a hand on the smooth, satin finish, then scrubbed away my fingerprints. 'You're probably right,' I said. 'But I can't walk away from it, either. Emily might be a bitch, but she's right. And I'm a Warden. I'm sworn to protect.'

'There are others to do this kind of thing.'

'Others who aren't here. I'm here. And it's my job, Imara.' I looked up at her, and saw the worry on her face. 'Relax, kiddo. It's not my first dance. Not my last, either. Emily's a very competent Fire Warden, and if there's a Fire Warden already working on this, I can work the weather angle. We can end this thing.'

Her eyes went distant for a few seconds, then snapped back. 'There are no Djinn,' she said.

'What?'

'No Djinn near the fire,' she said. I must have looked blank. 'Djinn are drawn to fire. The bigger, the better. They leave human form and… bathe in it, I guess you'd say. Renew themselves. You remember what it was like to feel sunlight in Djinn form?'

Slow, sweet, orgasmic pleasure. Yeah, I remembered.

'If the Djinn aren't coming to this fire,' she said, 'that means there is something else happening here. It isn't natural. And it isn't—it isn't safe.'

'Not for you,' I agreed. 'If the Djinn are staying away, I want you to do the same thing. Stay away. In fact, stay here and watch the car. Or go talk to your father, find out what we can do since we didn't exactly knock it out of the park in Seacasket. Right?'

'I'm not leaving you!'

I reached out and fitted my hands around her cheeks. Djinn skin, burning hot. 'Yes,' I said. 'You are. I need you to find out what we do next, Imara. That's very important. In fact, it's absolutely critical.'

'But—'

'Don't make me order you around.' I pulled her into a fierce, warm hug. 'Just go. I'll be all right.'

'Is it because—I know I'm not—not as powerful as I should be. As you need—'

'No!' I pulled back and smoothed hair away from her face. 'Honey, no. None of this is your fault. You're the only good thing that's come out of all this. Okay?'

She nodded slightly, but I could tell she didn't believe me. My Djinn child was getting a full-on inferiority complex. More than human, less than full Djinn. That was a burden I wasn't sure how to help her carry.

'Go find your father,' I said. 'Explain to him what happened with Ashan. Find out what we should do next. Okay?'

'Okay,' she said, and stepped back. 'Mom… be careful.'

And then she was gone, blipped out without another sound. I heaved a sigh and turned to see Emily, on her porch, staring at me accusingly. I hadn't heard her come out.

'We really could have used her,' she said.

'Imara's the only Djinn in the world we can trust right now. I'd rather not throw her at every single challenge. Besides, we can handle this on our own.'

'You hope.' She looked surly about it.

'What happened to I don't need a Djinn to solve my problems'?' I asked. 'Buck up, Auntie Em. We're going to have an adventure.'

I swear, her scowl could have fractured glass.

Imara, not being in much need of transportation, had left the Camaro sitting in the driveway. It was a choice between that and Emily's battle-scarred SUV, with a four-wheel drive that had seen hard use. We didn't, strictly speaking, actually have to go to the site of the fire; Wardens often did their work remotely. But if this fire was as dangerous as she seemed to think, then being on the ground might be the only way to react quickly enough. Fire was the trickiest of all the elements. Even more than storms, fire had an intelligence, a malevolence. A desire to