Firestorm

Cherise responded to that with a dubious snort for both of us. 'Whatever. So, tell me again where we're going?'

'You remember how I told you about the Wardens?' I asked.

'Organization of people like you, with all kinds of superpowers, who control the weather and stuff. Speaking of, weren't we in the middle of a hurricane that was about to kill us about twenty-four hours ago? If you could control the weather, what was up with the hundred-mile-an-hour winds? I meant to ask earlier, but I was, you know, dealing with my trauma.'

'It's not as easy as just waving a hand!' I protested. 'And anyway, I wasn't supposed to interfere right then.—Oh, fine. Maybe I was having an off day. In answer to your original question, we're going to my office. Warden Headquarters.'

'In New York City.'

'Midtown, to be exact. First and Forty-sixth.' She had a look of incomprehension. 'In the UN Building.'

Her expression didn't change.

'You have heard of the UN, right? United Nations? Bunch of guys who get together, talk about world peace? …'

Imara murmured, 'Even I know what the UN is, and I really was born yesterday.'

Cherise shot her a dirty look. 'Shut up! I know what the UN is!'

'Sorry.'

'But… the UN controls the weather? Because I thought they were all about that whole world peace thing.'

I reclaimed the conversation from the bickering—ah, children. 'No, they don't control the weather. They lease office space to the Wardens, who do.'

Cherise didn't bother to say, 'You're insane,' but the expression on her face was pretty clear, and considering this was coming from a girl who half believed aliens had abducted Elvis, that was special. She even edged a little bit more toward the passenger-side window. I was wishing that I'd left Cherise at any of the various gas stations we'd blown past along the way, but it would take only one unhappy phone call from her claiming I'd stolen her car to end my trip real quick. Hadn't seemed prudent, given the priorities.

'You weren't kidding,' Cherise said, studying the building as we got closer. 'We really are going to the UN. Is it even open?'

'Trust me, the Wardens never close.' My whole body ached, and I really, really needed a shower. I'd scrubbed cleanish in a truck stop restroom a lifetime ago, because I just hadn't been able to stand it anymore, but I wasn't what you might call business-meeting ready. My eyes ached and watered from the glare of streetlights. I was grateful that at least it wasn't full daylight. That would have been much, much worse.

I made the turn to the special security-controlled parking garage, which was locked up like Fort Knox. There was a scanner on the driver's side. I rolled down the window and extended my hand. A green laser jittered over my exposed skin, and the door silently rolled up. I gunned it, because in seconds the door reversed course and began its downward journey. Down a corkscrewing Habitrail of a parking ramp, to a floor marked only with the sign AUTHORIZED PARKING ONLY. I was authorized. I slid into the first available parking slot.

It worried me that there were so many parking spaces unoccupied.

'Come on, we have a special door.'

'We do? A special door? Cool.' Cherise scrambled out of the car. Imara emerged after her, elegant and tall, tossing long black hair back from her face as if she were ready for a photo shoot. I decided she didn't look like me at all. I'd never looked that glamorous. Well, I'd never felt that glamorous, anyway.

There was supposed to be a special guard on the special door. There was certainly a special-made guardpost, and as far as I knew it was supposed to be manned 24-7. Only nobody was there. Maybe the guard had gone for a call of nature, but I doubted it. I tried the steel door to the hut. Locked. Lights glowed on panels inside, but the windows were covered with steel mesh. That left us standing in a hot white wash of light, looking suspicious. I looked around, and sure enough, there was a surveillance camera—as ubiquitous as houseflies in the modern world. I waved, then turned to the door again.

'There's no lock or handle,' Cherise said. 'Don't they have to open it from in there or something?'

'Or something.'

I held up my hand and concentrated. A faint blue sparkle moved across it, lighting up the stylized sunburst that was the symbol of the Wardens. It was magically tattooed into my flesh, and it couldn't be faked.

I ran it across a scanner inset next to the door. I waited, but nothing happened. If there'd been crickets around, they would have been chirping. I sighed, looked at Cherise and Imara, and shook my head. I ran a hand through my tangled hair and pushed it back from my face, back over my shoulders, and wondered what my chances were of bluffing the regular UN guards into granting me admittance.

I didn't wonder very long. They'd raised paranoia to an art form around here, and for very good reasons.

'Right,' I said. 'I guess we'll have to wait until someone decides that we look safe.'

'Yeah, and when will that be?' Cherise asked, with a significant look at our generally less than presentable turnout, Imara notwithstanding.

The door let loose with a thick metallic chunk and swung open about a quarter of an inch.

'Now.' I grabbed the edge and moved it wider. It was heavy. Bombproof, most likely. I ushered the girls inside, grabbed the inner handle, and pulled it tight behind me as I entered the building. The lock engaged with a snap and hum of power.

'Um… Jo?' Cherise sounded spooked.

When I turned, there were two people standing in the industrial concrete-block hallway facing us. Both were in blue blazers with a logo on them—UN Security—but with the additional graphic touch of the sun-shaped Wardens symbol pinned to their lapels. Man and woman, both tall and capable-looking. I didn't know them.

I'd seen guns before, though, and they had two great big pistols pointed right at us.

I put my hands in the air. Cherise followed suit, fast, and laced her hands behind her head without being asked. Too many episodes of police shows, I was guessing, or some indiscretions that I didn't want to know about.

Imara didn't raise her hands at all, just looked at the guards with those ruddy-amber eyes and raised her eyebrows, as if they amused the hell out of her.

'Djinn!' the woman in the blazer yelled to her partner, and took a step forward to get an angle on Imara. She had a nice two-handed shooting stance, and a voice hard enough to shatter diamond. Her eyes darted rapidly from Imara to Cherise, and then landed on me. 'Warden, put your Djinn back in the bottle. Now!'

I looked at Imara, wide-eyed. She looked back. 'Back in the bottle,' I said. I didn't own Imara, and she wasn't bound to a bottle anyway, but she was bright enough to realize that this might not be the time to debate the issue. She misted away, off to someplace safer, I hoped. The Wardens were a little paranoid these days. Love me, hate me, want to kill me… it all depended on the mood of who I was talking to, seemed like.

But I understood their paranoia about Djinn. I'd seen the change come over David, on a beach in Florida, and it had terrified me in ways that I'd never thought possible. Nothing more frightening than seeing someone you know, someone you love, go mad.

I focused on the two guards and tried for a wan, friendly smile. 'Okay, no problem, right? Djinn's in the bottle. You guys know me. Joanne Baldwin? Weather Warden? I'm here to see Paul Giancarlo.'

Whether it was my name or Paul's, something made the two guards exchange a look and relax. They didn't holster their weapons, but they didn't look actively menacing anymore, either. And they pointed the barrels vaguely toward the floor.

'Baldwin,' the man repeated. 'Right. We've been expecting you.' He was a tall fellow, thin without being skinny. The physique of a basketball player under the wool jacket, white shirt, and conservative tie. 'Follow us,' he said, and turned to walk down the hallway.

I shrugged and followed, Cherise obediently hurrying along with me. I hoped I hadn't dragged her into the middle of something really, really bad. I had to believe the Wardens wouldn't hurt her. They treated normal people with kind, despotic benevolence.