Firestorm

rain slickers or umbrellas. I formed an invisible-air version as David and I walked across the wet pavement toward the entrance to the restaurant, represented by double glass doors in a weather-beaten glass-and-wood oversize log cabin structure. Someone—Louann, maybe, if she wasn't apocryphal—had planted a wide variety of flowers around the building in creative tiers of planters. It looked lush and rather sweet. I ducked under the green awning that sheltered the doorway and swung open the door.

When I did, I glanced back and caught sight of David standing rigid, staring off into the distance. 'What is it?' I asked. He left me and went out to stand in the rain, still staring. 'David?'

'Just a second.'

'What's happening?'

'Don't know,' he said. 'Hang on.'

And he disappeared. I hesitated. I didn't want to go in, if there were innocent bystanders around; the Djinn wouldn't care how many bodies they had to go through to get to me, if it was me they wanted…

David reappeared, misting out of the air in midstride. He headed straight for me, grabbed me by the neck of my shirt, and marched me inside.

The door slammed shut behind us and locked. And sealed, in some way that I was not immediately familiar with; my ears popped as if we'd suddenly shot up a few hundred feet. David kept hustling me along.

'Hey!' I protested. It dawned on me about three steps later that something was very, very wrong at Louann's Pie Kitchen.

There was nobody inside.

I blinked. The lights were on, but nobody—and I mean nobody—was home. Empty kitchen. Empty lunch counter with pots of coffee steaming on burners. Empty booths and tables. Not a sound of human habitation anywhere. I had an ugly second of memory of some crime documentary I'd once seen, about customers and employees herded into a back room and shot, but in that case there'd be some sign, right? Purses left lying around. Chairs tipped over. Maybe even blood… This looked perfectly ordered, just… empty.

Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe David hadn't been as thorough as he'd thought in cleaning the drugs out of my system, and I was hallucinating. Maybe all of this was a dream. Maybe everything since Eamon had given me the shot had been a dream.

David let go and pushed me into a dull-green leatherette booth, then slid into the other side, facing me.

Oh, bad feelings. Very bad feelings. A fork of lightning suddenly split the clouds outside and cast a harsh white illumination that blanched the warm, homey atmosphere.

And in the flash of lightning, David changed. His body filled out, with broader shoulders, whiter skin. He folded his hands on the table, pale and strong.

When the transformation finished, I was sitting across from Ashan, in his trademark tailored suit. His teal- blue tie looked natty and perfectly tied, his shirt crisp.

When had he taken David's place? Oh God, not in the hotel… No, that was impossible. Afterward, in the parking lot? Or just now, outside? I had to believe it was just outside the door of this place, and that David had been lured away to give Ashan this chance at me.

I debated my choices. I could either die facing Ashan, or die running away.

I didn't run.

And oddly enough, he didn't kill me. At least, not right off.

'Hungry?' Ashan asked blandly. 'I recommend the strawberry pie.'

He looked down, and he did, indeed, have a plate in front of him with a slice of strawberry pie. The brilliantly red filling was oozing out over the plate like blood over bone. He picked up his fork and took a bite, then took a sip of coffee from a chunky café-style cup.

I might mention that each of these things—the plate, the pie, the fork, the cup—appeared just as he reached for them. A flagrant and unnecessary display of his powers, just for my benefit.

'Where's David?'

'Occupied. I'm sure he'll be back soon,' he said smoothly. 'Sure you're not hungry? It may be your last meal.'

I smiled. It felt wrong on my lips, but I hoped it would be good enough to pass his inspection. 'Sure. Mind if I serve myself?'

He shrugged. I went behind the counter and cut myself a slice of coconut meringue pie that looked like just about heaven. I decided against the coffee in favor of a glass of milk. I eased myself into the booth with an annoying squeak of plastic.

If it was a dream, at least I was going to get a piece of pie out of it. And if it wasn't… well, dying on a full stomach sounded like a better idea than the alternatives. I was trembling with fear for David, sick with the knowledge that if he managed to make it back here (occupied, what did that mean?) Ashan would have the upper hand in every way.

Ashan took another bite of pie, watching me.

'I see you made sure we had privacy,' I said.

'I felt it best.' Another chilling predator's smile. 'I'd hardly want to share you with anyone else.'

From Eamon to this. I was too numbed to be terrified, really; Eamon had done me that favor, at least. Whatever reaction Ashan had been hoping to provoke, this couldn't have been it.

I took a bite of the pie.

If Ashan was disappointed, he hid it well. He continued to nibble and sip without any hint of homicidal intent. Well, okay, hints, but not actions. I could read the desire to kill me in every look and careful, neat motion.

'Where are they?' I asked. 'The people who were in here.'

'Still here.' He gestured vaguely. 'Out of phase. They won't notice a thing. I've moved us a few seconds back in time, in a kind of bubble. Once we leave, it'll snap back. It's a local phenomenon only.'

That was mildly interesting. 'You can do that?'

'Time is my specialty,' he said. 'It's an interesting thing, time. Fluid. Very tricky. I don't expect you to understand.'

He was positively chatty. Which was odd. Ashan had always treated me like a cockroach. I couldn't imagine him sitting down to a nice, cozy chat with me over pie and coffee. If there was a single burning flame inside Ashan, it was ambition—cold, ruthless, and all-consuming.

So why was he sitting here making nice with me? Was he waiting for word that David had been hurt? Killed?

If Ashan had hurt him, I was going to find a way to make him pay.

Ashan smiled at me over his forkful of strawberry pie. I smiled back and took a bite of coconut. The meringue melted on my tongue. Even in my numbed, tense state, that was nice.

'So,' Ashan said, and I sensed he was ready to circle around to the point. 'What did the Oracle tell you, Joanne?'

'Besides the screaming? Nothing. Good pie, by the way.'

He lost the veneer of affability, and what was left had no interest in dessert. His plate, fork, and mug disappeared. He pressed those large, strong, pale hands palms down on the table. I kept eating, slowly and deliberately. No way was I letting anything this good go to waste. I needed the strength.

'You mock me,' he said. 'You are not my equal. You are nothing. You are less than the lower life forms that spawned you.'

'Oh, you smooth talker,' I said. 'Careful. You're turning me on.'

I'd surprised him. He was used to people cowering and screaming. Even me. Again, my fresh inoculation of terror from Eamon had done me a strange favor.

Surprise made him thoughtful, not angry. He tilted his head and continued to stare at me. 'Why do you say such things to me? Do you want to die?'

'Nope,' I said. 'You'll kill me, or you won't. Your petty little political ambitions are not my concern. You want to be the center of the Djinn universe? Fine. Take it up with David. I sleep with him; I don't tell him what to do. Speaking of David, you're not exactly facing off with him hand-to-hand, are you? What's the matter, Ashan? He got you scared?'

Ashan put his hands flat on the table, watching me, and his eyes were the eerie color of deep oceans lit from below. 'Do you have any idea how much I want to destroy every cell of your body? Grind you into paste until all