Gale Force

Warden—”

“Exactly,” I said. “She’s not even a Warden. If they’re going to underestimate anyone, they’ll underestimate Cherise. Not that she really is Cherise.”

I gave Cherise the nod, and her form shifted, growing taller, darker, the sweetly rounded figure of the beach bunny taking on sharper edges and angles.

Rahel sighed, stretched, and looked down at her clothes as they shifted to her traditional neon-yellow pantsuit. She flicked an imaginary mite of dust from the cloth, and cocked a sassy eyebrow at Lewis.

He closed his mouth with a snap, then opened it again to say, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Rahel smiled. “I’m sure, my love, there are many things I can do that you haven’t even begun to imagine. ” She winked, to top it off.

“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Lewis asked. He was trying very hard to ignore the somewhat intimidating charm she was sending his way.

“Strong enough to impersonate a human?” Rahel flicked her taloned, glossy fingers impatiently. “Please. You insult me if you think otherwise. You are nothing like difficult to imitate.”

I thought Lewis found that as profoundly disturbing as I had. I’d known the Djinn could do it, of course; David had pulled it off with me when we’d met, and there was no doubt that he could, when he chose, take on other forms. But he’d told me that Rahel was the master of that sort of disguise, able to perfectly match whatever template she was given—something I hadn’t known any more than Lewis had, evidently. I wondered whose form she’d taken on before, and for what purposes.

“You’re sure you know what to do?” Lewis asked.

“I will watch out for the boy, and gather information for you. I will deliver it to David as often as I dare to, without exposing the boy to danger. Is that not what you want from me?” Rahel recited it like a laundry list, inspecting her nails for flaws. “Don’t worry, Lewis. It will hardly be the first time we have hidden among you, discovering your secrets.”

Well, if that didn’t make us all paranoid . . . Lewis didn’t look happy, but he’d lost some of the stiff, angry body language. “You’re sure you can do this,” he said. “I’m putting Kevin’s life in your hands, Rahel. And in some ways, I’m putting you in more danger than him—these guys don’t like Djinn. In fact, it’s safe to say they’d just as soon destroy you as look at you. And I’m really not so sure they can’t, if they try.”

She let a slow, contemplative smile slip across her lips, and even I shivered. “How would they then be any different from most of my so-called friends and allies?” she asked softly. Her eyes had taken on an unnatural gold glow, and there was no mistaking her for anything but what she was: Djinn, through and through. “We have survived the Wardens. We will survive the Sentinels. You may count on it.”

There was no arguing with the Djinn once they got that look, and Lewis knew it. He put up his hands in surrender, came around the desk, and stood just a couple of feet away from her. They were almost of a height; he had an inch on her, maybe. “Take care,” Lewis said, and leaned in to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Come back safely.”

I felt my eyebrows pull up, but I wasn’t really surprised, not deep down. Lewis had a lot of secrets, but he’d always been intrigued by Rahel, and she was drawn to his power, if nothing else. Maybe it wasn’t the world’s great love affair; maybe it was just casual, but it eased some anxious part of me to see that Lewis wasn’t still pining after me.

Okay, it vexed that part of me, too, but that’s a personal problem.

Rahel effortlessly folded her shape back into Cherise’s cute, compact little body, tossed her blond hair with a flair so familiar it would have fooled even me, and winked at him. We all stared after her as she left, Cherise’s trademark little gray alien tattoo waving at the small of her back.

I didn’t even notice what she was wearing as Cherise; that was how much she’d thrown me off stride, and after all, I’d known who she really was.

Lewis turned his attention to David, still standing silently in the corner. David cleared his throat and pushed his shoulders away from the wall. “She’ll be all right,” he said. “No, she’s not full strength, but that could play well, considering what she’s doing. There’s no danger. Rahel can always leave if things get too hard.”

He sounded too casual about it. I felt an uneasy lurch; there it was, again, that strange blind spot, as if the Djinn just couldn’t see the threat when it was right in front of them. What was it about these Sentinels? How could they have that kind of power—or were they just taking advantage of a weakness I’d never really seen before? I’d always thought the Djinn were invulnerable, except when they took on each other, or a Demon.

I’d been feeling good about my plan, but the good feeling was going away fast. “But we’re going to give her backup, right? Just in case?”

“Of course,” David said. “What’s next?”

As far as he was concerned, it was settled. I exchanged a look with my boss, and Lewis raised both hands and shrugged. “It’s your show. Go run it.”

“Then it’s time for us to do some distracting, to keep them focused on their main targets. You get to live the dream, my love,” I said. “You get to take me shopping.”

David and I began to make sure we were seen, often, in public—usually hand in hand. It was nice in one way, and nerve-racking in another, as, waiting for trouble, we both kept half our attention on the world around us.

Ominously, it didn’t come. I’d been hoping to lure the Sentinels into more threats or attacks, and I’d especially wanted to keep their focus extended out toward us, instead of turning toward the all-too-vulnerable undercover operatives we’d sent to them.

To bring things to a head, and present the Sentinels with even more of a target, Lewis called a mass meeting of the Wardens. Even on short notice he got about a third of the total membership—an impressive number. Not quite as robust as the UN General Assembly, but with nearly as many languages, nations, and attitudes represented. The lecture hall had seen better days, and still hadn’t fully recovered from the devastation of the last Djinn assault, but it was still impressive, paneled in teak with mahogany trim, opulently chaired, with an illuminated sun symbol of the Wardens on the ceiling that served as a massive light fixture. I’d always liked the room.

Today, I kept looking for the exits.

Ostensibly, the program was a half-day presentation from various National Wardens on threat assessments in their fields of specialty—all of which were true and timely indeed, and much needed. We’d had far too many changeovers in staff, and too many crises for comfort. A little training and communication was positive, and desperately needed.

But really, the main point of the meeting was pure theater, and I was the starring act.

It came toward the end of the meeting, as Lewis was making his closing statement. He paused, glanced over his shoulder toward where I sat behind him, and said, “I have one last item of business, and I think you’ll all be pleased to know that it’s a positive one. Joanne Baldwin has an announcement.”

My palms were damp, my knees were weak, and my heart raced as if it were trying to use up its entire quota of lifetime beats in the next ten minutes. I hoped I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. Scratch that; I hoped I didn’t look as panicked as I felt.

At least I’d dressed for it. If I couldn’t be self-confident wearing a kicky Carmen Marc Valvo dress and a pair of honest-to-God Manolo Blahniks in matching tangerine, I needed to turn in my fashion police badge. My hair looked good—wavy and glossy and glamorous. My makeup was fine, even though I was fairly sure I could use another touch-up on the powder to get rid of the shiny spots.

All I had to do was sell as good as I looked.

I stepped up to the podium as Lewis gracefully relinquished it, and the spotlight found me, and all of a sudden it was time. No more thinking, no more nerves. You leap, and hope for the net.

“Hello,” I said. “I’d like to thank Lewis for allowing me to make this announcement today, because I think it’s an important one. The Wardens have been through so much over the past few years; we’ve lost great colleagues to unavoidable accidents, and worse, to each other. We were drawn into a conflict with the Djinn that nobody wanted, and we suffered for it. So many lives were lost, and none of us can ever forget that.”

There was utter silence in the lecture hall—not even a nervous cough. I knew that many people in the audience—probably most—had lost friends, lovers, family. They’d survived, but many still held on to the pain, and the bitterness. Those were the prime recruiting ground for the Sentinels.

The ones who hurt the most.

“That’s why this is important,” I continued. “You all know me. You all know that I owe my life to a particular