Gale Force

earth.

David’s face was taut, pallid, and desperate. He was still trying to twist free, but his strength, like mine, wasn’t up to the task.

The odds were too high this time.

“Ashan, give me your leave,” Venna said. Her brother frowned, and nodded sharply, once. Venna disappeared so suddenly there was a small thunder-clap of air left in her wake. I couldn’t even spare the breath to curse, or to cry out. The pressure was throbbing in every nerve of my body, a constant, grinding pain that grew sharper with every heartbeat. The Sentinels weren’t going to let up. They were going to slaughter me one inexorable inch at a time, and the Djinn—the Old Djinn—wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it.

And they were going to make David watch, to make it that much more horrible.

I felt something new in the attack—a tremor. Just a flicker, but somewhere, someone was weakening. If it was a combined attack, and I thought it must be, then at least one and maybe more were faltering, running out of power. Hang on, I told myself. I felt sweat dripping from my chin onto my shirt front. A little longer.

It was an eerie way to face the end of your life. If it had just been the Old Djinn, standing there impassively, that would have been bad enough, but David— the dread and anguish in his eyes was too much. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated harder.

Hold. You have to hold.

I felt another element of the attacking force weaken and drop away, leaving a purer signature to it. If I could only outlast the rest, I might be able to trace it back to one source . . . at least get the name of the bus that was going to run me down.

Even that cold comfort didn’t seem too likely. I felt myself shaking harder now, as I pulled all the power out of my muscles, out of my flesh, pouring my last vital resources into defending the stronghold of my heart. I couldn’t hold out for long; my reserves had gone shockingly fast, and without David’s help, even Imara’s contributions weren’t going to be enough. . . .

I felt something in me give way, and my next breath felt wet and labored. Pain flared through me. I tasted blood, coughed, and felt warmth spray out of my mouth.

“No,” David whispered. “Ashan . . . please . . .”

Ashan didn’t speak, not even to refuse.

Another element of the attack against me broke with an almost physical shock. I could count them now: three. Three of them left, but one was unbelievably strong, much stronger than I was. Stronger than I could ever hope to be.

My legs gave out. I fell to my knees, hardly felt the impact. Part of the carpet was on fire now, and none of the Djinn were reacting to the emergency. I heard the shriek of the smoke alarm going off, and knew that I was on the verge of creating yet another disaster, one that could claim the lives of the innocent people living around me.

I closed my eyes and found one last tiny pool of strength. With that last drop of power, I pushed back. Two of the three attackers dropped away, surprised by my sudden aggression, and I saw the last one clearly.

On the aetheric, he burned a brilliant white, less a person than a star bound in human form. I couldn’t see his features, but I could see where he was, in the instant before he cut off his attack and disappeared into the boiling mass of confusion stirred up by the attack like the smoke in the apartment.

I’d won.

I pitched forward to my hands and knees, gasping in thick, tainted breaths, coughing and wheezing. My mouth was full of blood, and my coughs brought up more of it. I was hemorrhaging from my lungs, too weak to save myself, too weak to control the fire taking hold around me, or cleanse the air I was breathing. No. You can’t die now. You won!

Winning isn’t everything. You need to have something left, in the end, to move on. This was the very definition of a Pyrrhic victory.

I realized that I was staring at David, still on his knees, held pinned and helpless by Ashan. His face was the color of ashes, and his eyes an unholy, almost demonic red, consumed with pain and pent-up fury.

“She survived,” Ashan said, and I heard a note of pure surprise in his voice. I felt a surge of power move through the apartment. The siren cut off; the air turned sweet again. No more sparks. Before my watering eyes, the curtain knitted itself into its original unburned form, and the carpet healed itself.

That wasn’t David’s doing. I could tell that he was blocked by Ashan here, completely cut off. Helpless. The bodyguards wouldn’t have dared take that kind of initiative, which left only the last person I’d have ever expected to do me a kindness.

Ashan was staring at me with half-closed, thoughtful eyes. I couldn’t read his expression. I was too tired to even try.

“Go on and finish me off,” I said hoarsely. “I can’t stop you.”

“I know,” he said. It was the first time I’d heard him speak with such a level tone, no trace of hate or contempt. “You fought well. Almost like a Djinn. But you’re not a Djinn anymore, and you never will be again.” After another pause, I thought I heard him say, very quietly, “Pity.”

He let David go and stepped back. David didn’t hesitate. Ashan ceased to exist for him the instant the barriers fell, and he lunged to me and gathered me in his arms. I felt healing power cascade through me in burning, almost painful urgency, and I shuddered and buried my face against his neck.

“Jo?” He whispered it with his lips against my skin. His hands were everywhere on me, frantic, protective. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I felt tears welling up, and whether they were shock or relief or the delayed effects of fear, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t have any defenses left, not even against myself. I wanted to lie down on my side, curl up, and weep myself into unconsciousness in his embrace, but instead, I lifted my head—which felt as if it weighed about a hundred pounds—and focused on Ashan. His expression was closed and still, but I thought I saw something in it that hadn’t been there before.

“It was necessary, you know,” he said. “Necessary you stop before it’s too late.” Which wasn’t an apology, but the fact that he felt compelled to explain himself was an enormous change.

David growled, deep in his throat, and I stilled him with a hand on his cheek, still looking at Ashan.

“Thank you. I won’t expect it again,” I said. I saw a flash in his cool eyes, and he bent his head a fraction of an inch.

And then he misted away, and his bodyguards followed, giving me a range of stares from curiosity to anger.

One faded in. Venna, still in black. I curled closer to David, taking comfort in the heat of his body, the strength of his embrace. I was shaking all over, and couldn’t seem to stop. It wasn’t just physical injury. I’d come close, so desperately close—in some indefinable way, I felt more fragile now than I ever had, despite the fact that I’d won.

I wouldn’t have wanted to show so much vulnerability to Ashan, but it was different with Venna. She’d seen me crying, filthy, beaten, broken. She’d never made judgments, not in the way that Ashan would.

I felt the soft touch of her hand stroking my hair.

“You had to win alone,” Venna said. “I am sorry. I couldn’t help. It was a human matter, not for the Djinn.”

I gulped air and nodded. David wasn’t so understanding. He let out that low, vicious growl again, and Venna sat back on her heels, clearly taking the warning very seriously. I couldn’t tell if it angered her, but I doubted it. She seemed to understand his desperation.

She studied the two of us with a sorrowful and composed expression, like a graveyard angel. “Your enemies are much worse than you are. You should be prepared for the fight.”

I croaked, “Who? Who are they?”

“You know,” she said, and stood up. “You knew before, and you will again. You saw him. You just won’t allow yourself to see.”

I reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked down, frowning a little, and pulled free without any difficulty—but she did it gently. “I hope you survive. And I hope—I hope you are happy.”

I laughed hollowly. “I hope so, too. I don’t suppose we can count on you for a little help along those