Gale Force

Kevin coughed again, wiped his mouth on his shirt, and said, “They figured it out. They have her, too. I couldn’t get to her.”

“Do they know—”

“Fuck yes, they know! We were sold out. They were buying it right up until about an hour ago, and then everything went crazy. . . .”

I wanted to hear it, but the anxiety building in me wouldn’t stop clanging its warning bell. “We’ve got to find Ortega, now. Go that way. If you spot him, yell.”

But in the end, I was the one who found him.

They’d posed him carefully, the Sentinels, just as they had the Djinn I’d helped discover before. Someone— one of the Earth Wardens—had looped whorls of living wood, thick and stronger than iron, around his arms and legs, pinning him in midair against the wall.

He’d been helpless. However they’d managed it, they’d taken away his defenses, and they’d done it so fast, so horribly fast. . . .

“Jo?” Kevin’s hoarse pant came from behind me. I was standing very still, not blinking, not looking away. “Jesus.”

We couldn’t get to him. There were too many Sentinels between us and Ortega. Six at least that I could see.

I’d expected to see Bad Bob Biringanine, so the sight of him shocked me less than it had a right to.

He looked exactly as I remembered him—white hair, fair Irish skin turned ruddy on the cheeks and nose, fierce blue eyes.

He smiled when he saw me. It was the same cynical, sweet expression that I remembered so well.

And then he turned to the man standing next to him and said something. The man’s back was to me, but I knew already, before he turned. Before I saw his face and knew how badly screwed we were.

Paul Giancarlo, my trusted friend, was with the Sentinels.

I saw the terrible guilt in his eyes, but there was something else, too. A fanatical light that I’d never truly recognized before. He was hurt, I thought. He was hurt by the Djinn. He was in charge while they destroyed the Warden headquarters. He saw people die, people he liked. People he loved.

Bad Bob had preyed on him as surely as he had all these others. He’d made them victims all over again. Worse—he’d made them victimizers.

“Jo,” Paul said. “Christ, what are you doing here? Get out!”

“You want me to send David instead?” I glared at him. “Paul, there’s not enough what the hell in the world for this!”

He clenched his fists, and I saw the muscles in his jaw tense and jump. He’d always looked a bit thuggish, but never more than when he was truly angry. “If we get David, it’s over. It’s done. No more bloodshed, ” he said. “If we have to go through all the Djinn, how much suffering is that? Come on, Jo. You know they can’t be trusted. You know!”

“Apparently I can trust them more than I can trust you,” I said.

“Ah, reunions,” Bad Bob said. He reached down and flipped open the lid on a black box on the floor, something like what Heather the scientist had used to carry her radioactive materials when she’d done her show- and-tell at Warden HQ. “Stop it, you two. You’re making me all teary-eyed. Next thing you know we’ll all be group- hugging and braiding each others’ hair.”

Nothing seemed very real to me, and yet was simultaneously very, very clear. I could see every single line of wood grain, every strand of Ortega’s hair where it drifted in the subtle breezes of the hallway.

I could see everything.

A black spear rose of its own accord from the box that Bad Bob had opened. This was no shard; it must have been at least six feet long, glittering and lethal. It slowly turned, and I had the horrifying idea that it was aware, that it was seeking out its victim. It was nothing on the aetheric, an absence of all things around it, just a black hole that could never be filled.

“Too bad your boyfriend couldn’t be persuaded to make an appearance,” Bad Bob said. “I suppose we’ll just have to perform a small demonstration instead with this unlucky fellow.”

Paul caught sight of the hovering spear, and his face went an ugly, ragged shade of pale. “No,” he said. “No, you agreed, only if we could get—”

The spear oriented itself and launched itself with sudden, horrific violence at Ortega.

I screamed and tried to form a shield in front of him, but the spear—the Unmaking—tore right through as if my power was completely meaningless to it, and buried itself in Ortega’s chest.

The sound he made was like nothing I had ever heard, something I couldn’t bear to hear. It was sheer torment, the sound of a Djinn being pulled apart and feeling every hard second of the process.

Oh God no no no.

I was watching Ortega, but I was picturing David writhing on the floor of that room amid the shattered crystal, and dying along with him.

The Unmaking was burrowing into him. I could feel it eating at him, could see the color leaching from his skin.

And as it ate him, it grew larger.

“Oh God,” Kevin said, and I’d never heard him sound like that, so utterly blank and young. As if he’d never seen anything terrible in his life.

On the other side, Paul Giancarlo and most of the others winced and turned away. Some covered their ears. Some looked sick.

Bad Bob continued to smile, utterly unmoved, and all my hate focused to a red pinpoint, right between his crazy blue eyes.

My power wouldn’t work against the Unmaking, but it would damn sure make a dent in him.

I called up everything, everything, and balled it into a single bright lance of light in my right hand, and slammed it toward Bad Bob Biringanine.

Who kept smiling.

Paul Giancarlo stepped in the way—no, not stepped. Lurched. I don’t think he meant to; I don’t think that it was his choice at all. Bad Bob owned the Sentinels, body and soul, and even they probably didn’t understand just how much his creatures they’d become. They’d opened the door to hate and revenge, and the darkness had claimed them. Lee Antonelli had shown me that.

Bad Bob used him as a human shield, because he knew it would hurt me the worst of all.

I didn’t scream, but the anguish must have shown in my face; Paul must have seen it, in that instant before the force I released hit him squarely in the chest.

It was fast, so fast he never blinked as the light hit him and blew out his nervous system, destroyed his brain stem, and dropped him lifeless to the floor.

I’d just killed my friend.

Kevin paused, just for a second, eyes wide, and then he attacked when he realized that I wasn’t capable of doing anything else at that moment, too frozen in shock to move or even defend myself. The Sentinels were in confusion; Bad Bob was smiling at me, oblivious to anything but my horror, and the rest of them had no idea what they were supposed to do. Like the Ma’at, they were a collective mass of power, and without a guiding force, they fell apart.

Even so, if it had been just Kevin and me, we’d have been lost. Each of the Sentinels had more power than we did, drawn from that black well of energy the Unmaking created when it destroyed things; they’d have killed us on their own, given time.

They didn’t have time.

An explosion rattled the entire building from outside. I saw a flaming car roll by the doors at the far end of the hall.

The cavalry had arrived with a bang.

I felt the aetheric popping and crackling with the arrival of more Wardens—some on the scene, some pouring power in from remote locations. I heard the sound of fighting from outside, and then something massive crashed