Cape Storm

With enough of us aboard the ship, we were a huge, juicy target, but we could probably defuse most anything that came at us.

Probably.

I hate qualifiers.

Lewis was about to lead a whole team of Wardens (and supernatural Djinn) into the jaws of death. I was really hoping that this plan worked out better than most of my other life-and-death adventures.

That triggered a sudden burst of anxiety in me, not to mention a jolt of guilt. “Have you seen David?” I asked Lewis, pulling him to a halt.

My lover, David—leader of at least half the Djinn, the way Lewis was the head of the Wardens—had gone away some time ago to attend to urgent business, which probably involved some supernatural being throwing a hissy fit over being pressed into helping humans. Most Djinn had the power of minor gods and the egos to match; you could think of them as bad-tempered angels, or ambivalent devils. They weren’t one thing or the other. Even the best of them could swing wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other, depending on circumstances.

As he’d left, David had told me that meant he’d be back. No time frame. I felt his absence like grief, although according to my watch, he’d only been gone for a couple of hours.

The dark part of me, the part still giggling maniacally over the approaching destruction, was glad he was gone. David could help me control the black tattoo—and of course it didn’t want that.

Lewis shook his head, spraying rain in a thick silver spiral. “Haven’t seen him!” he said. “Jo, we can’t wait. He can reach you wherever you are, you know that. Get on the damn ship!”

I looked past the flapping canvas toward the storm front again, where lightning was ripping the sky open with vicious glee. My enemy was out there beyond this storm, with at least one hostage, and a whole lot of raw power in a form that was both invisible and fatal to the Djinn.

Bad Bob had bragged that he could kill the planet if he wanted to.

I was afraid he was right.

I was afraid he’d already started.

This was not the way I’d planned to take a honeymoon cruise to Bermuda.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, a white-uniformed ship’s officer with rows of gold braid on his sleeves came pounding down the gangway, avoiding departing passengers and arriving Wardens, to skid to a halt in front of Lewis. “Sir,” he said, and nodded uncertainly to me on the off chance that I was equally important. “We have a problem.”

Lewis dragged me into the cover of the gangway and pushed back the hood of his slicker. “Of course we do,” he said, resigned. “What now?”

“I’m very sorry. We’re doing the best we can, but several of the first-class passengers have been . . . reluctant to leave their onboard possessions. Several of them have valuable items in the ship’s safe, and the hold. They won’t leave without them, and—”

“I don’t give a goddamn about their stuff,” Lewis interrupted tightly. “I’ve given you all morning to make this happen. Get them off the ship, right now, or they’re sailing out with us and they can take their chances. Understand?”

The officer—I wasn’t familiar enough with shipboard command structure to know what he was, but I guessed maybe Executive Officer—straightened his back to full Navy-style attention, clasped his hands behind his back, and gave Lewis a long, steady stare. “Sir, I recognize that this is a matter of urgency, but we cannot permit you to endanger innocent passengers. They must be offloaded before we can put to sea.”

“If we’re still in this harbor in thirty minutes, you’ll be sailing this ship as a fucking submarine!” Lewis snapped. “They’re already endangered. They get off the boat and run for their lives, or they come with us and we do whatever we can to protect them. Those are their choices, but we can’t wait for them to call their lawyers to decide.” He looked past the officer to Cherise. My best friend—endearingly human, not magically gifted at all—gave us both a little half wave and kept checking off names. “Cherise! How many are we missing?”

“We’re halfway in!” she shouted back. “Better tell the rest of your folks to get their beach thongs in gear!” She sounded incredibly cheerful. “Hey, I hope I get to be Cruise Director too, because this is going to be the best world-ending crisis ever!” Cherise was being only faintly ironic. That was the great thing about Cherise; she could find a silver lining in a coffin, six feet under, without a flashlight. She was possibly the only person I could count on who wasn’t supernaturally gifted, unless good looks and a wicked sense of humor counted. Cherise was regular folks, and I loved that she could hold her own with the not-so-regular crowd I tended to attract.

Lewis skipped right over Cherise’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Dammit, what’s the holdup?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Cherise pulled back her rain slicker hat, and her blond hair tumbled out like a flood of sunshine. She looked a little damp, but otherwise perfect, from her beach-approved tan to the hint of dark pink lipstick still kissing her lips. “Getting Wardens to do anything on cue is ridiculous. It’s like trying to pull Shriners out of an open bar.”

Those who thought Cherise shallow—which, taking one quick glance at her perfect features, perfect hair, and dazzling smile, one might—were in for a major shock once they got past her defensive dumb-blonde routine. She was a ruthlessly competent person, and if she couldn’t get the Wardens organized, then it couldn’t be done by any nonmagical means.

I knew what was going on with the Wardens, and why they weren’t on board. We’re an egotistical, self- involved bunch—which is, sadly, not our worst feature. Each of us tends to think he or she knows better, no matter what situation we land in. You can call it absolute power corrupting, et cetera, but I think it’s more that we all have to make life-and-death decisions daily, and that tends to make you confident, bordering on delusional. That’s fine if you’re operating autonomously, but in groups it can get in the way. It takes a strong personality, and a stronger grip on your temper, to bend Wardens to your will even in such a simple matter as please board the ship now or we are all going to die.

Lewis had trusted them too much.

“Fuck,” Lewis said. He had a tendency to be very Zen, but his legendary calm was showing significant cracks. “Jo, I need David back here. Can you find him?”

“I can try.” I was glad for the excuse, actually. I stepped back against the billowing canvas wall, feeling the thump of rain like tiny body blows, and concentrated on the magical link that led from me to David. Up on the aetheric plane, the level of reality above the physical, the link looked like a gleaming silver rope, and it felt warm to the touch. It couldn’t be seen here in the real world, but using Oversight—focusing my awareness into the aetheric, without actually leaving my body to go there—I could access it just a little.

Time to go, I whispered down the line, a pulse of power that he’d know came from me. You’re needed, mister.

And the answer came spiraling back, a surge of meaning without the framework of actual words to define it. He was coming, but there was some kind of complication. What else was new? Seemed like neither of us could take a breath without causing, or suffering, some kind of complication.

When I focused on the outside world again, things had not gotten better. In fact, they’d taken a significant turn for the worse, because Lewis’s body language had moved from frustrated to outright furious, and he was fixed on the ship’s Executive Officer like a cruise missile. “What?” he growled. “What did you say?”

The officer cleared his throat. “I said that we’ll need to have your attorneys draw up another set of papers to indemnify the cruise line if you sail with any—and I must stress any—persons who have not signed the appropriate waivers to—”

Lewis had a wicked bad temper, which was something few people had ever had reason to know because he had such a long, patient fuse. Once it blew, though, it was catastrophic; I remembered that once upon a time, it had nearly killed someone. Granted, that someone hadn’t been exactly innocent, but still—it had been like using a nuclear bomb to kill shower mold. Once you pull the pin from Mr. Grenade, he is no longer your friend.

I stepped up. “Lewis,” I said, and drew his focus. Some of the rage calmed in his dark eyes, but it was more of a move from full boil to simmer; the heat was definitely on. “David’s coming, but it’ll take some time. Why don’t we go round up the stragglers? Cherise can work on evicting the first-class stowaways. She’d love that.”

Cherise gave me a grin that assured me she would, very much. Give the girl a clipboard, and she became an