Unbroken

“Ifrit,” I whispered. Venna. I’d mourn my sister when I could, but the love I’d borne her didn’t extend to the twisted, blackened, starveling creature that existed now in that bottle. Ifrits could be killed, but it was a difficult matter, and one I had no desire to attempt in my current human condition. Of course, that human condition also protected me from her, but even so. Venna had been one of the best of us, of all of the Djinn; it pained me deeply that she’d become so lost. Ifrits couldn’t be healed, not unless they destroyed someone more powerful than themselves, and even then the chances weren’t good of success.

The only Djinn greater than Venna—and this was arguable—was Ashan.

I became aware of a burning thirst, and shrugged off the pack that I’d been carrying—it wasn’t large, but some things I’d learned were necessities, including bottles of water. I had four. I took three and passed two to Luis and Joanne, then leaned against a wall to gulp down mine. The water was warm, but it washed the taste of dirt and death from my mouth, and relieved some of the budding headache I’d begun to nurse.

“We need to get moving,” Luis said to me. “Radiation’s still high up here, plus this place is going to get real damn busy, real soon. Might be chaos out there, but they’re still not going to ignore an honest-to-God terrorist attack on a nuclear facility. Not if there’s any government still standing.”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Joanne said, pausing in her quest to drain her entire bottle in one gulp. She looked pale beneath the drying blood. “I have clearances. Sort of.”

“Yeah, well, you entered under false pretenses, blew up the place, and there’s radiation all over the county, so I kind of think you’re a terrorist by definition,” he replied. “And because we came to get you, we’re a terrorist cell, I guess. Great. Always wanted to be on some kind of no-fly list, although after today I guess that covers everybody in the world. Won’t be too many planes getting off the ground these days. Too easy for the Djinn to take them out.”

Joanne finished the rest of her water. I hoped she wouldn’t make herself ill with it; she’d drained it too quickly. I wasn’t so concerned for her as I was for my own fastidiousness; human bodily functions, including vomiting, were still very distasteful to me. “Who else is coming our way?” she asked.

“Not sure. Cops, fire, every federal agency still operating? Maybe the military. This wasn’t some small-time target, you know. It’s going to get a lot of attention, as much as circumstances allow.”

“So I suppose we should…?”

“Seal up the tunnel, contain the radiation, and get the hell out of Dodge? Yeah. That’d be a good plan.” Luis —who also had finished his water too quickly—tossed his empty plastic bottle down into the tunnel, where it rolled into darkness.

“Bad recycler,” Joanne said, but tossed her empty in as well.

“Jo, you brought down the whole fucking complex and cracked open a few nukes. I don’t think a couple of biodegradable water bottles really count at this point.”

He rose to his feet, and I rose with him, as if we’d been pulled by the same string. Our hands fit together as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and for a moment I remembered David cradling Joanne in his arms, and smiled. There were partnerships, and partnerships, and what I felt for Luis.…

It was not the time to analyze what I felt, and I shook my head to clear it as Luis began to call power.

Collapsing a tunnel was far, far easier than building one, or keeping it open; a little application of force, and the smooth, even structure began to come apart… in streams of dirt at first, and then, as the surface tension holding the earth together broke, an avalanche of soil and rock. Luis pressed down on the wrecked room where we’d found Joanne, and the last remaining roof supports collapsed, burying it in a roaring thump.

Dust erupted out of the mouth of the tunnel, gray and cloudy, turning darker as the collapse raced up toward us.

Then the entire pit sank down another ten feet, and silence fell.

“If we had time, I’d recommend covering this whole place in concrete,” he said. “The radiation’s contained, and I accelerated the decay, but it’s going to take a while to cool off.… Damn—here they come.” Luis turned slightly toward the horizon, and I heard the far-off wail of sirens. “Right. Time to go. Who needs a ride?”

Joanne—who’d taken my last bottle of water and somewhat wastefully used it to rinse herself relatively clean—shook her head. She was busy plucking the bottles out of the padded case where I’d put them, and wrapping them in a dense wad of material, which she then stuffed into my nearly empty backpack and handed to me. “You’re the official keeper of the Djinn. Try not to fall on that,” she said. “That would be bad.”

I took the pack and adjusted the straps on my shoulders to let it ride comfortably. “What was wrong with the box?”

“One thing about carrying boxes—you tend to drop them in a fight,” she said. “Wearing them is a much better option.” She studied me for a few seconds. “You don’t look happy about it.”

I hated that she’d made me responsible for my tethered, imprisoned brothers and sisters, hated it, but I couldn’t articulate the reasons. Nor would I, to her. “We need to go. The Djinn will be back on us soon, and we don’t need more entanglements with humans.” I knew, better than she did, that the rest of the Djinn would make us a priority now—we weren’t merely annoying Wardens to be squashed; we were annoying Wardens with prisoners who knew that the accords between Djinn and Wardens were back in place and that it was possible to enslave the Djinn again. That was knowledge they would very much want to destroy at its source before the rest of the Wardens began to try to act on it.

Joanne was asking where we wanted to go. Luis said, “It’s all pretty much apocalyptic at this point, so take your pick. I’d suggest heading to Sedona. That’s where Orwell was taking the rest of the Wardens, if they didn’t get held up on the way. It’s a fairly good, protected place.”

We headed for the vehicles, and Luis stopped dead as he stared at his truck. “Damn,” he said, and kicked the front tire. It was sitting in mud—mud that stank of oils and mechanical fluids. “I must have busted a line. This thing ain’t going anywhere.” He could fix it, given time; Earth wardens were gifted at that kind of repair, but the sirens were keening close now.

“Then you’re with me,” I said, and pulled him with me toward the motorcycle. He let loose a string of Spanish obscenities under his breath.

“I ain’t riding bitch,” he said.

“Then you’re walking,” I said, “because it’s my bike.” I was not concerned for his macho sensibilities, and after a furious look at the now-visible flashing lights on the horizon, he climbed on behind me. I smiled—since he couldn’t see the flash of teeth now—and gunned the Harley in a sand-spouting roar.

Joanne and David had their own transportation, a solid-looking car that seemed capable of good speed when required. Oddly, there was already someone in the car that was parked a short distance away, covered with the inevitable blurring curtain of dust… and that was the car that Joanne and David entered, in the backseat. No sooner did the door close behind them than the car spun tires and headed for the road. “Who’s driving the car?” I asked Luis. He shrugged.

“Knowing her? Satan.”

I let out the clutch and followed. A few moments later, power shimmered the air, and I felt something passing over us like a hot gust of wind. “Veil!” Luis shouted in my ear. “We’re hidden, so don’t expect anybody to get out of the way for you from now on!”

I gunned the engine and passed the Mustang, slowing down to take a look at the driver, purely out of personal curiosity. He was a Djinn—or at least, that was my first and vivid impression, but then I had to wonder, because there was something not quite… right. The form of a Djinn, but when I checked in Oversight I saw no sign of a Djinn presence inhabiting that form. It was like a lifeless robot—the kind of hollowed-out shell that Mother Earth was using to deliver her plagues, but this one showed no such signs of infection.

Merely… emptiness.

As I was staring, the creature turned its head and met my gaze. Not vacant, after all. It was definitely being—piloted, I supposed, was the only word for it.

The Djinn’s lips moved, and I shouldn’t have been able to hear the words, but they came through clearly. “Don’t you worry about it,” said a clear, Southern-accented feminine voice. “He’s not connected to the Mother. He’s connected to me.”

“And who are you?”

“Whitney,” she said. “Djinn conduit for the younger side of the family. Pleased to meet you, Cassiel. I’ve