Chill Factor

'What?' I asked absently. Marion, unlocking the silver Viper, repeated the question. I looked across the car at Lewis, who had opened the passenger side.

I laughed, and said, 'Just try to keep up.' It sounded hollow, felt worse. I should have felt free, opening the driver's-side door and easing into Mona's comfortable seat, feeling the potential of her ignite at the turn of the key. Cars had always made me feel safe. Powerful.

But I was driving this one into the past, and that was one place I didn't want to go.

What surprised me was that I hadn't recognized his voice. Not recognizing his body or face, sure, that was understandable; the only clear look I'd ever had at Orry was that morning in the desert, and it had been fifteen seconds long, at a distance, with a baseball cap shadowing his face and panic jittering my focus.

But the voice. I should have recognized the voice.

When the shadow in the dark grabbed me in the caves and held me underwater, I'd honestly thought that I was dead. Coming awake again in the darkness, I still thought I was dead; combine the trauma with the heat exhaustion and dehydration, not to mention the head injury, and dead was what I probably should have been.

Instead, I opened my eyes in the dark and for a few seconds there was nothing, nothing but the drip of water and the sound of my own heart slowly, steadily working its way toward death, one beat at a time.

I licked dry lips-even though there was water beaded on them, they felt dry and painfully cracked- and whimpered as pain stabbed through my head. I tried to pull in a deep breath, but it gurgled in my lungs, and I coughed.

Coughing with a head injury, not recommended. My head exploded in pulsations of white agony, and I couldn't stop hacking. By the time I stopped I was huddled in a sitting position, my back against what felt like wood. It creaked when I moved against it. My chest was on fire, but that was nothing compared to the complete devastation of my headache. I carefully leaned my skull back against the wooden boxes, in the hope that not moving it anymore would help the nauseating throbbing to settle down. I had both hands clutching my temples, but that didn't seem to be helping-it felt like it was holding the pain inside-so I let them fall back into my lap. The air tasted damp and cool. Not a breath of wind.

I heard the scrape of footsteps. My first thought was to call for help, but my second was a memory of being held underwater, and I kept still. I stared into the dark-which was complete-and saw nothing. Not a flicker of light. Maybe I'm blind. That was a freak-inducing thought that I tried to put well behind me.

The sound of someone coming got louder. Pebbles rattled. He must have misstepped once; I heard someone curse softly-male voice-and there was some scuffling that sounded like things being rearranged. Metal, maybe, dragged over rock. Tough to say.

I was still trying to figure out which direction the footsteps were coming from when he flicked on a flashlight, and I was hit squarely but a rush of light so bright it felt like he'd set my eyeballs on fire. I screamed and covered my eyes, turned my face away, but even then I could see the halogen flare, burning bright red on my eyelids.

He'd meant to do that, just in case. He wanted me blind and disoriented.

I felt something grab my foot and drag me suddenly forward; I was able to save my head from smacking into the rock, which might very well have killed me, and then there was a weight astride me, a belt buckle digging painfully into my stomach as he leaned forward. The light was still in my face. I couldn't see him at all.

'Open your eyes,' he said. I couldn't have, even if I'd wanted to; I was already crying from the blaze of light. I tried to bat the flashlight away, and he grabbed both my hands in one of his and slammed them back to the stone. The light loomed closer, bloodred on the other side of my eyelids, like a giant blazing eye. 'Open your eyes!'

I tried. I think I must have managed to get them open just a little, because I heard him say, 'Blue. Huh. I'd have bet they were brown.'

He didn't sound crazy. In fact, he sounded very normal, as if we were standing at a cocktail party with our little drinks, making small talk. As if he hadn't just tried to drown me and killed another woman and was kneeling on my chest with a light in my eyes.

'What's your name, sweetheart?' he asked. I could almost see him smiling, saluting me with a martini.

No reason to lie. 'Joanne.' My voice sounded weak and fractured. Nothing like what I wanted it to be. 'You already know that.'

'Smart girl. Indeed I do know. Chaz told me.' He leaned over closer. That made it harder to breathe. I coughed again, and couldn't help a sobbing moan when the headache dug claws deeper. 'You're in sad shape, Joanne. Wish I could say that I was here to help you out, but you already know that's not true, eh?' I felt a sharp sting as he slapped me to keep me focused. 'Eh?'

I nodded.

'What did Chaz tell you? Oh, by the way, I saw what you did out there. Very impressive. Chaz tells me most of you can do that by yourselves, right?' He bent very close, close enough that I smelled aftershave and a hint of herbal shampoo. 'Without a Djinn. That how you say it? Djinn?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' It didn't matter. He wasn't a Warden. When I went up on the aetheric-I could barely catch a glimpse of it in Oversight now-I saw no power in him. No potential. He was as absolutely normal as the guy next door. 'I don't know what that is.'

'You don't have one.' He sounded definite about it. 'Chaz didn't have one, either. Guess it's just the really high ups that get them, huh? Or… the ones who need them? Out in the middle of nowhere, storm central? Places that get out of control quick?'

He was too close to the truth. There were more Wardens with Djinn in trouble spots; half of the ones in Oklahoma and Kansas were equipped, and an even greater portion of the ones in California. He understood an awful lot more than he should have.

Starting with the fact that there were Wardens. 'Chaz told you,' I whispered.

The flashlight switched off. It was like being doused with cold water in the desert-sweet, shocking relief. Felt like the darkness was a place of safety, a place to hide, even though I knew better. I heard the soft sound of plastic and metal on stone as he set it aside.

'Chaz told you things,' he said. 'About me. Blabbed his stupid head off. Right?'

I didn't answer. Saving my breath for the screaming part.

'This is going to go better if you just tell me now. The end's the same, but like the Chinese say, it's the journey that counts.'

'He told me you were running drugs,' I said. 'That other Wardens went along with it. Look, I was going to take the money. I'll still take it. You don't have to kill me.'

'Honey, I wish I knew that for sure, because I kinda like you. You don't fold under pressure, and that's a gift.' He straightened up and let go of my hands. I didn't try to hit him; there was no percentage in it yet. He still had me pinned. 'No, I figure you… you'd take the money and run right back to your little friends, and next thing you know, I'm out of business. Can't have that.'

I was too weak to really use my powers, but I had one advantage: He didn't know it. I concentrated hard, readying myself. I wasn't going to get a lot of opportunities, and I'd better act fast and with perfect timing when one came.

'Tell me about the Djinn,' he said. 'Chaz didn't know much, or at least he said he didn't. It's interesting.'

'It's a myth,' I said. 'It's a TV show. He was putting you on.'

'Oh, I don't think so, because I asked him with lots of nice folding money. You, unfortunately, money won't do it. I'll have to be more persuasive.' I heard something metallic tap the rock. 'You know what that is?'

It could have been anything. A nail file. A ring. A bottle opener. 'Knife,' I whispered. 'It's a knife.'

'Good memory.' Suddenly the sharp edge of it was under my chin, pressing, and I felt myself start squirming. I couldn't help it. My body wanted to get away so badly that it refused to listen to reason and stay still. 'Here's how this works, Joanne. You tell me what I want to know, and you never even feel this knife move. You don't tell me, and this knife knows how to do things the hard way, the slow way. Get me?'

'Yes.' I was sweating. I couldn't afford to sweat. My brain felt slow and stupid, desperate for moisture. There was so much around me, in the air… and I couldn't reach it.

'Now answer my question.'