Total Eclipse

A single X-ray flash of his entire skeleton coming free of its disappearing flesh.

A faint drift of ash falling to the floor.

Gone.

No.

That was my world, breaking apart into tiny, hazy fragments too small to notice. Too small to matter.

Like all of us.

Like humanity itself.

I heard that horrible, rending screaming of the Djinn on the ship. I saw Imara, falling on the steps of the chapel in Sedona with the life leaving her eyes. I saw my old friend Paul getting in the way of a burst of power from my hand. Destroyed. Murdered, by me.

I saw all the lives, the thousands and millions of lives, which were going out right now, like sparks drowning in darkness.

No more. No more. No more!

I realized that I was still screaming, only now it had turned to words. “What did you do? What did you do?”

The Oracle floated there, wrapped in a ball of blinding white fire, as uncaring as the sun.

My scream turned into a shriek of utter rage, and I stumbled to my feet, lungs burning under the pressure of the fury that was boiling out of me, and I lunged for the Oracle. He could damn well take me, too, the uncaring son of a—

David manifested himself out of the air and caught me in strong, solid arms before I could finish my suicidal dash. Not the same David who’d just disappeared in that horrible flash. This David was different, and achingly familiar. Pure, smooth skin with faintly metallic burnishing. A little more perfect than human. Copper flames dancing in his eyes.

This was the Djinn David.

“Easy,” he said, and his voice was the same, gentle and low and strong. I melted against him, weak with relief, breathless. “Easy, Jo. I’m here.”

I couldn’t speak. All I could do was shake and hold on. His fingers combed through my hair, and I felt the sweaty tangles relax, felt my filth and disarray swept away in a tingling tide. His way of showing his love and concern for me. It always had been.

“Jo? Were you about to throw yourself into the Oracle after me?”

I swallowed hard and tried to laugh it off, because his tone seemed so baffled and concerned.

“Of course not,” I said. “It was getting cold out here. Needed to warm up.”

“Sorry,” he said, and kissed me, and that was the same warm depth of emotion and love and promise as always. “I had to move fast, once I realized what he’d done.”

“The Oracle?” I looked over his shoulder at the silent, glowing orb.

“He separated out the powers from Kevin and contained them, but it was only temporary. Lightning in a bottle. If I didn’t take it back right away, it would have been too late.”

“So you decided to commit suicide, on the off chance it would all work out. Nice. Thanks for giving me a vote.” I was trying to sound unconcerned. It wasn’t working, not at all. There was an edge to my voice, a raw hurt, and he pressed a kiss against my forehead with such gentleness my breath caught in my chest.

“I was dying either way,” he told me. “I never would have left this place alive as a human. I didn’t have the strength. It was the only chance I had.”

“Did it—” I couldn’t ask that question, not directly. “Did you feel it?”

David’s face shut down, but his eyes remained warm and loving, focused on my face. The Djinn fires burned a little brighter.

“We always feel death,” he said. “It’s that memory that makes us different from the Old Djinn. We remember what it feels like to lose ourselves to the dark.”

The Oracle pulsed light, just once, and David turned back to it. As Kevin had done, David had silent communion with the power that lived in this place. Unlike Kevin, it took a long time, and at the end of it, David didn’t fall down. He just took a step back, looking thoughtful. Was that a frown? Yes, I was pretty sure he was frowning. He was staring down at the ground, so I couldn’t be sure. One thing I was sure of, the place was heating up again, temperature climbing one steady degree every few seconds. In no time at all, the oven would be set to broil again.

“Uh, honey?” I finally said. “What about me? My powers?”

He looked up and shook his head. “Not from him. He could take them out of Cherise and hold them for a few moments, but he can’t put them into your human body. You’d have to be reborn as a Djinn, and those powers are designed for a human form, not one like mine. It wouldn’t work. You’d never survive. I’m not sure Cherise would, either.”

My day just kept becoming more awesome. “So what are we going to do?”

“For a start, get out of here,” David said. “To protect himself, the Oracle has put up barriers against the influence of the Mother; it’s one of the most difficult things he’s ever done, and he’s very upset. When he’s upset . . .”

“. . . It gets hot,” I said. “Yeah. Got that part.”

“I could survive, but the three of you won’t. I need to get you out of here before the temperature rises too far.”

“What were you thinking about?” I asked.

“What?” He had his back to me now, conveniently examining the walls.

“You were thinking about something after you cut it off with the Oracle. What did he say?”

“Oh, you know Oracles,” David said, and ran fingertips over the crack Cherise had put into the rock. He shook his head, and under his hand the crack bonded itself and disappeared. “Not that way.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“What did the Oracle say?”

“Jo, don’t—”

I put my hand on his shoulder, and felt the heat radiating from the skin beneath his shirt. “What did the Oracle say?”

His muscles tensed under my touch, and I saw the color in his eyes flicker, less copper, more red. He didn’t like it when I used the Rule of Three on him—which was why I rarely did.

“The Oracle said the Mother is waking up,” he said. “And there’s no way to stop her. If he tries, he’ll just be consumed along with the rest of the Djinn. He’s trying to remain separate as long as he can.”

“He has to at least try to talk to her, tell her our side!”

“No. He doesn’t.” David moved steadily around the circular room, avoiding Cherise’s sleeping form and Kevin’s unconscious body, both lying close together. “He’s not the guardian of humanity. His connection runs between the Djinn and the Mother. That’s all. He owes you nothing.”

That was direct, and painfully true. “But—”

David stopped, hands hovering over one part of the wall. “Get Cherise,” he said. “When this opens, I need you to drag her through, then come back for Kevin. I’ll have to hold it open.”

“Then how are you going to get out?”

He gave me a fast glance. “I can go anywhere now. You can’t.”

Oh. Right. That made sense.

I grabbed Cherise under the arms and dragged her to where David was standing. She mumbled a little— waking up, which wasn’t a good thing at the moment. “Hurry,” I told him. He didn’t bother to nod; his full attention was fixed on the wall in front of him. As I watched, it wavered, then fell into dust, revealing that black, oily surface like what we’d pierced to get here in the first place. Once that was done, David remained where he was, unmoving, staring.

“Go,” he said, just the one word. I wondered how much strength this was taking. A lot, I assumed.

I towed Cherise backward through the cold, clinging liquid, fell for a thousand years, and landed with a jolt as I tripped over a tombstone and went sprawling. Cherise was with me, lying in the bright green grass. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and charged back through the barrier. Falling, cold, et cetera . . . it was almost