Thin Air

It was eerily like what Marion herself had just thought, and not for the first time she found herself wondering if Bad Bob had some latent Earth powers. But she’d never seen any trace of it, and she’d looked.

It was her job, looking. And it was a job she hated, and loved, and realized was perhaps the most important job of all.

“Maybe,” she said quietly, “someday I’ll be hunting you, Bob. It could happen.”

He turned toward her and met her eyes, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver. There was something about his eyes, she decided. Cold, arctic blue, soulless eyes. He had charm, she supposed, but she’d never felt it herself. She’d seen its effect on others. She knew how much loyalty he inspired in those he commanded, and so she was cautious, very cautious indeed.

She’d gone against him on this vote, to save Joa

He smiled. “That’ll be a treat, won’t it? You and me?”

She said nothing, and she didn’t break the stare. It was a gift of her genetic heritage that she could look so utterly impassive when emotions inside were roiling. She knew he saw nothing in her dark brown eyes or in her face. No fear. No anticipation. Nothing to feed from.

Bad Bob Biringanine shook his head, smiled, and walked away, and Marion took in a slow, steadying breath. She was aware, on some level, that she had just passed a test nearly as dangerous as the one the young girl had almost failed. Would have failed, had it not been for the strong support of one or two others on the intake committee.

Marion gathered her paperwork and walked out to her car, in the parking lot of the hotel. It was another oppressively warm day in Florida, one she had not dressed for, as she’d flown in from the cooler Northwest; she was wearing a black silk shirt under a leather jacket stitched with Lakota beadwork. A gift from a friend who produced materials for the tourist trade, but saved the best for her fellow tribal leaders. Marion had recently been in the mood to emphasize her heritage.

She started her rental car and did not bother with the air-conditioning; it was a simple matter to adjust her own internal body temperature down to make herself comfortable. She waved to Paul and two of the other Wardens, who stood locked in conversation near Paul’s sporty gold convertible. No sign of the girl in the parking lot; maybe she’d already left.

“So,” Marion’s Dji

“Do I ever get vacation?” she asked, and smiled slightly. “I assume you’re here for a reason.” Her Dji

And she had realized for quite some time that she was falling in love with him. No doubt he realized it as well. They did not speak of it.

“A reason,” he repeated, and looked at her directly. “You asked to be informed if any of the Wardens violated protocol.”

“Substantial violations, yes.”

“Define substantial.”

Ah, the Dji

“How very scientific,” Cetan Nagin said, and slouched against the seat at an angle. He was wearing blue jeans and a long black leather coat, and he must have known how good he looked to her. His eyes were half-closed, and she knew he could feel the sparks burning inside her. It was as if he fed on it at times. “Thank you.”

“Did you have something to report?” she asked. Her heart was hammering, and she concentrated on driving, on the feel of the steering wheel beneath her palms, the vibration of the road. The cars around her on the busy street. Real world. Sometimes she felt only half in it.

“The Warden you dislike,” Cetan Nagin said. “He crosses those lines regularly. Did you know?”

Bad Bob. Of course he did. She had no proof, but Cetan Nagin could provide it, of course. He could provide whatever she required, but then it would be her own responsibility to bring the case before the senior leadership of the Wardens, and Bad Bob had many friends and allies there.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I choose battles I can win.”

Cetan Nagin shrugged and looked away. “The girl you were testing today.”

“What about her?” Surely she was too young to be corrupted already.

“He hates her,” the Dji

As much as she felt heat for Cetan Nagin, as much as she wanted him, she feared him at moments like this. The Dji

“If that happened, I would have a case,” she agreed.

“Then all you have to do is wait,” he said, and smiled. “Now. As to that vacation…”

She glanced at him, and his smile grew warmer.

And so, reluctantly, did hers.

“I was thinking I might go with you,” Cetan Nagin said. “If you’re willing.”

She tried not to be, but there were some things that were simply meant to happen.

Blur.

I lost my hold on the memory; Marion was fighting me, trying to keep her private life private. I released and sped past other memories. It wasn’t just the cold calculation of her leaving me as a stalking horse for Bad Bob that chilled me; it was more than that. Marion had hunted me at the behest of the Wardens. She’d trapped me and tried to kill me more than once.

Lewis had let me believe she could be trusted, but she couldn’t. Marion was a zealot. She would follow her ethics past any personal considerations, past likes or dislikes.

Still, there was something more. Cetan Nagin. Her Dji

The richness of Marion’s i

I wanted it all. I wanted a life. Even someone else’s.

Something knocked me out of Marion’s head with the force of a car crash, and I slammed back into my own body. I jackknifed forward in the chair, cradling my throbbing head. The pain was crushing. Every sensation felt more intense; every sound rang louder. I curled up in a ball in the chair, gasping for breath.

“Marion!” Lewis was shouting, his voice as loud as a bell in my head. “Oh, God. God, no. Lee! Get your ass back here now!”

When I tried to run, Lewis grabbed me, slammed me down on the floor, and tried to restrain me. And all of a sudden I felt a surge of utter terror.

I couldn’t let this happen to me. Not again.

So I lashed out, the whole world dissolved in chaos, screaming, and pain, and then I was gone.

I woke up alone, in a cell.

Technically, maybe not so much a cell as a hospital room, but it might as well have been a cell. There were bars on the narrow window, plain ugly walls, and I was cuffed with leather restraints to the metal bars on the bed. They’d stripped me and put me into a nasty-colored hospital gown.