Gale Force

''Let's just say I'm not counting on anything right now. Where's David meeting you?''

''Downstairs in the parking garage.'' I shook free of Lewis's grip. ''Honestly, back off, would

you? I'm not glass, and I can take care of myself. I'd have thought I'd proven it by now. I'm a

big girl. I can ride the elevator all by myself.''

I could tell he was just itching to go all macho and protective on me again, but he managed to

hold himself back, raising both hands in surrender and stepping away. ''Fine. Just don't come

crying to me if you end up dead. Again.''

The elevator's arrival saved me from having to make a snappy reply. I got in, a few other

Wardens crowded after, and I saw Lewis make a visible effort to stay where he was. I'll be fine, I

mouthed as the door slid closed.

I wished I were as confident as I appeared to be.

Still, nobody tried to kill me on the way down, although a few unfriendly looks were thrown my

way by one or two of my fellow vertical travelers. One made up for it by delivering a cordial

congratulations on the upcoming wedding, although he politely called it a ''celebration,'' as if he

wasn't quite sure of the legality of the whole event. Well, neither was I, actually.

We made a couple of stops, including one at the lobby level, where half the passengers

disembarked.

Next stop was the secured parking area, and as the doors opened, I was relieved to see the

familiar form of David leaning against a support pillar, looking deceptively casual. He was

wearing his full-on normal guy disguise-jeans, checked shirt, slightly mussed hair. Glasses to

distract from his eyes, although at the moment they were solidly unremarkable. And the coat, of

course. He hardly ever showed up without the coat, even in the humidly close heat of late

summer in New York City.

''You know, you're going to have to start learning how to dress for the seasons,'' I said without

preamble, taking his offered arm as we headed for the car. ''No more of this one-outfit-fits-all

thing.''

He smiled. ''Are you threatening to take me shopping again?''

''Threatening? No. It's an absolute certainty. Besides, we're supposed to stay public, aren't we?

Present a distraction?''

''Shopping is a distraction?''

''It is the way I do it,'' I said. ''By the way-what's my new last name?''

''Excuse me?''

''Well, I'd like to know how I'll be signing checks in the future. Mrs. Joa

''What's wrong with Baldwin?''

''Nothing. In fact, I may hang on to it, but if you're pla

need to have an identity other than David, King of All Dji

He shot me one of those amused half smiles. ''Seriously, King of All Dji

''Answer the question. What's your last name?''

''Whatever you want it to be.''

I remembered that he'd used a credit card at a hotel early on in our relationship. ''What about

David Prince?''

He sighed. ''If you like.''

''You don't?''

''Jo, I don't care. Even when I was actually built to care about those kinds of things, I didn't

have a family name. It was always David, son of-'' He stopped, and something indefinable

flashed across his expression. I waited. ''Son of Cyrus.''

''Cyrus? Your father's name was Cyrus?''

''It was a very honored name at the time.''

''Then your name ought to be David Cyrus.''

He looked thoughtful. There was something going on behind his eyes, something I couldn't

guess and probably had no context to understand even if I could. He'd never mentioned his

human father, or his human mother, or anything about that period of his life before it had come

to a cataclysmic end on a battlefield, with thousands of men pouring out their life energy. His

best friend, Jonathan, had been like Lewis, a Warden with all three powers, and deeply beloved

of Mother Earth; David hadn't been able to let go when Jonathan had passed over and been

reborn as a Dji

I wondered how much real memory he had of those early, fragile years of his human life. Of his

birth parents, before that rebirth. He'd seemed surprised that he'd remembered his father's name

. . . and seemed affected by it, too.

At length, as we passed rows of parked cars, David said, ''Cyrus sounds . . . fine.''

We arrived at the parked, sleek form of the Mustang, which was in perfect, gleaming condition,

for having had its windows blown out less than a day before. David opened the passenger door

and gracefully handed me in, like a princess into a carriage. He shut the door and headed around

to the driver's side, and we didn't speak again until we'd exited the garage and were already on

the road, heading for the bridge.

''You haven't said how it went,'' he said.

''It was harder than I'd thought,'' I confessed. ''Not the we're-getting-married part. The Kevin

part.''

David nodded. ''I was concerned about that. He's . . . fragile, in some ways. And he has good

reason for a lot of his anger. Putting him in this kind of position is a risk, at best.''

''He said-David, he said that his mother used Dji

myself to articulate the implications. ''Did she?''

He was silent for a moment, apparently focused on steering around the traffic and increasing

speed as the road opened up in front of us. The steel structure of the bridge flashed past in a blur,

and I wondered if the speed wasn't more about David cha

back home quickly. ''You know she did,'' he said. His face was smooth, expressionless, and

he'd changed his glasses now, darkened them to hide his eyes. ''In many different ways.''

I couldn't ask. I knew I should; I knew he'd tell me and it would be a relief if he did, maybe for

us both, but I just . . . couldn't. I closed my eyes, rested my head against the window, and tried

not to imagine David as Yvette Prentiss's slave.

As her weapon.

''Sleep,'' he murmured, and whether it was his influence or my own weariness, the steady roar

of the tires and throb of the engine lured me down into the dark.

When I woke up, David was carrying me in his arms. I hadn't been carried like that by him,

except when I was in danger or injured, in a long time, and it felt . . . wonderful. Hard not to

appreciate the strength and surety of his body against mine, and his smile was gentle and deadly

at such close range. ''Good nap?'' He set me down, and my feet sank into sand. I hastily stripped

off the Manolos. Sacrilege, to walk on the beach in those. Also, awkward. It was night, and the

surf curled in from the horizon in sweetly regular silver lines. It broke into lace and foam on the

beach, and we were close enough to the water to feel the breath of spray.

''Where are we?'' It wasn't Fort Lauderdale. The beach was too quiet, too secluded. It felt as if it

had never been touched by humanity.

''Nowhere,'' he said. ''In a sense, anyway. It's a place I come sometimes to be alone, when I'm

troubled.''

He was telling me something. I looked around. No lights on the horizon, no roads, no airplanes

buzzing overhead. Just the beach, the surf, the breeze, the moon bright as a star overhead.

''This isn't real,'' I said.

''It's as real as we want it to be. Like Jonathan's house, beyond the aetheric.'' David shrugged

slightly. ''One of the benefits of being the Conduit is you can create your own realities if you

feel the need.''

''And . . . you feel the need.''

He took my hand, and we walked a bit in the moonlight. It felt as if we were the first people to