Gale Force

tape. ''What exactly happened back there?''

I realized I was clenching my fists, and tried to relax. The rain was plastering my hair to my face,

and my dress was becoming a soggy, ill-fitting mess. I tried not to think about the shoes.

''Tornado,'' I said briefly. ''At least, that's what they tell me.'' I took David's arm and pulled

him along.

''Reporters?'' he whispered.

''Vultures. Keep going, no matter what. They can smell fear.''

His voice turned warm with amusement. ''Not really afraid of reporters, given what just

happened, but I'll keep that in mind.''

''Shhhhh!''

The reporter do

and climbed out of the van. Her camera guy and boom guy came after. The equipment was better

protected from the weather than they were. ''Ms. Baldwin, wait! We want to talk to you about

the Wardens! Was this the work of the Wardens? If so, why was there so much damage? Weren't

you supposed to contain that kind of thing? Was anyone killed or injured?''

''No one was hurt,'' David said. I made a frantic shushing motion and kept him walking. It

didn't matter. They kept pace, and now the camera guy had his portable light glaring on us in the

downpour.

''How do you know that? Sir? Sir?''

''No comment,'' I snapped, and tried to get between David and the camera. I must not have been

as photogenic, because they broke off. I toyed with the idea of sabotaging the equipment, but I

had the feeling somehow that was a bad move this time. Then I spotted it: Across the street,

another news team was following, photographing separately. They were trying to provoke me

into a response.

Great. As if I hadn't had enough trauma in the past few days to last a lifetime.

''Look, this will be a lot easier on you if you talk to us now, rather than force us to run without

your side of the story-''

''Run it,'' I said. ''Somehow, I can't see you guys having a lot of credibility left once everybody

asks you what brand of crack you were smoking. Now, leave us alone.''

They dropped back, mainly because we'd reached the car and were already getting in. I was sure

the videographer had a great shot of me getting into the car, looking pissed off; the only thing

missing from a humiliating fleeing-the-cameras expose was me shoving the cameraman or

giving him the finger. Not that I wasn't tempted.

Once we were inside the car, I tried calming, deep breaths. It didn't really work, but it made me

feel as if at least I was making an effort. David wasted no time, exerting a pulse of power to dry

out our clothes, hair, and shoes, not to mention the seats, even as he locked the doors in case they

decided to try one more time. I hastily got the car in drive and pulled away into traffic, leaving

the reporters behind.

I distinctly saw a high five behind me in their van.

''That,'' I said, ''was not the plan.''

''What, the tornado? Or the reporters?''

''Both. Either. Not the plan.'' I chewed my lip; too late to worry about my lipstick at this point.

My carefully applied makeup, not to mention my hairdo, was long gone. ''Right. Enough

making like a target for the day. Let's give the Sentinels some time to chew over their options

while we go home and . . .''

''And?''

''Do whatever comes naturally.''

''I can think of a few things that aren't quite that natural. Are they off the table?''

''Depends.'' My heart rate was slowly declining from the triple digits, but I still felt jittery. Too

many shocks, too close together. ''I think I'll have to ask for a massage first. I'm a bundle of

nerves right now.''

He put his hand atop mine on the gear shift, and a slow warm pulse moved through my body,

steadying me. ''I would like that,'' he said. ''And if you want to take the phone off the hook and

turn off that damn cell phone . . .''

''We'd have Lewis and a bunch of paratroopers storming the apartment,'' I said. ''Being out of

contact, not really an option right now. You know, since we're bait.''

He sighed. ''Yes. Bait.'' Beat. ''I'm sorry about the dress. You seemed very happy.''

''Yes.'' I bit my lip, unreasonably distressed, and was glad he sent another pulse of energy

through my nerves to counteract my ridiculously out-of-proportion reactions. ''It was gorgeous.

Well, I'm sure I'll find another one.'' Maybe.

''We can look tomorrow.''

I couldn't help it; I laughed. He'd said it in all seriousness, as if our little outing hadn't netted a

significant and near-fatal attack. As if that was just par for the course, an everyday hazard of

going to the store.

''Yes,'' I said, when I was able to speak around the chuckles. ''Oh, absolutely. Shopping

tomorrow. But maybe we should try to pick someplace easier on bystanders. ''

He nodded soberly. ''Internet.''

''Internet.''

''I hear there's pornography on the Internet.''

''Filthy pervert.''

His eyebrows quirked, then settled into a severe line. ''I take exception. I'm quite clean,

actually.''

''Too bad. I like a scruffy man.''

''I can be scruffy.'' His tone changed. ''Pull over.''

''What?''

''Pull over now.''

Oh. Not part of the banter, then. I looked in the rearview mirror but saw nothing out of the

ordinary. Still, David wasn't exactly one to overreact. I took the next left and found a shopping

center parking space, right between a nail salon and a Spanish-language video rental store.

''What is it?''

''We're being followed,'' David said.

''I didn't see-''

''By a Dji

''David! No, you can't-'' I was having flashbacks to the horrible scene in my apartment, David

on his knees and helpless at the hands of his fellow Dji

certainly not any of them who felt compelled to follow us in secret.

''I have to.'' No point in arguing, because I'd be arguing with the rain; he was already gone, and

even though I hurriedly scrambled out after, I saw no trace of him.

And then I did, in the deep shadows at the side of the building. David was in conversation with a

very tall man-Dji

wearing. Thin, intense, and entirely unfamiliar to me. He was wearing retro clothes, circa the

mid-1950s, but he didn't seem at all Father Knows Best to me; he radiated an unfocused kind of

don't-mess-with-me menace.

The Dji

and said something else to David, and blew apart into mist and was gone.

David came back in no particular hurry, hands in his pants pockets, lost in thought.

We both got back into the car at the same time, and I dried us off, a flick of power that felt

satisfyingly productive for a change. He hardly noticed.

''Who was that?'' I asked. David stirred, glanced at me, and looked surprised.

''Roy,'' he said.

''Who's Roy?''

''One of mine,'' he said. ''You don't need to have him over for drinks. He's not polite company.

In fact, I'd rather you never met him. But he's very useful for some things.''

''Such as?''

''Such as keeping an eye on Kevin and Rahel.'' He cocked an eyebrow at my expression. ''You

didn't seriously think I would let them do this without some kind of backup plan?''

Oh. Actually, I'd thought Rahel was the backup plan, but I could see his point. ''So what did

Roy have to say?''

''Kevin was taken from his apartment a half hour ago, along with Rahel disguised as Cherise. It