Gale Force

one who has the best chance. He'll send you energy to keep you alive, and as the Conduit, he's

got access to more energy than any other Dji

need to defeat Rahel, if it comes to that. And Bad Bob.''

I needed to tell him, couldn't avoid the embarrassing and fatal truth any longer. I shook the glow

out like a match and opened my mouth to explain about the mark Bad Bob had burned into my

back– about my vulnerability to him.

I couldn't. Not a single word.

''Jo?''

I focused past him, to the delicate, antique desk in the corner. There was creamy, expensive hotel

stationery and a Montblanc pen right there, just waiting for me to scribble out a warning if I

couldn't force my voice box to cooperate.

Except I couldn't so much as make a move toward it.

Dammit. Bad Bob had installed safeguards.

''Nothing,'' I heard myself say. ''I think you're right. Send me in. I think I'm your best bet.''

Lewis didn't seem happy with it, but I knew he'd do it. ''Not alone,'' he said. ''I've already got

teams surrounding the compound. I'll go with you.''

''No, you won't,'' I said, and I meant it. ''Lewis, one of us at risk is enough. The Wardens need

a leader, and like it or not, you're it. I'm expendable.''

''Don't say that,'' he said. Not, I noticed, a denial, just an avoidance. Lewis was far too practical

not to realize that I was right about that. ''I said you had the best chance, but we can do this

another way, Jo. All you have to do is say the word, and we'll-''

''Lose? Yeah, that works great. Good plan.'' I felt tears sting my eyes. ''Come on. Have I ever

backed off from certain death? Ever? Even when I had something to live for?''

He flinched at that one, but he didn't look away. ''No,'' he said. ''Bad Bob knows that, too. He's

going to count on it. Don't let him push you into a corner, or you'll die for nothing. I don't think

I can stand that. You mean too much to me, Jo.''

It was the closest he'd come to admitting how he felt about me, and he'd done it right out in

public. The room-full of Wardens-was deathly still, though whether they were waiting for

more revelations or for me to reject him, I couldn't tell.

''I know,'' I said softly. ''I won't.''

Cherise cleared her throat. ''If you need somebody to, you know, ride along and-''

''No,'' I said flatly. ''Not this time. This is no job for anyone who can't throw a lightning bolt, a

car, or a ball of fire the size of Cleveland. I don't want you anywhere near Bad Bob.''

She looked disappointed, but not really surprised. Despite the chaos of the day, there wasn't a

smudge on her. Kevin put his arm around her and looked down; elfin and lovely and entirely

human, she looked up into his face. The smile they exchanged made my heart ache.

''You're going?'' she asked him. Kevin shrugged.

''Might as well,'' he said. ''Got nothing else pla

''Watch your ass,'' she told him.

Ah, young love.

''Ready?'' Lewis asked me. I nodded. I still wished I could live a normal life, have what I

wanted, be at peace. I should have taken all of my vacation. I was just now starting to see the

wisdom of waiting for trouble, instead of courting it. ''Can you get David to help at all?''

I shook my head. ''No. He's-staying away.''

Lewis looked very, very grim. ''You mean, he's walled himself off on the aetheric. The way

Jonathan used to do.''

''I can't be sure. He's not giving me anything back about where he is, but it would make sense.''

David could save himself, and his people, by shutting himself off like that for as long as

necessary. Ages, if need be.

Lewis pulled in breath to say something, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor;

he held up his hands and walked away to confer with the others.

He didn't have to say it. I'd already figured out that if David had really withdrawn into his

stronghold on the aetheric, I might never see him again.

Not even to say good-bye.

To say that there was a military operation at work on the beach when we arrived was an

understatement. One handy thing about the Wardens coming out in public was that we no longer

had to make do with covert ops-style equipment. No, this time we had cops, FBI, air

surveillance, coast guard boats . . . everything but the dancing bear and big top.

I was pretty sure that none of it was going to mean a damn thing to Bad Bob, in the end. Mortal

firepower was beyond insignificant to him, except as an inconvenience, and with the Dji

the board, we had very little left to counter him.

Just me, the battered and damaged white queen, with a little fleck of black to betray her true

allegiances.

Lewis and I sat in a surveillance van, the tricked-out kind, watching monitors in all different

spectrums. There was no movement from the beach house. SWAT teams had gone into position,

stealthily moving from cover to cover inside the overgrown estate grounds. It wouldn't help

them. Bad Bob knew they were there; he had to know. He probably just didn't damn well care.

Humans weren't his thing, and in fact they mattered very little to him except as window

dressing.

''Nothing on any of the monitors or sensors,'' one of the Wardens reported. ''Maybe he's not

there.''

''He's there,'' I said. I was watching the house itself. I couldn't sense or see anything, and I had

absolutely no basis for believing what I'd said, but somehow, I knew. I just knew. ''He's got

ways to conceal himself. Probably using Rahel.''

''We need physical recon,'' Lewis said.

''I think that's my cue.'' I didn't wait for them to approve; I didn't wait for the protests. I just

jumped down onto the road and walked up to the gates. I looked up at the perimeter camera, and

felt Bad Bob's smile like a fetid ghost all around me.

''Jo, wait!'' That was Lewis, trying to order me back.

''For what?'' I asked him, and he had absolutely no answer to that. I read it in his eyes, though.

He wanted me to say something, anything, to make this easier. But I didn't have it, and neither

did he.

So I went on.

The gates creaked open, and I walked alone, shadowed by the SWAT commandos and FBI

tactical units, up the winding path. I remembered walking it with David, in happier times; Ortega

was still alive then, still delighting in all his lovely things. I hadn't feared Bad Bob, except as a

ghost safely sealed in my memories.

The night was cool, and there were clouds blowing up at the horizon. A natural front, nothing

sinister about it. Overhead, the stars were chips of ice, sharp enough to cut.

If I'd been walking with my lover, with my husband, it would have been magical. I love you, I

whispered to him, along the bond between us. I will always love you. I'm sorry.

I felt nothing in response.

I walked up the steps, moving steadily and without hesitation. I reached for the knob, and opened

the front door. It was unlocked. I'd known it would be.

Bad Bob was sitting in a leather wing chair next to the fireplace, feet up, puffing on a cigar. He

had a bottle of liquor next to him-scotch, this time. He raised the bottle, and I levitated it to me.

The taste of liquid gold burned the roof of my mouth, then poured down my throat and started a

sickening burn in the cold pit of my stomach.

''It's not poisoned,'' I noted, and sent it back. He caught it effortlessly out of the air and chugged

a few mouthfuls, then put it aside.

''Wouldn't waste good scotch. Or good poison,'' he said. ''Wouldn't kill you, anyway, would it?