Gale Force

barely made it into the lowest levels, and my Oversight revealed the room in dull reds and

blacks.

It wasn't Rahel in the chair after all. Rahel was outside, heading to the van. Bad Bob was

holding me here, and going after our flank by attacking Lewis.

I needed to act. If Rahel was out there, that meant that Bad Bob was in front of me. Had to be. I

just had to strike that last inch. . . .

I saw a bright copper flash, just a flash, with the last fading strength of Oversight before I fell

back into my skin, and I knew. I knew the truth.

David hadn't gone to the aetheric. Bad Bob had used Rahel to lure him here, and he'd bound

him, just as he'd bound Rahel.

David was sitting in the chair in front of me, and I was an inch away from taking his life. I'd

come so close, so horribly close, to making the wrong choice. One more inch, just one, and my

life would have been over, even if I'd survived this day.

David had been trying to warn me all along. Maybe I'm not your enemy.

Oh God.

I tried to keep my expression the same, except for a slight involuntary widening of my eyes. I

was barely hanging on; subtleties would be lost, if Bad Bob was– and I knew he would be-

watching.

He wouldn't want to miss seeing me make such a catastrophic mistake.

I know it's you, I tried to say to David, through our locked stare. Trust me. If Bad Bob had put

him in thrall, he wouldn't have much room to maneuver, and no room to give me any real

assistance. All I could hope was that Bad Bob, clever and cruel as he was, hadn't thought of

everything.

And of course, that I had, which wasn't too damn likely.

''Where?'' I shaped the word only with my lips, burning my question into Bad Bob's eyes,

trying to get across one simple, impossible message. For a second I thought I'd guessed wrong,

that I'd just destroyed myself for nothing and missed my only chance, but then those blue eyes

darted quickly away, to a point just behind me and to my right.

The doorway. Of course. Bad Bob would want to see this up close.

One thing about the Unmaking; it was pointed on both ends. I didn't have enough strength and

control left to turn, so I lunged backward, angling toward the doorway. One step, two, fast and

hard, letting my own exhausted weight do the work as I drove the weapon in reverse, straight for

the real enemy.

I felt the end of the spear slam home, and felt the whole thing vibrate like a struck bell. It shook

my hands off its heated surface, and my whole body threw itself into an uncontrollable spasm,

every muscle sparking and spasming and driving me hard to the floor.

In the chair next to the window, the fake Bad Bob continued to sit, watching me-unable to

move, because he couldn't move.

I writhed over on my back. Sweaty hair clung to my face, obscuring my vision, but as I swiped it

away I saw Bad Bob-the real one-standing over me, staring down at the black rod that had

punched completely through his stomach and emerged glittering and bloody from the other side.

He laughed. ''Good thinking,'' he said, and blood fountained out over his chin and bubbled in

his mouth. ''Damn, girl. Still got an arm.''

He fell heavily to his knees, face draining white, and gripped the Unmaking with both hands. I

wriggled backward away from him as he began to pull it free of his body, one torturous inch at a

time. His hands were shaking, turning gray, but he kept at it with single-minded intensity.

And what he pulled out of his body was thicker. He was creating more of it, generating it from

his own body.

But it looked as if it hurt like a son of a bitch.

I crab-crawled back until I bumped into the legs of the man sitting in the chair, and looked up at

him. I saw a single flare of Dji

''David,'' I whispered. I got no response, of course. There was a container somewhere; there had

to be if Bad Bob had bound a Dji

the beach house was relatively uncluttered, I didn't have time or strength to search. Bottles in the

kitchen, the refrigerator, hidden in cupboards, forgotten in the attic-it could be anywhere.

Bad Bob grunted with effort as he pulled, one convulsive jerk after another. The Unmaking was

sliding slowly out of him. I watched the sharp end disappear into his back. Another two or three

pulls, and he'd have it out, bigger and more powerful than ever.

I'd bought us some time, but it was ru

tremble under my feet. Rahel had reached the van, and she was going after Lewis. It was a free-

for-all outside.

I closed my eyes and found what little small, still pool of Earth power I had. I'd never had time

for real training, real control, but for this, I didn't need it. It's always easier to destroy than to

create.

I attuned myself to the specific frequencies of glass, crystal, and porcelain, and sent out a pulse

of power that rippled out from me like a sonic boom.

It hit the bottles in the bar and exploded them in a mist of silica. Crystal decanters and tumblers

vibrated apart. The wave reached the windows and blew them out in sprays of glitter. It rolled

over Bad Bob, past him, and shattered everything that could be shattered, continuing relentlessly

through the entire house, as far as I could push it.

He could have hidden his bottles somewhere else, but he'd want to keep them close. Warden

instinct. I pushed the wave front as far as I could, but my strength failed before I reached the

gates of the estate.

''Bitch,'' Bad Bob whispered, and with one convulsive jerk, pulled the spear completely out of

his body. The gaping wound crisped black at the edges, then began to knit itself closed.

In the chair, the false image of Bad Bob flinched, and I felt the timbre of power in the room shift

and flow as the force that had been holding David apart from me cut off.

I'd destroyed the bottle.

David was free.

The golden thread between us vibrated and snapped tight again.

In a second, he had his hands around me and was pulling me up, preparing to carry me through

the open window.

''No you don't,'' Bad Bob gasped, and pointed his finger at us. I froze, off balance, unable to

control my muscles. Dammit! I'd forgotten about the torch mark on my shoulder blade. It wasn't

only David he'd been able to manipulate.

''If you won't play, you pay,'' Bad Bob said, and gri

on the Unmaking, found the balance point . . . and drove it straight down, into the floor-through

the floor, into the concrete.

Through the concrete, into the bedrock of the earth.

I felt the sentience of the planet cry out, a wave of horror and emotion that overrode every

synapse in my body. I felt her agony. She hadn't been hurt so badly in a long, long time. David

cried out, and I felt his hands slide away. He lunged past me, heading for Bad Bob, but after one

step he pitched onto his side, convulsing.

Conduit to the aetheric and Mother Earth, he was also the most vulnerable to her pain.

The earthquake hit with the force of a bomb, shattering steel and wood and concrete as if it were

so much glass. I sensed the perimeter troops, Warden and human alike, being tossed around like

dice outside. I heard explosions, cracks, the sound of trees groaning in agony and breaking off in

lethally heavy pieces.

I couldn't move. Bad Bob didn't move, either; he stood staring at me, one hand still outstretched,

the other gripping the shaft of the Unmaking still sticking out of the ground.