Ill Wind

David put his hand flat above my heart.

Hot gold poured into me, melting ice, forcing the black tendrils of the Demon Mark to a stop, but it held tight to what it had gained. It was bigger now. Darker. Full of cool, malevolent life. Tapped deep into the roots of where I lived.

When the pain receded and I could breathe again, I realized David was holding me against him like a child, my head on his shoulder, stroking aimless patterns on my bare skin. No, not aimless. Where his fingers touched, I felt stronger. Warmer.

"Shh," he whispered, when I tried to speak. "My fault. My fault. Let me help."

"Your fault?" I repeated blankly. It was a huge effort to raise my hand and touch his face, but a rich reward when I saw some of the tension ease out of him. "How the hell is this your fault?"

"You asked me if it was forbidden. I shouldn't have let myself do this—"

I put my fingers over his mouth to shut him up. His lips moved, not with words, but with silent kisses.

"Don't ever say that," I said. "Don't ever."

We stayed like that, him on the ledge, me cradled in his arms, for more than an hour. No words, no impulse for more; he stroked my hair in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

"I'm waterlogged," I finally said, and raised my head from where it rested against his chest. "Going on raisin ski

I caught the edge of his smile.

"You're the mistress of air and water," he said. "I can't believe you couldn't fix a thing like that."

"True. But I'm too tired. Can't you just—blink us back up to the room?"

"No," he said. "I can move myself anywhere I like, but taking you is a bit more difficult."

"You tu

"And I'm recovering my strength," he said gravely. "I assume you want me fully restored."

"Bet your ass."

The Demon Mark was silent again, almost invisible; still, it was hard to move, because I kept waiting for it to strike again. David understood. He let me sit up slowly, watching my face, and reached out to place his hand over my heart again.

"It's quiet," he said.

"What if it gets noisy again?"

"It won't. Not tonight." He didn't make any promises for tomorrow, I noticed. Well, I was getting out of the habit of thinking about tomorrow anyway.

I got out of the water, weak-kneed, my bits of Lycra back in place for the trip upstairs. David surged out of the hot tub next. I found myself fascinated by the way water caught and tangled in his hair, flecked his entire body with light. God, he was beautiful. I couldn't quite believe that I'd drawn passion out of that perfection, because he looked so controlled and untouchable now.

"Put some clothes on," I said, "before I have to fight off the desk clerks to hang on to you."

He reached for my towel and wrapped it around his waist. That did not make him any less attractive. If anything…

"Upstairs," he reminded me. I took his arm, and we walked out of the pool area onto the deep pile carpet past the front desk. One of the clerks looked up, frowned slightly, then realized what she was doing and gave us a brilliant smile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you in there. The pool area's closed for the night," she said. David—just human David again, brown hair and brown eyes, just another guy—nodded and apologized. We strolled back up the hall to the elevators, where we waited politely until one dinged open for us.

I shivered in the air-conditioning as the doors rumbled closed; David noticed, made a casual gesture, and instantly I was warm and dry.

"Wow," I said, surprised. He raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing you couldn't do yourself."

I moved closer to him and found him dry, too; warm as if he wore summer under his skin. He put his arms around me, but he did it carefully. Too carefully.

"David."

"Yes?"

"I'm not fragile."

He didn't smile, didn't look away from my face. Close up, the color of his eyes was a deep, rich gold-stone. "Compared with me?"

"Okay, granted, more fragile than you. But don't treat me like I'm dying, I'm not dying, I'm just— living until I don't." David still didn't look away. "Promise me you won't let all this stop you from throwing me up against the wall right now and kissing me like my life depended on it."

It was a short ride to the third floor, too short for the kind of reassurance I wanted, but he did manage to make me feel better. And warmer.

In the room, with towels and swimsuits discarded, he proceeded to raise my body temperature considerably. This time, there was no demonic tantrum to spoil it for us, just long, slow, delicious heat that kept building and building until I burned.

I fell asleep curled against him, with his hand over the Mark, holding it still.

I woke up alone in a well-mussed bed, felt the cold hollow in the pillow where David had lain, and I felt that cold certainty sweep over me that it was like the first night: I was going to open my eyes to find him gone as if he'd never been.

But when I looked, he was standing at the window, looking out. He was already dressed in a gold fla

I stretched and let the sheet slip down. David didn't take the bait. He looked uncommonly sober for so early in the morning, especially after a night that had left me still tingling and vibrating all over.

"No good morning?" I asked. "What's so fascinating? Cheerleaders practicing naked in the parking lot?"

He didn't answer. I got up, wrapped a sheet around me in the best movie-star fashion, and togaed over to join him at the plate-glass window. The sun was above the horizon, but not by much; it was layered in pinks and golds, floating just under a gray layer of low-hanging, rounded clouds. More rain up there. And a darker line to the south that I didn't like.

"Nasty," I said, pointing to it. He still didn't answer. "Earth to David? Hello?"

And then I saw where he was looking, down into the parking lot. For a few seconds, it didn't register-cars, lots of cars, nothing special…

… and then my eyes settled on a midnight-blue Mustang with a charred driver's side door, parked i

Marion's hunters were here.

"Shit!"

I dropped the sheet and ran into the bathroom, scooped up clothes from the floor, and pulled on stretch velvet pants without bothering with underwear. The lace shirt tore at the bottom as I yanked it over my head. Jacket and shoes went on practically simultaneously, and while I was dragging my tangled hair out from under the coat collar, I yelled at David, "Come on!"

He was still at the window. Shoeless. I grabbed his arm and towed him toward the hotel room door.

He stopped two seconds before the knock came. His face was focused and pale, eyes as dark as midnight.

"Get in the bathroom," he said. "Shut the door."

As if that would do any good. "I'm going down fighting, not hiding."

"Just do it!" His fury was sudden and hot as nuclear fire, and before I could even try to argue, he took me by the shirt and shoved me into the bathroom, banged the door shut, and I heard a huge concussion of sound, of pressure. What the hell—?

I opened the door and saw the glitter of glass all over the carpet. The curtains were blowing in, straight in, like gale flags. The windows were completely gone, nothing but a sugar-dusting of glass left at the corners.