Ill Wind

"The fire? No. Things need to burn sometimes, and you have to know when to let them. But this got out of hand." In the sunlight, his eyes were the color of fine dark ale. "There's a Demon trying to come through."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Although I did, a little; there were whispers about Demon Marks, but nobody was very clear about them or what it meant. Lewis, however, sounded authoritative.

"Things like this happen because there's a kind of force acting on our world. Hurricane Andrew, that was another one. The floods in India. Those are signs that something's trying to break through into the aetheric." He was holding a stick in his hands, turning it over and over, learning it with his fingers. "Sometimes it succeeds in finding one of us to build the bridge. I think that's what this was. One of them trying to touch one of us."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Don't know," he confessed. "Probably not. The problem is that the energy from the Demon's efforts doesn't go away, it accumulates up there, in the aetheric." He shook his head. "Never mind. Not important—you didn't come out here to get a lecture. What's up?"

"Star," I said. All around me, the ground glittered with gold, with power, with potential. "I need you to help her. She's dying."

Lewis stopped turning the stick in his hands. He looked down at it as if surprised to find it there. "Friend of yours?"

"Friend of yours, too. I remember her saying she knew you."

He nodded. "I met her here. I was young and stupid then; I didn't realize how much energy there was here. I nearly got myself toasted."

It was so similar to the way I'd met Star that I had to smile at the memory.

"I can't help her," he said. "I've thought about it. I know she was—burned."

"Worse," I said. "Her power core was broken. That's what they tell me, anyway. That's what's keeping her from healing."

He shivered a little. The color of the mist around us changed subtly, from gold to silver, then back to gold. It clung to the skeletal limbs of trees like a coating of early frost.

"Can you help her?" I asked.

"It's not a question of can, Jo. Sometimes—"

"Sometimes you just have to let things burn," I finished for him. The air was warm and thick with the taste of smoke and death, and the hard metal hood of the Jeep felt too warm under me. "But this is Star."

He reached out and put his hand on my hair, stroking gently. Not letting himself touch my skin. I relaxed into the touch for the sheer pleasure of it. "I know," he said. "Don't you think I want to?"

"I'm asking you," I said. "I'm asking you for a favor. You owe me one."

His hand went still, but he didn't take it away.

"Lewis?" I asked. "Please?"

The mist changed colors again, from gold to a pale green the color of spring leaves. The color change rolled across the valley slowly, in wavelike ripples.

The stick in Lewis's hand changed color, too, from dead brown to a fine, delicate tan, the wood inside showing pale as flesh. As I watched, it sprouted a single, delicate leaf. Lewis slid off the hood of the Jeep and planted the stick carefully upright in the charcoal field. I could almost feel it rooting, growing, pulsing with life.

"It might not work," he said. He might have been talking about the plant, but I knew he wasn't. "Sometimes it doesn't work at all."

"Try."

He straightened up and turned to look at me. Around him, the mist rose into the air in whispering

waves, like angels flying. It dissolved on the light of the sun, and then there was just a black valley, dead trees, a tall and graceful man standing there with his arms folded across his chest.

But the smell… The smell was different. Warm. Golden.

The wind smelled like life.

He nodded and said, "Let's go."

Six hours later, he was holding Star's hand, and that golden mist was moving through her, soaking into her skin, invading through her mouth and nose.

It saved her life. Lewis preserved what he could of her affinity with fire, but like me, he understood balance; to heal Star completely meant disturbing that balance beyond repair.

I don't think she ever knew he was there. When she woke up, two days later, Lewis was long gone, just a memory and a taste of gold in the air.

I never told her anything about it.

I watched the road behind us, once we were safely back in motion again, but I didn't see any lemon-yellow Dji

You're a fool. There is no saving a fool.

Whose side was Rahel on, anyway? Maybe nobody's. Certainly not mine. Choose. Choose what? Choose who? Why did the Dji

Choose. So few choices I could make. I had the Mark. I could choose to give it to David…. No. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

Choose. Dammit. The only thing I had left was… who to trust. Well, I knew something about that, at least. I couldn't trust Marion and her people; they'd do exactly what they were told to do by the Council, up to and including killing me. David—I already trusted him, in ways I couldn't begin to regret.

But I could commit to the one person I'd been avoiding dragging into this.

"Star—" I leaned forward and touched her shoulder. Her dark hair dragged like silk on my fingers. "Star, do you know anything about the Demon Mark?"

David couldn't quite control his flinch. He stared straight ahead, but I could feel the burn of his disapproval. As for Star, she turned her head, lips parted in astonishment, and then whipped back toward the road when a truck blared a warning. On the horizon, a flock of birds broke cover and wheeled like a tornado in the graying sky.

Star nodded toward David, plainly asking. I nodded. "He knows."

"Yeah? He knows about what, exactly?"

"The Wardens. All of it."

"Really?" She cut an interested look his way, but he didn't respond. "Well. Okay, I know a little about it. Why? You got one?" She was kidding, of course.

But in answer, I eased back the collar of my shirt and dragged it down to show her the scorch mark over my left breast. She whistled. "Holy crap, Jo."

"I need to know how to get rid of it," I said.

"Obviously! Okay." She blew out an agitated breath. "Damn, girl, that's a hell of a secret to keep."

"If it's any consolation, you're the first one I've told." True, actually. I hadn't told David, he'd known all along, or guessed pretty damn well.

"How'd you get it?" She seemed pretty shaken. I guess she had a right.

"Bad Bob. He kidnapped me and—" I didn't want to describe what he'd done to me; it was too chokingly vivid. "Anyway. He died, I got the Mark."

"Holy shit. Well… you could give it to somebody else. That's obvious." She turned her attention back to the road, but her golden-bronze skin had taken on a paler tinge. "Mira, is that what you're looking to do? Pass it on? You know it won't go unless the person you try to give it to has more power than you do." She flicked a glance at me in the rearview mirror, and her eyes widened. "You do know that, right?"