Heat Stroke

“I know.” I did. Lewis wasn’t a saint, thank God, but he was definitely a man of ethics and honor. “I’m releasing you from it. Not only did I not close the rip, I think I might have made it worse. Besides, you need me for this. There’s something majorly weird about this.”

He bent his head, an old-fashioned gesture of salute and gratitude. It occurred to me, late and strangely, that he had no alter ego presence in Oversight. Lewis was Lewis, whatever set of eyes I used to look at him. I was used to seeing humans as they thought of themselves—a plain girl as a ravishing beauty, a corporate-type guy as a knight in shining armor. But Lewis didn’t have any illusions, or any false fronts. He just was.

“Let’s get to work,” he said. His voice was husky, low, and full of an emotion he didn’t want me to hear.

Lewis took over where he was strongest—manipulating the earth itself, struggling to bleed off energy that was building up to a major break-California-off-into-the-ocean explosion. I went to the sea.

The Atlantic, on its best days, doesn’t have the peace of the Pacific—the light is different, out here. The waves seem glassier, more knife-edged, and the sense of something moving under the surface is very strong. I sped along on the aetheric and formed myself back into human flesh, but kept myself hovering about ten feet over the surface of the water, feeling the energy flow. This hadn’t changed. I still had the instincts of a Weather Warden, even if I no longer had the same physical cha

The ocean was cool and edgy underneath me, muttering in the language of power; there was something unsettled here, but it wasn’t the usual evaporative cycle stirring up trouble in the troposphere or mesosphere. No, this was something else. Nothing I could sense, specifically, and that worried me. I traced the cooling and warming cycle. Sunlight on water, evaporating drops to mist… mist rising, cooling as it went… droplets drawing each other into close embrace, forming clouds… clouds growing denser as the drops crowded closer, and energy was released… warm air up, cold air sinking, pressing out the clouds into energy-storing layers.

Nothing unusual here. But there was something wrong.

Something in the clouds. Something that shouldn’t be there.

It was—what?

I rose up, feeling the mist chill on my skin, sliding like invisible rain… then the drops forming, soaking my denim shirt. I was heavy with dew. The air had the metallic taste of ozone, and it scraped the back of my throat when I pulled in a cool, thick breath.

I saw a tinkle of blue at the corner of my eye.

And then I knew.

Shit!

I flamed out of there, fast, blew myself into mist and reformed and hoped I hadn’t taken in too much of it, and then I bugged out of there, arrowing for Lewis at top speed.

I almost ran into Patrick, who was still ambling around his house, staring morosely at the politically correct ceiling; I didn’t stop to apologize, just misted right through him and braked myself out into human form. Way better this time. Apparently, panic greatly enhanced my organizational skills.

“It’s the sparkly stuff!” I yelled. Lewis wasn’t there, at least he wasn’t in spirit; he was out of his body again, up in the aetheric. I shot up a level, followed the thread, found him doing whatever it is Earth Wardens do to control earthquakes. Not that I’m not sympathetic to the damage a big shake can cause, but once I spotted him I tackled him like a noseguard, snapped him right out of the aetheric and down into himself with a thud.

He staggered, braced himself with a hand on the back of the leather couch, and smacked the other onto his forehead. Owww. I’m guessing that I’d hurt him.

“What?” he yelled at me.

“It’s the goddamn blue stuff! Fairy dust! Sparklies!” I repeated, louder than him. “Listen, when I tried to seal this thing, it sent out this puff of— coldlight. Looks like glitter. I didn’t think it was anything, really. But it’s here!”

“What?” He was still dazed. I’d given him a hell of a shot.

“It’s here in the clouds. And this crap is weird, Lewis. I can’t really feel it, I can only see it when I touch it. It has a kind of—sparkle.”

“Sparkle?” His eyes had taken on a hard, opaque shine. “You slammed me out of there and disrupted me for a sparkle? Tell me you’re kidding—”

“Listen!” I yelled over him. “It’s everywhere! It’s in everything! It shouldn’t be here!”

He was starting to get it. The opacity was fading out of his eyes, being replaced by a clear, deep look of alarm.

“I don’t know what the hell it’s doing, or how the hell to stop it. Tell me you know.”

His mouth opened, but there wasn’t an answer forthcoming. In fact, he looked downright speechless.

“Oh hell,” I supplied for both of us. “I’m glad you’re the boss, because as far as I can tell, we’re totally fucked.”

Next stop: panic city. Everybody out for the apocalypse.

Big problem. There was nothing wrong with the weather patterns over the Atlantic, anyone with an ounce of Weather sense could tell. And yet, the supercell shouldn’t have been there, according to physics. It made absolutely no sense. If I’d still been in the Wardens, I knew there would have been conference calls in progress, with people eyeing this thing from different sides and trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I wondered if they could see the sparklies, and I thought they probably couldn’t. Whatever the stuff was, it barely radiated in a wavelength Dji

Which left me, and Lewis, and maybe Patrick. And any other Dji

“Clearly,” I said as Lewis and Patrick and I compared notes, “this stuff’s not natural to our planes of existence. Can you see it?”

I’d directed the question to Lewis, and he indicated a no. “Everything looks normal up on the aetheric.”

“Yeah. That’s what bugs me. Because it doesn’t look at all normal to me.” I couldn’t sit still; I got up and paced, wished I had on something besides blue denim and work boots, because this was a situation that screamed for bitchen black leather and tight boots. These boots are made for walkin‘… “The stuff’s like evil pollen. Who knew it could sift through three planes of existence and end up here so fast?”

“Unless it’s been coming through the rift for a while,” Lewis said. “That’s possible. The fact that you just now saw it might have nothing to do with it, really. If it’s something subtle and largely undetectable, we could have a problem that’s been slowly getting worse.”

“It’s not pollen,” Patrick said. He was in the far corner of the living room now, straightening a Monet landscape under the recessed lights. “From your description, it’s more like radiation. You said that David tried to seal some in an energy bubble?”

“Yeah. Didn’t work.”

“That’s very interesting,” Patrick said, and stepped back to admire the Monet from a distance. “That means that the normal aetheric barriers can’t stop it, because they’re all energy-based. This… coldlight, for lack of a better word… seems very dangerous indeed.”

Lewis looked up from his contemplation of the carpet. “We don’t even know that it is dangerous.”

“It issues from a hole into the Void where demons lie,” Patrick pointed out. “It’s rare that something of that pedigree turns out to be happy fairy dust.”

“Not that I doubt you, but are you sure it’s not just that you’re not used to your new senses yet?” Lewis asked me. Which was, actually, not a stupid question at all.

“I don’t know,” I said, with a great deal less arrogance and a great deal more honesty than I usually had. “Ask him, he’s got a few centuries on me.”