Heat Stroke

Thank you, Kevin Prentiss, for being such an inspirational little jerk.

French Maid outfit, a handful of colorful balloons, Shirley Temple hair, and a big fake smile. I strolled into the room and found it was an infirmary, full of sterile white room dividers and one occupied bed at the far end, with three people clustered around it.

My high heels clopped loudly on the linoleum, and one of the people leaned out of the range of the curtains to take a look. He stopped, did a double take, and gave me the full-body X-ray scan. A middle-aged man, definitely not immune to the outfit.

“Hi!” I said brightly. “I’m here to deliver a birthday wish—”

“What the hell?” Another man popped out, this one white coated and with a disapproving frown that said doctor. I didn’t know him, but then I’d never spent any time in this particular part of the Association. “How’d you get in here?”

I smiled at him and launched into a rousing rendition of Marilyn Monroe’s version of “Happy Birthday,” complete with the appropriate wiggles and breathy laughs, cozying up to the first man. He looked appreciative, if a little dazed. The doctor just looked apoplectic, and started to turn away to duck back behind the curtains.

I grabbed him and sat him down in a chair, straddled him, and began to do my very best impersonation of a lap dancer. Doctor he might be, but he was definitely a guy. And he was finding it hard to keep professional detachment in the face of my, ah, assets.

I finally attracted the attention of the third person, female, who resembled Nurse Ratched but had a far more generous sense of humor. She had a malicious glint in her eye that convinced me the doctor wasn’t the most popular of all the guys on staff.

I presented the doc with the balloons and gave him a big lipstick-heavy kiss.

“Not my birthday,” he finally managed to rumble. “Ahem.”

I stretched it as long as I could, then gave him another kiss, waved good-bye to the audience, and got a weak-wristed wave from the Warden, nothing from the woman, who was still laughing too hard. I clopped out again, swinging the big bow on the back of the apron with as much vigor as possible to hold their attention.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I misted away. I hadn’t seen or felt Jonathan taking Lewis out; I just had to hope he’d managed it. I sped down the hall, past the fountain and my memorial inscription, past all of the heavy weight of the past, hit the floor ru

Nothing happened. No lights. Crap. I didn’t have a badge. The security not only wouldn’t let me on the floor without a card key, it wouldn’t let me off, either. I patted my pockets, looked bothered, and one of the nice gentlemen—neither of whom was heading to the ground—badged for me and pressed the button.

Nice people make things so much easier.

We stopped on the thirty-seventh floor, let one guy out, and were on the way back down again when the elevator shuddered to a sudden, teeth-rattling halt.

“What the—” the remaining Warden said, frowning, and pushed buttons.

A recessed speaker came alive in the wall. “The building is now under a security alert. Please be patient. The elevators will restart momentarily.”

He slumped against the wall. “Great. Again.”

“Happens a lot?” I asked.

He nodded, gave me a sideways look, and then a full smile, with teeth. “Sign of the times, you know how it is. So. Visiting?”

“From Iowa,” I said. “Des Moines office.”

“Not a great time to be here, huh? What with the weather.”

“Yeah, I thought it looked bad. Actually, I’m Earth, so any storm looks bad to me,” I said, and returned the smile tooth for tooth. “You know, Earth… corn, peas, wheat… breadbasket of the USA?”

“Huh. Would have taken you for a weather girl. Stormy eyes.” Ah, romantic weather talk. In the old days, it might have even gotten him somewhere. “My name’s Ron.”

I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Gidget.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Whoa.” Ron had dark thick hair, cut short, and eyes of no particularly interesting shade, but he knew how to focus. “You in for meetings?”

“Actually, just finished. I’m on my way to the airport.” Lying wasn’t just fun, it was a way to lay false trails. With any luck, they’d be chasing an Earth Warden named Gidget all the way to Des Moines for the next few hours. “They’re sending me out to the fire. Maybe I can do some good with animal rescue.”

Ron looked dubious. “I wouldn’t be trying to go anywhere, in weather like this. I’d just stick around, if I were you. We have a pretty secure storm facility. It doubles as a nuclear shelter, so I’m assuming it’ll hold off a tornado if it has to.”

“Tornado?” I repeated, and tried to look like a dumb Iowan girl. “You’re kidding, right?”

“There’s a lot of disturbance in the aetheric. You didn’t know?”

“Well, sure. I just figured it was—” I made a vague gesture. Let him fill in the rest.

“Ah. Yeah. You must’ve heard we caught him.” When I stared at him, unmoving, he added the rest. “You know. Lewis. Lewis Orwell?”

“Really?” I tried to sound impressed, and not ready to backhand him into next week for the way-too-satisfied tone he was taking. “Was he here in the city?”

“Close by. New Jersey, as it turned out. All these years, looking for him, and he was right across the state line. Fu

“What?” I didn’t have to feign shock on that one.

“Sure. You think it’s an accident that they get their hands on him, and all hell breaks loose on not one but three fronts? They’ve got the West Coast problem under control, but we’re going to take a real beating from this storm. Not to mention those poor bastards out in Yellowstone.” He leaned closer. “They think he might have some kind of Demon Mark. Anyway, they’re getting Marion Bearheart in here. I figure they’re going to try to, you know—” He made a yanking-up-by-the-roots gesture. I literally staggered, caught by sick surprise.

“They’re going to neuter him?”

He looked surprised at my reaction. “Well, not… actually… I meant they were going to, you know, close off his co

I’d known perfectly well what he’d meant. Neutering was the right word for it. Castration. Ripping out the heart and soul of who he was. It was as horribly malicious as throwing acid on the Mona Lisa—Lewis was a treasure, a once-in-a-thousand-years goddamn gift.

They could not do this to him. I wouldn’t let them.

I forced a smile. “You’re on Marion’s staff?”

“Afraid so.” Ron tried for a sheepish little-boy cute look. It almost worked. “I’m just in training, though. No way they’d let me even in the same room for a procedure like that. They’re waiting for at least four other Senior Wardens before they even try anything.”

I smiled, nodded, and wished to hell that the elevator would start. Not that I couldn’t mist out and get away, but I couldn’t do it with Ron staring at me, not if I wanted to have any kind of chance for a clean escape. God, Jonathan, you’d better have him. I’d tear this building down one steel I beam at a time if I had to, to make sure that they didn’t carry through on their threats.

No wonder Lewis had been so paranoid all these years, ru

Just as I was starting to wonder whether to seduce Ron or knock him out, the elevator jerked again and started sliding down. Fast. A red light on the panel read security lockdown.