Heat Stroke

“David,” I said. “Heal me.”

I’d never understood what it meant, before, when that command was given. It wasn’t just that the way opened for David to touch that deep well of potential… It was a path that moved both ways, a true and perfect union. Through him, I touched him. And something else. Something even greater.

He looked back at me with a dawning astonishment in his eyes. He reached out to take my other hand, holding both, staring down at me.

And the power that flooded through me, God, unbelievable. I knew it was my own, purified and refined through him, but the richness of it was staggering. There was pain, but more than that, there was pleasure. An amazing amount of it.

I gasped out loud, held on tight, and rode it out. When it subsided to aftershocks, I gasped, “You ever felt that before?”

His smile burned, it was so glorious. “Never.”

“Me neither.” I yanked tubes out of my hand and swung my legs over the side of the bed. People made protests. I ignored them and put my weight on my feet, felt the world go steady and sharp around me. I looked down at my hospital clothes and felt a sad regret for my lost ability to design my own wardrobe. “David? Clothes?”

Dark peachskin suit settled gently over my skin. A silk shirt, sharply tailored. On my feet, lethally beautiful shoes. I glanced up at David, who lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I learn,” he said. “What now?”

The rest of them were silent. Nobody was trying to stop us. I looked from one of them to the other— Marion, Paul, Lewis—and finally at David.

“Are you ready for this?” I asked him. For answer, he let go of my hand and stepped back, and settled an olive drab ankle-length coat around his shoulders. His copper eyes hid themselves behind human brown, and round spectacles. He looked mild and gentle, except for the strength of his smile.

“I’m ready,” he said. I turned to Paul and held up a hand. He echoed the gesture.

“Las Vegas?” he asked. “Just so I know where to send the body bags.”

“You in charge now?”

“Until things get settled. This place isn’t all that under control right now.”

“You’ll do fine,” I said. “Paul. Keep your people out of my way.”

Marion cleared her throat. “My people will help.”

“Your people will get killed,” I corrected. “This is my fight. Mine and David’s.”

“He’s just a kid,” Lewis said. He hadn’t gotten to his feet. Hadn’t done anything but sit quietly, watching the show. “Go easy.”

I looked at him in Oversight, and saw something terrible. Something I should have known all along.

Lewis was dying. The emptiness inside of him was like cancer, eating away at him; his aura was already pallid, turning necrotic. Kevin had already killed him; Lewis’s body was just still fighting the inevitable. If there was any chance at all to save him, it had to be reclaiming his powers from Kevin.

This had to be done. For him. For Jonathan. Even for Kevin himself.

It just wasn’t going to be as easy as, oh, fighting your average demigod.

“What do you need?” Paul rumbled.

I turned a smile on him, saw him warm in response, and said, “Besides a vacation? I think I need a really fast car.”

Epilogue

For those who like this kind of DIY stuff, you can make your own Heat Stroke soundtrack with these cuts (but please, support the artists, buy the CDs!):

“If Heartaches Were Nickels”………… Joe Bonamassa

“Gett Off”… Prince and the New Power Generation

“American Woman”………………………… Le

“Missionary Man”………………………………… Eurythmics

“Hella Good”…………………………………………..No Doubt

“A New Day Yesterday”………………… Joe Bonamassa

“The Stroke”………………………………………… Billy Squier

“Coconut”………………………………………… Harry Nilsson

“Wild Wild West”……………………………….Escape Club

“Stranglehold”…………………………………….. Ted Nugent

“(If You Were) In My Movie”………… Suza

“Jane’s Getting Serious”………………………… Jon Astley

“Battle Flag”…………………………………………. Pigeonhead

“Bed”………………………………………………………. Semisonic

(Because people often ask what kind of weird stuff I listen to when I’m writing.)

Peace…

Rachel Caine