Firestorm

I She looked frankly astonished. "I have a vote?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll go with you. As a dutiful child." She still looked too grave and self-contained, but I could see a twinkle of humor in there, buried deep.

Cherise responded to that with a dubious snort for both of us. "Whatever. So, tell me again where we're going?"

"You remember how I told you about the Wardens?" I asked.

"Organization of people like you, with all kinds of superpowers, who control the weather and stuff. Speaking of, weren't we in the middle of a hurricane that was about to kill us about twenty-four hours ago? If you could control the weather, what was up with the hundred-mile-an-hour winds? I meant to ask earlier, but I was, you know, dealing with my trauma."

"It's not as easy as just waving a hand!" I protested. "And anyway, I wasn't supposed to interfere right then.—Oh, fine. Maybe I was having an off day. In answer to your original question, we're going to my office. Warden Headquarters."

"In New York City."

"Midtown, to be exact. First and Forty-sixth." She had a look of incomprehension. "In the UN Building."

Her expression didn't change.

"You have heard of the UN, right? United Nations? Bunch of guys who get together, talk about world peace?…"

Imara murmured, "Even I know what the UN is, and I really was born yesterday."

Cherise shot her a dirty look. "Shut up! I know what the UN is!"

"Sorry."

"But… the UN controls the weather? Because I thought they were all about that whole world peace thing."

I reclaimed the conversation from the bickering—ah, children. "No, they don't control the weather. They lease office space to the Wardens, who do."

Cherise didn't bother to say, "You're insane," but the expression on her face was pretty clear, and considering this was coming from a girl who half believed aliens had abducted Elvis, that was special. She even edged a little bit more toward the passenger-side window. I was wishing that I'd left Cherise at any of the various gas stations we'd blown past along the way, but it would take only one unhappy phone call from her claiming I'd stolen her car to end my trip real quick. Hadn't seemed prudent, given the priorities.

"You weren't kidding," Cherise said, studying the building as we got closer. "We really are going to the UN. Is it even open?"

"Trust me, the Wardens never close." My whole body ached, and I really, really needed a shower. I'd scrubbed cleanish in a truck stop restroom a lifetime ago, because I just hadn't been able to stand it anymore, but I wasn't what you might call business-meeting ready. My eyes ached and watered from the glare of streetlights. I was grateful that at least it wasn't full daylight. That would have been much, much worse.

I made the turn to the special security-controlled parking garage, which was locked up like Fort Knox. There was a sca

It worried me that there were so many parking spaces unoccupied.

"Come on, we have a special door."

"We do? A special door? Cool." Cherise scrambled out of the car. Imara emerged after her, elegant and tall, tossing long black hair back from her face as if she were ready for a photo shoot. I decided she didn't look like me at all. I'd never looked that glamorous. Well, I'd never felt that glamorous, anyway.

There was supposed to be a special guard on the special door. There was certainly a special-made guardpost, and as far as I knew it was supposed to be ma

"There's no lock or handle," Cherise said. "Don't they have to open it from in there or something?"

"Or something."

I held up my hand and concentrated. A faint blue sparkle moved across it, lighting up the stylized sunburst that was the symbol of the Wardens. It was magically tattooed into my flesh, and it couldn't be faked.

I ran it across a sca

I didn't wonder very long. They'd raised paranoia to an art form around here, and for very good reasons.

"Right," I said. "I guess we'll have to wait until someone decides that we look safe."

"Yeah, and when will that be?" Cherise asked, with a significant look at our generally less than presentable turnout, Imara notwithstanding.

The door let loose with a thick metallic chunk and swung open about a quarter of an inch.

"Now." I grabbed the edge and moved it wider. It was heavy. Bombproof, most likely. I ushered the girls inside, grabbed the i

"Um… Jo?" Cherise sounded spooked.

When I turned, there were two people standing in the industrial concrete-block hallway facing us. Both were in blue blazers with a logo on them—UN Security—but with the additional graphic touch of the sun-shaped Wardens symbol pi

I'd seen guns before, though, and they had two great big pistols pointed right at us.

I put my hands in the air. Cherise followed suit, fast, and laced her hands behind her head without being asked. Too many episodes of police shows, I was guessing, or some indiscretions that I didn't want to know about.

Imara didn't raise her hands at all, just looked at the guards with those ruddy-amber eyes and raised her eyebrows, as if they amused the hell out of her.

"Dji

I looked at Imara, wide-eyed. She looked back. "Back in the bottle," I said. I didn't own Imara, and she wasn't bound to a bottle anyway, but she was bright enough to realize that this might not be the time to debate the issue. She misted away, off to someplace safer, I hoped. The Wardens were a little paranoid these days. Love me, hate me, want to kill me… it all depended on the mood of who I was talking to, seemed like.

But I understood their paranoia about Dji