Gale Force (Weather Warden #7)

Gale Force (Weather Warden #7) Page 10

I was only halfway through the list when the phone rang, and I grabbed the extension sitting next to the pad. "Lewis?" It was. "Get a disposal team over here, right now. There's a package outside my door. I think it's the same stuff as in the office building. Antimatter. David can't see the package at all. Get a team on tracing the package back through the system. People who came in contact with this thing - "

"Got it," he said. "Look after yourself. Get the hell out of there."

"I don't want to go near it, and I'd have to if I leave by the door. I'll have to climb down - " I didn't feel up to the acrobatics, not at the moment.

I didn't need to. David came out of thin air, moving fast. He picked me up, out of the chair, stepped up on the balcony railing, and off into open space without a second of hesitation. I didn't even have time to gasp before his feet hit the ground, and then he was carrying me across the parking lot at breakneck speed. He dumped me in the passenger seat of my car, took the driver's seat, and started it up with a touch of his finger to the ignition.

"David - "

He wasn't listening. His eyes were focused and distant. He had a mission, and that mission was to get me out of danger. I didn't have anything to say about it.

I realized I was still holding the phone. Lewis's voice was a faint buzz on the other end. "Right, I'm out of the apartment," I said to him. "And we're about to lose the connection. Hurry up with the disposal team. I don't want that thing lying around where anybody can pick it up. My God, Lewis, there are people here. Innocent people!"

David put the Mustang in gear, and we screeched out of the parking place, cornered hard, and accelerated out of the apartment complex and onto the street.

The phone went dead, of course. I tossed it in the backseat and rested my head against the cushions as David put the Mustang through its paces, driving way too fast for a human's reactions. He must have screened us out of other people's perceptions, because we blew past a police squad car doing about 120, and there was no reaction at all from the two protecting and serving in the front seat.

"I thought you didn't believe in this stuff," I said to David. "You're acting like you do."

"I'm trusting you," he said. "If you say it's there, and you say it made you sick, I'm not taking chances. But Jo - I can't see it. I can't sense it. It's just not there."

"Look, there are things that exist that are invisible to humans - "

"But not to Djinn," he interrupted. "Nothing is invisible to Djinn. Nothing that belongs on this earth."

This was kind of the point. He must have realized it, too. He was quiet for a moment, and when I looked over, I saw that his eyes had taken on a fierce orange color, like the heart of a fire.

"This isn't something being done by the Djinn," he said. "Not mine, and not Ashan's. Whether I personally believe in it or not is beside the point. If an enemy is sending these things to you, personally, it's someone human. Someone who wishes you harm."

No kidding. I remembered the angry phone call. "Maybe it's a Demon," I said. "They seem to like to drop in for regular visits."

"Not funny, Jo."

"Yeah, not from this side, either. Do you think it is? A Demon?"

He seemed to consider it seriously. "Demons aren't so . . . strategic in their approach. Their goals are simple and straightforward - consume, kill, escape. Whatever this is, there's no sense to what you described before. The dead creature - "

"Djinn, David. He was Djinn. We're sure."

He let that pass, but I could tell he was far from convinced. "And the black thing inside him. Who would do such a thing? Why?"

"Maybe," I said slowly, "it was a test."

"A test of what?"

"Of the Djinn," I said. "A test that you failed."

He took his gaze away from the road, which was eerie and alarming, though I knew he didn't need to be staring straight ahead to drive. "Failed how?"

"Failed to sense the danger. Look, that was a Djinn we found - "

"It wasn't."

"Argument's sake, if it was, why can't you admit it? It's as if you just can't bring yourself to - "

"There's nothing to admit!" he said, and I heard the unmistakable vibration of anger underneath the words. "I would know if a Djinn had died!"

"Except you don't, and one did," I said, and closed my eyes. "So what does that mean?"

"It means - " David took in a deep breath, and I could see him struggle to get his temper under control. "It doesn't mean anything. Because all this is an illusion, Jo. Just an illusion. There's no dead Djinn; there's no such thing as your antimatter."

Whoa. The blind spot the Djinn had was big enough to swallow the sun, and it was starting to really scare me. And there didn't seem to be any point at all to trying to debate it, because he simply wasn't going to listen.

I turned face forward as he steered the Mustang through traffic at speeds that would have made NASCAR drivers weep and flinch. "Glad we got that all straightened out."

Sarcasm was wasted on him, right at the moment. He sent me a heartbreaking smile of relief, and I realized he actually thought we had straightened it out.

Oh dear God.

We finished the drive in silence. Once the traffic cleared, David pulled off the road at a beachfront area, one loaded up with pleasure-seeking, bikini-wearing sunbathers, all one tequila short of a Girls Gone Wild video. He turned off the engine, and we sat for a while watching the waves crash and roll, and the tanners sizzle and flirt.

"I need my cell phone," I said. David . . . flickered. Like a bad signal, or a hologram. And then he reached in his coat pocket and handed over my cell phone, which I knew perfectly well I'd left back on the table in the apartment. "Hey. Don't do that, okay?"

He looked puzzled. "Don't do what?"

"Don't go back there. Promise me."

"Why?"

I swear, when I closed my eyes, I saw red. I counted to ten, deliberately, and tried to pry my fingernails out of my palms. "Because even if you don't believe it's there, that stuff is toxic to me, and it could be fatal to you. All right?"

He shook his head. "There's no danger. If there was, I'd know."

Which was just crazy. But he earnestly seemed to think he was telling me the truth.

I took the cell phone and called Lewis. "Where are you?"

"Just got here," he said. I heard his breath huffing; he and what sounded like an elephant herd of people were jogging up the stairs. "Okay, I see it. Box in front of the door."

"That's it," I said. "Be careful."

"I'm not going anywhere near it, trust me. We're using a bomb robot."

"We've got bomb robots now? Cool."

"It's on loan from Homeland Security," Lewis said. "They're not going to like it if I get it blown up, though. I'll call you back."

Homeland Security was loaning us gear? Wow. When had we actually come up in the world like that? Apparently, while I'd been unconscious in a hospital bed for something or other, or on the run. I wasn't sure if I liked it. Part of the reason the Wardens had existed for so long in secrecy had been the low profile. The more we "cooperated" with other governmental agencies, the more likely it was that we'd get attention, and any attention was bad.

I remembered the reporters, and shivered. They had a job to do, and although they'd grant me some sick time, they'd be back.

"Let's change the subject," David said. "The wedding. Where do you want to have it? At the chapel?"

There was only one chapel for us - Imara's home, the Chapel of the Holy Cross. I nodded slowly. "But we'd have to have it in secret," I said. "After hours. They don't do official weddings there."

"I could work it out," he said. I was sure that was true, actually. "It won't hold too many."

"Small ceremony," I said. "Big reception. It works."

He nodded, staring straight ahead into the rolling surf, the eternal sky. "Are you all right?"

"Me? Sure." I dredged up a laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? Just because some crazy is sending me antimatter through the mail . . ."

"We changed the subject," he reminded me gently. "If you're worried about the wedding, you can still change your mind."

I draped an elbow over my seat and curled around to face him, resting my chin on my forearm. "I really don't think I can," I said. "And I really don't think I want to." I felt a cold breath of . . . something. "Unless . . . you're having doubts about us - "

"No," David said immediately. "I'm just concerned for you. You seem . . . unreasonably upset. I just can't understand how you can be so convinced and upset about something that has no evidence."

Well, that was rich. He thought I was crazy. "David," I said, "we're not going to convince each other on this stuff. Are we?"

He shook his head ruefully.

"Then let's stop trying." I reached out. He took my hand, and some of the fluttering in my stomach quieted. "So if we can have only twenty people at the ceremony, who are we picking?"

He smiled. "You go first."

"All right. One name at a time." I took a deep breath. "Cherise." Safe. He nodded.

"Lewis," he said, which surprised me, but I supposed it shouldn't have. He and Lewis had known each other long before I ever set eyes on David.

"Um - Paul."

"Rahel." He gave me a quick, apologetic smile. "I can hardly leave her out of the invitation. She'd only show up if we didn't invite her."

She would, just to be a pain in the ass. Djinn. What can you do? "Fine," I said. "How many is that?"

"Counting us? Six." He studied me for a second, eyes going gentle again. "Seven with a minister. Do you want to invite your sister?"

"Oh hell no," I said. "Psycho sister Sarah is not welcome. She's caused me plenty of trouble without this. I'll go with . . . Venna."

David's eyebrows twitched, either in surprise or amusement, or maybe some of both. Venna was a Djinn, but she was on Ashan's side of the fence; she'd done both of us favors, but as with most Djinn, I couldn't peg her as good or bad, really. Still, she was always . . . interesting. "She might attend," he said. "It might interest her. But she wouldn't come alone."

"You are not inviting Ashan."

That got an actual laugh. "It would be politically wise."

"And personally stupid because if I see him again, I swear I'll rip off whatever passes for his - "

He kissed me. It was meant to be a shut-me-up kiss, quick and sweet, but it turned warmer, richer, and I melted against him like chocolate on a hot plate. "I'm asking Ashan," he said when he let me up for breath. "And you're going to play nice if he shows up. Which he won't. But it will be wise to ask him."

I made a noise that brides-to-be probably shouldn't make, according to Miss Manners. He kissed me again.

We had so much to talk about - flowers, cakes, catering, dresses, tuxedos. . . . We didn't talk about any of it. Instead, David pressed his lips to the pulse at my neck and murmured, "I'm bored with planning the wedding. Let's plan the honeymoon. Better yet, let's rehearse."

I'd been recovering for weeks, and my libido had taken a serious beating along with my body, but when he said that, I felt a fast, hot flush of desire. Aside from some gentle play, he'd been careful with me, knowing I was fragile.

Now he sent waves of energy flowing into me, curing the lingering aches and exhaustion, and I caught my breath in true, deep pleasure.

"Right here?" I asked. "In the car?"

"I think I said before, the seats do recline." Being a Djinn, he didn't even have to crook a finger to make it happen. My seat slipped back, nearly level, and I made a sound low in my throat as his warm hands moved over me, sliding the strap of my top down my arm, folding back fabric. . . .

"Wait," I said, and sat up again. "There's a motel half a mile back."

He looked surprised, and a little disappointed. I kissed him again.

"I'm not saying no," I promised. "I'm saying . . . I want lots of time, and a bed. If it's a rehearsal, let's make it a full undress rehearsal."

"Oh," David murmured. "That's all right, then."

Chapter Five

The rain hit while we were lying twined together, sweaty and completely satisfied, on the motel bed. It was a nice motel, nothing sleazy, and the rooms were actually quite lovely. Big ocean views. We'd drawn the curtains, though, for privacy. No matter how much fun it is, some things really aren't meant to be shared with strangers on the beach.

I listened to the patter of drops on glass and rested my head against his bare chest. He had a heartbeat, and his lungs worked just like any man's. In fact, he was all the way human in every way that I could sense, including his postcoital drowsiness. His fingers combed lazily through my hair, leaving it smooth and shining, the way it had been when he'd first seen me.

"How'd we do?" I asked, and his hand left my hair to softly stroke my arm, skim my side, wrap possessively around me.

"I think we need more practice," he said. "I don't think I quite had that last part right."