wouldn’t be shattered.
But we had an unexpected, even shocking advantage, if we could actually trap and bottle the Djinn. I’d always loathed that loophole in the freedom and power of my kind, but now I felt grateful for it; without it, the humans wouldn’t stand a chance, and ultimately neither would the Djinn themselves
or
the Mother. We had to maintain a fragile balance to fight for reason, for peace, and for the defeat of our real enemy: Pearl.
The Mother was experiencing agony and the temporary madness that came of it. If we could soothe her, it would pass. But Pearl… Pearl was a cancer at the very heart of the world, and she had to be burned away.
The bottle in my saddlebags represented a step toward all of that. Perhaps. At the very least, it symbolized a chance we hadn’t had an hour ago.
I saw the white flash of paint ahead on the road, and accelerated around a curve. The truck was just ahead now, climbing a rise. I could catch it in only a moment.
I was still half a mile back when the vehicle made the top of the hill…
… And exploded in a fireball, raining metal and debris into the trees.
“No!” I screamed. It burst out of me in a fury, ripping a blood path down my nerves and flesh, and I pushed the throttle hard over, heedless of the slick road, the dangers,
everything
except the burning wreck that was overturned there at the top of the hill.
No one could have survived that.
No one.
* * *
I found the first body lying in a burning heap on the side of the road. The pine trees were aflame, and the sound of trees snapping as the sap boiled was like war.
It was very still.
I leaped off the Victory while it was still in motion, letting it slide to a stop as I ran to the body’s side. I turned it over.
Luis.
His eyes were tightly shut, his hands fisted, but as I touched him the flames snuffed out into surly little curls of smoke, and he drew in a deep breath.
His clothes were burned, but as I frantically checked him I realized that the skin beneath was unharmed. Reddened, but not seared. He had a broken ulna and two cracked ribs, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
“Did my best,” he whispered. “Christ. That hurt.”
I smoothed his wet hair back. He smelled acridly of burned plastic and metal, but he was
alive
. Improbably, alive.
“Iz,” he said. “Over there. She jumped, with the girl.” He pointed with his unbroken arm. I kissed him quickly and rose to move in that direction.
The trees there were
broken
, snapped off at the base and laid out in an eerily neat circular pattern, like wheat stalks bent flat by the wind. And in the center of it was Isabel, curled up like an infant.
No sign of the girl at all.
I turned Isabel over. Her eyes were tightly shut, her skin pale, but she was breathing. Improbably, she wasn’t even scorched—not a single mark on her.
She was whispering under her breath. I pulled her into my arms and bent my head closer to make it out.
“—Couldn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her…”
“Isabel,” I said. “Ibby.
Ibby!
”
Her dark eyes flew open, but they were shockingly ringed by red now, as if every blood vessel in them had exploded with effort. She didn’t seem to see me at all. “Couldn’t stop her,” she whispered. “Mama, I couldn’t—”
“Shhh, Ibby, hush, it’s all right; you’re all right.” It appalled me that she was, in this extreme, calling on her mother, on a mother she’d seen gunned down. “It’s Cassiel. I’m here.”
“Mama,” she wailed, just as she had on that terrible day, and then her arms went around my neck. “Mama, I couldn’t stop her. I tried but she just—”
Me. She wasn’t calling on Angela, on the ghost of her mother who was gone. She was calling
me
by that name.
Me.
My breath left me in a rush, and I held her tightly against me. Breathed in the smell of her
But we had an unexpected, even shocking advantage, if we could actually trap and bottle the Djinn. I’d always loathed that loophole in the freedom and power of my kind, but now I felt grateful for it; without it, the humans wouldn’t stand a chance, and ultimately neither would the Djinn themselves
or
the Mother. We had to maintain a fragile balance to fight for reason, for peace, and for the defeat of our real enemy: Pearl.
The Mother was experiencing agony and the temporary madness that came of it. If we could soothe her, it would pass. But Pearl… Pearl was a cancer at the very heart of the world, and she had to be burned away.
The bottle in my saddlebags represented a step toward all of that. Perhaps. At the very least, it symbolized a chance we hadn’t had an hour ago.
I saw the white flash of paint ahead on the road, and accelerated around a curve. The truck was just ahead now, climbing a rise. I could catch it in only a moment.
I was still half a mile back when the vehicle made the top of the hill…
… And exploded in a fireball, raining metal and debris into the trees.
“No!” I screamed. It burst out of me in a fury, ripping a blood path down my nerves and flesh, and I pushed the throttle hard over, heedless of the slick road, the dangers,
everything
except the burning wreck that was overturned there at the top of the hill.
No one could have survived that.
No one.
* * *
I found the first body lying in a burning heap on the side of the road. The pine trees were aflame, and the sound of trees snapping as the sap boiled was like war.
It was very still.
I leaped off the Victory while it was still in motion, letting it slide to a stop as I ran to the body’s side. I turned it over.
Luis.
His eyes were tightly shut, his hands fisted, but as I touched him the flames snuffed out into surly little curls of smoke, and he drew in a deep breath.
His clothes were burned, but as I frantically checked him I realized that the skin beneath was unharmed. Reddened, but not seared. He had a broken ulna and two cracked ribs, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.
“Did my best,” he whispered. “Christ. That hurt.”
I smoothed his wet hair back. He smelled acridly of burned plastic and metal, but he was
alive
. Improbably, alive.
“Iz,” he said. “Over there. She jumped, with the girl.” He pointed with his unbroken arm. I kissed him quickly and rose to move in that direction.
The trees there were
broken
, snapped off at the base and laid out in an eerily neat circular pattern, like wheat stalks bent flat by the wind. And in the center of it was Isabel, curled up like an infant.
No sign of the girl at all.
I turned Isabel over. Her eyes were tightly shut, her skin pale, but she was breathing. Improbably, she wasn’t even scorched—not a single mark on her.
She was whispering under her breath. I pulled her into my arms and bent my head closer to make it out.
“—Couldn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her…”
“Isabel,” I said. “Ibby.
Ibby!
”
Her dark eyes flew open, but they were shockingly ringed by red now, as if every blood vessel in them had exploded with effort. She didn’t seem to see me at all. “Couldn’t stop her,” she whispered. “Mama, I couldn’t—”
“Shhh, Ibby, hush, it’s all right; you’re all right.” It appalled me that she was, in this extreme, calling on her mother, on a mother she’d seen gunned down. “It’s Cassiel. I’m here.”
“Mama,” she wailed, just as she had on that terrible day, and then her arms went around my neck. “Mama, I couldn’t stop her. I tried but she just—”
Me. She wasn’t calling on Angela, on the ghost of her mother who was gone. She was calling
me
by that name.
Me.
My breath left me in a rush, and I held her tightly against me. Breathed in the smell of her
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