emotional trauma. ''Sorry. I think he didn't really know what was going on. Maybe he was high .

. . ?'' Slandering the dead, Joanne. Good one. I felt an uncomfortable roll of guilt, but then again,

Antonelli had been willing to abduct and murder me. A little slander might have been

appropriate.

''Where's your boyfriend?'' the cop asked.

''Fiance,'' I automatically corrected him, and smiled nervously. ''I think he went to the

bathroom. It was– this was awful. Really awful.''

The cop nodded, probably thinking of all the much more awful things he'd no doubt seen in his

career. Probably thinking I was a lightweight ditz. That was fine, because in some senses I was,

and besides, I didn't want him to take me too seriously. That would be a very bad thing.

''Okay,'' he said. ''If you'll wait over there, Ms. Baldwin, it'll be a little while. You said you

were on your way to New York?''

''Yes,'' I said. ''I have a business meeting. Look, can I call-?''

''Sure,'' he said. ''Just don't go anywhere.''

I walked away, not in the direction of the reporters, and headed for the pay phone. How long had

it been since I'd had to use a public phone? Years. I missed my crispy-fried cell phone,

especially when I saw the grime and dried spit on the telephone receiver. You're an Earth

Warden, I reminded myself. You laugh at public phone germs.

Still, I fished a tissue out of my purse and wiped the plastic down before I started dialing.

Lewis answered on the third ring. ''Somebody tried to kill me,'' I said. ''No, don't interrupt, and

don't joke. It was Lee Antonelli. I had things under control, but somebody took him out at a

distance. He said something about the Sentinels putting out a contract on my life.''

There was a silence on the other end that stretched on for longer than I would have liked.

''How'd they kill him?'' Lewis asked.

''Some kind of aetheric attack, nothing I've ever seen before. Lewis, they just reached out and

destroyed him. What the hell is going on?''

''Just get here,'' he said. ''The faster the better.'' He hesitated for a second, and then his voice

softened. ''You okay?''

''Yeah. No damage.''

''That's not what I meant.''

''You mean, am I okay with the concept that somebody's capable of hiring marginally loyal

Wardens as hit men to take me out, and killing them if they fail? No, not really.''

I went cold inside when Lewis said, ''If it makes you feel better, you're not the only target.''

''You?''

''Among others.'' He didn't elaborate, and I didn't think it was a good time to ask. ''Watch your

back. If they can kill Antonelli from a distance-''

''I've got David,'' I said. ''And we'll both be watching for it now. You be careful.''

''Always. Call when you get back on the road.''

''Can't. Cell phone had a fatal issue during the fight.''

''Get David to fix it,'' Lewis said. ''I don't want you out of contact for a second.''

And that was it. Sentimental, it wasn't, but then we understood each other too well for that most

of the time. Not that we couldn't be friends, but business was business, and staying alive was

serious business these days. I'd fought beside him, and he knew that when the situation got dire,

I'd be there.

Still. A little verbal hug might have been . . . nice. I replaced the receiver, listened to the machine

swallow my quarter deeper into its gear guts, and peered around the corner of the scratched

plastic bubble. The reporters were still there, trying to solicit comments from uncooperative

cops. They were also talking to diner patrons. I hoped nobody had any creative explanations that

involved magic.

David came out of the diner, hands in the pockets of his long olive-drab coat. He didn't look

happy. Wind caught the tail of the coat as he strode toward me, giving him an almost princely

magnificence, but I doubted anybody but me noticed except for some of the waitresses, who

were still acutely David-oriented.

''I didn't find anything,'' he said as he reached me.

''Are you all right?'' He knew I wasn't. It was a pro forma question, but I especially liked that it

was accompanied by a gentle brush of his fingertips along the line of my cheek.

''Fine,'' I said. He held my gaze.

''Really?''

''No.'' I gave him a very small smile that felt crooked and unsteady on my lips. ''That was-

unpleasant.''

''I know,'' he said, and looked down at my hands. They were clean-the cops had allowed me to

wash up-but I still felt the psychic imprint of blood on them. ''It could just as easily have been

you.''

''Maybe,'' I said. ''I don't think so, though. There was something that made him vulnerable to

them, maybe a link they'd created to keep track of him through the aetheric. It pushed us out of

the way and went straight for him. If they'd been able to take me out the same way, don't you

think they would have done it?''

I couldn't tell if it had occurred to him or not; David was being extraordinarily secretive at the

moment. He gazed at me for a couple of seconds, then turned his attention to the reporters. ''We

should get out of here,'' he said.

''Do you know who was behind it?'' I asked.

''If I did, would I tell you right now?'' he asked, all too reasonably. ''But I think you already

know.''

''If we can believe Lee, it was the Sentinels,'' I said. ''How come I'm on their hit list when I

barely know their oh-so-pretentious name?''

''Because of me,'' he said. ''Let's get out of here. I'd like it if you were a less stationary target.''

''Cops want to talk to you.''

David took my arm, a sweet gentlemanly gesture that didn't exactly fool me. He walked me in

the direction of the Mustang, which was currently an awkward bastard stepchild of a convertible,

what with all the glass scattered in glittering square pieces on the ground. ''I don't want to talk to

them,'' he said. He opened the driver's-side door. ''I'll let you drive.''

''Bribery, pure and simple. You're bribing me to do something illegal.''

''What's illegal about it? It's your car. You already talked to the police. You're not guilty of

anything.''

Well, he did have a point. But I still felt uneasy, driving away under the noses of cops and

television cameras. ''We'll be seen,'' I said, and nodded toward the news crews. David didn't

bother to glance their way.

''We won't.'' Only a Djinn could sound that confident. Or arrogant. I supposed if I didn't love

him so much it would have been just a shade more on the arrogant side. ''If we get entangled

here, more lives are at risk. We need to be moving, Jo.''

Djinn were nothing if not ruthlessly logical. And they weren't above hitting the pressure points,

even on those they cared about.

I silently got behind the wheel of the Mustang. It started up with a low rumble. Nobody looked

in our direction. ''Repairs,'' I reminded David. The broken remains of our windshields and

windows rose up in a glittering curtain from the pavement, liquefied into a pool in each open

area, and then solidified into clean, clear safety glass. I checked that the driver's-side window

rolled down, and it functioned perfectly.

''I'm disappointed in you,'' David said. ''You believe I'd do it wrong?''

''I think that you have enough to think about already, '' I said. ''His van's still in the way.''

Moving a working crime scene would have been a puzzle even to one of the most powerful

Djinn on Earth, but David was a lateral thinker; he didn't bother to move the van, or the cops, or

anyone else.

''Hold on,'' he said, and our car lurched slightly and then began to float above the road. It rose at