Cape Storm Page 0,54

know.

You're more of a hands-on guy."

"I'm not sitting anything out. I'm a Djinn. I don't have to be physically present to make things happen, you know."

My brain drifted away, randomly connecting things. Wardens didn't have to be present to make things happen, either, although for Fire and Earth Wardens it was certainly a whole lot easier to be in close proximity - which was why Fire Wardens had a tendency to die fighting their fires....

My eyes opened. "David," I said. "Who's with Kevin?"

"Don't worry, Lewis sent a whole team. Kevin's only part of it." He thought I was worried about Kevin. I struggled to sit up, but my arms felt like wet spaghetti. David helped me.

"What?"

I didn't know exactly, but I felt something. "I need to get to them. Right now." A building anxiety. A conviction that something was very, very wrong. My arm's-length emotions were rapidly closing in on me.

"No. You're not going anywhere," David said. He was right, horribly right; I couldn't summon up the energy to make it off the bed, much less carry on to a fight. But my heart was pounding, my palms sweating, and I could feel dread boiling up from the pit of my stomach.

"What is it?"

" I don't know!It's just - "

The whole ship shuddered beneath us. I looked at David, horrified, remembering the lessons of the Titanic all too clearly. I could see the same thing reflected in his face.

"Stay here." He flared white and disappeared.

The Grand Paradise groaned like a living thing and heeled ponderously to starboard, rising and then settling back to vertical. Our little cabin didn't have the luxury of a balcony, but it did have a small reinforced porthole. I dragged myself off the bed and shoved aside the single guest chair to reach it.

I was staring at water. That wasn't possible. The deck we were on was far above the waterline - six stories above it, probably. How could I be looking at the water?

Were we sinking?

There was chaos outside. Shouting, screaming, rich people boiling out of their cabins and demanding to see the captain, which was their standard response to everything from being out of toothpaste to a terrorist attack. I kept myself upright by sheer force of will, edging along the wood paneling, heading for - what? I didn't know. I just knew I needed to get there.

Two people were in my way. I blinked, because quite frankly, the last two people I expected to see holding on to each other were the cabin stewardess Aldonza and movie princess Cynthia Clark. Their body language wasn't what I expected, either - no subservience from Aldonza, no arrogance from Clark. They were just two women, staying together for support and comfort.

They turned and looked at me with identical expressions of surprise that turned into concern.

"What the devil happened to you?" Cynthia Clark asked, and grabbed my left arm to support me. "Mrs. Prince?"

That still sounded odd to me. "Oh, hell, call me Jo. Everybody does," I said. I felt sick and dizzy and a little bit high. "Aldonza. I need a door to the crew area. Right now."

"Yes, Jo," she said. Finally I'd made her give up the formality. Just in time for disaster.

"This way." She took the lead, glancing back to make sure we were struggling along in her wake. The ship seemed to be wallowing more and more now, side to side. Lights were flickering.

I looked at Clark, taking the bulk of my weight, who seemed composed despite all the chaos around us. "Thanks," I said.

"You seem to be one of the people who can make sure we survive this," she said. "It seems reasonable to be sure you get where you're going."

"Can I have your autograph?"

She smiled, and even now I couldn't see the strain. What an actor! "Maybe later," she said.

"I'll have my assistant drop some photos by. I hope I can sign them: To the woman who saved my life. "

"Well, if you can't, I'll let you off the hook for the headshots," I said. I was shaking off my shock and weakness, though not quickly; I felt more alert, steadier on my feet. Good enough for shopping, maybe, if not fighting evil.

Too bad I was heading for the latter.

The subdued, elegant lighting in the hall flickered again, buzzed, and then died. After a heart-pounding five seconds of absolute blackness, emergency lighting clicked on with a hiss - glaring white halogens, not flattering to anyone's complexion, much less when people are