Chill Factor Page 0,10

do is just forget about it and keep moving on.

Except that I took about six steps into the lobby, spotted the faux-rock fountain with its floating rings of silk flowers, and realized it wasn't dйjà vu at all. It was memory.

I really had been here before. Six years ago.

"Crap," I whispered, and fought a deep, clawing instinct to get back in the car and just keep driving. But outside thunder rattled plate glass, and there really wasn't any point in trying to get away from this particular past.

Besides, I don't run from bad memories.

I straightened my back and walked to the front desk. It wasn't quite a sashay, because of the squishing shoes, but I held it together. I didn't recognize the girl behind the desk-staff must have changed over several times since the tight-assed blonde I remembered handing me my last room key. This one-brunette- stopped popping her gum and straightened up, smiling sympathetically.

"Wow," she said. "Real mess out there, huh?"

"No kidding," I said, and wiped strands of hair back from my face. "Hope you have a room available."

"Yep," she said. "Nonsmoking, is that okay?"

"Does it come with a hair dryer?"

"Definitely."

"Perfect."

We did the credit card thing, and she made me a cute little electronic key, and I squished out toward the stairs, past the gently tinkling fountain. No such things as ghosts-at least, I hope there aren't-but I couldn't help but feel a very cold, very real chill as I passed the spot.

Charles Spenser Ashworth III.

Man, I so didn't want to be here. Not now.

David was waiting for me when I unlocked the door to the room. He was dressed in a casual blue-checked flannel shirt, blue jeans, sneakers... his WWI-vintage olive-drab coat was draped over the arm of the chair, and he was kicked back on the bed, lying flat with his hands under his head. I kicked the door shut and stood there staring at him.

Dripping.

Without a word, I went into the bathroom and stripped off my wet clothes, cranked the shower on hot, and had a luxurious, spine-melting wash, with complimentary shampoo and cute little soaps. Two applications of hotel-provided conditioner made it barely possible for me to work the complimentary comb through my uncomplementary hair. Which was curling again, drat it. In my original human incarnation, I'd had glossy, straight, jet-black hair. Since my rebirth, I'd acquired a disturbing tendency to Shirley Temple curls. I used the hair dryer and worked, teeth gritted, until I had everything straightened to my satisfaction.

"Chill Factor"

When I came out, my clothes were dry, folded, and put away in drawers, and David was still lying on the bed in exactly the same position, only bare-chested and covered by the sheets. I set his unsealed bottle on the nightstand, next to the clock radio.

He smiled, eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell as he breathed me in. "You smell like jasmine."

I dropped the towel and slid under the sheets next to him. "Hotel soap. I hope it's an improvement."

He rolled up on his elbow to look down on me. What I saw in his eyes took my breath away. Sweet, hot intensity. Djinn are made of fire, and passion, and power. Having one feel that way about you... it's like nothing else on earth. His skin wasn't touching me, and it didn't matter; he was touching me in ways that were more intimate than that. A sweet burn of pleasure ignited somewhere near the base of my spine and worked its way up.

"How far are you willing to go with this?" he asked me. Which was not what I was hoping for him to say, and I blinked to indicate I had no idea what he was talking about. David read my confusion and continued. "Kevin's afraid. He's young, he's stupid, and he's scared. I think there's every reason to believe that if he wasn't insane before, he probably is by now. So how far are you willing to go to get him?"

Something flashed past me, something from the dream in the car. Wildfires, burning themselves out. I shook it off. "As far as I need to. Somebody's got to take him down."

He moved a lock of hair back from my face. "Others can."

"In time to save Lewis's life?" I asked, and saw a slow cooling of those molten-bronze eyes. "Don't. This isn't about personal feelings, David. He's important. Lewis is important to... hell, to everyone. And what Kevin's done is killing him."

"You need to ask yourself something," he said