was eerily similar to my own, except for the eyes. Mine were plain blue. The ones staring back at me were an interesting shade of ruddy gold--I don't mean amber; amber's a human color. This was amber on acid. Amber taken up to insane saturation levels.
In short, the eyes were Djinn. And they belonged to my daughter.
They widened. "Did I frighten you?"
"Frighten?" I shot back. "Why should I be frightened if somebody pops out of nowhere into the backseat of my car? Let's see, half the Djinn are trying to kill the Wardens, and at least some of the Wardens are infected with Demon Marks, and let's not forget the weather's all screwed up... oh, and the Earth's about to wake up and destroy humankind. You know what? Being a little frightened is a pretty laid-back response, all things considered, and yeah, next time? Knock."
She smiled. Tentatively, as if she was still translating all of that into Djinn-speak. I felt an immediate stab of guilt; the poor kid had been alive for all of not-even-a-day. She seemed to lack the one characteristic that was common among all the Djinn I'd ever met: smugness. I'd thought it came coded in Djinn DNA, along with pretty eyes and the cool ability to pop in and out of existence at will.
"Although," Imara ventured, "you could have done it more efficiently. Do you want me to show you how?"
"Not right now," I managed to say between gritted teeth. "Any guidance you can offer beyond second-guessing my lifesaving abilities?"
She looked injured. So I wasn't good at this mom thing. I was still trying to get my head around the idea that the child I had carried inside me--and it wasn't a normal pregnancy, by any stretch of the imagination--had all of a sudden sprung up fully adult, with her own set of emotions unrelated to my own.
"Sorry," I said, more softly. "Imara, do you know anything? Anything about--" David, oh God, I'm afraid for you. And I miss you. "--about your father?"
She shook her head, holding my eyes in the mirror. Djinn, unlike human beings, spring out of death, not life. The greater the death, the greater the Djinn--that's the rule. Djinn don't like to acknowledge that a lot of them have very human histories behind them, but it's an indisputable fact. David--Djinn and lover and father of my child--had told me months ago that in order for our child to be born, it would mean he had to die. That was the normal order of things, in the Djinn world.
Only something strange had happened, and another death--a greater death--had stepped in to give my child life. David was still alive.
Just not himself, exactly. He'd become... different.
"Mom," Imara said. "Are you all right?" She waved a graceful hand in front of my face, which I impatiently swatted away and focused back on my driving. "I apologize," she said, and withdrew back into a dignified sitting position. "I thought you were in some kind of distress."
I can't describe how it feels to hear that word. Mom. Oh, I'd gotten comfortable with the idea of being pregnant, but being a mother was a whole different thing--especially mother of a grown young woman who dressed better than I did. I consoled myself that she wore couture because she was Djinn, and able to conjure up whatever clothes amused her, and plus she hadn't been through a hurricane. And a tornado. And a very long drive.
"I was thinking about your father," I said. Which was an admission of distress in itself.
"He's all right," she said, leaning forward and laying her forearm across the top of my seat. "I would know if he wasn't. I just don't know where he is or what he's doing."
Cherise was watching all of this with bright, feverish eyes. I had no idea what she was making of it. Knowing Cherise, probably something very interesting.
"Should I go find out?" Imara asked hopefully.
"No!" I yelped, and grabbed her wrist. She looked startled. "You stay put. I want you where I can keep my eye on you."
She gave me a mutinous look. Why hadn't my own mother traded me in once I'd hit puberty? I remembered giving her loads of mutinous looks. It was hugely annoying from this side of the maternal fence.
"I'm serious," I said. "The last time we saw any of the other Djinn, they weren't in the best mood ever. I don't want you running into trouble. I can't bail you out of it.