Firestorm Page 0,44

shoulder in a shrug, and kept her metallic Djinn stare straight on me. Intimidating, but it didn't hide the fact that she was being evasive.

"Yes, you do. Why are you being so--"

"Evasive?" she shot back, and ran her fingers through her long, straight black hair. My hair was curling again in the humidity. I resented her hair. Secretly. "Possibly because this is certain death for a human to attempt, and I might not want you to die just yet."

"If you didn't think I could do it, why come with me?"

She smiled slightly, and those eyes looked entirely alien all of a sudden. "Maybe Father told me to."

"Maybe you and your Father--" I reined myself in, unclenched my fists, and took in a deep breath. "Don't make me do this."

"Do what?"

"Test whether or not you're really Djinn."

She smiled. "If you're thinking about claiming me, that arrangement died with Jonathan. It won't work."

"Something simpler than that." I took in a quick breath. "Where do I find the Oracle?"

"Mom--"

"Where do I find the Oracle?"

Ah, now she got it. And she was surprised, and pissed off, too. I saw the flare of temper in her eyes. "The Rule of Three. You wouldn't."

"Where do I find the Oracle?"

Three times asked, a Djinn has to answer truthfully. Of course, truth has a nearly limitless shade of interpretations; I probably hadn't framed my question closely enough to get a real answer from her, but she'd have to stick close to the subject... if the Rule of Three was still in effect.

Which it looked like it wasn't, as my daughter continued to glare furiously at me with eyes that were starting to remind me more of Rahel's than David's--predatory, primal, eternal. Not good to piss off any Djinn, especially now that humans had virtually no protection from them... Imara abruptly said, "It's close."

She didn't say it willingly, either; it seemed to be dragged out of her, and when she'd gotten to the end of the sentence she clenched her teeth tight and fell back into silent glaring.

Oh, I needed to be careful now. Very, very careful.

"Where exactly is the Oracle? Where exactly is the--"

"Stop!" She threw up her hand. "If you do that again, I'm leaving, and you won't ever see me again. Ever."

I swallowed hard. She looked serious about that, and seriously angry. "I'm sorry," I said. "But I need information. In case you haven't noticed, this is getting a little more important than just respecting your feelings, Imara. I need to do this. It all looks fine here, but believe me, it's not fine out there in the big wide world. If you ever want to see any of it, you'd better help me. Right now."

She blinked and looked away at the gently fluttering leaves of the oak tree that spread its shade over the car. A couple of kids sped by on bikes, and another rumbled by on a skateboard. Nobody paid us much attention. Wal-Mart parking lots were anonymous.

"You don't understand how it feels," she said. "Losing your will like that. Being--emptied out."

"Don't I?"

"Well--maybe you do." To her credit, Imara looked a little embarrassed about that. She had my memories; she knew the time I'd spent as Kevin's pet Djinn, forced into little French maid outfits, fending off his adolescent advances. "All right. Just ask. But don't do it again. Please."

"I won't if you'll answer."

"Fine." She pulled in a fast breath and turned away, not meeting my eyes. "There are a few places--less than a dozen around the world--where the fabric between the planes of existence is paper-thin. Where the Djinn can reach up higher or down deeper. These are--holy places, would be the only way I know to put it. Conduits. Places where we can touch the Mother, where we can--" It wasn't that she was avoiding an explanation; she just couldn't find the words. "The Oracle can be reached there. But Mom, don't mistake me: The Djinn protect these places."

Imara wasn't using the words holy places lightly. I hadn't known the Djinn had a religion, other than generic Earth Mother stuff, but if they did, they'd have kept it secret. They'd been a slave race for so long that they'd protect what was precious to them.

Especially against intrusions by humans.

"Seacasket," I said aloud, and shook my head. Because Seacasket didn't exactly look like the kind of place you'd expect to find exotic spirituality. Or maybe that was just because I couldn't quite imagine something spiritual sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot. "You