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pace. Back and forth, restless energy crackling like the fire that wasn't really burning in the fireplace, on creaky floorboards that didn't really exist in any way that humans could understand. "That's like saying giving Albert Einstein a lobotomy wouldn't matter because he still had a pulse. We need you. And we need you full strength. We're at war, David! I have to remind you of that?"
David didn't answer. His hand on my arm was tight enough to hurt.
Jonathan stopped pacing to stand right in front of me, glaring. "What David did was about as smart as ripping his heart out with his bare hands and calling it organ donation. It's possible to do what he did. It's just pathetically stupid."
"I'm fine," David said.
"You're not!" He rounded on him and leveled a finger at David's face. "Don't even start with me. You're bleeding energy all the hell over the place. You tell me . . . can you stop it? Or are you just going to bleed yourself dry to keep her alive? It's like trying to fill a dry lake with a teaspoon, David. You can't do it. You can't make a human into a Djinn because they don't goddamn well work that way!"
David didn't answer. Jonathan's face tightened up.
"And you don't give a crap what I say," he said, resigned. "Well, that's kind of what I thought."
He turned away, walked to the fireplace and picked up a vicious-looking black poker that he used to jab at inoffensive logs. Flames crackled, popped, and swirled. I looked back over my shoulder at David, who was quiet, steady, focused.
"Is he right?" I asked.
"No," David said. "I've been losing some energy, the same way a human might lose blood from an injury before it heals. It's nothing."
Jonathan whirled and tossed the poker back in the wrought-iron holder with a sharp clang of metal. "It's been seven days." Jonathan's dark eyes were fierce with emotion. "I've sat here and watched you bleed into the aetheric for seven damn days! I'm not sitting on my all-powerful ass while you die."
"Not your business."
"David-"
"Not your business, Jonathan!" David's copper eyes were blazing, furious, molten. Jonathan's were as black and cold as space. Neither one of them moved, but I felt defenses snapping into place, and my whole essence screamed at me to get the hell out of the middle.
Not that I ever listened to sensible advice anyway.
I rounded on David. "What cheap-ass archetype hero myth did you step out of? I didn't ask you to kill yourself for me! I would never ask for that! You can't just make me a Djinn and die, dammit! Hear me? You can't!"
Jonathan laughed. "Please. He didn't make you a Djinn, don't you get it? He made both of you half a Djinn."
I felt my hair start to curl again as my concentration slipped. I lost that dove gray focus David had tried to get me to keep, and felt my eyes change- flare-go silver. "Half?"
"Half. As in, two halves make a whole." Jonathan's mouth twisted into bitterness. "A whole what, I have no idea. Probably an idiot."
"Fine. Then fix it," I said. "Undo it."
"No!" David again, and this time he moved, took me by the shoulders and physically moved me out of the way. Sat me down on the couch with a decisive shove. "You don't understand. I told you to keep quiet."
"Hey, she asked nicely," Jonathan said, and pointed at me.
"No!" David flung out a hand, palm out, pushing Jonathan away even though Jonathan hadn't taken a step in our direction. He stepped forward, sank down on one knee in a puddle of olive drab wool coat, and took my hand in his. Warm skin on skin, truth shining in his eyes. "Joanne, this is between me and him. Let us solve it."
Jonathan upended his beer, drained it, and tossed the bottle into the fireplace. The crash of glass was lost in the roar of flames as the fire leaped up, eager as a pet. "Fuck. Heartwarming as this is, David, it's totally screwed. You can't make her one of us. You can keep her alive, you can give her power, but the price is too damn high. You really think I'm going to stand by and let you do this?"
David smiled, but I could tell he wasn't smiling at me. This was bitter,