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a lion-but to a mouse like me, more than enough to do the job.

"Back off!" I snarled at it. It smirked and whirled away in a blur too fast to follow. Circled around behind me. Ripped at me before I could focus the energy properly. "Patrick! Call it off!"

"Now why would I do that?" he asked mildly, and ate another piece of chocolate. "You can't expect others to defend you, Joanne. It's the first responsibility of any Djinn. Preserve your life. Then preserve your freedom."

I didn't have the energy to spare for a reply. I was looking for a vulnerability, and trying to keep its teeth and claws away from my vulnerability-that silver cord stretching off to the horizon. So fragile, my God, no wonder Jonathan was afraid of leaving David tethered to me-David was vulnerable, too, through me . . .

Behind the coal black skin and shifting aura like an rainbow oil slick, there was something even darker inside the Ifrit, but soft. Fragile.

On the aetheric, I extended my hand and felt metal claws slide free. They were bright and sharp as starlight, translucent as crystal.

I slapped aside the Ifrit's tearing attack and plunged those knifelike claws home into its body, not to rip or savage, but to deliver something else.

Light.

Darkness into light.

One thing into another.

Transmutation.

The Ifrit turned pale, translucent, insubstantial, and for a second I heard its cry of joy echo through the aetheric, high and beautiful and strange, and then- pop-it was gone.

And I was lying on the floor of Patrick's ugly, overdone living room, staring up at a ceiling painted with pornographic renderings in the style of the Sistine Chapel. My Djinn senses were still locked on full, and every damn thing in the place had a history, sweaty and heavy in my head. I wanted to laugh, but I was too tired.

Patrick looked no more like Santa Claus than I did, when I examined him with those senses. No, he was big, tough, cold, and more than a little puzzled.

"Interesting," he said, and took up another palmful of sugar. This time he made an Andes mint, complete with wrapper. He offered it to me. "How did you know to do that?"

"Transmutation," I said, still lying flat on the over-colored carpet. I lifted my hands and looked at them, flexed a muscle that existed only in the aetheric. Silver-tipped claws, as delicate as frost, slid from my fingertips. "You said she was hungry. I fed her."

"Yes," he agreed softly, with a doubting undertone of wonder. "So you did."

I took the mint, unwrapped it, and let it dissolve into a sweet edge of mint in my mouth. Taste was different now. Brighter. Sharper. The shiny green paper of the wrapper had a texture to it like nothing I'd ever felt before.

"So," he said as I savored the taste. "Round Two?"

I'd just almost died, and for some reason I couldn't stop a giggle that worked its way all the way up from my guts.

Chapter Ten

"Sure," I said in between helpless bursts of laughter. "Bring it on."

Round Two was a disaster. I got my ass kicked. Painfully. This time I ended up lying full length on the banana yellow couch, sobbing for breath, too exhausted to even begin to count the ways I hurt.

Patrick bustled around providing fresh drinks. Unless he wanted to use mine as a topical ninety proof antiseptic, I wasn't interested.

"Now," he said briskly, and sat back in the red velvet chair. It was shaped like a platform shoe. Looked like something out of JCPenney's Nightmare Collection. "Let's talk about what you did wrong. Ifrits are an expression of energy, just as we are, and therefore your first instinct was correct, you must appease them, not fight them, until you have enough power to-" He stopped the lecture to frown at me. "You're bleeding all over my couch."

I groaned. "Excuse the hell out of me."

"For heaven's sake, child, just fix it."

I looked at him blankly. He reached over, took my wrist, and smoothed a finger gently over one of the gaping cuts. It zipped shut, faded, and disappeared. Blood along with it.

"There," he said. "You do the rest."

Not, of course, as simple as it sounded. I managed, knitting back flesh and muscle, blood vessels and nerves. The outfit repairs were easy, by comparison. I finally managed to