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forest fires eat up half of California last year? That was special."

He grunted agreement. "Do you think that with a Djinn at your command you could have done better?"

"Sure." I shrugged and added a little more pepper to my last bite of eggs. "More power. More control."

"Control comes from Djinn?"

I had to think about that one. "Um, no. Control comes from . . . the Warden. Power comes from the Djinn."

"Actually, you're wrong on both answers. Control and power both come from the Warden. The only thing that a Djinn brings is potential." He took a sip of coffee, added cream, and stirred. "That's all we are, you know. Potential energy. Humans are kinetic. They create action and reaction. We are just the medium through which they move."

Which sounded way Zen to me. "I have no idea what you just said."

"I know." He gave me a tiny little quirk of his eyebrows, reached into the pocket of his bathrobe, and brought out a tiny little bottle, about the size of a perfume sample, complete with a plastic capper on the end. He toyed with it between his fingers, tapped it on the table, and thumbed the cap off. I half expected a fellow Djinn to pop out of it.

None did.

"I'd like to explain something to you," he said. "It may not make much sense to you now, but I think it will later."

I was feeling generous, what with a nice comforting load of cholesterol and fat making a home in my system . . . which reminded me, what exactly happened to food, inside a Djinn body? Was it the usual system, or something totally different? Maybe it just vanished into energy, no chemical breakdown necessary. Huh. Good question.

"Shoot," I said, and took in a mouthful of Florida sunshine in the form of orange juice that tasted fresh squeezed. Energy into fruit into energy. I loved physics.

"I'm not a bad person," he said. Not looking at me now, just studying the small perfume vial in his thick, perfectly manicured fingers. "Tragically selfish as a man, but I suppose that's far from unusual. I lived a good life. And I loved one woman more than life itself. More than my own honor."

I remembered the dream. "Sara," I said. I caught a quick flash of ocean-rich eyes, quickly turned away again.

"She was . . . astonishing. There are Warden laws, you know, that forbid Djinn from serving their masters ... in that way." For a guy with a living room that would have made Bob Guccione blanch, he was charmingly indirect when it came to words. "And an honorable master should never require it. But we-it wasn't a command, or obedience. It was . . ." He shook his head. "It was a long time ago."

I sensed the cold shadow in the corner of the kitchen. Yes, there she was, the blackened ghost of Sara, the Ifrit that roamed eternity looking for a way to heal its damage. It wasn't moving. I could feel its attention fixed on Patrick, and remembered the dream-Sara's intense, powerful love.

"You loved her," I said. "She loved you."

"It's why the laws exist. So that it won't happen again." Patrick shook his head and peered up at me again, eyes pellucid and untroubled behind the half-glasses. "I want her back, you see. She's half my soul. I want Sara to live."

He was trying to tell me something, I just couldn't figure out what it was. But the orange juice was curdling in my stomach. "Patrick . . ."

"I don't think you're going to make it," he said, almost kindly. "I wish there was a way I could help you, Joanne, but the truth is that like me, you should have died as a human. There's no way for him to save you except the way Sara saved me, and the cost is too high."

I felt myself frowning. "Hey, nice pep talk. Aren't you supposed to teach me how to get through this? Preferably alive?"

"Yes. I know." The perfume vial clinked as he put it down on the table between us. I watched it roll unevenly back and forth. It fetched up against my Hello Kitty mug with a musical little chime. "I wish I had some magic answer. Truth is, the only answer I know is going to hurt you. Maybe kill you. Are you prepared for