Thin Air Page 0,46

produced materials for the tourist trade, but saved the best for her fellow tribal leaders. Marion had recently been in the mood to emphasize her heritage.

She started her rental car and did not bother with the air-conditioning; it was a simple matter to adjust her own internal body temperature down to make herself comfortable. She waved to Paul and two of the other Wardens, who stood locked in conversation near Paul's sporty gold convertible. No sign of the girl in the parking lot; maybe she'd already left.

"So," Marion's Djinn said, misting into reality in the passenger seat next to her. "Are you on vacation now?"

"Do I ever get vacation?" she asked, and smiled slightly. "I assume you're here for a reason." Her Djinn's name was Cetan Nagin, or Shadow Hawk in English. She'd given him the Lakota name, since he'd refused to admit to one of his own. Proud, this one, and not above trickery. Djinn appeared as the subconscious of their owners dictated, and it had disturbed her a great deal that Cetan Nagin had taken the form of a Native American man, with long braided hair and secretive black eyes. His skin was darker than her own, and it shimmered with a phantom copper tint that did not seem quite...human.

And she had realized for quite some time that she was falling in love with him. No doubt he realized it as well. They did not speak of it.

"A reason," he repeated, and looked at her directly. "You asked to be informed if any of the Wardens violated protocol."

"Substantial violations, yes."

"Define substantial."

Ah, the Djinn. They did love specificity. "Use of powers for personal gratification or gain. Use of powers without adequate provision for balancing of the reactive effects."

"How very scientific," Cetan Nagin said, and slouched against the seat at an angle. He was wearing blue jeans and a long black leather coat, and he must have known how good he looked to her. His eyes were half-closed, and she knew he could feel the sparks burning inside her. It was as if he fed on it at times. "Thank you."

"Did you have something to report?" she asked. Her heart was hammering, and she concentrated on driving, on the feel of the steering wheel beneath her palms, the vibration of the road. The cars around her on the busy street. Real world. Sometimes she felt only half in it.

"The Warden you dislike," Cetan Nagin said. "He crosses those lines regularly. Did you know?"

Bad Bob. Of course he did. She had no proof, but Cetan Nagin could provide it, of course. He could provide whatever she required, but then it would be her own responsibility to bring the case before the senior leadership of the Wardens, and Bad Bob had many friends and allies there.

"I know," she said quietly. "I choose battles I can win."

Cetan Nagin shrugged and looked away. "The girl you were testing today."

"What about her?" Surely she was too young to be corrupted already.

"He hates her," the Djinn said. "Perhaps she's a way to entrap him. If he kills her, you will have a case to bring forth, won't you?"

As much as she felt heat for Cetan Nagin, as much as she wanted him, she feared him at moments like this. The Djinn were game players, politicians, and even at the best of times it was never clear whose side they were on. If they ever get free... It was a thought she didn't want to linger over.

"If that happened, I would have a case," she agreed.

"Then all you have to do is wait," he said, and smiled. "Now. As to that vacation..."

She glanced at him, and his smile grew warmer.

And so, reluctantly, did hers.

"I was thinking I might go with you," Cetan Nagin said. "If you're willing."

She tried not to be, but there were some things that were simply meant to happen.

Blur.

I lost my hold on the memory; Marion was fighting me, trying to keep her private life private. I released and sped past other memories. It wasn't just the cold calculation of her leaving me as a stalking horse for Bad Bob that chilled me; it was more than that. Marion had hunted me at the behest of the Wardens. She'd trapped me and tried to kill me more than once.

Lewis had let me believe she could be trusted, but she couldn't. Marion was a zealot. She would follow her ethics past any personal considerations, past likes or dislikes.

Still, there was something more. Cetan Nagin. Her