Thin Air Page 0,84

evidently.

I wondered if my real daughter had ever been in this car. I could almost imagine her sitting there...

"Better hurry," Venna said. I blinked, looked back, and saw that the newsanchor was hauling ass toward the car, already shouting breathless questions.

I got in and turned the key that was already in the ignition.

Peeling out and spraying gravel wasn't a skill I'd lost with my memory.

It didn't give me much comfort when I looked in my rearview mirror and found a white van pulling out of a parking lot and quietly, tenaciously following.

"I need a plan," I said to Venna. She stared out the window, kicking her feet, and didn't respond. "Venna, I need to get my memory back. No more screwing around. Tell me how I can do that."

"You can't," she said simply. "Your memory belongs to her now. And you don't want to try to get it back. She'll kill you. The only way to make this right is to get Ashan to go back to the Oracle."

We were about fifteen minutes out from the beach, and I was just driving, with no clear idea of where we were heading. The steady rumble of the car gave me a feeling of being in control at last, and I thought that I might be happy if I could just drive forever. Or at least, until my problems went away.

The white van, for instance. It didn't seem inclined to vanish on my say-so, however. It kept a steady three-car distance from me, not really hiding, but not really making itself known, either. Too far back for me to catch sight of the driver.

"Ashan has my memories."

"No. He..." Venna searched for words for a second. "He tore them from you. Threw them away, made them excess energy. It put you adrift in the universe, and when the Demon found your memories, it knocked things out of balance. I think only Ashan can fix that."

"But Ashan...he's not a Djinn, right?"

"No," she said. "Not anymore." For a brief second Venna's expression revealed something that physically hurt, a kind of anguish that I could barely comprehend. "He was one of the first, you know. One of the oldest. But he just couldn't understand that the Mother loves you, too."

"Me?" I asked, startled.

"Humans. Maybe not as much as she loves us, because she understands us a little better. But she's fond of you, too, in a way." She shrugged. "He blames you. You made her understand that humans weren't intending to hurt her."

"I did."

"Yes. You."

"And by Mother, you mean..."

"Earth," she said. "Mother Earth, of course."

I decided to stick to driving. "Where am I going?" I asked. "If we're heading for Ashan?"

"I have him safe." Venna took a map out of the glove compartment, unfolded it, and traced a line with her fingertip. Where she touched it, a route lit up. I glanced over. We were going to take I-8 to Arizona, apparently. "It's about eight hours. Well, the way you drive, six."

"Was that a joke?"

Venna shook her head. Apparently it was an expectation.

"What do we do when we get there?" I asked. "I'm not killing anybody, Venna."

"I wouldn't let you," she said. "Although if you knew Ashan, you'd probably want to... What do you want me to do about the man following us?"

"You noticed." She gave a little snort of agreement. I supposed it wasn't exactly beyond her capabilities. "Do you know who it is?"

"Yes," she said. I waited. She waited right back.

I gave her a hard look. Which was just a little bit hilarious, admittedly; I was giving her a hard look? As far as I could tell, Venna could pretty much destroy me any day of the week, and twice at matinees. "Just tell me!"

"I don't have to," she said. "You'll have to stop soon. When you do, you'll find out."

She seemed smug about it. I gave her another completely ineffective glare, and checked my gas gauge. Still nearly full. Why in the world would I have to stop...?

The back left tire blew out with a jolt and a sound like a brick slapping the undercarriage of the car, and I cursed, fought the wheel, and limped the Camaro over to the shoulder of the road. The uneven thump thump thump made it clear that we weren't going to do any quick getaways.

"Fix it," I said to Venna. She smoothed her palms over her blue jeans. Was there a way to be beyond smug? "Come on, Venna. Be a pal."

"You have a spare tire,"