of Liberty. The white lace of the Bellagio's fountains shooting skyward in a silent, choreographed dance.
We stopped somewhere near the top.
Quinn tugged me out, walked me down the hall, and opened up a room with the standard electronic card key.
"Well," I said, startled. "This'll do."
My room had an entire wall of windows, sharply angled, and sunlight sparked from the muted gold of faux-Egyptian furniture. The bed looked sumptuous.
Through the bathroom door, I saw a huge Jacuzzi tub facing the windows. "I'll give your side this: You know how to imprison a girl in style."
"You're not a prisoner," Quinn said, and handed me the key. "And we're not necessarily on the opposite side, either. Listen, feel free to go downstairs, hit the casinos, the spa, the pool... just don't try to leave the building."
I took the cool, smooth plastic. "If I do?" Quinn raised a silent eyebrow. "Right. You know I can't just hang around here, waiting for the Geezer Patrol to decide what to do with me. There's a time limit. Jonathan and Kevin are going to come after me, and believe me, I don't think anybody wants that. It'll be one hell of a show."
"You don't need to worry about the boy."
"The fact that you can say that just proves to me that you don't know dick about that boy."
Quinn reached under his coat. No change in expression. I remembered the gun, felt myself tense, wondered if it was even possible to stop a bullet with the powers I possessed...
... and he came out with another card, this one a different color of plastic.
"Have fun," he said, and handed it over. "That's worth five thousand in chips. Go crazy. I've got to get back to work."
"Quinn!" I caught his arm when he turned to go. "I can't just stay here!"
He patted my hand, removed it, and walked to the door. "If you don't," he said pleasantly as he opened it, "I'll just have to break your ankles. That'd keep you from wandering."
He shut the door with a quiet click. I chewed my lip, counted to thirty, then went to look out.
He was gone. When I raced to the window, I saw the inclinator crawling back down the face of the pyramid, and Quinn was facing out toward the view. He didn't look in my direction.
I went to the telephone, got a dial tone, and called a number from memory. Long distance, but I wasn't particularly worried about the charges at the moment. Let the Ma'at pay for it, the crusty old Republicans.
Three rings. Four.
"Bearheart," a low female voice said. I let out a gasp; I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath.
" Marion! Don't talk, just listen. I'm inside, but there's something wrong here. A whole different set of-"
Click. The line was dead. I rattled the posts, banged the receiver helpfully against the nightstand, then hung it up.
"You know," I said to the empty air, "this would be a whole lot easier if I had some help from a friendly neighborhood Djinn. Come on, I know you're here. You've been hanging around for hours. And thanks for not saving me, by the way. I wouldn't want to get rusty."
There was a heat blur in the corner. I focused on it, and watched Rahel sculpt herself out of shadows into glittering hard angles and cutting edges. Not that the Ifrit was recognizable as Rahel, of course, but I didn't really think that any other half-Djinn would be following me around like a lost puppy.
"Can you help me?" I asked her. No answer from the black, insectile statue in the corner. "Look, you went to big trouble to come here with me. I can only assume you had a reason. Can you tell me what it is?"
She stirred. That was unsettling, because she no longer moved like either a Djinn or a human. More like a bag of razors shifting. I took a step back, found the bed behind my knees, and sat.
"Do I have any allies here?" I asked her. "Anybody I can trust?"
I wasn't sure, but that kind of looked like a nod. Maybe.
"Who?" Useless question. She couldn't speak; she didn't have enough power left from her gorging feast earlier.
"Chill Factor"
An arm of hard right angles and coal-black glitter extended. Claws extruded pale as crystal from something that vaguely resembled a hand. I resisted the urge to crawl back across the bed; if she wanted me, she could get me.
I felt something tug deep inside. Panic spiked deep, and