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can't trust her anymore. Remember that."

He sounded so alone. I got myself steadied, a little, and took a step toward him.

He stepped back. Keeping plenty of space between us.

"I can't," he said. "I'm sorry. I have to see to the safety of my people now."

"David - "

For an instant, I saw the torment inside him, and it stopped whatever I was going to say dead in my throat. "I can't," he whispered. "He's destroying her. He's taking great pleasure in it. How many more of my people have to die, Jo? We're not mortal. This shouldn't be happening to us. It should never have happened." He blinked, and the metallic shine came back in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

The Djinn left. Just . . . left. All of the Djinn, gone without a sound, including David.

He hadn't even said good-bye.

I collapsed to my knees. Someone - I didn't even see who - helped me up. I told everyone to get out, but they wouldn't. Understandable, I supposed.

I went into the bathroom, slammed and locked the door, and skinned down the fabric of the dress to get a look at my right shoulder blade.

Bad Bob had branded me, the same way he'd branded his Sentinels. It was a mark in the shape of a torch. The old stains left from the Demon Mark I'd once carried had given him a gateway . . . like a cut letting in bacteria. And now I was infected.

The proof was right there on my skin.

I stared into the mirror at the black mark, hideously reminded of the Demon Mark that had once grown inside me, and how that had felt.

How good that had felt.

I flinched at a hesitant knock on the door.

"You okay in there?" Lewis asked.

My eyes, in the mirror, were wide and empty. He can have me, any time he wants me. I couldn't allow that. If David wasn't going to fight Bad Bob . . .

Then I had to.

We settled up damages with the Palms; nobody acquainted me with a final figure, for which I was very grateful. I hoped the Wardens' bank account wouldn't snap under the strain. I changed out of the lovely wedding dress alone, not daring to let anybody - especially Cherise - catch a look at the brand-new black tattoo I was sporting. When I came out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a purple knit shirt, the entire crowded roomful of Wardens stopped talking.

"What?" I snapped. "Never saw anybody left at the altar before?" Wow. Being dumped made me bitchy, which was, of course, a brave front. I didn't feel bitchy; I felt . . . alone. I felt as if my whole world had gone the dead, burned color of the torch on my shoulder.

Looks were exchanged among my friends. I wanted to kick and punch something, preferably Bad Bob, until the sun burned out, but I'd have settled for anyone who said something flippant right at that moment.

Nobody did. Cherise finally stood up and said, "Let me take that."

Oh. The dress. It was draped over my arm like a limp silk corpse. I held it out to her, and she zipped it safely back in its protective plastic cocoon.

"Probably should get that back to the store," I said. I was trying to disconnect, trying to shut off all my emotions. I was being pretty successful at it, too.

Cherise looked devastated, as if I'd admitted defeat. "No," she said. "Um - can't return it. There was a smudge." She put on her determined face, which was just cute, and dared me to say otherwise. "You'll have to keep it."

"What for?" I asked. "Not like we're going to get a do-over on the wedding." And that nearly broke me. I wanted David. I wanted him to manifest out of the thin air and sweep me up in his arms and carry me off. I wanted Bad Bob to be gone and all to be right with the world, for once.

That wasn't going to happen. At least, it wasn't going to happen unless I made it happen. All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. I supposed old Edmund Burke had meant to include women in that. And if he hadn't, well, screw him.

"What's the plan?" I asked Lewis. Lewis seemed lost in thought, but that was probably because, in his typical fashion, he was manipulating a dozen different things at once. Now, he looked up, met my