Ill Wind Page 0,43

All nice and domestic. No sound in the apartment except for the steady tick of rain on the roof and windows.

He didn't say anything until the second cup of soup was finished. He rolled the empty ceramic in his hands, watching me with fever-bright eyes, and finally said, "You're not going to ask?"

"Do I have any right?" I took the cup and set it back down. "You're the big boss, Lewis, I'm just a Staffer. You say frog, I jump. You say nurse you back to health-"

He made a rude noise. "Yeah. You're the mothering type, Jo. And the no-questions-asked type."

He had a point. "Okay. What the hell are you doing here, showing up starved and sick on my doorstep? It isn't like we know each other, Lewis. At least, not in any way that matters."

Cruel but true. Lewis's eyes widened, and he looked down. "I know you," he said. "And I trust you."

"Why?" He gave me an off-kilter smile for answer. I felt myself blush hot up around the cheekbones. "Okay, rephrasing the question. What kind of trouble are you in?"

Chapter Eleven

The smile disappeared, and he looked ill and tired. "The worst kind," he said. "Council trouble. I broke out."

I froze, my own mug of soup halfway to my lips. Steam tickled my nose with ghosts of spices. "Broke out?"

"They were keeping me in a hospital, the one where . . ." He had an inward look, and what flashed across his face didn't look like a pleasant memory. "They were keeping me at the Pound."

The Pound was a nickname among the junior Wardens for the hospital Marion Bearheart oversaw, where Wardens checked in and walked out-or were carried out-as regular human beings. The place where we got neutered, or in my case, spayed.

The place where our powers could be ripped away at the roots.

"No," I whispered, and put the soup down to take his hands. His felt cold, still. "God, Lewis, they couldn't. Not you."

"They hadn't decided, but I knew which way it was going to go. Martin didn't want it, but the others-" He shrugged. "I don't fit, Jo, I have too much power, and they can't control it. They don't like that."

No wonder he'd run. He had so much to lose, so much ... I couldn't imagine Marion agreeing to it, but she was sworn to obey, like all of us. Lewis was right not to take the chance.

It explained why he'd come to me like this, wet and sick; he couldn't use his powers, not even to protect himself from the rain or burn the virus out of his bloodstream. Lewis lit up Oversight like a Roman candle every time he called power. Until he was back at full strength, he couldn't defend himself.

I put a hand on his burning forehead and stared into his eyes. The sparks jumped between us, weak but still there.

"Trust me?" I asked. He nodded. "Then sleep. Nobody's going to get you here."

He fell asleep within minutes, curled under the blanket. I washed the mugs and put them on the dish drainer, went back and let the cooling water out of the bathtub. By the time I'd exchanged the robe for a comfortable tank top and drawstring pants, he was snoring.

He looked very young, but then he was-older than me, but a lot younger than most other Wardens. I sat down on the floor next to the couch, leaned my back up against it, and listened to him sleep while I watched TV with the sound turned down. I didn't dare close my eyes; I kept watch in Oversight, alert for the approach of anybody who might be on his trail.

Toward morning, the rain stopped, and whether I meant to or not, I fell asleep. When I woke up, Lewis was gone from the couch. I heard the shower running. The floor had taken a horrible toll on my muscles, and by the time I'd worked myself into a standing position and hobbled my way into the kitchen to put on coffee, he was back, dressed in my ratty blue bathrobe. It actually fit. Where it dragged the ground for me, it maintained a politically correct mid-calf length on Lewis, and he didn't have to roll up the sleeves.

"How do you feel?" I asked, and poured him a mug of liquid morning magic. He sipped it, watching me.