of ozone. Pins and needles blew over my skin in a wave, from my feet to the crown of my head.
And then the lightning hit Delilah dead on.
Chapter Nineteen
FOUR
Wind shears and lightning strikes are likely in the Norman area, with a large high-pressure system advancing from the northeast; possible severe weather is likely for this evening. Residents are urged to stay aware of changing weather conditions.
People were talking.
I didn't think they were talking to me. They were talking about . . . about somebody being dead. There was shouting and noise. Metal.
Somebody was saying my name, over and over. I tried to open my eyes, but then I realized I couldn't because they were already open. There was nothing to see, though. Just light. Bright blue-white light.
Was there something wrong with me? I tried to blink my eyes, but nothing seemed to move. If I had something wrong with me, I'd be in pain, wouldn't I?
Maybe I was just tired. I'd been tired for so long.
Maybe now I could sleep.
I wished people would stop talking to me. It was really annoying. And there was something touching me, something hot.
And then there was something cool on my face. Wet and cool.
Water.
The second time was easier. I came almost all the way up from the dark, heard voices, recognized David murmuring something soft and liquid that didn't sound like words, not any words I knew. That was all right. Just the sound of his voice was all I needed.
There was another voice, too. A woman's. I knew it, but . . . but I couldn't remember. Eventually I felt something soft under my head, felt road vibration quivering in my skin, and knew I was lying down in a car. The hard lump of an unfastened seat belt lay under my left hip.
I opened my eyes on a dull carpeted roof the color of nothing, heard the humming of tires on wet road, and smelled-weirdly enough-blueberry muffins. I moved a hand, carefully, and it hurt-hurt everywhere. It felt like every nerve in my body had been mapped in hot wire. There was an aching sore spot on my right foot, another at the top of my head.
No question about it, I was lucky to be alive. If I hadn't been insulated by Delilah's steel frame . . .
My hand was still in the air. I stared at it, baffled, and realized I'd forgotten to let it fall down. Before I could do so, somebody reached back and captured it.
David. He looked back over the passenger seat at me. Dressed again in his road-dude disguise, complete with glasses. No sign of the cuts and scrapes he'd had back at the motel. No sign of any damage to him at all, except in the wounded darkness of his eyes.
"You're okay?" I whispered. My throat hurt like hell, and I was so thirsty, I felt like I'd been freeze-dried. And cold. Very cold. His hand radiated warmth into me.
The Demon Mark moved inside me, just a slight stealthy crawl. I closed my eyes and fought it, but I was so tired, so drained.
It kept moving. I felt David trying to stop it, but he was drained, too. Too tired to save me now. I had to save myself.
I reached down and choked the black terrible thing with as much self-control as I had left in me. It writhed and tried to slither around me, but I held it until it stopped its quivering progress.
"I'm okay," David answered me when I opened my eyes again. "Easy, take it easy. Rest."
"She's awake?" The woman's voice, the one I almost recognized. Spanish accented. Slightly slurred. I squinted, but all I could see in the rearview mirror was a flash of dark eyes. "Mira, Jojo's back among the living."
And then I knew who she was, with a burst of happiness that exploded right out of my core. It hurt to smile. I did it anyway. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight ..."
She laughed that silvery laugh I remembered so well, and glanced back from the driver's seat. Still beautiful, Estrella Almondovar, my good friend. At least on that side of her face.
She joined in with me in a duet. "Say a prayer, say a Mass, keep this fire off my ass." It wasn't the way the children's rhyme