Rachel Caine: Cape Storm

She considered the question for a long, silent moment. “No,” she said. “I could hurt him, but he could hurt me just as much. His power cancels mine in many ways, and I think he might just be worse than I am.”

“You mean he could kill you.”

“No, he probably couldn’t. But I wouldn’t like what was left of me, in the end, if I won.” She said it without much emphasis—just a calm assessment of her chances, nothing to be afraid of. “It’s better if you do it, anyway. Humans. You don’t have the same vulnerabilities that we do.”

It was very odd to hear a Djinn talk about human strengths instead of considering us slightly less useful than a soiled tissue.

Of course, she ruined it by adding, “And you’re much more easily replaced.”

Lovely. “Does he have any vulnerabilities?”

“Of course. He can still die,” she said. “He can still feel pain. Part of him is still human. A small part, but it remains, and it feels things the way humans do. The way you do.”

I felt the ship’s speed lurch, accelerating. Some of the ship’s staff looked startled.

That wasn’t standard procedure, obviously.

“I sped us up,” Venna said. “We were moving too slowly. I don’t want the storm catching us again. It would be inconvenient.”

Maybe, but now I could feel the thudding impacts of waves through the ship, and the very slight rolling had increased to a definite wallow. A ship this large dampened the usual motion of the sea, but in waves this high, at unnatural speed, we were going to be in for a rough ride.

I glanced at Brett, who was already looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Better get the ship’s stores to break out the giant economy-size Dramamine.”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Bad Bob was a Weather Warden, when he still had just his regular set of powers. Fire may be our best bet to overcome him—it’s his biggest weakness. You get your guys ready. I want original ideas, something he can’t anticipate or plan for.” I chewed my lip for a second. “And whatever your plans are—don’t tell me about them. I’d rather you keep it in your team.”

Whatever he thought of that, Brett nodded and left me. I sat, watching the dead Wardens being loaded into body bags, then trundled away on gurneys.

I looked at the faces of the survivors. Almost all the Wardens had gathered now, except those with specific duties related to the voyage or standing lookout up on the aetheric, and they all had a similar expression.

They were measuring themselves against the body bags.

I stood up and walked to the stage. I didn’t go up, just stood in front of where the medical team was working. Venna turned in her seat to watch me, and all the Wardens did as well.

“Okay,” I said, “I’m not going to lie to you. We knew this trip would be tough, and today we got clear evidence of that. We made a mistake, and it cost lives, but those lives were not wasted. It’s the duty of Wardens to give their lives in the protection of others. It’s part of the oath we all took when we signed on to this job.” I paused and made sure that sank in. “Now we know things we didn’t know before, and couldn’t know without triggering that trap. It sucks, yes, but our enemies aren’t playing around. They want us dead, every single one of us. Every Warden and every Djinn. Once we’re gone, there’s nothing standing between them and the defenseless human beings of Earth. Once humans are gone, they’ll strip this planet clean of every single thing with a connection to the aetheric—every animal, plant, insect, and bacterium. They’ll devour all the aetheric energy they can get, and then they’ll leave. It’s what they do.”

The only sound in the theater was that of body bags being quietly zipped behind me.

“The Wardens were formed to save people,” I said. “For thousands of years, we’ve tried our best to do that. Sometimes we’ve been better at it than others. Sometimes we’ve outright sucked, like lately. But we can save people. We have to. We’re Wardens, and we cannot give up. Ever. Agreed?”

A few of them murmured or nodded. Wintry, unwilling agreement, but at least it was a start. “So what now?” asked one of the Earth Wardens, holding the hand of a still-trembling and shell-shocked Weather Warden survivor.

“Now we get ready to kill us a Demon,” I said. “And if you’ve got any good ideas, start talking.”

Sometime later—hours later, in fact—I realized that I was hungry, and so tired I was likely to doze off even if Bad Bob himself showed up and asked me to tango. Food wasn’t an issue; the ship’s staff brought us buffets, mountains of sandwiches and chips and drinks, entrées steaming in silver trays, sliced cheeses and elaborate desserts. I guessed we were getting first-class treatment. It tasted good, although I didn’t linger after I got a turkey sandwich into my system.

I grabbed a ship’s map and tried to find my way back to my cabin. The effort was marginally successful. Hallways were clearly labeled, but faded into one another with dizzying regularity. Add in the other decks, and I could see that I’d be getting lost for some time to come. That was something I really couldn’t afford. You never know when you might need to get somewhere in a real hurry.

Following my map led me down a maze of corridors, mostly deserted . . . whole decks were empty and lifeless now. Somehow, my exhausted brain betrayed me during some turning, and I found myself in an area that didn’t match up to my less-than-expert map reading.

A housekeeper was just coming out of one of the cabins, and I tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, smiling. She was a cinnamon-skinned young woman with black hair pulled back in a sleek, lacquered bun, and warm chocolate eyes. Not very tall, but graceful. I could see her as a dancer, somehow, moonlighting as a maid.

“Miss?” she asked. “Can I be of assistance?” She spoke excellent English, though I could tell it wasn’t her mother tongue.

I held out my hand. “My name is Joanne Baldwin. I’m one of your—ah—special guests. You’re on staff, right?”

She looked at my outstretched hand, at my face, and slowly took my fingers to shake. “Hello, Miss Baldwin. But I’m not staff. I’m crew.”

“There’s a difference? Call me Joanne.”

“We’re not allowed to use the first names of guests, miss,” she said. “Yes, staff would be the people who work in guest relations areas. I’m a cabin stewardess. We’re crew, not staff.” She read the expression on my face, and smiled. “Ships are very tightly regimented, miss. We all know our duties and where we fit.”

“Trust me, the rules are going to be shredded on this trip. So I’m Joanne, and you are . . . ?”

“Aldonza Araujo,” she said, and her handshake grew a little more firm. We were about the same age, I thought. “Aldonza, miss.”

I gave up temporarily on forcing informality on her. “I’m looking for my cabin. I know I’m close, but—”

She got my cabin number and showed me the route by tracing a French-manicured fingernail on the map. I’d mirror-imaged my route, and I’d somehow ended up on the opposite side of where I should have been. Port, not starboard, in nautical terms. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go around this way,” she said.

I frowned down at the map. “What about this way?” It was marked in featureless gray.

“Those are service areas, miss. You can’t go that way.”

“I’m pretty sure that for us there is no such thing as off-limits. We’re not regular guests. You know what I mean?”

She did, but her smile instantly froze solid. “I—I am sorry, but I can’t—we’re not allowed—”

“Aldonza.” I interrupted her gently enough, but firmly, and took her hand in both of mine. “You signed the waivers, right? The Wardens explained to you what kind of risk was involved in staying on this ship?”