Rachel Caine - Windfall

“Villains?” Eamon sounded vastly amused by that. “Oh, love, I hardly think so. Keep the card, though. I’ve no duties just now, waiting for a deal to come through; there’s no reason I can’t help if you need it. Even if it’s just the occasional walk to and from your car, which, by the by, is quite the looker. Your car, I mean. What model is she?”

Firmer territory. We talked autos. Eamon had a startling breadth of knowledge about British race cars, and had a taste for Formula One, and ten minutes later I noticed that Sarah was looking more than a little put out by the whole conversation. Oh yeah. He was Sarah’s date, not mine. I suppose having animated, extended chatters probably was the wrong side of friendly.

I mopped my lips and excused myself to the ladies’ room, and took my time with the hand-washing and the application of vanilla cream lotion and refreshment of lipstick. My hair wasn’t too badly damaged from the wrestling match with Detective Rodriguez. In fact, I looked pretty good, for a change.

I felt a tug of longing so strong I had to grab the counter with both hands. I wanted David. I wanted to call him out of the bottle and have him sit across from me and smile and talk, as if there were something approaching a normal life for us, somewhere.

I found my hand slipping down to press flat over my stomach. There was still that unsettling flutter, deep down. The promise of life. I didn’t know how to feel about that… hopeful? Terrified? Angry, that he’d committed me to a responsibility so huge it made my Warden job look easy?

I wanted to have a normal life with the one I loved. Ones . What was vibrating so gently under my fingertips was the possibility, however small, of… family.

But I knew normal life was a fantasy, and not just because of the oddness of loving a Djinn. This morning, I’d felt him getting weaker before he’d gone back in the bottle. He hadn’t been out that long.

He wasn’t getting better, as I’d convinced myself he was.

David was dying.

The despair of that just went on and on, when I let myself look at it straight on. There’s a way to fix this. There’s got to be a way. I just have to… find it.

“Jonathan,” I said. “If you can hear me, please. I’m asking you. For David’s sake. Help me.”

No answer. Not that Jonathan was particularly omniscient, of course. I didn’t flatter myself to think that he had me on constant observation; hell, I probably didn’t even rate a speed dial. Time passed differently, to Djinn. He’d probably forget all about me until I was eighty and pushing my walker around the retirement home.

That was an oddly cheering thought, actually.

I took a deep breath, practiced a smile in the mirror, and went back out into the restaurant. As I weaved around tables and kicking children and a man who just happened to have his hand at butt level, waiting for me to squeeze by, I saw that Eamon and Sarah were deep in conversation. I slowed down to study the body language, and liked what I saw; he was leaning forward across the table, taking in every word, eyes fixed on her face. She was animated and vivid and luminous in the morning light.

The silent language of attraction.

As I watched, she dropped her hand down on the table, leaning forward into him, and his long, elegant fingers moved to cover hers. Just a brush, but enough that I saw the tremor go through her.

I almost hated to interrupt. Almost. But then, that was a younger sister’s place, to screw up the good times.

I slid back into my chair and they immediately sat back, aside from giving each other little secret smiles. “So,” I said to Eamon. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Actually, I’m at loose ends.” He was still watching Sarah, eyes half-closed. “I was thinking of taking in the sights. I’m not well acquainted with Fort Lauderdale. What can you recommend?”

He was including me, but not really; I got the clue memo. I politely bowed out.

“Wow, that would be great, but I’ve got a thing today. To do. So why don’t you and Sarah go have some fun? It looks like it’s going to be—” Without even thinking about it, I felt for the weather.

And fumbled the effort.

I froze, blank, coffee cup half to my lips, and concentrated harder. I felt horribly clumsy. The delicate sensitivity I’d always had to the balance of things, the breathing of the world, it felt… muffled. Indistinct.

“Jo?” Sarah asked, and looked over her shoulder, toward the wall I was staring a hole in.

I blinked, forced a smile. “—it’s going to be beautiful,” I finished. “Warm and sunny. Or so says Marvelous Marvin, anyway. So you might want to take in the beach. I think Sarah picked up a killer swimsuit yesterday, right, Sarah?”

My sister turned a rapt smile back to Eamon, who was watching me with a little frown grooved between his eyebrows. I sent him a silent I’m okay , and Sarah distracted him with a question about England, and they went back to living in a two-person world.

I closed my eyes for a second, concentrated, and drifted up toward the aetheric.

Moving between dimensions was something so automatic that it was like breathing for me; I lived half my life there, connected to the world, seeing its layers and levels.

It felt like swimming through syrup, today. And once I was there, the colors looked dim and indistinct, the patterns muddy and confusing. There was something happening to me, but I couldn’t think what; I didn’t feel bad. I just felt… disconnected.

“Jo?”

Sarah was saying something, and from her tone of voice, she’d been saying it more than once. I opened my eyes and looked at her, saw her impatient frown.

Eamon was measuring me again.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said. “Sure. A bit of a headache, I guess. Listen, I’m really—I’m just really tired. I think I’m going to go home and lie down for a while before I have to do—the thing I have to do. Why don’t you guys go have fun?”

They didn’t seem too unhappy about that, although Eamon insisted on paying for breakfast and taking me back to the studio for my car, and tailing me home, and even went so far as to escort me upstairs and do a quick tour of the apartment.

(I wished I’d cleaned up better.) When he was satisfied that I wasn’t going to be jumped on by a crazed stalker hiding in the overstuffed closet, he and Sarah took off. I waved at them from the patio balcony, and stood outside for a few minutes, watching as his car made its way out onto the street again, heading for a glorious day of sun and fun.

A white van turned a corner, glided into the lot, and parked. I could see a shadow in the driver’s seat.

“Hope you’re comfy,” I said grimly, and looked up at the sky. It was clearing.

The humidity was down, and the cool ocean breeze whispered over my skin and rustled palm trees down at ground level.

There was absolutely nothing I could think of to do that would make a damn bit of difference, except wait and pretend to be completely comfortable with Detective Rodriguez’s continuing campaign of intimidation.

I went back inside the apartment, changed into a turquoise blue bikini, grabbed a towel and a folding chaise lounge, and made myself a pitcher of margaritas. My arm still throbbed, but it didn’t look as if it was badly damaged. I had shadowy bruises forming on my wrists to match the far-sweeter marks of David’s lovemaking from earlier in the morning.

Party on the patio, Detective. Intimidate this.

I slid on my sunglasses, oiled up, and saluted him with a drink as I soaked in the morning rays.

What’s the cardinal rule of sunbathing? Oh, yeah. Don’t fall asleep.