Undone (38 page)

He was holding me in his arms. I was trembling.

“It eats Djinn,” I said numbly. “It ate Gallan. It destroyed
Gallan
.”

It was the Voice, the pearl-and-bone yin, the parklike yang. It was the children within it, being used to fuel and enhance a creature that had limitless hunger, an appetite for power and destruction that knew no boundaries.

She,
my Djinn side whispered.
Not it. She. You know who she is.

She had been familiar to me because once, a very long time ago, I had been asked to kill her.

I'd thought I had.

“Pearl,” I whispered. “It's
Pearl
.”

I collapsed in Luis's arms as the darkness closed in.

 

When I woke, I was in a bed, sheets and blankets over me. Despite the warm coverings, I felt cold and empty. The room seemed very silent, though I heard voices coming muffled through the wall. The other room, I thought. Luis had put me in my own bed, and he was talking to others next door.

I got up, dressed in my stained leathers, and walked in without knocking. My appearance interrupted Luis as he talked with three others, two men and a woman. The woman, I was surprised to see, was Greta, the Fire Warden from Albuquerque. The others I didn't know, but from their weak auras, they were Ma'at, not Warden.

“Cassiel.” Luis's eyes were warm but wary. “How are you?”

I sat down on the bed without an answer. I didn't know how I was. I wasn't sure I would ever know. After an awkward silence, Greta said, “We conducted several flyovers of the compound. The thing is, there's no installation. Nothing like what you described, anyway.”

She had printed photographs, which she spread out on the table. They showed the weathered wreckage of an old farmstead, no modern buildings, no fences, no walls, no houses.

There was no pearl-and-bone building, no living embodiment of yin-yang.

No sign of the compound at all.

“We're still working to get a team in there to do a ground reconnaissance. Luis—is it possible that somehow you were, I don't know, delusional? That the two of you—”

“No,” I said. “It is not possible.”

Luis wasn't so sure, and he seemed shaken by the suggestion. “Cassiel, they altered my blood chemistry. They could have altered yours, too. Maybe what we saw—”

“What we saw,” I said, “was real. The compound was real. The bullets were real. We saved a real child, Luis. That was not illusion.”

“Then where is it?” one of the Ma'at asked, and tapped the photos. “Where did it all go?”

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Luis. I need to talk to you. Only you, alone.”

Greta and the Ma'at exchanged looks, then shrugged. Luis moved them to the open door, into my room, and shut it behind them before he turned to look directly at me.

I took a moment before I spoke, because I knew that once I began, he would never look at me so kindly again.

“I need to explain how I came here,” I said. “I need to explain why Ashan cast me out. You won't like it.”

Luis nodded and settled himself in a chair.

“A long time ago, I became the first Djinn to do murder,” I said. The words felt numbing on my lips, like ice. “Another Djinn. Her name was Pearl. You think us cold, I know, but we are the guardians of the Mother, and we have limits. Pearl . . . had none.”

Luis leaned forward, intent on my words. “What happened?”

“We had been the first children of the Earth for so long, you know. So many countless, numberless millennia that you cannot even begin to imagine it. Life changed, evolved; we paid little attention to it. Species came and went—and then one arose. One that had awareness, and intelligence, and
understood
.” I held his gaze captured in mine. “Not mankind as you know it now. An earlier version, a more peaceful one.”

Luis wet his lips. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” I said. “Pearl found them offensive. She destroyed them. She erased them from the face of the Earth and ripped away everything they were. There are crimes among the Djinn, but that one had no name until that moment—not even as much because of the slaughter, but because of what happened to Pearl in response.”

He waited while I gathered my thoughts.

“She . . . went mad,” I said. “She tore holes in the fabric of the universe around us that should never be opened, and she could not close them again. She became—other. Alien to us. Ashan sent me to destroy her. It was the first time in our history that one Djinn killed another, you see.” I looked away. “She did not defend herself, because she never expected me to strike against her.
It had never happened.
”

Luis was frowning. “But I'm talking about
now.
Not then.”

“It is the same,” I said. “I destroyed her. I thought I removed her from the world, but there must have been something left. Some seed, some thought, some memory . . . and it grew in secret, in shadow, passed down within the new mankind that arose after her. Now it's here.
Pearl is here
. She's drawing her source power from humans, but her hunger for the Djinn is unlimited. She'll destroy them. Destroy
us.
What happened to Gallan will happen to all the Djinn, one at a time. They'll be drawn in and destroyed.”

Luis swallowed. “Why did Ashan exile you, Cassiel?”

I held his gaze. This moment had been coming all along. I had dreaded it and feared it, and now it was here.

“Ashan must have known that Pearl was rising,” I said. “He must have known that the only way to stop her was to remove her power.” Luis's face was slowly bleaching white. “He ordered me to kill the human race, but he didn't tell me why.”

Ashan never explained. He'd never had to before. I hadn't guessed his thoughts, or my answer might have been different. I had thought it was Ashan's pride and his arrogance. His hatred for the Wardens.

I said, very softly, “He was right.”

Luis shook his head. “No. We can fight this. We can find a way to fight this. We have to.”

Tears burned in my eyes—tears of anguish and shame and fear. “Ashan cast me into human flesh so that I could understand the risk. So that I would agree to do what must be done. And now I do. Now I know.”

Luis came off the chair at me so quickly I didn't think to react. He shoved me back against the wall, trapped me there with his hands chaining my wrists against the hard surface. “No,” he said. He leaned his hot, sweating forehead against mine. “No, you can't believe this. We can beat this, we
can.
We have to find them. Save Ibby. Stop this from happening.”

“How?”

“I don't know! We have to try!”

He was begging me not just with words, but with the contact of our bodies, with the unspoken primal warmth that connected us. The power that coursed from his body into mine.

“Please,” he said. “Cassiel. There has to be another answer.”

I wanted to believe that. “My people are going to die,” I said. “You're asking me to stand by and let it happen.”

“I'm asking you to
find another way.
”

I broke the grip he had on my wrists with a sharp twist of my arms, but I didn't move away. “You can stop me,” I said. “All you have to do is kill me.”

That shocked him, drove him back a full step. “What?”

“I'm vulnerable to you. In human flesh, I'm vulnerable. Once I become Djinn again, once Ashan grants me power, you can't stop me. You know that.” I wiped tears from my face. “If you want to stop me, kill me. If you don't—”

He lunged forward, hands gripping the sides of my head, but if he meant to hurt me, his touch turned gentle at the last instant. “We'll find a way,” he said. “Cassie, we'll find a way.”

But as long as I lived, I was a danger not just to him, not just to Isabel, but to every human breathing. I had never thought it would come to this.

I had never imagined Pearl would have survived to bring this darkness back.

“Yes,” I said softly. “We'll find a way.”

And if I had to do it, I would be Ashan's assassin one last time. He had known that. . . . But what was worse, what frightened me even as a Djinn, was that I knew Ashan better than to think I was his
only
plan.

There were others that would engage at the proper time to fulfill his needs.

Humanity had more enemies than me.

 

Pearl had moved The Ranch, and she had destroyed everything she didn't need . . . including her followers. She had taken the children but left behind dead adults, so many bodies strewn across the ground. There was no trace of the compound, the walls, the buildings. She had destroyed
everything.

The casual power of it was stunning.

I stood on the dry, whispering grass as the Ma'at gathered up bodies, and knew that somewhere she was hiding herself. Gathering her forces. Building her fortress around her.

Waiting.

“I know you can hear me,” I said to the wind and the grass. “I know who you are, Pearl. And I won't give up.”

I heard the laughter of a million mocking voices.

Luis had said,
We'll find another way.
Luis was real to me now, flesh and bone, and I couldn't simply destroy him. I had lost too much.

Cassiel,
Pearl's million voices of the dead whispered.
You already have lost everything. You just don't know it yet.

I swallowed. “I'm coming for you.”

Come ahead,
she whispered.
Come ahead, my sister, my murderer. I long for your touch.

I flinched when Luis's hands landed on my shoulders. He pulled me back into his warmth. “There's nothing here,” he said. “Is there?”

“She took the children with her.”

“Can you trace them?” Luis raised my chin to meet his eyes. “Cassiel. What do we do now?”

Die,
Pearl's voice whispered through the grass.

“We go on,” I said. “We find a way.”

Luis put his arm around me, and led me back to the jeep.

It was a long drive back to Albuquerque, and I had too much time to think.

The fate of six billion was at stake, but only two of them mattered to me in this moment: Luis and Isabel.

 

. . . To be continued in
Outcast Season: Unknown

As always, music is my muse. Here are the tracks that helped get me through
Outcast Season: Undone.

Rachel Caine
is the author of more than twenty novels, including the Weather Warden series. She was born at White Sands Missile Range, which people who know her say explains a lot. She has been an accountant, a professional musician, and an insurance investigator, and carries on a full-time secret identity in the corporate world. She and her husband, fantasy artist R. Cat Conrad, live in Texas with their iguanas, Popeye and Darwin; a
mali uromastyx
named (appropriately) O'Malley; and a leopard tortise named Shelley (for the poet, of course). Visit her Web site at
www.rachelcaine.com
.

Also by Rachel Caine

THE WEATHER WARDEN SERIES
Ill Wind
Heat Stroke
Chill Factor
Windfall
Firestorm
Thin Air
Gale Force