Heat Stroke(69)

I didn’t want to believe it, but I could sense the truth of it in him. God, such a burden for a sixteen-year-old boy. His father’s death, the crushing load of a developing talent of this magnitude, and if he was telling me the truth, some kind of sexual abuse… no wonder he was screwed up.

I wasn’t qualified for this. I wasn’t sure anybody was.

Kevin kept talking over my silence. “Bad Bob told me they’d come for me, take me away, but he said he’d protect me.” Yet another public service from Bad Bob Biringanine. Probably as a favor to Yvette, which meant he was banging Mrs. Prentiss before the late Mr. Prentiss had gone to smoke inhalation heaven. “Guess he won’t protect me now.”

Since I killed him. Right. I studied the frilly lace on my tiny, entirely useless apron. Prodded it with a fingernail, which was painted in hooker red. “So now you have me to protect you. Is that the general theory?”

“Sure. Nobody’s going to come after me if I have a kick-ass Djinn.” He favored me with a look. I didn’t have the heart to break it to him that if the Wardens found out some underage, untrained kid with a penchant for firestarting had a Djinn, they’d trash the continent looking for him. “You got me distracted. I said I want you to kill my mother.”

“And I think you should think about that a while.”

He rolled up on one elbow to stare at me. “Oh, I have. I’ve thought about it for years. I lay awake at night thinking about it. So you just go—”

“I should find out what she’s doing,” I blurted out. “You want me to kill her— What makes you think that she’s not ordering her new Djinn to do the same thing to you? I mean, that’s why she wanted you, right? To get me? And through me, to get him?”

He was listening. Not talking, but I could feel him hanging on every word.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what she’s doing? I could find out. It wouldn’t be that hard. She’d never even know I was looking.”

No teenager could resist an opening like that. And a kid who’d been deprived of control his whole life… I was faintly ashamed of myself for feeding his paranoia, but not enough to stop myself.

Kevin wavered, frowned, and said, “You can do that?”

“If you order me to. I can be invisible. I can go anywhere for you.” And do anything, but it was best not to bring that up. I looked at him from under my eyelashes, pitched my voice low, and said, “It would be easier if I didn’t look quite so—unique. May I change my clothes?”

He sighed and flopped back in a boneless heap of surrender. “Whatever.”

I put the peachskin suit back on again, covered my eyes with sunglasses, and stood up. “So I can go?” I asked.

“Whatever.” He sounded hurt, and stubbornly put-upon. “Just come back. Tell me what she’s doing.” He snorted. “Like I don’t already know. She’s playing with her new toy.”

I paused, stricken, with one hand on the doorknob. I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Kevin threw an arm over his eyes. “I’m gonna sleep,” he said, grunted, and turned over with his back to me. “I’ll call you when I want you.”

I escaped out into the hall, found my way back to the living room. Yvette was nowhere in sight. Neither was the blue bottle. Playing with her new toy… God, no. I had no idea what he meant, but it definitely didn’t sound good.

When I moved, I saw a definite fairy-dust afterglow. The coldlight infestation was growing in the real world, just like the aetheric. Of course, so far it didn’t seem to be doing anything inimical to me— just decorative. David didn’t seem to be suffering ill effects, either.

But then there was the storm, out in the Atlantic, powering up like some unstoppable juggernaut. It was still there, still growing, and it had to be the coldlight at the heart of it, didn’t it? Nothing else made sense.

One problem at a time. This second’s had to be Yvette, and getting David out of her well-manicured clutches.

First I had to make sure I couldn’t be noticed. I remembered the buzzing sensation that Rahel had used to conceal me at the Empire State Building… a certain frequency, a kind of invisible hum…

I felt it come into tune. When I opened my eyes again I could see a slight blur around me, like shimmer from hot pavement. Couldn’t be sure I had it right, but there was no test like the present.

I checked the kitchen. It was clean, modern, neatly organized. Even the salt and pepper shakers were in their places. I opened the refrigerator, just out of curiosity, and found regimental model-home organization. All the labels were turned outward. Vegetables in the lettuce crisper wouldn’t have dared to be less than perky.