More of the canyon cliffs opposite fell away as the land rocked and shifted. The wooden pews in the chapel burst into white-hot flame and burned to ashes in seconds. "They were warned."
Lewis was shaking now, and he fell to his knees in front of her, but his fists were clenched.
"No," he gritted out. "Let them live. Let us live. You owe me this."
She laughed, and it was the harsh, ripping sound of claws, the whisper of feathers, the roar of lions. I was terrified, and so small, so very small before the power in this room.
The power that Lewis still resisted.
"I owe you nothing," the Mother said. "You owe me everything. And I will have it in payment for pain."
"That's what you want!" Lewis shouted, and somehow his voice rang louder here, in this place, than hers. "But I know what you need!"
I had no idea how he could be doing this, talking to her--Imara was the only one who could have made that connection, amplified his voice to a level where it could be heard and understood by something as enormous as Mother Earth.
Only Imara could have enough humanity left in her to bridge that gap. The other Oracles couldn't; even the Djinn couldn't, without being destroyed.
My daughter's birth, her death, her raising as an Oracle--all of it was a plan. A plan so vast, so complex and I could only now see glimmers of it, and the beauty and tragedy of it choked me with tears. This wasn't the Mother's plan.
This was something greater, and more astonishing, and just for a moment, I glimpsed the hand of God.
"Then what do I need?" the Mother hissed, and I heard a multitude of snakes, felt the burn of venom in my arm again.
Lewis didn't hesitate, and I have no idea how much courage it took, how much fear he had to overcome.
He stepped into
her, kissing-close, and said, "You need me."
For the first time, I felt Lewis unleash the full range of his Earth powers, and my God, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before, from any Warden. It was pure, animal seduction, and it came from a place in him that I'd never known existed. He wasn't surrendering to her. He was seducing her. I felt the overwhelming heat of it wash over me as a reflection, an echo, and I swayed on my knees and almost went down.
This was what made Lewis unique among Wardens. This was why he'd been born in this age, so that he could stand here at this time, and do something no other human on Earth could do.
Remind the Earth that nature was more than tooth and claw, death and pain.
"Hear me," Lewis said, his lips hovering just a fraction above hers, his body radiating that passion. "We are part of you. Part of everything. Hear me."
He was swaying a little, side to side, and she swayed with him. It was a slow, hypnotic dance, and the sand whirling around my daughter's body slowed its angry rotation, slipping and falling in a red rain to pool around her bare feet.
"I hear you," she said, and it was Imara's voice, my voice, the Mother's voice, the echo of millions. And there was a kind of drugged wonder in it. "I hear you."
"Then feel me," Lewis said, and kissed her.
The light that exploded from them should have burned us alive, it was so purely white.
Even with my eyes shut, my arms blocking the glare, I could see the two of them standing there together, swaying, merging, dancing.
David let out a sharp cry and got to his feet--not a cry of alarm, but one of triumph, of joy, of absolute relief.
And all around him formed Djinn, the Djinn I had known, the ones I had never known, the ones who'd been my mortal enemies. Venna came, and Rahel, dozens more, and more, and more until the chapel was full. Their eyes were burning not with white, but with a pure gold.
The light slowly died at the front of the chapel, and Imara and Lewis collapsed to the floor. She lay in a pale heap, hair covering her face, and as I watched the sand slip back over her in a whispering blanket, I knew she was still alive. Still an Oracle.
She opened her eyes, and sat up, staring down at herself--and at Lewis.
He wasn't moving.
I saw the grief move over her face, and she reached down and put her fingers on his cheek, very gently. She looked up at me, and I knew instantly that Lewis ... Lewis was gone. The flesh that lay there was empty, the soul taken.
"No," I whispered, and all the barriers inside me broke. I'd witnessed something that had never been seen by any human before--none who'd ever lived--and it had been shocking and moving and terrifying, but in the end, all I could feel was that I'd lost him. I'd lost Lewis.
Imara straightened his body, folded his arms, and stood over him. She looked out at the Djinn and said, "You're here to bear witness. Say his name."
"Lewis," said a thunderous chorus of Djinn voices. "Lewis. Lewis."
And a shining being misted into existence, more beautiful than anything I'd ever imagined.
Angels would weep to see him now, and it wasn't for several long heartbeats that I recognized his face, his body. It was Lewis, perfected, the way David had been perfected.
But Djinn Lewis shone with so much power that it couldn't be contained in him. The aetheric caught fire around him, and it was a white blaze of joy.
Every single Djinn--New Djinn, Old--all of them went to their knees.
I went, too, more because I didn't want to be the only one standing. David's face was blank, his eyes very bright, as he said, "He's the Conduit. All of us, together again. One people, not two."
Lewis had replaced Jonathan, in ways that David and Ashan could not.
I slowly stood up again, and Lewis's attention fixed on me. His smile hadn't changed at all, really.
"Hey," I said. "So--about humanity--"
"Through me, she understands," Lewis told me. His voice made me shiver, because it was like him and yet somehow ... not. The seductive power he'd unleashed was still putting raw edges on him. "The human race will survive. Better get your act together, though. It's a limited time offer."
I nodded, not sure what to say to him anymore. David stood up next to me, and slowly, one by one, the Djinn rose.
"Right," Lewis said. "The Djinn will help clear the damages, heal the sick and injured, rebuild alongside you. We're partners now. The way we should have been."
I cleared my throat. "And the Wardens?"
"Going to take a lot of work to bring them back," Lewis said. His smile grew brighter. "I can't think of anyone I trust more to make that happen, Jo. You, and your son."
Son.
I put a hand over my stomach as my lips parted.
Lewis waved his hand, and the glass windows of the chapel filled in again. The Djinn had to shuffle around as wooden pews replaced piles of ashes. Creation, at the snap of his fingers.
"Is she still awake?" I asked.
"For now," he said. "She'll sleep soon. But I think you'll find things much easier now."
The Djinn were disappearing now, heading off to their newly appointed tasks. Outside the window, the sky was a pure, perfect blue, with a few light clouds drifting high. A bald eagle swooped low, so close its wings almost brushed the glass, and I wondered if it was the same one we'd left wrapped in Cassiel's coat in Las Vegas.
I watched it soar away. When I looked back down, Djinn Lewis was gone, and his silent, empty shell was all that was left.
David took my hand. "Time to go," he said.
I took in a deep breath. "What about--"
Imara gave me a smile, and looked down. Lewis's body sank into the floor, into the stone beneath. I saw the fading whisper of it moving deep, deep into the Earth.
Gone.
"Good journey, Mom," Imara said, and whispered into shadows and sand.
Behind us, the door of the chapel opened, and the priest blinked at us in surprise. "Oh, hello," he said. "The chapel isn't officially open yet, but if you'd like to come back--"
"Yes," David said. "We'll come back. But we have things to do."
We walked out, into bright sunlight, and descended the steps. I had no idea what we'd do when we got to the bottom--no car, no transportation of any kind. I didn't really feel like taking a bus.
"Things to do," I repeated. "We'll go get the rebuilding started, round up the Wardens, recover the Djinn bottles and smash them. After that, though, it's three days of spa, mud baths, and all-day massages. Anything I'm forgetting?"
"Shopping," David said, straight-faced. "And a bedroom with a locked door."
"Mmmm, I said. Joy gurgled up in me like bubbles, and I found I was poised on the edge of giggles. "Can we move that to first on the list?"
"Probably not." He smiled, and stopped on the steps to kiss me with all the passion and sweetness I could ever want. "That's an installment."
"I'd like to give you something on credit, too, but it's a public space. And a church."
He laughed, and we skipped down the rest of the steps to the parking lot.
Sitting in the middle of the lot was a black 1970 Mustang Boss 429, gleaming like new. I stopped and threw David a questioning look. He tossed me the keys.
Next stop, Las Vegas.
And the world, beyond.
Epilogue
"Mo-o-om!"
I was in the middle of a pile of paperwork and a simultaneous conference call with Warden HQ, which had already gone on for two hours and was likely to go on for two more. I counted to ten, silently, and hit the mute button on my phone just as someone, of course, asked me for my opinion. Ah well. I always told them family came first. "What is it?" I called, with extreme patience.
"I need you!"
"Do you need me right now?"
"Well--yeah, kind of!"
That was when I smelled something burning, and the smoke alarms went off at the back of the house. I jumped up, scattering papers in a summertime paper blizzard as I dashed toward my son.
He was standing in the doorway saying, "Mom, I didn't mean to; it wasn't my fault... ."
"Lewis Kevin Prince, get out of my way!"
He knew that tone, at least, and, head down, shuffled aside so I could see the freaking bonfire that was raging in the corner of his room. Those curtains were toast.
Again.
I called up my mad Fire skills and snuffed it out with only a little puff of smoke. It was worse than I'd thought--carpet melted into a toxic cesspool in the corner, the paint done for, the aforementioned curtains gone from white to charred rags. It could have been worse. At least this time, he'd kept it away from the closet, the computer, the game system, and his huge rack of books.
Our son was eight years old, and nobody in the entire history of the Wardens had shown this kind of crazy potential at this age. Potential for destruction, sure, but not with such an impressive amount of firepower. Literally.
I looked at the damage, sighed, and said, "Lewis, I'm going to have to get your dad for this."
He looked so gleeful for a second that I wondered if that had been his plan all along. Dad, home, with us. If it was, he was smart enough to look immediately angelic. Not hard for him--he was a gorgeous kid, with floppy straight dark hair and big blue eyes. He had his father's features, though. In the pictures I had hanging up around the house, there was no doubt at all as to his parentage.
I really don't know where he got the stubbornness from, though. And the wild streak.
The front door slammed open, and a cheery voice yelled out, "Get some clothes on, you, you hippies!" Cherise. Good thing I'd put the conference call on mute. Yikes, that would have greatly enhanced my standing in the Warden executive offices. "Hey, are you burning a roast again? You really suck at this housekeeping thing, you know. Good thing I brought pizza and Bellinis."
Only in Cherise's world did that combination make sense. I loved Cherise's world.
"Aunt Cher!" Lewis quickly abandoned the disaster of his bedroom and pelted out toward the living room. "Did you bring it? Did you?"
I followed him, because standing there in contemplation of the wreckage was just not helping. Cherise wasn't alone; holding the pizza box was Tommy, whose shy smile always delighted me--like Lewis, he'd grown up to be a beautiful boy, and with far better manners (from Cherise! Who knew?). Lewis ran up to him and took the pizza, which made Tommy frown a little in anxiety and trail him toward the kitchen. "Don't eat any yet!" I heard Tommy say sternly. "We need to wait for our moms!"
I could just imagine what Lewis would say to that. "Lewis, listen to Tommy!"
Yeah, right. Poor Tommy.
Cherise put her purse down--Prada, very nice--and added her designer sunglasses to the pile. She looked summer-hot, and life was definitely being good to her these days. She'd started up a personal stylist business, and was now all the rage among the Miami elite, with a rising number of Hollywood clients as well. "So," she said. "I'm assuming the fire's out?"
"Don't worry, you won't smudge anything."
"Damn straight." She flopped on the couch, put her sandaled feet up on the coffee table, and folded her hands over her trim stomach, which the sundress left bare. "You're not bailing on us, are you?"
I flopped down next to her and stretched out my legs. Mine were longer and better toned, thanks to running around after my hyperactive hamster of a son. Cherise's had a better tan. "I have a conference call."
"When?"
I gestured vaguely toward the open door of the office, where people were still mumbling on the phone line without me. "Forever, apparently."
"Come on, it's a holiday! You work every holiday. Be a do-bee, not a don't-bee."
"I've got beer in the fridge, don't I?"
