I looked down at the rest of me, sighing at the oversize T-shirt and too-large black leggings, and Siobhan-who had a professional understanding of the importance of wardrobe-jumped up and ran to the closet. She dug around and pulled out a pair of low-rise blue jeans and a crop top that would, with imagination, just barely manage to be decent.

I accepted the jeans, and found a red mesh T-shirt with a Chinese design to cover up the crop top. Since I'd gone without a bra this morning, and rejected the sweaty jog bra from the car, some layering was going to be crucial.

The Bellagio had thoughtfully provided a lovely stained-glass screen in the corner, probably just for decoration, but I went behind it and changed. The jeans fit, barely; I had to bite my lips and suck in a breath to get them zipped up. The crop top felt like hookerwear, but the mesh top redeemed it. When I stepped back out, Kevin had turned on the plasma TV again and was watching a writhing knot of bodies on screen.

"Get your head out of Penthouse Letters; it's never gonna happen," I said, and reclaimed the remote to flick the power button again. I sat again, leaned elbows on blue-jeaned knees, and looked from one of them to the other. "Here's the deal, kids. You've got exactly three options. You can give up-"

"Never gonna happen," Kevin said.

"Or you can die, because those guys out there, they will kill you. And believe me, they want to do it sooner rather than later."

Kevin's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He must have read the sincerity in my eyes. "You said there were three options."

"Yeah." I leaned back. "You can help me."

"Help you do what?"

I smiled slowly. "Save the world."

He hesitated just exactly the right amount of time to indicate how cool he was, and then said, "Yeah, whatever."

First things first. I picked up the hotel phone, dialed a number from memory, and when Marion answered, I said, "Hello, pizza delivery? I'd like to order a large special."

I listened to the buzz of cell phone static for a few seconds, and then she said, "Are you in trouble?"

"Ain't I always? Just look for the biggest pile of crap; I'm usually neck-deep in it. You know that." I rolled my eyes, for Kevin and Siobhan's benefit. "You never answered me earlier. How'd you get into Las Vegas?"

"The same way you did," she said crisply. "I died. And, I might add, I'm not doing it again. It disagrees with me."

I smiled; there was something about her that I just couldn't help but like. "I'm in the Bellagio, and Kevin's ready to talk. Look for us downstairs in the casino, the far end near the restaurants. It's quieter there."

"Fifteen minutes," she promised, and hung up.

I replaced the phone in the cradle and looked over at Kevin. "Don't start anything," I warned him. "And give me the stopper."

"What?"

"The stopper for Jonathan's bottle." He looked wary, but there was nothing to be gained from holding it back. He fumbled in his pants pocket and found a little plastic thing. It hardly seemed big enough to hold in something like Jonathan.

"You're not gonna screw me, right?" he asked. I shook my head. He dropped the stopper into my hand. "Better not, or I'll go nuclear on your ass."

I walked out into the living area again, which was drenched in early-morning butterscotch sunlight. The place smelled faintly stale; they hadn't let the maids in for days, maybe weeks. I walked straight for the wet bar, picked up the bottle of Jim Beam, and poured myself a splash in a crystal tumbler. Kevin appeared in the doorway, and I saw him go pallid-more than usual-and then try to cover up.

"Pour me one, too," he said, and swaggered over.

I gave him a lovely, warm smile. "No." I screwed the cap back on the whiskey and put it aside, turned to the bar, and let my eyes sweep over the glittering array of crystal. "Your idea? It's not a bad one, kid, really. Purloined-letter stuff. Classic."

"Jonathan!" he yelled, and I hardened the air in a thick shell around him, creating a thick, opaque bubble that kept sound from penetrating. He'd break it, but it would take him a few seconds to figure out how; that was the advantage I still had over him. Training. I started pulling out decanters, one after another, and shaking them. No, no, no, no…

Yes.

The muffled rattle of glass on crystal. I put the decanter down, took a firm grip, and held my fingers over the mouth as a rough sieve as I poured the (no doubt expensive) booze down the stainless-steel sink.

A glass bottle hit my fingers with a wet, heavy impact.

Kevin snapped the bubble around him with a wild flare of power, wild enough shatter the mirror behind the bar and send heavy furniture tumbling. I ducked, almost fumbled the heavy, slick crystal, and heard him yelling Jonathan's name again.

Not that Jonathan could respond. Kevin had clearly told him, Don't come out until I say so, and he hadn't said so, not in so many words. It would require a direct command to counteract his previous instructions, and that gave me precious seconds.

So long as I didn't drop anything…

… which, of course, I did, as Siobhan tackled me from the side. We both tumbled. I fetched up against the hard edge of a cabinet, the crystal decanter thumped to the carpet, spraying the last amber drops, and a glass bottle about as big as a purse-sized perfume slid halfway out the round mouth.

Siobhan lunged for it. My turn to tackle. She pulled my hair, which hurt, and I rolled her over and reached for the crystal. It slid greasily under my fingers, scooting another four inches away. Kevin was still desperately yelling for Jonathan, not quite comprehending what was going on except that there was a girlfight on the floor and he was kind of liking it.

I kicked loose of Siobhan's grabbing hands, rolled, and took the decanter with me.

"Jonathan, come here!" Kevin yelled frantically, and jumped over Siobhan to come at me with a swinging fist. I upended the decanter.

My fingers closed around the slick, wet glass of Jonathan's bottle, and the world… changed.

He was now my Djinn.

Everything stopped, crystal-clear-Kevin, suspended in midswing; Siobhan, clawing her way across the carpet toward me; the discarded liquor decanter, heading for the floor.

Everything… just… stopped.

I sucked in a deep breath and held it, felt my muscles and tendons and blood and bone and tissue as if they were all new, brand-new, made in this second. Then the world formed around me. Air, in its complex and beautiful lattice of molecules, moving in waves and eddies, a life-form of its own. The stunning crystal perfection of the bottle in my hand. The world, God, the world, so huge, so astonishing, so wondrous in its clockwork precision.

The enormous, dreaming strength of the world living in every pulse beat, every breath.

And there was Jonathan, standing before me. Not in his normal human form, with its easy-to-underestimate casual grace; no, this was something else, something bright and unknowable and wild in its magic.

The seduction of it…

The next breath, Jonathan was back in human disguise, staring at Siobhan and Kevin, who were still frozen in time. Light gleamed in his brown-and-silver hair, and the darkness of his eyes was the darkness of the end of things.

"I don't like you," he said, without even glancing my way. "You know that."

"I know." My mouth felt strange, my voice even stranger. "Sorry."

He shrugged. "Well, that's the way the world crumbles. Sometimes you get surprised."

And he turned and pulled me close to him. His touch was fire-not the soothing heat of David's skin, but the scalding burn of an open flame. I tried to pull away, but that wasn't possible here, now. He put one hand at the small of my back and moved the other to splay an open palm across my stomach.