I had no idea if it would work, could work, but I had to try.

I held out the empty bottle-the decoy bottle-in one shaking fist and yelled out the first iteration of the ritual. "Rahel! Be thou bound to my service!"

The Ifrit turned on me with a roar. David was bleeding. That wasn't real blood, any more than his was a real body; it was a physical representation of an aethereal energy; he could heal himself from anything so long as he had enough power left to form flesh…

But it looked so real. He was pallid, shattered, broken. The copper of his eyes was dying.

"Be thou bound to my service!" I shouted, and crawled backward as the diamond-sharp claws raked at me.

Through me. She couldn't touch me. I felt a hot spark of triumph.

"Be thou bound to-"

She lunged at me and the claws plunged deep, deeper… snagged on something.

No! No no no no no…

Not my baby.

She could destroy the life inside me, I knew that. I felt that, just as I felt David trying to get to me, determined to protect me or die in the attempt.

Rahel hesitated. Her claws were caged around Imara, holding that fragile spark. One instant's pressure would be enough.

As she hesitated, torn by whatever remnant of reason was left to her, I gasped it out. "Be thou bound to my service!"

She went entirely still. Ice and angles, coal and glass. A three-dimensional sculpture visible only to Djinn eyes. Living? Breathing? I didn't know, couldn't tell. There was no sensation of power from the bottle I held, and no sense of connection to her. Had anybody ever tried to bind an Ifrit before? Probably not… humans couldn't see them, and Djinn wouldn't be able to do it.

I was the only one who could see them, and bind them.

"Let go of my baby," I whispered.

The hand inside of me unclenched. Claws withdrew. It was the only part of her that moved at all.

"Rahel," I said. "Can you hear me?"

No answer. I shuddered and opened the black leather purse still slung around my body; there was enough padding in there for two bottles. I shoved Rahel's in, careful that it wouldn't knock against David's, and left her frozen there to fumble my way to where David was lying.

His torso was a mess of shredded meat. Blood, so much blood. His eyes had gone as brown as dying leaves, and his lips were a light shade of lilac.

She'd almost consumed him whole. I couldn't get my breath as I knelt next to him. He felt so cold to the touch-David, who was always burning warm. Like a fire going out.

I whispered his name, over and over, like a chant. I ordered him to heal himself. He didn't respond, although his eyes fastened on me like I was the only thing in the world.

His hand found mine and held it. There was no strength in him. His fingernails were the same pallid shade as his lips.

He whispered, "Leave me."

"Like hell!" I snapped. "God, please, don't do this-David, I order you to heal-"

Kevin was standing next to me. "He's dying," he said. "Whoa. I didn't know they did that."

"Shut up, you little bastard." I looked up, and for a second I thought the dancing red dot on his chest had something to do with the tears distorting my vision, but then I realized late and cold what exactly it was.

I'd forgotten all about Quinn and his sniper rifle.

The red dot was a laser sight, focused on Kevin's heart.

"No!" I screamed, and shoved Kevin with one hand flat against his chest. He tripped, fell on his ass. I stood up, waving my arms. "No, Quinn, stop, it's over, it's over-"

Kevin leaped up, the idiot. A clear target.

The red dot settled over my heart. Steady as a rock.

It was focused on me. Not Kevin, me.

What the hell…?!

I had just enough time to throw myself backward, and I swear, I felt the supersonic hiss of the bullet's friction burning the air as it passed over me.

Missed, I thought, and then I saw that there had been someone standing behind me. Like her boyfriend, Siobhan had been stupid enough to bounce up like a pop target on a shooting gallery.

Her mouth was open in amazement. She stared down at the red hole-about the size of my thumb-through her chest. She didn't really make any noise. Just a quiet coughing sound, like someone trying to clear their throat, and then there was a sudden shocking flood of red out of her mouth.

She pitched forward over me. I raised my head and saw the hole in her back, the size of a clenched fist, full of blood like a deep well that spilled over in gouts and splashes. She was shaking all over. I yelled something-it might have been Marion's name. Kevin was already there, reaching for her, but I felt her going.

We both felt her die.

Her body collapsed against me, limp and empty, and for the first time I saw that her eyes weren't hazel at all; they were a beautiful spider's-web pattern of moss and brown, flecked with gold.

Her body felt heavy as sin, draped over me.

I don't know how many seconds that was-it felt like an eternity-and then Kevin was there, screaming. He rolled her limply into his arms. I felt the surge of power as he tried to force her body to live; the flesh jumped as nerves conducted electricity, but that was nothing but reflex.

"She's gone," I whispered. There was blood all over me, splattered; I wiped at the mess with shaking fingers. "Kevin, stop. She's gone."

He kept trying. Breathing into her mouth. Flooding dead flesh with jolt after jolt of raw power as he tried to change the immutable.

"Do something!" he shouted at me. His face had gone zombie-white, but his eyes were furious, his lips smeared with her blood from the mouth-to-mouth. "You've got a Djinn! Save her!"

"No," I said.

"I'll kill you, I swear I will!" I could feel the fury coming off of him, but the words were little-boy words, broken and afraid. The power he had was nothing like little-boy power, though; it was Lewis's power, and it could crush me, burn me, rip me apart.

There are three things you aren't supposed to ever ask your Djinn to do. Give you eternal life. Give you unlimited power. Raise the dead. That's the one that gets most people, if they live long enough. In that first chill of grief, too many turn to their Djinn and blurt out an order they shouldn't. The consequences were tragic and legendary.

Because when you do those particular things, the Djinn act under a totally different set of imperatives. The magic that drives them to obey you also drives them to turn on you.

I bit my tongue, hard, and swallowed a scream.

"No," I finally whispered. "She's gone, Kevin. I'm so sorry."

I thought for a second he really would kill me, kill me with his bare bloodstained hands, but then tears spilled over and he was sobbing hopelessly.

"Stay down," I said, and crawled to where David was still lying on the floor. He wasn't any better. In fact, he looked worse. Breathing in shallow gasps. His eyes weren't brown anymore; they were turning darker.

"Trying to kill you," he murmured. "You. Not them."

"Yeah," I agreed shakily. "I saw. Why would Quinn try to kill me?"

He reached up to touch my face. I felt no warmth, only a faint, insubstantial ghost of contact.

"Don't leave me," I whispered. "You can't leave me, David. I won't let you."

His pale lips parted to shape my name, silently. I felt the love in it.

"I need you," I said. "I need you with me. Stay." My breath was doing something funny in my chest, turning sour and thick. I couldn't seem to gasp in enough air. "God, David, don't do this to me. Don't you dare."

He tried to answer me, but then his back arched and he cried out. His open eyes shifted from a violent storm-black to a bright orange, running through the spectrum. I remembered that. I'd seen it before.