That’s… I tried a half dozen thoughts on for size and discarded most… interesting?

Yes. Interesting-bad, I presumed, from his tone. He did something I didn’t quite see, created a clear bubble of energy. Inside of it, some of those coldlight sparkles twinkled like fireflies. He studied it, moving closer. Shit!

The fireflies had flown through the globe like it didn’t even exist. David pulled back, took me with him, to a healthy distance. The sparkles faded into darkness.

Are they still there? I asked.

Don’t know. He didn’t seem inclined to check, either. That shouldn’t happen.

What?

Any of that.

Oh. I waited for inspiration. Nothing arrived. What now?

We leave, he said, and I felt a sudden hard tug that, if I’d still been flesh, would have tipped me off balance. As it was, it felt like the fog that made me up flew apart and settled back together.

Had I thought we were moving fast before? No. We dropped out of the sky, heading straight back down at supersonic jet speeds, and I couldn’t control a squeak of alarm. Not that impact with anything would hurt me, in my present state, but instincts are hard to overcome.

David braked us with professional ease, and we drifted the last two feet down to the bed.

This was where being a Djinn really differed from my experience as a human. I’d walked the aetheric before—lots—as a Warden, but I’d always had a body to anchor myself to. The Djinn didn’t have that. Their—our—bodies are made of potential energy, so it required a state change to enter the real world again.

It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how to do that. I understood how; that was knowledge that seemed to come as standard equipment with entering the Djinn lifestyle. What I didn’t quite have yet was the muscle memory, the instinctive control. Like a baby learning to walk.

I built myself from the inside out. Cell by cell. Bones, complete to the delicate honeycombed structure of the marrow; then a complex interweaving of nerves and muscles and blood vessels, organs, tissue; then, finally, I wrapped it all in skin and stretched.

Ah. Not bad.

When I opened my eyes, David looked deeply unsettled.

“What?”

“You have… no idea how that looks,” he said.

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty damn weird from this side, too—Crap!” I dragged a handful of my hair closer to look at it. “That’s not right.”

My hair had always been straight. Dark, straight, worn long. For some bizarro reason, I was now blessed with curls.

“No, I like it.” He wrapped a curl around his finger and brushed it with his thumb. “Think of it as an unexpected appointment at the salon. Look, we’ll get into the finer points of personal grooming later. I need to find out more about what’s going on up there.”

“With the sparklies. Yeah, they looked real dangerous.”

He frowned at me. “They shouldn’t even exist. That’s dangerous enough for me.”

“So? What’s the plan, Sherlock? We stick them in a test tube and start experimenting?”

He stepped away from me and turned to pace the room restlessly. He was no longer entirely comfortable, I could see that; in addition to the change in body language, he’d put on a pair of blue jeans and a loose, worn gray T-shirt with the logo of some university faded almost to invisibility. As I watched, he formed a blue-and-white checked shirt, buttoned halfway.

No shoes, yet. He wasn’t quite ready to go. “I have to talk to someone,” he said. “Can I trust you to stay here for a while?”

“Can’t I go with you?”

He focused on me for a second, then moved his gaze away. “No. That wouldn’t be—a good idea.”

“Who are you going to see?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Okay, this was starting to piss me off. “Sorry, is my new Djinn name Mushroom? Because I don’t like being kept in the dark and fed bullshit, David. Just so you know.”

I expected him to snap a comeback, but instead he smiled and paused in his pacing. “Are we having our first quarrel?”

“No, I recall a hotel room back in Oklahoma where you tried to make me claim you as a Djinn slave. That was our first quarrel.” It had been a doozy. The apology sex had been even better.

“Right.” He locked his hands behind his back and wandered to the windows to look out. “Something’s wrong up there. I don’t know what it is, or what caused it. I don’t even know if it’s dangerous, but… it doesn’t feel right. And that’s as much as I know, Jo. I need to ask around, see if anybody else has noticed anything. This could be very important.”

“Or it could be leftovers from the big New Year’s Eve party up on the aetheric.”

He shrugged and folded his arms across his chest as he stared out. “As party favors go, those are pretty persistent.”

He really was worried. I sat down on the bed and pulled a sheet over myself, kind of a wrinkled toga, nothing elegant but at least a covering. “So go, then,” I said. “If it’s that important.”

He turned to look at me, and I read a flash of gratitude, just before the phone rang.

We froze. His copper eyes swirled darker.

“Wrong number?” I asked.

“Let’s find out.” He crossed to it, picked up the elegant little handset, and angled to watch me. “Hello?”

Not a wrong number. His expression went blank and stiff.

“Not over the phone,” he said. “We need to do this in person. Where do you want to meet?” Another pause. “Yes,” he said. Pause. “I know where it is. Yes.”

He hung up. In the same motion, his favorite olive drab wool coat formed around him, long and deceptively elegant. When he turned to look down at me, he’d also added the round disguising glasses that I remembered so well from the first time we’d met. They made his angular face look gentle, and behind them his eyes had gone a warm brown instead of Djinn copper.

“We’ve got to go.”

I didn’t like the way he said it. I didn’t like the sudden tension in his shoulders, either. “Trouble?” I asked.

He smiled slightly. “It’s still your middle name, isn’t it?”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Later.”

“Come on, remember the whole mushroom thing? Who called?”

He gave me a long, unhappy look, but he must have known he couldn’t just drag me around like a suitcase. “Lewis.”

“Lewis?”

“He wants to meet you.”

“Oh. Right. He… mentioned that, back there—you know, at the funeral.” I gestured vaguely over my shoulder in a direction that probably didn’t indicate the Drake Hotel. “Something on his mind.”

He didn’t look any happier at that revelation. “Joanne, you have to—”

“—leave my mortal life behind, yeah, I know, but it’s Lewis. You know?”

He did. And once again, no spikes on the happiness meter. I let the sheet fall away, looked down at myself, and frowned. Oh, the skin looked okay; evidently, I had the knack, just not the expertise yet to do it fast. No, I was thinking about clothes. As in the lack thereof.

“Um…” I pointed at my breasts. “Don’t think they let me go out in public like this.”

David crossed his arms across his chest and looked, well, obstinate. Cute, but obstinate. “You expect me to do everything for you?”

“No. Just dress me. Please.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Ah, he’d figured out a way to keep me out of trouble. Or so he thought. I gave him a warm, evil smile. “Then you’d better hope I can master that not-being-noticed thing really quickly, because otherwise me and the NYPD are going to have a beautiful friendship.” I swung my legs out and stood up, and started walking for the door. He stepped back, looked down at his crossed arms, then up and over the top of his glasses. Effective. He must have known how gorgeous he looked doing that.

“Seriously,” I said, and clicked back the privacy lock. The hotel air-conditioning whispered cold over my skin in places that didn’t normally get to experience a breeze; I shivered and felt goosebumps texturing me all over. “Going outside now. Clothes would be a plus, but whatever…”