Ill Wind Page 0,2

you."

"That's up to your master, isn't it?" I shot back. "Come on, he knows me! Just ask him. I know you can. He wouldn't leave you here without any way to contact him. Not even Lewis goes around abandoning Djinn like disposable pens."

The purple eyes were really, really getting on my nerves. I could feel the Djinn's power burning my skin where my hand touched the door, another spiteful tactic to get me to let go so he could slam it shut and ward me clear out to the street. There's nothing stronger than a Djinn on its home territory. Nothing.

The pain in my hand got worse. Smoke rose from my hand where it pressed against the white-painted wood door, and my whole body shook from nausea and reaction. But I didn't let go.

"Illusion," I stammered. The Djinn was still grinning. "Don't waste my time."

"My powers could not touch a true Warden," he said. "If you burn, you burn because you deserve it."

All right, I'd had about enough of playing with Mr. Clean gone bad. I took my hand away from the door and held it up.

The world breathed around me.

I might have stunk of corruption, but I still commanded the wind, and it slammed into the Djinn with force of a speeding Volkswagen. Djinn are essentially vapor.

I blew him away.

He was gone for about a half-second, and then he re-formed, looking ready to pull my brain out through my nostrils. So I hit him again. And again. The last time, he re-formed very slowly all the way across the room, looking pissed off but respectful. I hadn't made the mistake of setting foot across his threshold, so he couldn't strike back. All his awesome power-and it was truly awesome-was useless. So long as I didn't break the wards, I could stand out there all day and toss microbursts and katabatic gusts.

The Djinn muttered something unpleasant. I held my hand up again. A strong breeze shoved my hair around, and I felt the warm tingle that meant I had at least one more good Djinn-blasting gust at my command.

"I really, really don't have time to dick around with you," I said. "Give him my name. Tell him I need to see him. Or else."

"No one threatens me!" he growled.

"I'm not threatening, sweet pea." I could feel the white runes on my hand glowing. My dark hair whipped around my face in the wind, which I kept coiling around me, building tornadic speed. "Want to bet I can blow you all the way into a teeny little open bottle and stick a cork in you?"

"You know not what you are doing," he said, more quietly.

"Wrong, I know exactly what I'm doing. Want another practical demonstration?"

He held up one hand in the universal language of surrender. I let the wind swirl and die. The Djinn reached over and picked up something from the table, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was a cell phone. Good God, the Djinn had entered the age of technology. Next thing you know, a satellite dish in every bottle, broadband Internet, microwave ovens . ..

The Djinn punched numbers, said something, and turned away from me while he talked. I had the leisure to examine the back of a Djinn, which is something you rarely do. He had a nice ass, but his legs ended in a swirl of vapor somewhere around knee level. Still, not a disappointment.

He finished the call, turned back, and bared pointed teeth at me. Uh-oh, I thought.

"Come inside," he invited. "No harm will come to you."

"I'll wait out here, thanks." I rocked back and forth. My feet felt like somebody had set them on fire from the soles up, and the couch in the living room looked cushy and inviting. I wished the Djinn hadn't started being nice. It was harder to maintain my tough-as-nails bitchy attitude, especially when I wanted to cry and curl up in a ball on those nice, soft cushions.

"Suit yourself." The Djinn turned away to root around in some drawers in the kitchen. He came up with a battery, scowled at it, and threw it back. A corkscrew. One of those clippy things for opened bags of chips. "Ah! Here. Take this."

He tossed something shiny at me. I caught it and felt a flash of cold, something sharp turning in my