Free Gale Force by Rachel Caine Page B

was normal for him, or if the damage was taking its toll. It took me a while to work out what the note said, but when I did, it hit me hard.
    It said, I was wrong. Thought I could control it. Not your fault.
    And, on a separate line, Hope you’re okay.
    I folded it up, closed my eyes, and fought back wave after wave of useless tears. When I’d managed to get control again, I handed the note back to Cherise, who exchanged it for a box of tissues.
    ‘‘The dead Djinn?’’ I asked.
    ‘‘Well, that’s the weird thing,’’ Cherise said. ‘‘I mean, I wasn’t there, obviously, but I heard people talking. According to David, the Djinn wasn’t there.’’
    ‘‘What?’’ He most certainly had been there. I could still remember Silverton’s knife slicing his body open, remember the elastic tension of holding open the edges of the incision so Silverton could pull out the black glass shard.
    ‘‘Well, the Wardens say he’s there. The Djinn say he’s not. They say there’s a body, but it’s not Djinn. They can’t see the black thingy, either. Nothing.’’
    I opened my mouth and shut it again, thinking hard. ‘‘David, too?’’ I finally asked.
    ‘‘Yup. None of them can see it, sense it, whatever. It’s just not there for them.’’
    Oh, man . Not good. ‘‘So what are the Wardens doing about it?’’
    ‘‘They’re ‘containing the situation.’ ’’ Cherise made air quotes around the phrase, and rolled her eyes. ‘‘Some of them are talking about encasing it in a big block of lead. Some are talking about shooting it into space. Nobody knows what the hell to do, but everybody agrees, it’s way too dangerous where it is.’’
    ‘‘Everybody except the Djinn.’’ I couldn’t leave that alone. ‘‘Seriously, they can’t see it ? How can they not see it?’’
    ‘‘No clue.’’
    ‘‘What does Lewis say?’’
    ‘‘ He can see it, and yeah, he knows it’s a problem. The Djinn thinks the Wardens have some kind of psychosis. They say that if the thing was there, they’d be able to sense it.’’
    Great. ‘‘How do they explain Silverton? Me?’’
    Cherise looked grim. ‘‘They think one of you screwed up, accessed something you shouldn’t have. They can’t explain it, but they don’t believe the Wardens’ explanation, either.’’
    ‘‘Not even David?’’
    ‘‘No,’’ she said softly. ‘‘Not even David. Sorry, babe.’’
    Wow. That was . . . strange. And I was too tired and too sick to do anything about it. Cherise didn’t need to worry about me going all heroic and crazy on her; all I wanted to do was hide under my blankets and pretend it was all just a bad dream.
    And for a while, that was exactly what I did, as the morphine dragged me off to a dream-rich sleep.
    Two days later, I was interrogated by a panel of Warden elders: Guillard from Switzerland, Jones from Australia, and Lewis representing the U.S. I felt a little better, and they’d let me walk to the shower and wash my hair, which made a difference in both body and soul.
    There was also a Djinn in the mix—a short, round little thing with that indefinable glimmer to her skin and eyes. She was introduced as Zenaya, and gave me a slight nod but no other indication of how she stood on the subject of me.
    No David. That was deeply troubling.
    I went through things, step by step, detailing what I’d seen and experienced. Zenaya said nothing, but her eyes flashed an eerie green when I talked about the dead Djinn, and the manner of his death. I addressed a question to her. ‘‘Wouldn’t you know if one of your people disappeared?’’ I asked. She shrugged slightly. ‘‘Wouldn’t David know?’’
    ‘‘Yes,’’ she said. ‘‘But he says he finds no one missing.’’
    ‘‘Ashan?’’
    Another green flash to her eyes. She folded her arms. ‘‘Ashan says his Djinn are all well. He says nothing more.’’
    Which might or might not mean anything. Ashan wasn’t chatty at the best of