Free Total Eclipse by Rachel Caine

summoned up a fireball and dropped it neatly between David and Cherise, sending my husband stumbling back. “Don’t try it, man,” Kevin said. “It’s not her fault.”
    I wasn’t the only one in shock. Cherise hadn’t moved since she’d given me the zap, but now, as the fire flamed unnaturally high between her and David, she let out a sharp, horrified cry and dropped to her knees next to me in the filthy water. “Oh my God, Jo, I didn’t mean—I just—I just wanted you to let go of me, I—” She reached out to touch me, then hesitated, staring at her hands.
    I coughed and sat up. My ribs ached. I could feel residual trembles in all of my long muscles, but my heart seemed to be ticking along, if rapidly, and I was in control enough to be able to push dripping hair back out of my eyes. Even if it felt like a lot of effort to do so. “I think that proves my point,” I said, and then had to pause for a racking round of coughing.
    David tried to get to me. Kevin moved the fire in front of him, and I saw David really get angry—angry enough to do anything. He was only human now, but that kind of anger was nothing to fool around with. There was still a trace of Djinn in there somewhere; I could just feel it—even if it was only a memory of power. It made him fearless, and a little bit crazy.
    He plunged through the fire.
    Kevin yelped, surprised, and damped the flames down quickly—including the ones that had taken hold of David’s clothes even in that brief instant of contact. David ignored the burns. He grabbed Kevin and slammed him back against the car with a hand around his throat, and I saw his muscles tighten. Kevin’s eyes widened, and he clawed at David’s hand, wheezing.
    “David, don’t,” I managed to gasp, and got my coughing under control. There was something unpleasant in my mouth. I spat it out and tasted blood, but not a lot. That was good, right? Not a lot? Some part of my brain was grasping desperately for good news. “We don’t have time for this.”
    “Don’t,” David said, attention still locked on Kevin’s face, “ ever do that again. Do you understand me?”
    Kevin managed to nod. David let go, shoved him away, and knelt down to gather me in his arms. The look he turned on Cherise was black with fury.
    “It’s not her fault,” I told him. “Kevin’s right. She got slammed with a ton of power, and she has no idea how to use it. She’s like a baby with a nuclear bomb and a big shiny red button.”
    “Hey!” Cherise said, in almost her old tones. “I’m right here! Have a heart.”
    “No offense,” I said, “but Wardens get trained. They get trained a lot. And even then, we make massive mistakes, and people die. You don’t have that luxury, Cher. You’re too powerful, all at once. Your learning curve means death tolls. Now take down the shield.”
    “What?” Cherise seemed blank. I pointed up at the invisible umbrella she was holding over us. Rain was pouring off of it in silver sheets. “I’m not—oh. I guess I am, huh?”
    “Instinct. It’ll kill you. Or actually, other people,” I said. “Drop it. I’ll show you how to build it right.”
    “I—don’t think I know how to drop it. I mean, I didn’t know how to put it up in the first place.”
    “Talk later, flee now,” Kevin said, rubbing his throat and glaring at David. “Seeing as how we’re going to die if we hang around here in Lightning Central.”
    I looked up at David, and saw his fierce love and anger and desire to lash out. And protect me. He was taking this being human thing harder than I was, after all. “Kevin has a point,” I said. “Let’s work it out in motion.”
    He didn’t like it; I could see that, but he nodded and helped me to my feet. I was shaky but serviceable. Wetter than a sponge on the bottom of the ocean, but maybe I could get Cherise to dry me off as a training exercise. Then again, she’d probably desiccate me completely and leave me a dry, dead husk, so maybe