Firestorm Read Free Page A

that she wore couture because she was Djinn, and able to conjure up whatever clothes amused her, and plus she hadn’t been through a hurricane. And a tornado. And a very long drive.
    â€œI was thinking about your father,” I said. Which was an admission of distress in itself.
    â€œHe’s all right,” she said, leaning forward and laying her forearm across the top of my seat. “I would know if he wasn’t. I just don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.”
    Cherise was watching all of this with bright, feverish eyes. I had no idea what she was making of it. Knowing Cherise, probably something very interesting.
    â€œShould I go find out?” Imara asked hopefully.
    â€œNo!” I yelped, and grabbed her wrist. She looked startled. “You stay put. I want you where I can keep my eye on you.”
    She gave me a mutinous look. Why hadn’t my own mother traded me in once I’d hit puberty? I remembered giving her loads of mutinous looks. It was hugely annoying from this side of the maternal fence.
    â€œI’m serious,” I said. “The last time we saw any of the other Djinn, they weren’t in the best mood ever. I don’t want you running into trouble. I can’t bail you out of it. Not against David.”
    I tried to sound as if dealing with this, and with her, was all in a day’s work. Probably didn’t succeed, judging from the smile she gave me. It wasn’t my smile. It was entirely her own, with a little lopsided quirk on one side.
    â€œI’ll stay,” she said. “Besides, you may need me next time, if the weather gets worse.”
    Cherise blurted out, “Next time? Does there have to be a next time?”
    â€œNot if I can help it,” I said firmly, and pressed a little more speed out of the accelerator. The cool, damp air streamed over my skin like the ghost of rain. I could have done with a more substantial sort of shower, the kind that came with shampoo and soap, but this did feel good. There was heavier weather up ahead, but we were in a clear area for the time being. I could arrange for it to stay with us, at least most of the way. “Cherise, you’d better get some rest.” She needed it, poor thing. She’d been too crazed to sleep before, so I’d let her take over after we were a few hours out of Fort Lauderdale, and then again seven hours later. She’d barely closed her eyes since, and now she was starting to show the effects. Cherise was a perky, gorgeous thing, all tanned and toned in the best tradition of Florida beach bunnies, but there were telltale dark circles under her eyes. (She’d actually been a bikini model. And the “fun and sun” girl back at the podunk, fourth-rate television station that had employed us both in Florida. I didn’t like remembering my job, but it hadn’t involved a bikini. Except that once.)
    Right on cue, Cherise yawned. “How much longer?” she asked. Actually, she said, “Ow uch onger?” but I got the point.
    â€œAbout another four hours,” I said. “I’ll wake you when we get close.”
    She yawned again and wadded up a blue jean jacket to serve as a pillow against the window, and in less time than it took to whip past six billboards, she was sound asleep. I thought about turning on the radio, but I didn’t want to wake her.
    â€œSo,” I said, and looked in the rearview mirror. My daughter met my gaze, lifting her eyebrows. There was something of David in the expression, and I felt a sad little stab of recognition and longing.
    â€œSo,” she replied. “This is strange for you, isn’t it?”
    â€œLittle bit, yeah.”
    â€œWould it make it better if I told you it was strange for me, too?”
    â€œIt might,” I said. “You’re sure you can’t tell what Dav—what your father’s up to?”
    Her eyes took on a distant glitter, just a second’s