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intends, but if we can’t figure out a way to get her access to the aetheric, this will kill her, no question about it,” David said. “She’s very weak. She could barely settle into this form. No chance she can shift again, at this point. She’s living on whatever she has in reserve right now, and what I try to give her just bleeds away. I think because she’s Ashan’s creature, I can’t really touch her. Not even to save her.”
    Joanne pulled up a chair and sat, elbows on her knees. She was wearing a close-fitting red top and rough blue woven pants, and there was a glitter of gold on her left hand with a fire-red ruby in its center. “Want me to try?” she asked, cutting her eyes toward David. He crossed his arms, frowning deeply. “C’mon, it’s worth a shot. You already tried. Ashan’s clearly left the clue phone off the hook. Let me have a go. Better than just letting her up and die on us, right?”
    He gave her one sharp nod, but said, “If anything happens, I’m cutting the connection. Careful. Cassiel’s strong, and she’s not herself.”
    I wanted to be offended by such presumption from a mere New Djinn—even one such as David—but I couldn’t deny the truth. I was not myself. I no longer even knew, truly, what portion of myself I’d lost, or what remained.
    I felt that I was losing more of myself with every beat of my all-too-human heart.
    Joanne took a deep breath, reached out, and folded her long, carefully manicured fingers around my strange pale ones.
    And power snapped a connection tight between us, like lightning leaping to ground, and I felt my whole body convulse with the impact. Such power , rolling like red-hot lava through veins and nerves, feeding and filling the dark hollows of my bones. I almost wept in relief, so strong was it, so great was my need, and I greedily pulled power from her vast, rich store, bathing in it, glorying in it. . . . . . . Until a sharp, heavy, black force slammed between us, and the flow of energy disappeared.
    David stood between us, and he pushed me back down, one hand solidly on my chest. He held me on the bed as I struggled, panting, but his attention was on Joanne Baldwin. She was standing against the far wall, and the chair in which she’d been sitting was lying overturned on the floor. As I watched, she slid slowly down the wall and hid her face in shaking hands.
    â€œJo?” David sounded alarmed and angry. “Are you all right?”
    She waved vaguely without looking up. “Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute. Not fun.”
    He pulled in a breath and turned his focus back to me. “Be still,” he snapped, and I stopped struggling, suddenly aware how desperate I seemed—how primeval—and of the anger in his eyes. I stilled myself, except for fast, panting breaths, and nodded to let him know I had control of myself again. He reluctantly let me go. I sat up, but slowly, making no sudden moves to trigger his defenses.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said, forming the words more easily now. “I did not mean to hurt her.”
    â€œWell, that makes it all better,” Joanne said, and groaned. “And also, by the way, ow. Crap, that hurt.” Her blue eyes were bloodshot and vague, as if she’d taken a blow to the head. “Right. Maybe I’m not cut out for being Florence Nightingale to the Djinn.”
    I felt better. Steadier, if nowhere near normal. At least my human form seemed to be working properly—that was a start. I pushed the covers back and swung my legs off the bed, but it took a long, agonizing moment before I could drag myself upright and find my balance.
    David didn’t help me. In fact, both he and Joanne kept a wary, watchful distance.
    â€œShe’s stuck in that form?” Joanne said.
    â€œAs far as I can tell.” He was looking at me with a kind of clinical interest, and I put one