then, how may I be of service to my lord and master?''
Ortega was New Djinn, thank God, but then again, that had pretty much been a given; I couldn't
picture any of the Old Djinn reading Douglas Adams, much less wearing any kind of a T-shirt
with a graphic. Well, maybe Venna, but it'd be a unicorn or a rainbow.
''Need a place to stay,'' David said. ''Guesthouse?'' Ortega bowed his head slightly, and in the
gesture I got a sense of antique gentility. It went oddly with the jeans and T-shirt. ''As always,
what I have is yours. Just let me move the cartons. I haven't gotten around to sorting through
things quite yet.''
''Thank you.'' David gave the adoring Rottweilers one last pat and stood up to take my arm.
''We're not here, by the way.''
Ortega smiled. ''You never are.'' My Mustang faded out. ''I put your car in the garage. Slot five,
next to the Harley. Seemed appropriate.''
I looked at David, baffled. He shrugged. ''Ortega collects things,'' he said. ''You'll see.''
I knew that some of the Djinn lived among humans, but I hadn't known it could be so public. . . .
Ortega owned some of the biggest, splashiest real estate in a big, splashy, highly visible
community. Granted, the rich were different, but I was willing to bet his neighbors had never
guessed just how different. It worked in his favor that the exceptionally well-off tended to isolate
themselves in these luxurious fortresses, and only moved in their own particular social circles.
David took my arm and walked me down the wide, flawless drive toward what I could only
assume was the guesthouse-big enough to qualify as multifamily housing, and fancy enough to
satisfy even the pickiest of pampered Hollywood stars looking to slum it. He must have seen
from the bemusement of my expression what I was thinking, because he laughed softly. ''We're
safe here,'' he said. ''Ortega's known as a recluse-it's not just as a disguise for humans; it's
true among his fellow Djinn as well. The few of us he allows to visit here are carefully chosen.''
''He's . . . not what I would have expected.'' The Djinn had always had a touch of the eldritch
about them, but Ortega seemed . . . normal. His eccentricities were more like what you'd expect
from a dot-com genius who'd cashed out of the Internet game early and sailed away on his
golden parachute.
The door to the guesthouse swung silently open for us as we walked up the steps. Night-
blooming flowers poured perfume out into the air, and I stopped to drink it all in. The cool ocean
breeze. The clear night air. Rolling surf.
David, gilded silver by the moonlight.
''What are you thinking?'' he asked me, and stepped close. Our hands entwined, and I crossed
the small, aching distance between us. Our bodies fit together, curves and planes. He let out a
slow breath and closed his eyes. ''Oh. That's what you're thinking.''
I put my arms around his neck. ''I'd be crazy if I wasn't,'' I said. ''Look, it's been driven home
to me today that we're living in a bubble. If it's not the damn reporters sneaking hidden-camera
footage, it's the Sentinels trying to wipe us out. If we have even a second of safety and solitude, I
don't think we should waste it.''
''I've been wanting to get you out of that dress all day.'' His voice dropped low and quiet, barely
a murmur in my ear. I felt my pulse jump and my skin heat in response. ''Jo, I don't want to go
on like this. I can't stand knowing that at any moment they could come for you again. If I lose
you-'' His hands moved through my hair, urgent and possessive. ''If I lose you-'' He couldn't
finish the sentence.
We both knew that he was going to lose me, in the end. But it was the fullness of time, the
richness of time, from now until then that would make that pain of parting something worth
bearing.
''I love you,'' I said, and his mouth found mine. He tasted of tears, but I saw no trace of them in
his eyes or on his face. ''No more mourning. I'm here. While I'm here, we're together.''
''Yes.'' Another soul-deep kiss that left my knees weak and every nerve tingling. ''We'd better
go inside. Security cameras. Wouldn't want to shock the guards.''
''Mmmmmm.'' He'd destroyed my ability to form words that didn't include adjectives, such as
faster and more.
David picked me up and carried me across the threshold . . . and stopped. He had no choice. The
entire room was filled with cartons, floor to ceiling, rows and rows and rows of them.
And each one was neatly labeled MISC.
''Ortega!'' he bellowed, and let me down. ''Dammit-''
The other Djinn popped in with an audible displacement of air, standing outside the door. He
looked past us, at the makeshift warehouse, and seemed a little embarrassed. Just a little.
''Well,'' he said, ''I did warn you that I needed to clean up.''
That wasn't messy; it was obsessive-compulsive. I'd met a Djinn with a behavioral disorder.
Now that was new.
Ortega did something I couldn't quite follow, and two columns of boxes disappeared-probably
moved into the mansion, I guessed. He gave David a questioning look, then sighed and repeated
the maneuver with all the boxes in view.
''Any other rooms?'' he asked.
''Bedroom,'' David and I said together. Ortega's eyebrows rose. ''Please,'' I added. ''Umm-
bathroom. And kitchen.''
''Done.''
And it was. The areas I could see, at least; I had no doubt that if I opened up a closet (or for that
matter, a drawer) I'd see more of Ortega's collecting fetish, but right now, the only things that
mattered to me were open space and privacy.
Ortega was waiting for something, watching David, and once again I caught a hint of something
otherworldly in him, something not quite in sync with the harmless human exterior he projected.
''I have what you asked me to find,'' he said. ''When you're ready to see it.''
David had been looking at me, but now his gaze cut sharply toward the other Djinn. ''You have
it? Here?''
''In the main house. It's warded. I can't open it myself.''
''What is it?'' I asked. If I'd only left it alone, we might have been able to ignore the tempting,
dangling bait and go on to a fevered night of fulfilling every delicious, decadent fantasy, but
noooooo. I just had to ask.
Ortega's face brightened. ''The Ancestor Scriptures. ''
David went very still. I sensed whatever chance we had to forget all this and hit the sheets
vanishing like mist in sunlight. ''You persuaded the Air Oracle to give it up?''
''No.'' The Djinn's smile widened, inviting us to join him, but David didn't, and I had no idea
what we were smiling about. ''I persuaded the Air Oracle to let me make a copy. You have no
idea what I had to give up for that.''
I'd met the Air Oracle once; it wasn't one of my most treasured memories. I'd had lots of scary
encounters, but the Air Oracle had been one of the strangest, most remote, most malevolent
creatures I'd ever met.
The fact that Ortega had charmed something out of him/her was fairly damn impressive.
David glanced at me, and I saw the frustrated apology in his expression before he said, ''I have
to take a look. This could be important.''
My hormones were not understanding, but my brain tried to be. ''I know. Mind if I look, too?''
''I want you with me,'' David said, and he meant it on a whole lot of levels. I smiled, and he
turned his attention back to Ortega, who was waiting with a polite, attentive smile. ''Main house,