Total Eclipse (Weather Warden, Book 9) by Rachel Caine

Author:Rachel Caine
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Epic, Fantasy fiction, Jinn, Contemporary, Fiction, Fantasy, Joanne (Fictitious character), General, Baldwin
ISBN: 9780451463456
Publisher: ROC
Published: 2010-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Weirdly enough, nothing else was happening in Missouri, or in Oklahoma as we dropped down toward our Arizona destination. Open roads, lots of traffic. Some towns still had power and some sense of normalcy, including—improbably—Oklahoma City.

People were actually going to work.

I supposed that was a good sign; life had to go on, until it became impossible. It was just . . . strange.

I rose up into the aetheric and found a powerful bunch of Wardens at work—Earth, Fire, and Weather all locked in a tight- knit unit, constantly repelling attacks on any number of levels. They were stretched thin, but coping. I soared up higher into the spirit world, looking at the patterns of lights and color, shadows and twisted representations of the physical world.

Lewis had figured it out. He’d teamed up his people in those triangular bases of power, positioning them at strategic locations. I looked back toward the east, where the chaos had been the worst, and it was dying down. For now, the Wardens were handling it, even against all the odds.

It wasn’t a battle we could win, but we could fight to a standstill—for a while.

I spotted Lewis on the aetheric. I’d expected him to be in Seattle, but he was a brilliant, incandescent blaze of power located in Nevada right now. I couldn’t imagine what had drawn him there, but it was unmistakably him. And he was still moving, though not as quickly as I was, given the jet-powered chariot skills of the Mustang.

He was going wherever the battle was the fiercest, I thought. As he should.

I cut my grip on the aetheric and dropped back into my body with that familiar, faintly disorienting jolt, then pulled out my cell phone and checked it. The grid was back up, and I speed-dialed Lewis.

No answer. I wanted to tell him about Kevin, but this wasn’t something that would be good for voice mail. I’d wait until I could tell him on the phone, or face to face. The news wasn’t going to get worse, or better, with time.

I was just hanging up when the phone rang, startling me into a frantic juggling act. When I’d renewed my grip on it, I accepted the call and held the phone to my ear.

Piercing shrieks of static. I yanked the phone away again, no doubt making one of those pained faces, and then carefully eased it back as the feedback diminished into a thick net of noise. The screen said PRIVATE CALLER. I had no idea who it was.

And then I did.

It was me. My voice. And it said, “You need to stop. Stop now.”

I took the phone away and looked at it again. Yep, there was a call. Private Caller. And it was my voice.

Saying, again, “Are you listening to me? Don’t come here!”

“Excuse me, who am I talking to?” I asked, which was a pretty reasonable question at the moment, if a bit existential. This took talking to myself to a whole new level of weird. Then, belatedly, I got it.

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