"For you, maybe." Even as he said it, the wooden shutters over the window closest to me began to tremble ominously as if blown by some unseen gale. "But not for me."

I watched, impressed. "Golly gee, mister," I said. "I forgot all about your superpowers."

Jesse's look went from amused to confused. "My what?"

"Oh." I dropped the imitation I'd been doing of a kid from an episode of Superman.

"Never mind."

I heard, above the sound of nails screaming as if caught in the suck zone of an F5 tornado, people shouting. I glanced toward the elevator. The thugs, apparently concerned for their employer's welfare, were calling his name up the shaft.

I guess I didn't blame them. Smoke was steadily filling the room. I could hear small eruptions now as chemicals – most likely of the hazardous nature – used in the upkeep of Mr. Beaumont's fish tank burst into flames next door. If we didn't get out of there soon, I had a feeling we'd all be inhaling some pretty toxic fumes.

Fortunately, at that moment the shutters burst off first one and then another of the windows, with all the force as if a hurricane had suddenly ripped them off. Blam! And then blam again. I'd never seen anything like it before, not even on the Discovery Channel.

Gray light rushed in. It was, I realized, still raining out.

I didn't care. I don't think I'd ever been so glad to see the sky, even as darkly overcast as it was. I rushed to the window closest to me and looked out, squinting against the rain.

We were, I saw, in the upper story of the house. Below us lay the patio....

And the pool.

The shouting up the elevator shaft was growing louder. The thicker the smoke grew, apparently, the more frantic the thugs became. God forbid one of them should think to dial 911. Then again, considering the career choices they'd made, that number probably didn't hold much appeal for them.

I measured the distance between myself and the deep end of the pool.

"It can't be more than twenty feet." Jesse, observing my calculations, nodded to Marcus. "You go. I'll look after him." His dark-eyed gaze flicked toward the elevator shaft. "And them, if they make any

progress."

I didn't ask what he meant by "looking after." I didn't have to. The dangerous light in his eyes said it all.

I glanced at Tad. Jesse followed my gaze, then rolled his eyes, the dangerous light extinguished. He muttered some stuff in Spanish.

"Well, I can't just leave him here," I said.

"No."

Which was how, a few seconds later, Tad, supported by me, but transported via the Jesse-kinetic connection, ended up perched on the sill of one of those windows Jesse had blown open for me.

The only way to get Tad into the pool – and to safety – was to drop him into it out the window. This was a risky enough endeavor without having an inferno blazing next door, and hired assassins bearing down on one. I had to concentrate. I didn't want to do it wrong. What if I missed and he smacked onto the patio, instead? Tad could break his poison-oaky neck.

But I didn't have much choice in the matter. It was either turn him into a possible pancake, or let him be barbecued for true. I went with the possible pancake, thinking that he was likelier to heal in time for the prom from a cracked skull than third-degree burns, and, after aiming as best I could, I let go. He fell backward, like a scuba diver off the side of a boat, tumbling once through the sky and doing what Dopey would call a pretty sick inverted spin (Dopey is an avid, if untalented, snowboarder).

Fortunately, Tad's sick inverted spin ended with him floating on his back in the deep end of his father's pool.

Of course, to guarantee he didn't drown – unconscious people aren't the best swimmers — I jumped in after him . . . but not before one last look around.

Marcus was finally starting to regain consciousness. He was coughing a little because of the smoke, and splashing around in the fishy water. Jesse stood over him, looking grim faced.

"Go, Susannah," he said when he noticed I'd hesitated.

I nodded. But there was still one thing I had to know.

"You're not …" I didn't want to, but I had to ask it. "You're not going to kill him, are you?"

Jesse looked as incredulous as if I'd asked him if he were going to serve Marcus a slice of cheesecake. He said, "Of course not. Go."

I went.

The water was warm. It was like jumping into a giant bathtub. When I'd swum up to the surface – not exactly easy in boots, by the way – I hurried to Tad's side....

Only to find that the water had revived him. He was splashing around, looking confused and taking in great lungfuls of water. I smacked him on the back a couple of times, and steered him to the side of the pool, which he clung to gratefully.

"S-Sue," he sputtered, bewilderedly. "What are you doing here?" Then he noticed my leather jacket. "And why aren't you wearing a bathing suit?"

"It's a long story," I said.

He looked even more confused after that, but that was all right. I figured with as much stuff as he was going to have to deal with – his dad being a Prozac candidate, his uncle a serial killer – he didn't need to have all the gory details spelled out for him right away. Instead, I guided him over toward the shallow end. We'd only been standing there a minute before Mr. Beaumont opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside.

"Children," he said. He was wearing a silk dressing gown and his bedroom slippers. He looked very excited. "What are you doing in that pool? There's a fire! Get out of the house at once."

Even as he said it, I could hear, off in the distance, the whine of a siren. The fire department was on its way. Someone, anyway, had dialed 911.

"I warned Marcus," Mr. Beaumont said, as he held out a big fluffy towel for Tad to step into, "about the wiring in my office. I had a feeling it was faulty. My telephone absolutely would not make outgoing calls."

Still standing in the waist-high water, I followed Mr. Beaumont's gaze, and found myself looking up at the window I'd just leaped from. Smoke was billowing out of it. The fire seemed to be contained in that section of the house, but still, it looked pretty bad. I wondered if Marcus and his thugs had gotten out in time.

And then someone stepped up to the window and looked down at me.

It wasn't Marcus. And it wasn't Jesse, either, though this person was giving off a tell-tale glow.