We fall asleep like that, face down on the bed, me still inside of her.

It seems impossible to sleep, after the night we had.

But that’s how powerful our release is together . . . it washes away even the most intense stress. Leaving nothing but peaceful warmth in its place.

* * *

As soon as the first gray light of dawn comes through the window, I get up again.

I can’t leave the body of the Djinn laying in the yard.

“Where are you going?” Riona says, sleepily.

“I’ve got to move . . . you know,” I say.

Riona sits up. She looks outrageously sexy in the morning light—her hair wild and tangled, her skin flushed pink with sleep. Her eyes are surprisingly alert.

“I’ll come with you,” she says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

We dress quickly, going downstairs and out through the back door.

For a minute I have the sick sensation that the Djinn might have vanished. That he might be unkillable. But his body is laying right where we left it—dusty, bloody, and strangely pathetic.

Riona looks at it, then turns away, her face pale and nauseated.

“Don’t bother with him,” I say to her. “Just get a couple of shovels out of the shed.”

I point to the outbuilding where we keep most of the tools.

While Riona’s getting the shovels, I take Brutus, Penny, and Horatio out of the stables. I saddle the first two horses, then heft the Djinn’s body onto Horatio’s back. Horatio snorts, taking a few nervous sideways steps. He seems to know there’s something wrong with his rider.

I help Riona climb up on Penny’s back, while I carry the shovels with me on Brutus. We head out across the fields. The sun is just coming up, bright and cold and sparkling on the frost-dusted grass.

We ride out to the most distant and least-used corner of the ranch. I deliberately pick an unattractive spot. I don’t want to mar any scenic place with the memory of the Djinn.

We start digging.

I’m surprised how doggedly Riona applies herself to the task. I shouldn’t be—I know her work ethic. But it’s another thing to see her lifting shovelful after shovelful of heavy, rock earth, until the sweat drips down her face and her palms are blistered.

“Let me finish,” I say to her, trying to get her to stop.

“No,” Riona says, shaking her head stubbornly. “I can help.”

At last we have a hole deep enough. I kick the Djinn’s body into it. Then, unceremoniously, we being the task of covering him up again.

When I told Riona what happened to Ellis, little did I know that she and I would likewise bury a body twelve hours later. One of those little jokes the universe plays on us.

Riona seems to be thinking the same thing. She looks at me with solemn eyes and says, “Now we have our own little secret.”