Burning Lamp

by Amanda Quick

  Mrs. Trevelyan, Leggett, Jed and Delbert occupied the benches on either side of the table. They were still groggy from the effects of the sleeping gas but their prints did not indicate any lasting damage. The dogs had awakened as well but they were listless and unsteady on their feet. That had not stopped them from gulping down several chunks of leftover roast that Adelaide had given them.

  “I should be making the tea,” Mrs. Trevelyan fretted. But the protest was halfhearted.

  “Nonsense,” Adelaide said. “I am perfectly capable of dealing with the tea.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan smiled weakly. “Yes, ma’am. I do believe that you are capable of dealing with just about anything that comes along. I had no idea that you carried a pistol about your person.”

  “An old habit I picked up during my time in the West,” Adelaide explained. “Pocket pistols and derringers are commonly referred to as gamblers’ guns but they fit nicely into a lady’s skirts.”

  Delbert braced his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his big hands. “I can’t believe they got past all of us, to say nothing of the traps and warning bells.”

  “My fault,” Griffin said from the doorway. “As I told Mrs. Pyne, the Abbey is designed to withstand a variety of assaults but never one like the attack those two launched tonight. Clearly, I will have to have a chat with my architect.”

  Delbert and the others smiled wanly at the small joke.

  “They took down the dogs, first, of course,” Griffin continued. “Then the hunter went up onto the roof and lowered the gas canisters down through the chimneys into the bedrooms. Once you were all asleep, they broke the lock on the roof stairs and entered the house.”

  Jed frowned. “But there’s an alarm on that door. Why didn’t you hear it?”

  Griffin looked at Adelaide. She blushed, remembering the paranormal storm they had unleashed in the library.

  “We were otherwise occupied,” Griffin said neutrally.

  Delbert, Leggett, Jed and Mrs. Trevelyan exchanged glances.

  Delbert cleared his throat. “No security system is perfect.”

  “No,” Griffin agreed.

  Adelaide looked at his grim face and then glanced at the floor near his feet. He had put on his boots but the exhaustion was still starkly evident in his prints. She knew that he must have used a vast amount of power to stop Fergus. She could also see the currents of the edgy energy that, in her experience, was common in the wake of violence. There was pain, as well. She knew his injured shoulder was aching badly.

  All in all he needed some healing sleep. She was sure, however, that he would not rest until he was satisfied that the situation was under control and that she and the others were safe. Like the captain of a ship, Griffin Winters would always take care of those in his charge before he saw to his own needs.

  “Surprised that pair was willing to break into the Director’s personal residence,” Leggett said. “Given your reputation, that took some nerve. Reckon they thought they could get away with it because they had those fancy weapons.”

  “They did not know the identity of this particular homeowner,” Griffin said dryly. “Just that the house was well guarded.”

  Delbert snorted. “That explains it.”

  “The person who hired them probably assumed that they would not take the job if they knew the real identity of the target,” Griffin added.

  “No sensible man would,” Leggett said.

  Jed squinted at Griffin. “Did you learn anything useful from those two, Boss?”

  “Such as who sent them, for starters?” Delbert growled.

  Griffin shook his head. “No, and there’s no point questioning them further. They don’t have the answers I need. The one called Fergus cannot even remember why he came here tonight. The illusion-talent’s name is Nate. He is desperate to offer information in exchange for his life but he doesn’t know much. All he can tell me is that he and his companion were not only promised a great deal of money for grabbing Mrs. Pyne and the artifact but were told they would be given new crystals.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan’s mouth tightened. “I don’t understand it. How could they agree to take on such work without even knowing the name of their employer?”

  “Fergus and Nate have been a team for years. They offer their skills for hire, no questions asked. They prefer not to know too much about those who employ them. As Nate says, it is usually safer that way.”

  “But what of the crystals?” Adelaide asked.

  Griffin walked to the table, picked up one of the stones and held it to the light. “The man who hired them provided the crystals and the canisters of sleeping vapor. Nate and Fergus were told that if they focused their talent through the crystals, their natural abilities would be enhanced. According to Nate, that is exactly what happened. He said he always had a gift for altering his appearance in subtle ways that confused the eye but it was never so strong as it was tonight. Evidently the same was true for Fergus. He had been fast all his life but not like he was with the crystal.”

  The water was boiling. Adelaide plucked the kettle off the stove and began to fill the teapot.

  “I sense no power in the crystals,” she said. “I picked up one a short time ago and tried to determine if there was any energy in it. But it seemed like nothing more than a chunk of plain glass in my hand.”

  “Because it was exhausted,” Griffin said. He put the crystal back down on the table. “Nate said that he and Fergus were warned that the stones would not work for long. They were told to use them sparingly.”

  Jed contemplated the red crystals. “Like a gun when you run out of bullets. Useless.”

  “Evidently,” Griffin said.

  Leggett frowned. “How does a person obtain fresh ammunition?”

  A frisson of understanding whispered through Adelaide.

  “I would imagine that they must be retuned,” she said slowly, thinking it through. “Like a delicate musical instrument.”

  They all looked at her.

  “Makes sense,” Griffin said. “And doubtless only the individual who created them knows how to tune them. That would offer a measure of insurance, as well.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan was baffled. “What on earth do you mean, Mr. Winters?”

  Griffin looked at her. “Consider the position of the man who put these crystals into the hands of a pair of street toughs like Nate and Fergus. He gave them very powerful weapons. He would not want those weapons turned against him.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan’s eyes widened. “I see what you mean, sir. As long as they must go back to him for ammunition, so to speak, he need not fear that they will kill him to obtain the crystals.”

  “I’d like to know where they got those canisters of vapor,” Delbert muttered. “My head still hurts.”

  “Mine, as well,” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “And I had such unpleasant dreams. I suspect they will make sleep difficult for some time.”

  “Nightmares, they were,” Jed said. “Unlike anything I’ve ever had. Everything seemed so real.”

  “I don’t look forward to going to sleep again, that’s a fact,” Leggett added.

  “I will take care of the nightmares,” Adelaide said quietly.

  The men looked at her.

  She smiled. “I have a talent for that sort of thing.”

  “Where would they get such a noxious vapor?” Jed asked.

  “I am very curious about that, myself,” Griffin said.

  “There are certainly chemicals such as chloroform and gases such as nitrous oxide that can render a person unconscious,” Adelaide said. “But I have never heard of anything that could be effectively dispensed in the manner that vapor was tonight.”

  She picked up the pot and poured tea into the half-dozen heavy mugs on the counter.

  Jed watched her with open admiration. “Never met a woman who could shoot a gun, Mrs. Pyne.”

  “I spent several years in the American West touring with Monty Moore’s Wild West Show,” she said. She put the teapot down. �
�One of the most popular acts was an exhibition of marksmanship by Monty Moore, himself. I was his assistant. He was kind enough to teach me how to use a variety of guns and rifles.”

  Delbert brightened. “I’ve heard of Monty Moore. There was an account of his sharpshooter skills in the press last year. His assistant tosses a playing card into the air and he shoots three holes in it before it hits the ground.”

  “From the back of a galloping horse, no less,” Adelaide added.

  Griffin raised his brows. “And if we believe that, you have some shares in a nice little California gold mine that you would be happy to sell to us for a very good price, correct?”

  She smiled. “I will admit that Monty always took the precaution of putting holes in the cards before I threw them out for him. But he really was amazingly skilled with a gun. The audience loved him. In fact, I believe that he had a psychical talent for the business, although I don’t think he realized it.”

  “A paranormal talent for handling a gun?” Leggett asked, intrigued. “Now that would come in handy.”

  “Trust me, I would never have agreed to hold the apples for him to shoot out of my hands if I hadn’t been quite sure that he had a true gift for his art.”

  Griffin closed his eyes briefly as though in prayer and then looked at her. “You held the targets for an exhibition sharpshooter? I’m not sure my nerves can sustain the shock of that image.”

  “I’m sure you’ll survive.” She gave him the last mug of tea. “What will you do with those two men you captured tonight? Turn them over to the police?”

  Jed, Leggett and Delbert stared at her as though she had spoken in tongues. But it was Mrs. Trevelyan who pointed out the glaring flaw in the suggestion.

  “He can hardly go to the police now, can he?” Mrs. Trevelyan said. “Mr. Winters is a crime lord, after all. A man in his position doesn’t summon Scotland Yard whenever someone breaks into his house.”

  “Sorry,” Adelaide murmured. “I forgot myself.”

  Griffin ignored the byplay.

  “As it happens, I’ve been giving the matter of Fergus and Nate some thought,” he said. “The simplest thing to do is to set them free.”

  Mrs. Trevelyan bristled. “After what they did in this household?”

  Griffin cradled his tea in both hands. “Something tells me they are going to do their best to disappear.”

  Delbert made a face. “If they know what’s good for them, that’s exactly what they’ll do.”

  “It will be interesting to see who tries to find them after they leave here tonight,” Griffin said.

  Leggett pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll take care of having them followed, Boss. Give me thirty minutes to get some men in place before you turn them loose.”

  Griffin looked at Adelaide. “And now, Mrs. Pyne, I have a few questions for you. But we will conduct our conversation in private.”

  23

  THEY WENT BACK INTO THE LIBRARY AND CLOSED THE DOOR. A cold draft wafted through the window that had been opened earlier to clear out the last of the vapor.

  Adelaide stopped in the center of the carpet. Heated memories washed through her. She would never again be able to enter the room without thinking about what had happened in it. For that matter, she would very likely think about the passionate encounter every day for the rest of her life.

  Griffin closed the window. Then he crossed to the fireplace and regarded the embers of the fire with a brooding expression.

  Adelaide did not sit down. She knew that it would be easier to argue with Griffin if she remained on her feet.

  “Do you have any notion of what you did tonight when you worked the lamp?” he asked. His tone was chillingly cold and controlled.

  “My intuition told me that some of the currents of your dreamlight were not in harmony with those of the lamp,” she said. She struggled to keep her own voice calm and professional. “I simply did a little fine-tuning.”

  His jaw tightened. “Fine-tuning,” he repeated. “Is that what you call it?”

  “I do not think that the terrible nightmares and hallucinations will trouble you now,” she ventured. “I believe they were caused by the slight disharmony in your patterns.”

  “Do you have any notion of what other surprises I might expect from the paranormal side of my nature, Adelaide?” he asked a little too politely.

  She sighed. “I cannot say. But I must insist that all I did tonight was make some minor adjustments in your own natural wavelengths. The lack of harmony in the dreamlight portions of your aura was not surprising when you think about it.”

  He slanted a quick, hard look at her. “What the devil do you mean?”

  She took a breath. “Griffin, please listen to me. I believe that when you came into what you call your second talent a few weeks ago some of your currents were temporarily disturbed. It seems only reasonable. Your paranormal senses suddenly had to deal with a lot more energy coming from the dreamlight end of the spectrum.”

  “Disturbed. Well, that is certainly one way to describe the effects of the Curse.”

  She warmed to her thesis. “I think that, given time, your currents would have gradually adjusted to the new level of power. All I did tonight was hurry things along, as it were.”

  His mouth twisted. “So that I can go merrily on my way to becoming a mad Cerberus?”

  “I refuse to dignify that with an answer.” She gave him her most reproving glare. “I have already made it clear that, in my opinion, you are not going mad.”

  He turned away from the dying fire and stalked to the window. He stood quietly for a moment looking out at the night.

  “Then what in blazes is happening to me?” he asked after a time.

  She looked at the glowing footprints on the floor and gently cleared her throat.

  “Well, as to that I have a theory,” she said.

  “And just what is this theory of yours?”

  “You are not becoming a Cerberus. Instead, you have simply developed the full potential of your own natural talent.”

  “Talent develops in the teens and early twenties.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m thirty-six.”

  “I suppose we must consider you a late bloomer, sir.”

  He turned at that and walked toward her, eyes very dangerous. “This is not a good time to make a joke out of what is happening to me, Adelaide Pyne.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “My apologies, sir. But I am convinced that what I am telling you is the truth. For whatever reason, possibly because your ancestor was not exposed to the lamp’s radiation until he was the age that you are now, your own talent did not fully develop until you reached your thirty-sixth year. Regardless, I don’t believe that you are a genuine multitalent. You are simply a much stronger version of what you have always been.”

  He stopped directly in front of her and searched her face. “I was a shadow-talent. Now I generate nightmares.”

  “Both abilities obviously come from the dreamlight end of the spectrum,” she insisted.

  “Is that right? You’re an expert?”

  She refused to let him intimidate her. “I’m a dreamlight reader. I have a great affinity for that kind of energy. Your talent is also based in dreamlight. Think about it. For years you have been able to cloak yourself in shadows. Now you can project those shadows at others. When you do so your victims’ senses are literally overwhelmed by the experience. They panic and their minds fill in the void with terrible visions and nightmares.”

  “Call it what you will, I doubt that Arcane will look upon my new ability as merely an extension of my first. And what of the third talent? When will I discover that one?”

  “I don’t think it’s a third talent but rather a third level of talent,” she said. “And you may not discover it unless or until you get into a situation in which you need it. Then your intuition will come to the fore and you will know what to do.”

  “No offense, Adelaide, but that is not particularly comforting.”


  “Well, if it helps, I would say, based on my reading of Nicholas’s journal, that you would require the lamp in order to achieve something more dramatic in the way of power. You would also need my assistance. So the discovery of the third level of talent is unlikely to happen by accident. It would have to be planned, by both of us.”

  “But what the hell is the third level of talent?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You are the one who translated the code your ancestor used to write the journal. Are you certain that there were no clues to the nature of the third level?”

  “All I know is that the old bastard refers to it as the third and greatest talent. And then there is that unpleasant business regarding the Midnight Crystal and the psychical command to destroy anyone who happens to be descended from Sylvester Jones.” He gripped the mantel very tightly. “Damn it, will I ever be free of this curse?”

  “One of the stones remained dark tonight,” she said. “And as you do not appear to be consumed by a great urge to attack the members of the Jones family, I think it is safe to say we did not activate the Midnight Crystal.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful for small favors. I have spent the greater part of my life avoiding the Joneses. You may believe me when I tell you that nothing has changed in that regard, especially now that they have decided that it is Arcane’s responsibility to create an investigation agency that is the psychical version of Scotland Yard.”

  She pursed her lips, thinking about the red crystals Fergus and Nate had employed.

  “There is another possibility,” she said.

  “What is that?”

  “Perhaps the Midnight Crystal did not illuminate because Nicholas failed in his attempt to infuse it with power.”

  Griffin frowned, thinking about that. He nodded once, slowly.

  “You may be right. It was the last crystal he added to the lamp. He was going mad and his talents were failing rapidly. In his rage and growing insanity he might well have convinced himself that he had created a powerful tool with which to secure his vengeance.”

  “But in reality it was just a piece of glass.”