Gift of Fire

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Not that I can recall,” he retorted dryly. “I told you, learning to use a boat was just a safety precaution.”

  “Like learning to use a knife, I suppose?”

  Jonas grimaced as he heaved the heavy duffel out of the launch. He didn’t bother to respond to her last remark. “Hell, Verity, what have you got in here? ‘Don’t worry,’ you said, ‘there’s no need to bring two bags, there’s plenty of room in your duffel for my nightie and blow dryer.’ Where did you come up with a ninety-pound blow dryer?”

  “Quit complaining. It’s not that heavy and you know it. Of course I had to leave a few of your things behind to make room for my stuff, but you won’t miss them overnight.”

  “What things of mine did you leave behind?” He looked ominous as he strode up the dock beside her.

  “Just one or two small items,” she assured him cheerily. “Don’t worry about it. Now about this little trip to civilization.” She gazed at the sleepy town overlooking the tiny harbor. “Did we really have to come all this way just to use the phone?”

  “You know there’s no phone at Hazelhurst’s Horror.”

  She shuddered. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

  “You’re the one who said it was an appropriate label.”

  “Okay, okay, we’ll argue over that later. Who are we going to call?”

  “Caitlin Evanger.” Jonas’s mouth curved in satisfaction as Verity shot him a startled glance.

  “Caitlin? Why on earth are we going to call her?” she demanded.

  “I told you—research. Evanger is the one person I know who might have the answers to a few questions I’ve got. Besides, she owes us.”

  Verity looked at him. “How can she help us?”

  “She’s the one who inherited all the records left by the Department of Paranormal Research when the wise, farsighted trustees of Vincent College finally came to their senses and closed down the lab. She claimed she was Elihu Wright’s one and only heir, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” Verity muttered.

  Elihu Wright had been the wealthy eccentric who originally endowed the Department of Paranormal Research at Vincent College. It was in the department’s lab that Jonas had developed his psychic powers to the point where they had almost turned him into a killer. He had fled the lab, running from the unknown potential of his talent. It wasn’t until he had met Verity that he had begun to learn how to control his unique affinity with the past.

  “There have never been very many places in the country where someone who thought he had psychic powers could get himself tested,” Jonas continued. “Vincent College had one of the few legitimate labs on the West Coast. I want to know if any of that crowd back at the villa was ever tested, and if so, what the report was.”

  “Why do you want to investigate Yarwood, Elyssa, and the others? What have they got to do with this job?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I just want to find out everything I can before I go any further. There’s murder involved. Murder and treasure. That’s a potent combination. I just want to check out a few things.”

  “That’s assuming Caitlin can still find the old records.”

  “She had mine, didn’t she?” Jonas’s expression was grim.

  Verity cleared her throat. “Well, yes, but she had a, uh, special reason to save yours.”

  “She sure as hell did.” Jonas swung the duffel over his other shoulder. “As soon as we find a phone, we’ll see if she had the sense to save any others. First, we’d better find a place to spend the night.” He stopped at the top of the pier and scanned the picturesque Victorian buildings that lined the waterfront street. “Not a Hilton in sight.”

  Verity smiled happily. “Thank goodness. Let’s try one of those quaint little bed-and-breakfast places I’ve been reading about. These island towns are famous for them.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I brought along a handbook. It’s in the duffel bag.”

  “A-ha!” Jonas set down the bulky bag and unzipped it. “I knew there was more than a nightgown and a blow dryer in here.” He crouched beside the canvas bag and peered inside. The expression of shock on his face as he perused Verity’s last-minute packing job turned thunderous. “Dammit to hell, Verity!”

  “Now, Jonas...”

  “You went crazy! What did you think we were going to do—set out on an expedition to the Arctic?”

  “Jonas, be reasonable. This is winter, remember? It’s cold, and it’s liable to rain at any moment. I decided to be safe rather than sorry.”

  “So you brought along an umbrella, rain boots, a slicker, what appears to be a year’s supply of makeup, two pairs of pantyhose, two changes of jeans, a couple of pairs of shoes, and a dress?” He looked up. “I know this is going to sound silly, but why did you bring the dress?”

  She gazed down at the handful of shimmering green silk. She wouldn’t be able to get into it much longer. Soon her body would be growing round and heavy. “I thought we might go out to dinner at a nice place,” she mumbled. “I put in a tie for you.”

  Jonas started to say something about the tie that would have been scathing, but for some reason he changed his mind. Without a word he fished around inside the duffel bag until he found the guidebook. He zipped up the bag, slung it back over his shoulder, and handed the book to Verity.

  “Here,” he said gruffly. “Pick a place. Preferably something that isn’t too far away. I didn’t bring the pack llama.”

  Verity opened the guidebook, scanning the listings for bed-and-breakfast inns on the island. “How does the Harbor Watch Inn sound? ‘Bedrooms are furnished with charming nineteenth century antiques, including four-poster beds. Lobby has lots of rustic charm, with a comfortable stone fireplace and view of the harbor. Breakfast is ample, featuring eggs, scones, fresh juices, and plenty of good coffee.’”

  “Well,” said Jonas, his golden eyes gleaming in the cold sunlight, “I like the sound of the four-poster bed. As long as I have you, a four-poster, and my trusty belt, I can make do.”

  Verity felt herself turning pink. “Just remember that one of these days I’ll be getting even for that little bondage number you pulled last night.”

  Jonas showed his teeth in a wicked smile. “All I ever get are promises,” he taunted softly.

  Verity shook back her mane of copper curls and stuffed the guidebook into her purse. “You’ll see. Let’s get going. The Harbor Watch Inn is only a couple of blocks from here, according to the guidebook.”

  The walk to the quaint Victorian inn turned out to be a little farther than Verity estimated, but Jonas kept his grumbling to a minimum. Verity refused to give him the satisfaction of complaining, but she was vastly relieved when they reached their destination. She was feeling a little guilty about having stuffed the duffel bag with her things.

  It was cold, and there was a damp wind blowing. Verity decided that the island town probably looked bright and colorful during the warm summer months, but in the dead of winter everything appeared uniformly gray.

  “You know, Jonas, you may have been right when you said this trip to the Northwest wasn’t going to be quite the same as a jaunt to Hawaii.”

  “One of these days you’ll start listening to me, little tyrant.”

  “I always listen to you.” She batted her lashes outrageously.

  Jonas chuckled. “Like hell.”

  “I just don’t always pay attention. But that makes us even.”

  The Harbor Watch Inn was warm and cozy. It was run by a middle-aged couple who welcomed their new guests with a smile and a drop of sherry. Verity turned down the sherry, and Jonas drank her share as well as his own.

  “Sure you don’t want it?” he asked as he set down the tiny glass.

  “No, thanks.” She’d read somewhere that pregnant women weren’t supposed to drink, and decided she’d ver
ify that snippet of information when she finally went to a doctor.

  They were shown to a room that overlooked the harbor. As soon as the door closed behind the manager’s wife, Verity began eagerly to explore the small bedroom.

  There was, as promised, a four-poster bed. A charming nineteenth-century ceramic pitcher and bowl sat on the old dresser, and sailing memorabilia adorned the walls.

  “It’s all so charming,” Verity said in delight. “So quaint. So terribly cute.”

  “And it’s all made in Taiwan.” Jonas casually touched the pitcher on the dresser. “So much for that bit about the rooms being furnished with antiques. I wonder what other surprises are in store for us. Maybe they’ll accidentally run out of scones at breakfast.”

  “Details. Don’t be so negative.” Verity unzipped the duffel bag and shook out her green silk dress. She carried it to the closet and was about to hang the garment inside when she glanced around and realized something was missing. “Jonas, there’s no bathroom!” she exclaimed.

  “Sure there is. Just down the hall.”

  “Down the hall!” Verity was horrified. “For the price we’re paying?”

  “The price of unbearable cuteness and quaintness, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, damn. I should have realized. But that stupid guidebook didn’t warn me.”

  “So what’s the big deal? A little minor inconvenience, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all. I hate places where the bathroom is down the hall,” Verity insisted stubbornly.

  “Why?” Jonas was genuinely surprised by her vehemence. Verity bit her lip, aware that she was overreacting. She didn’t want to spoil the evening. Turning back to the closet to finish hanging her clothes, she tried to explain. “It goes back to my childhood, I suppose. When I was growing up, Dad and lived in places like this a lot. Tahiti, Mexico, the Caribbean, you name it. They’ve all got places like this where the bathroom is down the hall.”

  “This is hardly in the same category as a flophouse on some backwater island,” Jonas said reasonably.

  “I know, I know. Those places were all cheap, dirty, and in a bad part of town. But I guess for me the bathroom‑down-the-hall bit became symbolic of all those crummy joints. Dad never seemed to mind, but then, he wasn’t the one who volunteered to clean the damn bathroom in exchange for a few bucks off the rent.”

  Jonas studied her face, fascinated. “Why in hell did you volunteer?”

  “Because no one else would have cleaned it if I didn’t, and I had to use it along with all the other drunks, whores, and assorted riffraff who lived in the place,” she exploded.

  “Hey, take it easy, honey.” Jonas gathered her into his arms and gently stroked her hair. “If it bothers you that much, we can find another place.”

  Verity sniffed back tears, shocked by her emotional reaction. The smallest things seemed to get to her these days. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into Jonas’s shirt. “This is stupid. I don’t know what got into me. This is a lovely place—beautiful view, clean sheets.” She surreptitiously wiped away a tear from her cheek. “The guidebook raved about it.”

  “Guidebooks have been known to give false information.”

  “But it is a nice place.” Verity lifted her head and glanced around again. “Really it is. I was just a little thrown there for a minute when I realized where the bathroom was. I’m fine now. Pay no attention to me.”

  Jonas eyed her closely. She gave him a reassuring smile and blinked away the last of her tears. “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying here tonight?”

  “I’ll think of it as a travel experience,” she said wryly.

  Jonas nodded. “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  “Nice bed,” he remarked thoughtfully.

  Verity beetled her brows at him. “Don’t you dare look at it, or me, like that.”

  “What’s happened to your sense of adventure, sweetheart?”

  “This trip is turning out to be adventurous enough without having to put up with your kinky ways,” she retorted loftily. “When are you going to call Caitlin?”

  “Now is as good a time as any.” He picked up the bedside phone.

  “Let me talk to her first,” Verity said quickly.

  “Be my guest. I’m not exactly looking forward to the conversation. The woman still gives me the creeps.”

  “You’re just biased. You never did like her very much.”

  Verity dug the number out of her well-worn address book, the same book that had countless entries crossed out under her father’s name. She wondered fleetingly if the little book would be filling up with similar crossed-out entries under Jonas’s name in the years ahead. Pushing aside the depressing thought, she dialed the number. She listened to the ringing on the other end and wondered if Caitlin or her companion, Tavi, would answer.

  It had been over a month since she had last spoken to either of them. Jonas wasn’t aware that Verity had called the Evanger house a few times since the events of last fall. He probably wouldn’t have approved of it, but something within her had needed to make certain that the brilliant, moody artist had survived the emotional trauma.

  The phone was picked up on the other end and a quiet, gentle voice answered.

  “Tavi? It’s Verity. How is everything?”

  “Verity, I’m so glad you called. Everything is going well here. Caitlin is painting again. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Verity smiled. “Is she pleased with what she’s doing?”

  “I think so. You know her, she demands so much of herself. But the gallery owner who handles her work in San Francisco is certainly happy enough. He says it’s the best work she’s ever done. Something about a new emotional maturity coupled with a brilliant sensitivity and awareness. Caitlin gets a kick out of that. You know her attitude toward art critics—she considers them all parasites.”

  “I know.”

  “But I think that deep down she’s relieved that she didn’t lose whatever it was that gave her work so much power. For a while she thought that if that terrible business from the past was settled once and for all, she would no longer feel so compelled to paint. But her desire seems to be as strong as ever. Here, let me call her.”

  A few moments later Caitlin picked up the phone. “Verity? I’m glad you called. How are you?”

  “Hobbling around on a sprained ankle, but otherwise fine. I understand you’re painting again?”

  There was a pause, and Verity pictured the exotic woman with her scarred face and twisted leg. For a few seconds she wondered if all was not going as well as Tavi had implied. “Caitlin?” she prompted gently.

  “I’m here. And it’s true, I’m painting again. I was just thinking about how to tell you how grateful I am. I feel so different these days, Verity. I don’t feel nearly as old as I did six months ago, yet in some ways I feel infinitely wiser. Isn’t that a strange way to feel?”

  Verity unconsciously touched her stomach. “No,” she said. “I think I know exactly how you feel,”

  “You are still with Jonas?”

  “Jonas?” Verity glanced at him; he was standing in front of the window, watching the harbor activity. “Yes, I’m still with him.”

  Jonas looked over his shoulder, scowling. She smiled blandly back at him.

  “Good,” said Caitlin. “The two of you need each other. You’re so good for each other.”

  “Caitlin, I’m calling to ask a favor. Or rather, Jonas wants to ask a favor.”

  “Anything, Verity.”

  “Do you still have those old records from the Department of Paranormal Research?”

  “They’re filed in the basement. Why?”

  “I’ll let Jonas explain.” Jonas walked toward her and Verity handed him the phone.

  “I’ve got a list of names, Caitlin,” he said without preamble. “I
need to know if you’ve got any information on them in those old files.”

  “Just a second, let me get a pen and paper.” There was a small clatter on the other end of the line. “All right, Jonas. Give me the names.”

  “Elyssa Warwick, her brother Doug, Oliver Crump, Preston Yarwood, and Slade Spencer. I think the last one, Spencer, may have a drug problem.”

  “I’ll see what Tavi and I can turn up. It’ll take a while, though. How soon do you need the information?”

  “As soon as possible.” Jonas threw a wry glance at Verity. “Verity has chosen a new career path for me. I’m in the middle of my first consulting case.” He read her the phone number off the phone.

  “Where is that area code?” Caitlin asked curiously.

  “The Northwest, near Seattle. The case is supposed to be part business and part vacation. We’re on an island in the San Juans.”

  “At this time of year?”

  “Yeah. Verity thought it would be a good substitute for Hawaii.”

  Caitlin chuckled softly. “Is she still of the same opinion?”

  “You know Verity. She insists on looking on the bright side. She was doing a good job of it, too, until she found out the bathrooms in this bed-and-breakfast place are down the hall.”

  “Quaint. Probably reminds her of some of the dumps her father and she lived in when she was a kid.”

  Jonas raised his eyebrows. He held the phone away from his ear and just looked at it for a moment before saying slowly, “How did you know about the kinds of places she lived in as a kid?”

  “Verity and I are friends,” Caitlin said quietly. “We’ve talked. I hope one of these days you and I will be able to be friends, too, Jonas. In the meantime, I certainly owe you a few favors. I’ll see if I can find any of these people in the old files.”

  “Thanks.” The clipped word was grudgingly spoken, but it was meant. Jonas hung up the phone. He turned around to see Verity digging high heels and pantyhose out of the seemingly bottomless duffel bag.

  “You’ve been keeping in touch with her,” he said in a strangely neutral tone.

  “We’re friends.”