by Jayne Castle
But the inheritance had a very dark side. The family talents were strong, but his very pragmatic ancestors had concluded that there was only one truly profitable application for those unique abilities. The result was that for several hundred years his ancestors had made their livings in ways that did not always look good in the light of day. There was no getting around the fact that the family tree was populated with a lot of professional assassins, hit men, contract killers, and mercenaries.
True, Sweetwaters had always taken pride in taking contracts from what they believed to be the right side. They considered themselves the good guys. But when you hunted and killed for money, what did that make you? And what did it do to the individual psyches of the members of a family that had engaged in such a business for a few hundred years, ever since the late 1880s, Old Earth time?
But those days were over, he reminded himself. Mostly. Fifty years ago his grandfather had put an end to what had been the family business for generations. Big Jake Sweetwater had set the clan on a new course. More or less.
Of course, some things never changed.
In the end, however, he had concluded that the disturbing dreams were simply a result of the psychic bond he shared with Lyra. The hunter in him was prowling his unconscious mind, frustrated because he had not been able to claim his mate.
Soon, he thought. Not much longer.
The phone rezzed. He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked at the number on the tiny screen. Speak of the devil. A call from his grandfather was never a great way to start a day. He picked up the phone.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Did you have to use Lyra Dore to get that team out last night?” Jake Sweetwater growled.
The lack of a “Good morning” or “Did I wake you?” was classic Big Jake Sweetwater style. He had little patience for the routine pleasantries unless it suited him to use them for some reason of his own. On those occasions when he did resort to politeness or diplomacy, smart people headed for the door. Affability was a sure indication that Jake was up to no good. The only person who could exercise some measure of control over him was his wife, Madeline.
“No one we’ve got on staff could de-rez that chamber entrance,” Cruz said patiently.
“Yeah, the papers made that damn clear. The press is having a field day with this. For the past three months Lyra Dore has tried to make the company look bad in the media. She portrayed AI as a big, bad specter-cat that likes to gobble up innocent little independent prospectors for lunch. Now she shows us up as complete idiots because we had to call her in to open the ruin.”
“That is one possible interpretation.”
“It’s sure as hell the interpretation that’s all over the news. And what’s this about the two of you being involved in a romantic relationship? Where did the reporters get that idea?”
“You know the press,” Cruz said. “Always looking for an angle.”
“How much did you pay Lyra Dore for de-rezzing the chamber, anyway?”
“We haven’t discussed the matter of her fee yet. There wasn’t time last night. She agreed to help as soon as I told her that there were five people trapped inside the chamber. After that, things got busy.”
“Hah. She’s a Dore. She’ll find some way to turn this to her advantage. Probably hold us up for a fortune, and we’ll have to pay, because if we don’t, AI will look like the evil corporate empire she wants everyone to believe it is.”
“I’ll let you know the price tag. By the way, there’s something you might want to consider here, sir.”
“What’s that?” Jake demanded.
“We still need her expertise in the lab. Nothing has changed since last night. Webber hasn’t been able to find anyone else who can tune amethyst, let alone rez those relics.”
“Damn.” Jake was silent for a moment. “Well, hell, maybe those stones are just pretty little alien sculptures after all, like Lyra Dore claimed.”
“Got a hunch that the ones that we found in the ruin may be nothing more than attractive works of art,” Cruz agreed.
There was a short silence while Jake digested that. “You think she held out on us? Stashed some of the stones?”
“What would you have done if you had been in her situation with a big company moving in to take over your discovery?”
Jake snorted. “Hell, I’d have picked out some of the most important pieces and tucked them away someplace safe where I was sure no one would ever find them. Then I’d bide my time until the heat died down and move them on the underground collectors’ market.”
“That same thought crossed my mind, too.”
“Green hell. Should have figured she’d try something like that. She’s a Dore. Chip of amber straight off the old block. If she’d had a lick of common sense, she would have taken the cash we offered. That’s what any reasonable person would have done.”
“I don’t think Lyra was feeling reasonable three months ago when we moved in on the ruin.”
“What caused the chamber entrance to close?” Jake asked.
“We don’t know. Lyra said it was probably some stray currents from a nearby psi river or storm. The only other possibility, according to her, is that someone deliberately closed the entrance by working silver, diamond, or amethyst amber.”
“You said there was no indication of any rivers or storms in the area.”
“Right.”
“Well, we know we don’t have anyone on staff who can work amethyst. If we did, you wouldn’t have had to pull in Lyra Dore.” Jake paused. “Anyone on that team who could work silver or diamond?”
“No. After I got back to the surface I checked the parapsych profiles of everyone involved last night. I looked at the files of the two Guild men, as well. None of them could rez any of those three varieties of rock. And even if it did turn out that one of them had kept his or her talent a secret, there’s no obvious motive for trying to murder five people.”
“We sure as hell know one person who could have closed that entrance, don’t we? And she had a motive. Revenge. Where was Lyra Dore when the chamber locked up?”
“I don’t know,” Cruz admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. She didn’t sabotage the ruin.”
“Maybe she figured out how to set some kind of time-delayed trap before she turned over control of the chamber,” Jake mused.
“No,” Cruz said. “Lyra is pissed at AI, but she would never have put lives at risk for the sake of a little vengeance.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“You know why I’m sure.”
Jake exhaled heavily. “Face it, you were wrong about her. She’s not the right woman for you.”
“Yes,” Cruz said quietly, “she is.”
“Damn it, if she were the right woman, you wouldn’t be in this situation. She’s playing you.”
“Things got complicated three months ago. My fault. She doesn’t trust me now. I need to change that.”
“What you need to do is your job. Find out what she’s hiding from us.”
Jake ended the connection.
Cruz looked at the dead phone in his hand. “Hate to tell you this, Big Jake, but I’ve got other priorities.”
Chapter 8
“FORGIVE ME FOR SPEAKING OF PERSONAL MATTERS, Lyra.” Master Quinn smiled his gentle smile. “I cannot help but notice that you seem increasingly uncentered lately. I sense that something is making it difficult for you to find the harmonic balance within.”
The last of the meditation students was leaving the studio. Lyra finished rolling up her mat and stuffed it into her gym bag.
“I know I haven’t been a great student,” she said. “I can’t seem to concentrate properly. Things have been somewhat hectic lately.”
Quinn nodded somberly. “I saw the morning papers. The head of Amber Inc. Security asked you to assist in a rescue mission at the ruin that you discovered a few months ago. I’m surprised you agreed to help.”
“Not like I had much choice.” She crouc
hed to zip up the bag. “There were several people trapped inside. Amber Inc. didn’t have anyone else available who could de-rez the entrance.”
“I understand. It was a generous and charitable action on your part. But I suspect that now that AI knows that you are the only one they can call on to work that amethyst amber, they will request more and more assistance from you.”
“They can ask, but my answer will be no.”
“I hope for your sake that you will find the strength to refuse.”
The concern in his quiet voice startled her. She rose slowly to her feet.
“Why do you say that?”
He did not respond immediately. Instead, he watched her for a long moment. She wondered uneasily what he saw.
“I hesitate to say anything more,” he said finally. “It is not my place. My job is to provide guidance to you as you seek balance and harmony in your life. But you are my student, and I have a responsibility toward you. I feel I must warn you.”
A chill swept through her not unlike the sensation she got when one of the nightmares struck. She gripped the handle of the gym bag tightly.
“If you intend to warn me not to get any more involved with Amber Inc., don’t worry,” she said. “I realize that would be asking for trouble.”
“It is not just your renewed association with Cruz Sweetwater and his family firm that makes me uneasy.” Quinn walked to the high windows on one wall of the studio. He clasped his hands behind his back and contemplated the view of the Dead City wall. “It is the escalating energy of disharmony I perceive in your aura that worries me. Once again I apologize for intruding, but are you feeling well, Lyra?”
She was afraid to breathe. If Quinn could sense that something was happening to her, something that affected her mind and her perception of reality, maybe she had an even bigger problem than she thought. But damned if she would admit it to anyone, including Quinn. At least, not yet. There was still a possibility that she was just suffering from stress. Also an excellent possibility that I’m in complete denial, she thought.
But she could not get past the fact that, except for those harrowing moments when the nightmares enveloped her, she felt normal. Well, as normal as she ever had. Of course, crazy people usually thought they were normal, too. Take Grandpa, for instance, she thought sadly.
Arthur Dore had spent his last years obsessed with finding various and assorted legendary lost amber claims. He had spent all of his money on phony treasure maps and fake journals purporting to contain the secret locations of fabled mines of rare and exotic amber. In the end he had died penniless. She had been the only one at his bedside. She’d had to dig into her own small savings account to pay for the funeral.
Her grandfather had been a gruff, disappointed, unhappy man, but in his own way, he had loved her. And he had taught her a few things, one of which was the importance of keeping her secrets.
“I’m all right, Master Quinn,” she said politely. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m in excellent health. Really.”
“I was not referring to your physical health.” Quinn did not take his eyes off the emerald towers. “It is the state of your psychic well-being that worries me. I can see that you do not wish to discuss it, and that is most certainly your prerogative. But I sense that whatever is going on within you is linked to your talent. The harmonic imbalance in your aura this morning is worse than usual.”
“Please don’t worry about me, sir.”
“Have you considered the possibility that working that amethyst amber last night might have exacerbated the problem?”
“I don’t have a problem,” she said briskly. “I’m just a little tired and stressed out. Got home late. Didn’t get enough sleep. Didn’t have time for breakfast. What with one thing and another, I probably am out of whack this morning, harmonically speaking. Nothing another cup of strong coffee can’t fix.”
He turned back to her, his expression serene, as always. He smiled his wise smile again. “You owe me no explanations or apologies. I have said enough. You are entitled to your privacy. I will merely add that if you ever decide that you need some guidance of a more private nature than what I can offer in a group class, I hope you will feel that you can come to me.”
The hair lifted on the nape of her neck.
“Uh, thank you,” she said.
Good grief. Was Master Quinn suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Was he coming on to her?
No, of course not. It was just her imagination. He was a Harmonic Meditation guru, for goodness’ sake.
That was the problem with having once been burned by a Sweetwater. You started seeing every man as a potential fire hazard.
Clutching the gym bag, she hurried out the door and down the stairs.
Chapter 9
AN HOUR LATER , DRESSED FOR WORK, VINCENT PERCHED on her shoulder, Lyra kicked the back door of the Halifax Gallery three times with the toe of her black business pump. Knocking was out of the question, because it took both hands to hold on to the package she was carrying.
Nancy opened the door immediately and leaned out to look both ways, checking to see that the alley was empty. Satisfied, she smiled at the sight of Lyra clutching the blanket-wrapped object.
“Oh, good,” she said. “It’s a big one this time.”
“You told me you wanted them larger.”
“Size matters to my clients.”
“Give me a hand,” Lyra said. “This thing is heavy.”
“Right. I’ll take this end.” Nancy moved out onto the bottom step and grasped one side of the package. “Ugh. You’re right, it weighs a ton. I can’t believe you carried it six blocks.”
“Through back alleys, no less.”
“Why didn’t you just put it into your car and drive it over here?”
“You know I’m trying to walk more these days.”
“Yes, but this is ridiculous.” Nancy angled the package through the door. “By the way, I assume you know you’re on the front page of both the Herald and the Current today? Also on the morning rez-screen news?”
“Just like old times. At least Vincent looked adorable.”
They got the package inside the back room. Vincent hopped down from Lyra’s shoulder and scurried to the top of the small refrigerator, where Nancy kept a plate of cookies for him.
“So that was the real reason Cruz Sweetwater showed up at the reception last night?” Nancy studied Lyra closely. “He needed you to rescue that team?”
“Yes, but he claimed that was just unfortunate timing. He said he was planning to call me, anyway, because he wants another chance.” Lyra winced. “What are the odds?”
“I knew it.” Nancy lit up with excitement. “I told you he’d be back one of these days. You said yourself that from his point of view he was just doing his job three months ago. You have to admit you were in danger. Those antiquities gangs are utterly ruthless. If one of them had found out about that ruin, you would have been jungle plant food by now.”
“Thanks for that visual.”
“I gotta tell you, I was scared to death that whole time you were trying to move those relics on the underground market. It was sort of a relief when your first client turned out to be an undercover agent from Amber Inc. Security. So where do things stand now?”
“He asked me out to dinner tonight.”
“You said yes, I hope?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Lyra said.
“Oh, that’s real decisive. Don’t be an idiot. Where’s the harm in a dinner date? If nothing else, you’ll get a free meal out of the deal, and it will probably be a very, very expensive meal. It’s not much in the way of pay-back, but it’s better than nothing.”
“There is that. But it turns out the AI lab still hasn’t been able to locate anyone who can rez amethyst amber.”
Nancy’s enthusiasm faded. “In other words, you think Cruz Sweetwater may have ulterior motives for asking you out to dinner?”
“I’d say that’s a distinct possibili
ty, yes.”
“Damn.” Nancy wrinkled her nose. “And here I was thinking that we were going to be looking at a happy ending after all.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
They lowered the package onto the wooden surface of a wide workbench.
“I still say you should have dinner with the guy,” Nancy said. “Give him a chance. At the very least, being seen with him will be good for your career.”
“Hmm. Hadn’t considered that angle.”
“Are you kidding?” Nancy grinned. “You’re already famous again this morning, thanks to Cruz. Didn’t you read any of the stories in the papers?” She nodded toward the copy of the Herald lying on a nearby table. “They called you a private antiquities consultant who caters to an exclusive clientele.”
“I noticed. Twelve weeks ago I was just a shady amber tuner, as far as the press was concerned.”
“You’ve been upgraded,” Nancy said. “Of course, they also implied that the reason you dropped the lawsuit was because you’re having a secret affair with Sweetwater.”
“Those rumors will only get worse if I go out to dinner with him.”
“So what? Beats sitting at home every night the way you’ve been doing.”
“Maybe.”
Lyra undid the ties that secured the wrappings and pulled the old blanket aside. Nancy studied the painting, hands on her hips. She smiled slowly.
“What do you think?” Lyra asked.
“I think it’s another Chimera original, and it will sell in a minute. Mr. Anonymous will snatch it up instantly, just like he did the others, if I give him the opportunity. But you know, I’m starting to think it might be time to go for an auction.”
“I’m not so sure,” Lyra said. “An auction will attract the press.”
“There are already rumors about the mysterious Chimera circulating in the art world. It’s great PR.”
“Yes, but too much attention could ruin us. You told me that critic at the Herald has been pestering you recently for details on the new artist in your gallery. What if he decides to do some investigating?”