Fired Up

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Best place for it,” Edward said. “Arcane knows how to take care of that sort of thing.”

  “Thanks, again, for everything yesterday.”

  “No problem. Your client will receive my bill when this is all over.”

  She ended the call and looked at Jack. “I have to call Drake Stone. He got in touch with Rose this morning. Something about needing to talk to me immediately.”

  Jack lowered his fork. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  She punched in the number Edward had given her. A woman answered on the second ring.

  “Stone residence,” a woman said.

  The voice was chirpy. Different housekeeper, Chloe noticed.

  “This is Chloe Harper,” she said. “I’m returning a call to Mr. Stone.”

  “Yes, Miss Harper. Please hold.”

  Stone took the call immediately.

  “Chloe, thanks for getting back to me.” Drake sounded strained and tense.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Stone?”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. I had a rather strange experience last night. Someone came to see me here at the house. I think it was about the lamp.”

  A sense of urgency tightened her breathing. She was aware of Jack watching her with a steady look.

  “You think it was about the lamp?” she said carefully.

  “That’s the weird part,” Drake said. “I can’t quite remember the conversation. I admit that this was after the show and that I’d had two or three drinks to unwind before going to bed. That could explain my memory problems. But what really bothers me is that this morning I checked with the guard at the front gate.”

  “And?” Chloe asked.

  “According to the log and the guy who was on duty last night, I had no visitors.”

  35

  THE UNIFORMED GUARD WAVED THEM THROUGH THE GATE. Jack drove along the tree-lined drive and stopped the car in front of Stone’s Mediterranean villa. Chloe grabbed her satchel, popped open the door and slid out of the front seat.

  The late morning sun was bright, but the temperature was still in the low sixties. The chill she felt, however, had nothing to do with the brisk air. Her senses were fluttering the way they did whenever she walked past the entrances of dark alleys or entered a parking garage late at night. Most people try to ignore their intuition. But when you have been raised by people who accept the psychic side of their natures as natural, you learn to pay attention.

  She walked with Jack along the stone path to the imposing, colonnaded entrance of the big house. As usual, Jack carried the leather duffel containing the lamp and his computer case. He pressed the doorbell.

  “I still can’t believe I’m actually working for J&J,” Chloe said mournfully. “How the Harper family standards have fallen.”

  “Look at it this way,” Jack said. “Jones pays well.”

  “Do you really think that Fallon’s theory is correct?” she asked. “Do you believe that Nightshade actually sent a para-hypnotist here to interrogate Mr. Stone last night?”

  “Who knows?” Jack said. “This is Fallon’s conspiracy theory we’re dealing with. Given his current worldview, everything is about Nightshade.”

  They had called Fallon Jones immediately after Chloe had ended her conversation with Stone. Fallon had been almost apoplectic with urgency. “Go see him right now. Talk to him. Get every damn detail you can out of him. Take a good look at Stone’s dreamprints, Chloe. Sounds like he and the guard were given a hypnotic suggestion to encourage them to forget whoever came to see Stone. I want a full report as soon as you’re finished.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Jones, but are you trying to hire me to do a job for you?”

  “You’re a private investigator, aren’t you? Not like I’ve got anyone else I can use on such short notice. Send me a bill later.”

  She opened her senses and studied the front steps. Psi light glowed faintly on the sun-washed tiles. A thrill of awareness swept through her.

  “There was definitely a strong talent of some kind here recently,” she said. “A woman. I can see her prints. They weren’t here a couple days ago. Must be from yesterday.”

  Jack looked at her, his eyes unreadable behind the lenses of his dark glasses. “You’re sure it was a woman?”

  “Yes.” She pushed her senses a little higher and concentrated harder. “But there’s no evidence of instability, not like there was in the energy of the prints of the guys who tried to kill us at the motel yesterday.”

  “Fallon said that the psychic instability is a side effect of the drug Nightshade is using.”

  “Well, whoever she is, I could swear that the woman who came to see Stone is not taking the formula.”

  “So much for Fallon’s conspiracy theory.”

  The door opened. A housekeeper stood in the hall. She was definitely not the same woman who had greeted them earlier. The other one had looked the part—middle-aged with work-worn hands and a polite, quietly efficient air. This woman was a lot younger and considerably more attractive. Her blond hair was in a frisky ponytail, and she was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a snug, low-cut yellow blouse that emphasized her bust.

  Chloe glanced into the hallway and studied the woman’s psi prints. She’d seen the same kind of sad, sickly energy in the alleys and doorways of Pioneer Square. She wondered if Stone knew that his housekeeper was a junkie.

  The blonde glanced at her without much interest before giving Jack a sexy, inviting smile.

  “Mr. Stone is out by the pool,” she said. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”

  She turned and walked toward the front room, hips swaying to a silent dance beat. Chloe shot Jack a suspicious look to see if he was paying attention. He was doing an excellent job of appearing oblivious to the obvious flirtation, however. When he saw Chloe eyeing him closely he raised his brows in silent, innocent inquiry. What?

  He had caught her. Now she was blushing again. This kind of behavior had to stop. Not only was it highly unprofessional, it was a good way to get her heart broken. Just because she could sleep with him and just because they’d had great sex on a few occasions, it did not follow that they were going to have a long, enduring relationship. Especially after she figured out how to tell him that last night had not gone so well. Damn, damn, damn.

  She switched her attention to the view of the sparkling Roman fountains and the pool visible through the wall of windows. She was not jealous. She had no right to feel possessive. It wasn’t like they were having an affair. They barely knew each other. Sure, there was physical attraction, but that was probably all there was between them unless you counted the ability to work the lamp together.

  She pushed the disturbing thoughts aside. They were here to do a job. She glanced at the psi prints on the marble flooring and the richly patterned carpets. There were two more sets of fresh tracks in addition to those left by the housekeeper and the woman who had come to see Stone last night. Whoever had left them had entered the residence from the back of the big house.

  The prints smoked with sick, unstable energy. She recognized the unwholesome dreamlight immediately.

  She drew a sharp breath and turned toward Jack, intending to signal the danger. But he was not looking at her. He was watching the two men gliding toward them from the shadows of the hallway. The one who’d driven the getaway motorcycle had on the denim jacket he’d worn yesterday. The second man was the one who had waited for them in the motel room with the silenced gun. He had a greasy- looking scarf tied around his long hair, a biker do-rag.

  “That’s far enough,” Do- rag snarled at Jack. He raised the gun a little and pointed it at Chloe. “I don’t know what you did to me yesterday but if you try it again, I’ll have time to get off at least one shot, and she’s going to be the target. Got it?”

  “Sure,” Jack said. “Where’s Stone and his housekeeper?”

  “Stone and the maid aren’t your problem,” Denim Jacket informed him. He glan
ced at the blonde. “That’s it, Sandy. You’re done here. Get out.”

  “What about my money, Ike?” the blonde whined. “You said you’d pay me right after I did the job.”

  “Stupid junkie bitch.” Ike reached into his pocket and drew out a small bundle of bills. He tossed the money on the carpet in front of Sandy. “Shut up and go out through the gardens. Same way we came in. And, remember, one word about this to anyone and you’re dead.”

  “Don’t worry.” The blonde bent down, grabbed the cash and stuffed it into her shirt. “I won’t talk. You know me, Ike. I’d never do anything like that.”

  She turned and hurried toward the glass doors. Seizing the handle, she started to pull the slider open.

  Chloe felt energy shiver in the air around her. She did not need to look at Jack to see the psi fever in his eyes. And suddenly she knew what was about to happen.

  Sandy started screaming, a high-pitched, keening wail of terror. She lost her grip on the door handle and began pounding frantically on the plate-glass window with her fists.

  “Shut up,” Ike shouted. “Stop that, you flaky bitch.”

  “Shit, she’s gone crazy,” Do-rag said. “If the guard at the front gate hears her we’re gonna have real problems. He’ll call in the disturbance before he comes up to the house to check it out. We gotta make her shut up right now.”

  “This is what we get for using a junkie.” Ike swung the barrel of the silenced gun toward the screaming Sandy.

  More energy flared in the atmosphere. Chloe knew that Jack had changed his focus.

  Ike uttered a yelp of mortal terror but he managed to get off one shot. Not surprisingly, given his trembling fingers, the bullet missed Sandy, who collapsed, weeping. Glass cracked sharply as the small missile smacked through the window.

  Ike sank to his knees, his face a Halloween mask of horror. Caught fast in the grip of some unseen terrors, he could not even scream. He fainted. The gun clattered on the marble tiles.

  Do-rag leaped toward Chloe, moving with the preternatural speed of a hunter-talent. He had his arm around her throat, the nose of the gun pressed against her temple before she could take a step back.

  “Don’t even think about using your talent on me,” Do-rag hissed at Jack. “She’ll be dead before you can drop me, I swear it.”

  Jack halted in midstride.

  Chloe reached up a hand and lightly touched Do-rag’s arm. He paid no attention. He was running wide open, his entire attention focused on Jack. She pulsed a little energy into his tainted dream-psi currents. He went to sleep with shocking suddenness. The gun dropped from his hand. He crumpled soundlessly to the floor.

  On her knees near the slider, Sandy wept.

  Jack scooped up both guns. “We need to get these two secured before they wake up. They’re hunters. We can’t take any chances.”

  “Right.” Chloe took a deep breath. Her pulse was pounding. It took a great effort to think coherently. “I saw some duct tape and wire in the pool house.”

  “Get both. I’ll watch these three.”

  “Okay.” She stepped around Sandy and yanked open the slider.

  “And, Chloe?” Jack said.

  She paused and looked back at him. “What?”

  “When this is over, you can explain to me why I’ve still got my second talent.”

  36

  THEY FOUND DRAKE STONE AND THE REAL HOUSEKEEPER bound and gagged in one of the bedrooms.

  “Sorry about this,” Drake said. He watched Chloe comfort the traumatized housekeeper. “They broke in this morning. Said they would do terrible things to her if I didn’t find a way to locate you and the lamp.”

  Chloe shook her head. “This is our fault. I’m so sorry both of you got caught up in this.”

  Drake’s expression was rueful. “Always knew that lamp was bad news. Never thought anyone would actually consider it valuable, though. It’s so obviously a fake.”

  Jack went out to the pool to make the call to Fallon.

  “You’ve got three Nightshade agents?” Fallon asked, urgency vibrating in his rough voice.

  “We’ve got two confirmed Nightshade people.” Jack paced alongside the sun-sparked pool, trying to assuage the postburn rush that was shivering through him. He’d used a lot of juice taking down Sandy and Ike. His reserves were badly depleted. “At least we think they’re agents. They’re still unconscious. The woman is awake, but it looks like she’s just some poor, dumb junkie they hired to play the role of the housekeeper. I don’t think she knows anything. All she cares about is getting her next fix.”

  “How do you know the other two are Nightshade?” Fallon asked.

  “I assumed that would be your take on the situation.”

  “It is. Just wondered what made you buy into my theory of the crime.”

  “Chloe can see some weird, unstable energy in their prints. She thinks it may indicate that they’re taking a heavy psychotropic drug that affects their para-senses. That would seem to support your conspiracy theory.”

  “She can see signs of the drug?” Fallon asked sharply.

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “Huh. Now that’s damn interesting. I’ve got a couple of high-level aura-talents who can see the instability in the auras of Nightshade people. Hadn’t thought about using dreamlight readers to do the same thing. Makes sense, though. Any drug that can affect the para-senses is probably going to disturb dream energy as well. I should have considered that angle sooner. Problem is, strong dreamlight readers are damn rare.”

  “There’s something else.” Jack walked alongside the edge of the pool. “We found another set of prints on the front steps and in the foyer of the house. Chloe says Stone actually did have a visit from a high-level talent last night. But whoever came to see him doesn’t seem to be connected to what just went down. There was no bad energy in the prints.”

  “Have you talked to Stone about his visitor?”

  “Not yet. Haven’t had a chance.”

  “Ask him about it. I don’t like coincidences, but there are some high-end sensitives in Vegas. I can think of at least two strong illusion-talents and a para-hypnotist who are headliners. A major strat owns one of the biggest casinos. And then there are always the intuitives and the probability and crypto-talents hitting town who think they can beat the odds at the tables. It’s possible that Stone had a legitimate guest last night.”

  “One neither he nor the guard can remember? Why would a friend make them both forget the visit?”

  “Stone’s been around long enough to make a few enemies in that town.”

  “Maybe he invented the story.”

  Fallon was silent for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. It feels like the truth.”

  “Feels like the truth?”

  “It fits,” Fallon said simply. “But see if he can remember any more details.”

  “What do we do with the bikers and the woman?”

  “Behave like the fine upstanding citizen that you are. Call the cops. Tell them you walked in on a home- invasion robbery in progress. Hell, it’s the truth.”

  “If I turn those three over to the police they’ll probably all make bail before Chloe and I get back to the hotel. Either that or the two hunters will escape. The police won’t have a clue that they’re dealing with a couple of talents.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Those two got caught, so they’ve pissed in their chili as far as Nightshade is concerned. The organization is a tough outfit. Drawing the attention of the authorities is a big no-no. Getting arrested is a death sentence.”

  “How does Nightshade silence its operatives?”

  “Simple,” Fallon said. “They just cut off the supply of the drug. It appears that the latest version of the formula has to be taken twice a day. Skip a single dose and the senses start to deteriorate. Miss two or three doses and the result is insanity, usually followed by suicide, within a matter of two or three days. It’s a very effective system for snipping off loose ends.”


  “I thought Arcane had some kind of antidote.”

  “We do,” Fallon said wearily. “The team I sent out should be pulling into town soon. They’ll have some with them. All my people carry a supply now when they’re on a job. Feel free to make those two bikers an offer. If they tell you what they know about who they’re working for, you’ll let them have the antidote. Doubt if they’ll take the deal, though.”

  “They were ready to kill Chloe and probably the housekeeper and Stone as well. I’ll be damned if I’ll offer them the antidote.”

  “Your choice.” The shrug in Fallon’s voice was clear. “But if it makes you feel any better, the antidote is a life sentence in and of itself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It will keep someone alive and reasonably sane, but the stuff has some serious side effects: It erodes the natural psi abilities along with the formula-enhanced version. It would probably take a high- level talent like you down to a two. And there are other complications. Panic attacks. Chronic anxiety problems. Disturbing dreams. In effect, you end up with a bad case of what the Victorians called shattered nerves.”

  Jack contemplated the idea of two bikers with really bad nerves.

  “Any chance of recovery?” he asked.

  “We don’t think so. For obvious reasons we haven’t been able to run a lot of human experiments, and animal models don’t work when it comes to psi drugs. It’s probably all moot in this case. Like I said, I doubt that the two hunters you’re holding would accept the antidote.”

  “Why not?”

  “We’ve had some experience with Nightshade agents. They’ve all been thoroughly brainwashed. First, they won’t believe you when you tell them that being deprived of the drug will make them crazy. Their handlers assure them otherwise.”

  “And second?”

  “They’re as paranoid about Arcane as we are about them. Odds are they won’t let you administer the antidote because they’ll believe that you’re trying to kill them. Call me after you talk to Stone.”

  “Will do.”

  “Oh, and by the way, congratulations on your new talent.”