Amaryllis

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Ms. Lark?” Sheffield put his hand on her arm. “Remember what I said. I offer you a future of selfless public service. The governor’s chair is only a stop along the way. One day I shall be president of the United City-states. You can be at my side when that day comes. Not only as my prism but as my wife.”

  “Your wife. “Amaryllis stopped half in and half out of the car.

  “Why not?” Sheffield smiled coolly. “Think about it. You were born a bastard, Ms. Lark. I can make you the wife of the president. I offer you the opportunity to rise above all the shame and humiliation your family suffered because of your birth.”

  Amaryllis flew out of the limo. She ran to Lucas, who opened his arms and folded her close.

  She buried her face against his shoulder as the long, pale limousine snaked off into the distance.

  “That does it. Sheffield has gone too far.” Lucas stood in front of the jelly-ice fire and gazed into the flames. He had to work hard to conceal the depths of his anger from Amaryllis. He was afraid it would alarm her to know just how furious he was.

  Sheffield had tried his own perverted brand of seduction on Amaryllis, and he had been unforgivably shrewd about it. He had been clever enough to appeal to the core of indomitable virtue that was so much a part of her.

  “It’s all right, Lucas.” Amaryllis was curled in the corner of the sofa, her feet tucked under her. “I told him that I had no intention of going to work for him.”

  “I should have guessed that sooner or later Sheffield would come after you. There aren’t that many prisms who can handle a class-nine or ten talent, let alone one who is off the scale.”

  “Gifford told him about me.”

  “Osterley has probably run through every full-spectrum prism on his own staff trying to satisfy Sheffield.”

  “Yes. Lucas, this is growing more difficult at every turn. Sheffield is obviously bound and determined to use his talent to get to the governor’s chair and eventually to the presidency. He gave me a pious speech about wanting to employ his gifts with the ethical guidance of a trained prism. But if he actually had any ethics of his own, he would never have used his talent the way we’ve seen him use it.”

  “I don’t give a damn about his ethics,” Lucas said. “He’s a politician. But he sure as hell had better not scoop you up in the back of that white limousine again.”

  “He won’t. Forget his designs on me. I can deal with him. The real question is, do you think he might have murdered Professor Landreth?”

  “What?” Lucas swung swiftly around to face her.

  “When you think about it, Sheffield had as strong a motive for killing the professor as Gifford did. Stronger, in a way. If Landreth had discovered what Sheffield was doing with his talent, he might have threatened to expose him. Sheffield might have feared the damage to his campaign.”

  “Stop obsessing on Landreth’s death. We’ve got other problems.”

  “I told you, Sheffield is not a problem.” Amaryllis looked past him into the flames. “Unless he killed Professor Landreth. Lucas, we need to find that missing file.”

  “You haven’t got the foggiest idea of how to go about finding a missing file,” Lucas exploded. “And I don’t want you trying to dream one up. Every time you try to play prism detective, you get yourself into trouble.”

  “I can’t quit now. Lucas, I have to know what’s going on. Try to understand. I need answers.”

  He studied her face in the firelight and knew that there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Her stubborn nature was as much a part of her as her fierce integrity. He knew when he was beaten.

  “You want to find a missing file?” he said. “Hire a real private investigator.”

  Amaryllis’s eyes lit with fresh enthusiasm. “Do you know one?’

  “Yeah,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  The following morning Lucas strode past the desks of two assistant secretaries and a clerk. He entered a small, tastefully panelled antechamber. The refined, conservatively dressed woman seated behind the large desk bore a striking resemblence to the prisms Lucas had seen focusing for Sheffield. Same hair color. Same bra size.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Madison Sheffield.”

  “I’m afraid Senator Sheffield is busy at the moment.” The secretary gave him a polite, inquiring look. “Did you have an appointment?”

  “No. But don’t worry about it. I don’t need one.” He moved across the chamber to the closed door of the inner office and reached for the knob.

  “Sir, I cannot allow you to just barge in on the senator.” The secretary leaped to her feet and hurried around the corner of the desk with a surprising turn of speed. “I told you, he’s a busy man. If you have an issue you wish to discuss with him, you’ll have to make an appointment.”

  Lucas glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to ten. “Put me down for ten o’clock. I’m a little early.” He opened the door and walked into the inner office.

  He shut the door in the secretary’s face and activated the lock.

  Madison Sheffield was deep in conversation on the phone. He frowned when he saw who had invaded his sanctum. “Excuse me, Bob, something’s come up. I’ll call you back later to discuss those changes in the bill.” He slowly replaced the phone.

  A series of muffled thuds sounded on the heavy door. Lucas ignored them.

  “This won’t take long, Sheffield.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Five minutes to explain the facts of life.” Lucas crossed the thick carpet and halted in front of the broad desk. “You’re smart enough to have gotten all the way to this fancy office, but if you expect to make it to the governor’s chair, you had better be smart enough to keep your hands off Amaryllis Lark.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Trent?”

  Lucas planted both hands on the wide desk. “She’s off limits, Sheffield. Touch her and you can kiss good-bye to your hopes of becoming the next governor of our fair city-state. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You can’t threaten me.”

  “Normally I don’t get involved in politics,” Lucas said softly. “It’s not a great interest of mine. But for you I will make an exception.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “For you, I will call Nelson Burlton personally to give him the inside story of how you use your off-the-scale talent to raise campaign contributions.”

  “No one will believe you.”

  “The public loves Nelson Burlton. They also love a scandal. But just to make certain, I will also call the biggest donors on your list of contributors and warn them privately that they were manipulated into giving money to the Founders’ Values Party.”

  “You have no proof.”

  “That’s the beauty of it, Sheffield. I won’t need proof. I’m the Iceman, remember? The guy who ran the pirates out of the islands. The man who discovered the alien artifacts. I even turned down the chance to run for your seat in the city-state senate. Important people, the kind who give you money, will believe me.”

  “How dare you!” Sheffield shot to his feet, his face working with rage. “Get out of my office before I have you thrown out.”

  “Stay away from Amaryllis. If the rumors about you start with me and flow through Nelson Burlton, you’ll never be able to shake them. Every major contributor you’ve got will get nervous. People will talk, Sheffield. Ever hear the term psychic vampire? That’s what they call off-the-scale talents like you.”

  “Damn you, Trent, you’re one yourself, aren’t you? That’s the only explanation for what happened when I leaned on you last night. And you’ve found yourself a prism who can handle something more than class-ten talent.”

  Lucas smiled faintly. “You’re mistaken. I’m only a class nine. And I’ve got the certification papers to prove it.”

  “You’re a hell of a lot higher than a class ten. You must have rigged the test.”

  “Impossible. E
veryone knows the tests are infallible.”

  A feverish excitement flashed in Sheffield’s eyes. “How did you do it?”

  “I didn’t do a damn thing, Sheffield. I just took the test and got myself certified a class nine.”

  “Tell me how you did it.”

  Lucas shrugged. “Unlike some people, I have nothing to hide.”

  “Listen to me, Trent, there’s no need for us to be on opposite sides. I could take you with me to the president’s office. I could name you as my vice president.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I’m offering you power, Trent. Real power.”

  “I’ve got all the power I need.”

  “It’s Amaryllis Lark, isn’t it? You don’t want to give her up. I don’t blame you. But there’s no need to worry. Prisms can work for any talent. We can share her, Trent.”

  It took every ounce of self-control Lucas possessed to keep his hands from Sheffield’s throat “Touch her and I’ll destroy you.”

  Sheffield made a visible effort to regain control of himself. His composure settled over him, a slightly tattered cloak. “The most you can do is accuse me of focusing a personality trait, and everyone knows personality traits don’t count as true talents.”

  “People don’t like to feel that they’ve been manipulated, Sheffield. And the sort of contributor who gives big bucks to a campaign doesn’t like to feel that he or she has been made to look like a fool.”

  “Get out of my office. I don’t have to listen to this.”

  “Your power is limited by the strength of the prism who works with you. So long as you’re getting your focus from a normal full-spectrum prism, I figure you’re not much more of a threat than any other smart politician. But if you try to link with Amaryllis, your career is finished. Count on it.”

  Lucas turned and walked out of the office.

  Amaryllis wrapped her coat more securely around herself and surveyed the night-darkened street with grave misgivings. “Are you certain that this Stonebraker person is a qualified private investigator?”

  “Rafe Stonebraker is fully qualified.” Lucas locked the Icer’s door before he joined Amaryllis on the cracked, uneven sidewalk. “The trick is to convince him to take the case.”

  “I thought all investigators needed work. In mystery novels they’re always hard up for clients.”

  “Stonebraker only takes cases that interest him. He’s a little eccentric.”

  “You can say that again. Lucas, I don’t like the look of this neighborhood.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “You have to ask? It looks like a cemetery.”

  “Your imagination is running away with you.” Lucas took her arm. “Come on, let’s go see Stonebraker.”

  Amaryllis glanced up and down the silent, empty street. It was not her imagination, she thought. The neighborhood did look like the sort of place where one might encounter a few specters.

  The address of Stonebraker Investigations was located on a hillside overlooking the city. The district was an old one dotted with huge mansions built by the wealthy during the Later Expansion Period. Fifty years ago the heavy, somber architecture had been all the rage, an overreaction to the ebullience of the Early Explorations Period.

  The style had quickly fallen out of favor. Most of the great, dark houses were empty these days. They crouched on the hill like so many brooding gargoyles frozen in time. Their windows were shuttered, and their doors had been nailed closed. Realtors threw up their hands whenever one came on the market. There were very few buyers for the old, decaying mansions. Even the Historical Preservation Society was not very interested in them.

  Amaryllis shivered when Lucas brought her to a halt in front of a massive iron gate. “I don’t like this, Lucas.”

  He grinned for the first time all day, his teeth white and dangerous in the shadows. “If you think the neighborhood is spooky, wait until you see Stonebraker’s home.”

  “Why did we have to come here at night? Why couldn’t we have made an appointment during regular business hours?”

  “These are Stonebraker’s regular hours. He only works nights.”

  Lucas’s warning about the house proved correct. Rafe Stonebraker’s mansion was an eerie mausoleum lit by old-fashioned jelly-ice flare candles that cast long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. Amaryllis had little opportunity to examine the interior closely, but what little she saw as she and Lucas were shown into a fire-lit library was enough to make her shudder. It was a house filled with darkness in more ways than one.

  “You’re really going to have to see about getting an interior designer in here, Stonebraker,” Lucas said as the library door closed. “You may have pushed the atmosphere bit a little too far.”

  “I’ll take your advice under consideration, Trent.” The voice, as dark as the shadowed halls of the mansion, emanated from the depths of a deep chair that faced the fire. “What brings you here tonight?”

  “Business.”

  “Naturally.” There was a laconic, soul-weary sigh buried in the single word.

  “My friend Amaryllis here has a small job for you, if you’re interested.” Lucas strolled over to a side table and picked up a crystal decanter filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. “Might help you shake off a little of that pesky ennui for a while.”

  “What sort of job?”

  Amaryllis cleared her throat. “I want you to find a missing file, Mr. Stonebraker.”

  “Are you certain that it’s missing?” Stonebraker asked.

  Amaryllis scowled. “Of course, I’m certain. Why would I be here if it weren’t? The contents relate to an investigation I’m conducting into the matter of the death of a very fine man.”

  There was a long silence from the vicinity of the chair.

  “It has been my experience that such investigations generally reveal more than anyone really wants to know about the victim.”

  “Are you or are you not interested in my offer of employment?” Amaryllis snapped.

  “Tell me about it,” Stonebraker said at last.

  She did, as succinctly as possible. It only took a few minutes during which time Lucas lounged against the side table and sipped the bright, clear brew that he had poured from the decanter.

  Amaryllis finally got to the end of her tale. Braced for a rejection, she was surprised when Stonebraker gave her his answer.

  “I’ll look into it,” he said softly.

  Amaryllis glanced at Lucas, who shrugged and put down his glass.

  “You’ve got your investigator,” he said. “Let’s let him get on with his work.”

  Amaryllis did not hesitate when Lucas started toward the door. With one last, uneasy glance at the back of the chair, she hurried after him.

  A few minutes later she breathed a sigh of relief as they walked back through the iron gates. “You said he was a little eccentric. You didn’t tell me that he was downright weird.”

  “Stonebraker is kind of difficult to explain.”

  “He’s impossible to explain. Lucas, I don’t like him, I don’t trust him, and I don’t think he’ll find the missing file. Hiring him is a complete waste of time.”

  Lucas unlocked the car door. “You’re just saying that because you don’t approve of him.”

  “Who could possibly approve of a man who keeps bizarre hours, has no discernible work ethic, and who doesn’t even use modern light fixtures?” Amaryllis glowered at Lucas as she slid into the passenger seat. “I never even got a good look at him. The only illumination in that creepy old house was from the fire and a couple of old-fashioned jelly-ice candles.”

  “Stonebraker has excellent night vision.” Lucas got behind the steering bar. “It came in handy when we went pirate hunting in the islands.”

  Amaryllis groaned. “I should have guessed. He’s another one of your acquaintances from the Western Islands Action, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” Lucas activated the ignition system. “He may be weird, but if anyone c
an find your missing file, he can.”

  Amaryllis shuddered. “Are all of your friends off-the-scale talents?”

  Lucas gave her a strange sidelong glance as he pulled away from the curb. “What makes you think Stonebraker is a talent?”

  “I could feel the power in him.” Amaryllis paused. “The same way I could feel it in Nick Chastain. They’re both as strong as you, aren’t they?”

  “Probably.” Lucas shrugged. “But neither of them has any interest in getting tested, and neither has ever met a prism who could work with them at the full range of their power.”

  “I’m not surprised. No reputable prism would work with an untested talent.”

  “Picky, picky, picky.”

  Chapter

  15

  “Amaryllis, my dear, I hear today is the big day.” Gracie Proud paused in the doorway of Amaryllis’s office. “Clementine tells me you’ve got an appointment at four for your marriage agency interview.”

  Amaryllis looked up from the notes she was making for a client’s final bill. She managed a wan smile. She liked Gracie, but so did everyone. Gracie was one of those warm and charming individuals people gravitated toward instinctively.

  She was Clementine’s opposite in many ways, tastefully fashionable where Clementine was defiantly outrageous in her choice of clothes and hairstyle; soft-spoken where Clementine was loud and brusque; even-tempered where Clementine was inclined to jump to conclusions or fly off the handle.

  Today Gracie was dressed in one of her trademark pastel business suits that fit her elegant figure like a glove. Her dainty high-heeled shoes and stockings were carefully toned to match the pale blue jacket and skirt. Clementine had once told Amaryllis that Gracie had all her suits made by a tailor in New Portland.

  “Hi, Gracie.” Amaryllis put down her pen. “Yes, this is the day.”

  Gracie raised her finely drawn brows. “You don’t appear to be too thrilled about the whole thing.”