Sera sat back again. “Was Genesis Adam here that night?”
“Adam? No, of course not, why would he be here? He was in Australia by then. Or at least on his way. To be honest, he wasn’t really welcome in our home by that time.”
“And yet he left you everything,” Jilly observed.
Petra glanced up at that, blinking as if she’d never seen Jilly before. “How do you know that?”
“It isn’t a secret.”
“No, it isn’t,” Dale agreed. “Maybe he forgot to change his will, which would have been just like him. Or maybe in spite of everything, he still knew we were his best friends. Which would also be just like him.”
There was honesty in that, Jilly thought. It was there in the odd frustration of his voice, the only half-annoyed flick of his hand through his hair. A genuine if much-tried affection.
“Okay,” Sera said. “I want to try this again with what we know now. But you have to leave the house, or it will feed off your fear. Even just for a few hours. Go to Edinburgh, have dinner, whatever. You don’t have to stay away all night if you don’t want to, but I don’t stand a chance of dispersing this thing with you here.”
The Ewans exchanged looks.
Dale stood up. “Excuse us for a few moments. We’ll discuss it.”
“Be my guest,” Sera said.
The Ewans moved away toward the arch, talking in low voices.
Jilly looked at Sera, who was watching them without blinking. “What do you think?” she murmured. “He seemed pretty plausible to me.”
“Yes,” Sera agreed, “but all the same, he was lying through his teeth.”
“Did you fire the shot?”
“Shot? There weren’t any shots!”
Sera had been touching his arm. She’d sensed the lie.
So was Exodus telling the truth or any part of it?
Dale strode back toward them. “How much access to the house would you need?” he demanded.
“As much or as little as you’re prepared to give. The important thing is that you aren’t in any of it.”
“You’re no doubt aware I keep very sensitive material in the house. Such as stuff relating to the new system.” His glance flickered to Jilly, who smiled beatifically and gazed back.
“We won’t need to be anywhere near that kind of stuff,” Sera soothed. “We just need access to the normal haunts of the poltergeist. Feel free to lock any doors you want off limits.”
“Lock and alarm.” Dale looked directly at Jilly, and she knew she’d been rumbled. She’d known too much, said too much that she could only have known by accessing files she’d no business to see. It was almost worth it to see that Petra’s supreme indifference to her presence had now changed to a distinct wariness.
****
Genesis Adam’s heart was lightened by the sight of his beautiful computer hacker stepping out of a beaten-up old Citroen at Dale’s front door. It had been hard seeing Roxy so upset, and so, in desperation, he’d turned his attention to the outer cameras to look out at the grey clouds and misty rain instead.
This house had always been a mystery to Adam. He could understand Dale and Petra building something to their own taste, and he could understand their desire for country living and privacy. But the house stood out like a sore thumb, and now Dale seemed to have practically moved his entire operation here, dishing out projects in a piecemeal sort of way that might well bite him in the bum when it came to actual production. He seemed to have the big launch planned for spring.
It depressed him that Dale might mess up this baby, which was the most fantastic thing Adam had ever come up with or ever would. This would change the face of a lot more than just gaming, and yet Dale was risking its failure by excessive secrecy.
It further depressed him that he couldn’t help, that even alive he’d have had no right to, because, according to JK, he’d sold his share to Dale.
Why the fuck would I have done that?
And yet, stupidly, what hurt him most was the rejection of a stranger, who’d turned on him for an innocent and honest comment about her smile. Of course she’d already been freaked by his presence in the first place and by the fact that he could see her, but still…
Perversely, her overreaction only intrigued him more. He wanted and needed her help, and admittedly it was soul-numbingly boring hanging around Dale’s lab and shooting about his electronic circuits, but there was something about this beautiful girl with the deceptively hard eyes and voice…
He thought so again as she emerged from the scruffy car with her friend, presumably the psychic. They both looked at Roxy’s smart sports car—that was new. America must have gone well for Roxy. He was glad of that.
He couldn’t resist zooming in on JK’s face. She wore makeup like war paint, at once emphasising her beauty and masking her personality. The lipstick somehow hardened the lines of her mouth which, free of makeup, was one of her most appealing features—soft, expressive, and eminently kissable. Likewise, the sharp eyeliner and dark mascara lent her lovely if haunted blue eyes something the impression of a doll’s, without warmth or feeling. Yet when they were unadorned, as they were yesterday evening in the supposed privacy of her own home, you could more easily see the character and sheer intelligence shining out of them.
The hacker was hiding more than her illegal hobbies. The gamer in him was challenged.
And when she began asking Dale questions about the night he was shot, he found himself grinning at the monitor. If she’d come only to deal with the so-called poltergeist, surely they’d just get on with it? But JK was still investigating for him, and she’d got her supposedly psychic friend involved.
Which meant he could contact her again, according to his own sense of honour.
When they’d driven Dale and Petra out of the house and closed the door firmly behind them, the women linked arms and performed a short jig that made Adam smile.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” the other woman, Sera, said after only a few seconds of this horseplay.
JK dropped her arm and stood still. “I suppose you’d better try and get rid of the poltergeist. Do you need me, or can I snoop?”
“Oh, snoop, by all means,” Sera said. “I intend to do a bucketload myself. Where were Andy and George when they heard the shot? Which room?”
Andy and George? The burglars? How come the women were on first-name terms with them?
JK shook her head. “No idea. It’s a big house to search.” She picked up her laptop bag, fiddled unnecessarily with the strap on her shoulder. “What did you get off Roxy May?”
“She’s grieving and bewildered. It upset her coming here.”
Didn’t need to be psychic to spot that much, Adam thought derisively.
“And Dale?” JK pursued. “I actually thought I saw genuine affection, genuine loss today. I wasn’t sure of it before.”
“I’m still not,” Sera said flatly. “There’s truth and lies so muddled up in there, I doubt even he can separate them anymore. Grief, maybe; worry and excitement, definitely. You go and wiggle your way into his secret laboratory. I’m going to scare up a poltergeist and maybe even a vision or two.”
JK sighed. “He’s alarmed it, so it’ll take some time to get past. If I can. Sera? Keep your phone at the ready. That thing could bury you, and I wouldn’t even hear from in there.” She pointed up to the gallery.
Sera waved one hand and wandered through the arch into the bowels of the house, trailing her fingers along the walls as she went. Adam stayed with JK as she turned and ran lightly upstairs to the gallery.
His heart was doing a steady but accelerated drumming, like when a game got interesting. Which was amazing. That VR program was fucking good.
“God, I was such a genius,” he murmured with derisive self-mockery and switched cameras so that he could see her entering the outer study. She looked at the camera above the secret door and sighed as she extracted the laptop from her bag. “So which way, JK?” he urged. “Try and hack into the
alarm system? More satisfying to accomplish but harder. In fact, probably impossible in the time available. Or ask Exodus? Go on, ask. You know you want to…”
Or had he really scared her off? How creepy was he right now? The trouble was, being disembodied tended to separate you from the norm too.
Well, even alive, he’d never pretended to be normal. Come on, JK, just ask me. Five seconds, and then I’ll help you out…
Her fingers on the track pad hovered. She had elegant hands, small and slim, the nails shapely and beautifully painted. How would they feel on a man’s body?
You’ll never know, will you?
Fuck, I don’t want to be dead.
Two seconds, JK. Come on, you know it makes sense.
She opened a program he’d never seen or heard of before.
Oh well, can’t win them all. He ran his mouse over the chat icon. And before he could click, it flashed to life. “JK has invited you to chat.”
Yes!
Exodus: Ignore the camera. The alarm won’t go off until you touch the keypad. Make sure you hit # first, followed immediately by 9845. Wait for the click, then 7698.
A smile flickered across her face.
JK: I hate you.
While he grinned, she marched to the keypad without hesitation, laptop clutched in one hand in tablet form so she could check the numbers. With only a couple of glances, she hit the keys with swift precision, waited as instructed, hit the rest, and then she was in.
The door slid open, and he turned slowly to face her.
Chapter Seven
Jilly’s heart raced. She hadn’t hesitated to obey Exodus’s instructions, yet now that the door stood open, she had to force herself to go in.
Empty room full of exciting technology?
Or him?
The room was dark as before; light from the outer office penetrated only the first few feet of the lab. Beyond, everything looked shadowed, mysterious.
She gripped the laptop tighter and stepped inside, every sense on high alert. She couldn’t hear anyone moving or even breathing. The room smelled sterile, as if no one had been there since it was last cleaned. And yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in awareness. Like Sera’s in the presence of spirits.
I am not psychic. I am so not psychic.
She moved farther in, eyes darting to every corner of the room. And then, just as suddenly as the last time, the lights came on, and she was blinded by the dazzling green glow that zapped into her and seemed to consume her. At least it finished its scan—or whatever it was doing—faster than before.
Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes and saw him sitting by one of the computers watching her.
He slouched in his chair, untidy, unshaven, every bit as carelessly attractive as she remembered. And terrifyingly real.
Was this how Sera saw ghosts?
His lips quirked into a rueful smile, and he stood, walking toward her. She followed every move with fascination, the faint swing of arms and hips, the play of sinew along his wrist and hand as he held it out to her. Solid. Real.
“JK. I’m glad you came back.”
He’d touched her before, without permission, the faintest brush of his fingertips against her skin, and she’d liked it. Or, at least, looking back on it defensively, she hadn’t minded. It had been so quick and unthreatening. But this, this hand held out to her, loomed huge in her mind because of what she’d learned since the first time, since the first visit, not just about what he was, but who he’d been.
She stared at his hand. It was big enough, but hardly huge in this reality. The fingers were long, his nails cut short but not professionally manicured. A capable, efficient hand that she shouldn’t be able to touch.
Slowly, she set down the laptop on the nearest desk and lifted her hand to touch his fingers. They curled around hers, warm and solid, and she gasped and clung to them for support.
“You’d better not be taking the piss out of me,” she got out, and his eyes narrowed in sudden laughter, the skin crinkling around the corners. He had a good, silent laugh, an excellent match for the mere smile she’d glimpsed before.
“It’s just technology,” he said, as if he knew exactly how to soothe her. “Virtual reality. No headset, no goggles, no gloves. When you touch the sensor just past that first computer, it sets off the machine over there”—he pointed toward the dental drill-shaped things above the two benches—”which scans your brain and the rest of you and plugs you in so that others in the game can see you, and you feel with your whole body.”
“Fuck,” Jilly said in wonder, gazing from the machine back to him and their joined hands. “But it’s real. You feel real. You look real.”
“So do you.” His finger moved on the skin between her thumb and forefinger, sending tiny thrills down her nerves. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. She turned his hand, pushing her fingers against his to open them, which he did at once, and she could study the lines of his palm and trace them with one finger.
His breath caught, and he curled his fingers back around hers. “You’re tickling.”
“Sorry.” She pulled free, only half as embarrassed as she should have been. “This is just so incredible. This is your new system? No wonder Ewan’s keeping it under wraps. It’s not just revolutionary, it’s mind-blowing. How’d you do it? How can it get so far into your brain without even wires?”
“A combination of very new techniques from both neurosurgery and VR.”
Jilly wandered across to the benches, touching the unknown equipment with reverence. “You’re a neurosurgeon too? Somehow the papers missed that.”
“Not me. We have a friend, a doctor, who helps with that side of things. Gives me what I need and even tests it for safety.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “And he passed it, right?”
“Right.”
She frowned. “It’s clever,” she allowed. “Fucking clever. But I don’t get this room. Why put such fabulous technology in such a shite virtual environment?”
He grinned. “The environment’s still real. We haven’t programmed it to anything else yet. Where would you like to go?”
She felt her eyes widen. “Where have you got?” she asked breathlessly.
“Hmm, prohibition-era Chicago? We can go gangster shooting and take on the mob. Or 1940s occupied Paris. Or there’s a half-finished futuristic with some magnificent aliens.” He considered her, leaning his head to one side. “I can see you in Paris, all chic and secretive.”
For some reason, a flush rose through her body to her face. She hoped her makeup hid it. He only quirked his expressive lips and turned to the computer he’d just left. His fingers flew across the keys.
“The computers,” she said, frowning. “Real or virtual?”
“Real. Well, both, I suppose, since our virtual forms can operate them.” He glanced up at her over his shoulder. “One thing you have to bear in mind. The game is an environment. A blank canvas with only the most basic of plots. You control the events by your thoughts and desires, and when you want to leave, you do. But that’s the tricky part. You have to really want to leave not just the scene you’re in but the entire game, otherwise it doesn’t work. That bit takes practice, so you’d better just tell me. Which means you’ll have to stay with me at all times. There should be a safety cutout on a time mechanism, plus a distress sensor, but they weren’t properly operational when I made this stuff, and I don’t know how far along Dale’s got with it.”
“Not very, if you’ve been here for two days,” she observed and was instantly sorry when his expression clouded. His eyelids swept down, and he turned back to the computer.
He had long, dark eyelashes that looked oddly appealing against his pale skin. “That’s different. I’ve got nowhere else to go. OK, Paris, 1942. Ready?”
“What do I do?” she asked, suddenly panicking.
“Nothing.” He straightened and came toward her. “Take my hand.”
She did, clin
ging to it like a lifeline as the world changed dizzyingly around her.
****
The force of the vision dropped Sera to her knees. A man’s terrified face stared up at her, contorted because someone else was ruthlessly squeezing the air out of his windpipe. Crackling flames loud in her ears, the glow of fire close to the dying man’s head. A log fire.
It vanished as quickly as it had come, and Sera knelt, panting on the hard hearth of the Ewans’ sitting room.
Fuck.
A man had died here, deliberately murdered. And it was on this spot at the hearth. Touching it with her foot had brought the vision; falling to her hands and knees had intensified it for the instant it lasted.
Sera rose shakily to her feet. Violent visions never got easier to bear, but she had a job to do.
“Well,” she muttered, gazing around her. “No wonder you’re pissed off. Someone killed you, right here. Tell me all about it.”
She stood by the hearth where he’d died and closed her eyes, concentrating on her memory of the vision, of the dying man—youngish, wild-eyed, unkempt brown hair. Presumably Genesis Adam, although she tried to avoid thinking the name, just held on to the feel of the vision, to the cool fringes that hung in the air like the echo of the angry spirit, and called to it.
Without warning, a gust of air hurled her hair back from her face. She had to hold on to the mantelpiece to avoid staggering backward.
“Be easy,” Sera told it, sending calming, soothing vibes. “I’ll find who did this to you. I’ll make sure he’s punished. It’s not your concern now. I’ll do it.”
Something moved above her head. She only just managed to leap out of the way as the framed original art crashed to the floor where she’d been standing.
No wonder there was no “stuff” in the house. The bloody poltergeist kept trashing it.
“You have to go,” she said firmly and began imposing herself upon it, pressing into its essence, forcing it apart.
Then the door crashed shut, and her mind was left clutching nothing.
She might have imagined it had gone, except she could hear doors banging all over the house.
Serafina and the Virtual Man (Book 2 of the Serafina's Series) Page 8