Orchid

by Jayne Castle

  Primal fear metamorphosed into outrage. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Sorry.” Rafe turned his attention to the nearest bookcase. “It was an accident.”

  Elvira glanced quizzically from one to the other. “Something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” Orchid managed to summon what she hoped was a cool, professional smile. “Mr. Stonebraker let a bit of talent slip on the psychic plane. I thought perhaps he wanted to focus, but apparently he just lost control for a moment.”

  She glanced at Rafe out of the corner of her eye. Touché, she thought when she saw his stoic expression. She could have sworn that he blushed. She knew she had embarrassed him.

  Any man endowed with Rafe’s monumental degree of arrogant self-mastery would naturally be chagrined by the condescending assumption that he did not have complete control of his psychic talent. But he could hardly argue the point. If he denied it, he would be tacitly admitting that the flash of strat-talent had been deliberate. And that would mean that he had meant to intimidate her.

  “I see.” Elvira dismissed the event with a charming smile and turned to walk off down the gallery hall. “As long as you’re here, why don’t I show the two of you the rest of my collection? For obvious reasons, I rarely have the pleasure of allowing others to view it.”

  Orchid avoided Rafe’s gaze. Perhaps the brief pulse of power had been an accident, she thought. Or perhaps she was overreacting. She was tired, she reminded herself. Anxiety dreams, punctuated by the two full-blown nightmares, had disrupted her sleep for the past several days. And then, this morning, Morgan Lambert had phoned her with the news of Theo Willis’s death.

  It had not been a good week.

  “I’m especially proud of my Fay histories of the second generation.” Elvira paused to indicate a row of leather-clad spines. “Aren’t they lovely?”

  Orchid smiled. “I like those. Read them in high school.”

  Elvira gave her a knowing look. “I’m not surprised they appealed to you, dear. Rafe, however, is of the opinion that Fay romanticized the second-generation colonists. Isn’t that right, Rafe?”

  “I don’t care for the romantic style,” Rafe said.

  “Figures,” Orchid grinned. “I’ll bet you’ve never read any of my books, have you?”

  His brows drew together in a disapproving frown. “No.”

  “Don’t bother. You wouldn’t like them. Much too romantic.”

  “Personally, I love your books, Miss Adams,” Elvira said. “Indeed, I am collecting them. Legally, of course. I was so excited when Rafe told me you would be coming with him today. I would be delighted if you would autograph a book before you leave.”

  “I’d be honored,” Orchid said.

  “Wonderful. Now, then, let me show you my little group of Espinosa mysteries.” Elvira turned a corner and started down another stainless steel corridor. “Oh, by the way, Rafe, remind me to put in an order for another thousand shares of Synergy Fund stock before you go.”

  Orchid glanced at him. “Synergy Fund?”

  “My day job,” he muttered. “I’m the president and chief financial advisor.”

  Strat-talents were supposed to be good businesspeople, she reminded herself. “I see.”

  Who would have guessed, she thought. Stranger and stranger.

  She was aware of Rafe pacing along beside her. If one discounted the subtle aura of power he radiated, there was nothing extraordinary about him. He was of medium height and he appeared to be in excellent physical shape. He looked lean and sleekly muscled in his dark sweater and trousers. His near-black hair was cut a little too short for current fashion.

  It was, perhaps, unfortunate, given the nature of his particular psychic talent, that he had been endowed with the blunt, hard features and the intense eyes of a predator, she thought.

  “Do take a look at my wonderful new Inchman, for me, Rafe.” Elvira motioned toward a small volume. “I love it, but I have a nasty suspicion that it may be a forgery. I suppose there would be some ironic justice in that. Nevertheless, I would like to get a second opinion and I can hardly ask a professional--”

  She broke off abruptly, interrupted by a high-pitched, electronic wail that oscillated suddenly through the steel gallery. The sound was not especially loud but it struck Orchid’s nerves with an eerie intensity. She was abruptly dizzy.

  An expression of acute dismay crossed Elvira’s face. “Oh, dear.”

  Rafe winced as if in severe pain. He put his hands over his ears. “Five hells. The new security system, I assume?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Elvira closed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead. “The installer said there might be a few false alarms in the beginning. I’m afraid we have a problem.”

  “Do something.” Orchid felt as if she were standing on the bow of a ship that was being tossed about by violent waves. She steadied herself with one hand against the wall. “Turn it off.”

  “That’s the problem.” Elvira swayed on her feet and gave Orchid a deeply apologetic look. “I can’t. Not from in here. The lights will go next, unfortunately.”

  Rafe took his hands away from his ears and moved swiftly toward the door at the far end of the gallery. She caught a glimpse of his grim face and knew that he was as uncomfortable as everyone else.

  Perhaps he was actually in more distress she thought, not without a pang of genuine sympathy. He was a strat-talent, after all. His kind were believed to have more acute physical senses than other people, even when they were not employing their psychic energy. She could only imagine what the strange, disorienting wail of the siren was doing to his ears and his equilibrium.

  “Why doesn’t one of your household staff stop it?” Rafe called out to Elvira as he went toward the door.

  “I gave them the night off when I heard you would be dropping by for a visit.” Elvira sounded weak. “There’s no one here but us.”

  The lights over the bookcases winked out with startling abruptness, plunging the steel-lined room into stygian darkness.

  “Wonderful.” Rafe’s voice echoed eerily in the tomb-like chamber. “Just what we needed to make the evening perfect.”

  “What is it about that siren?” Orchid shook her head, trying to clear it. “For some reason it makes me feel as if I’m about to pass out.”

  “It’s designed to make you do just that. The sound waves it generates interfere with the natural synergy of ear-brain patterns to create a disorienting sensation.” Elvira’s voice was whisper-thin now. “In fact, I believe I’m about to fault, myself.”

  “Elvira.” Rafe’s voice sharpened. “The door’s locked from the outside. We’re trapped in this damn gallery of yours.”

  “The crypto-talent who installed the system designed it so that any thief who found his way inside would be locked in here and rendered unconscious.”

  “Good grief, we’re caught in a fancy bug trap for burglars.” Orchid massaged her forehead. At that moment unconsciousness held a distinct appeal. Anything was better than the feeling that she was going to be violently ill. “I don’t do well in dark, enclosed spaces.”

  “Don’t freak out on me,” Rafe ordered. His voice sounded closer now. “I’ve got enough problems on my hands locating the other exit.”

  In spite of her growing nausea, Orchid was offended. “I never freak out.” A flicker of hope went through her as his words finally registered. “What other exit?”

  “There has to be one. Elvira?”

  “Yes, dear?” She sounded half asleep.

  “Pay attention. I know how crypto-talents think and I know how you think.”

  “Yes, of course you do, dear. You’re a strat-talent.”

  “You and whoever designed the system must have planned for this kind of disaster. Where’s the other exit?”

  “You’re right, there is one. Somewhere. Can’t seem to think. So sorry, dear. This is very awkward. Quite embarrassing, in fact.”

  With a soft sigh, she fell against Orchid, who st
aggered under the unexpected weight.

  “Oomph. Rafe, I’ve got her. I think she’s unconscious.”

  “I’ll take her.”

  She did not hear him move but a second later he brushed against her arm. He took the weight of Elvira from her.

  “I’ll leave her here on the floor for now,” Rafe said.

  Orchid’s head was spinning faster in the endless night. “You’d better not get too close to me. I’m feeling a little sick. My boss will never forgive me if I throw up on a client’s shoes.”

  “I won’t be real thrilled either.” He moved again in the fathomless dark. “Get a grip, Orchid.”

  “Easy for you to say. I can’t seem to grip anything. I think I’m going to faint.”

  “If you do, I’ll demand my money back from Clementine Malone. Come on, we’ve got to find that exit.”

  “You’re the big-time strat-talent. Got any ideas?”

  “Yeah. I just need to think clearly for a minute.” There was raw pain in his voice now. “Damn. That siren is really doing a number on my ears.”

  An idea occurred to her. “Link.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. No telling how that siren will affect a focus link.”

  “What have we got to lose?” she demanded. “I vote we try it.”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right. Not much to lose.”

  When the questing tendril of raw power unfurled out on the psychic plane, Orchid greeted it with a great deal more enthusiasm than usual. Rafe’s psychic energy burned, strong and steady, in the metaphysical realm where there was no day or night, no light or darkness.

  The instant she projected the glittering crystal prism that could focus his power, everything steadied. The dreadful spinning ceased.

  Strat-talent energy, a lot of it, more raw power, in fact, than she had ever focused in her entire career, slammed into the prism she had crafted.

  “Better. Much, much better.” Rafe’s voice was hoarse with relief. “Definitely a good idea.”

  “Thanks. All part of the package of exclusive services available from Psynergy, Inc.” Orchid let out the breath she had been holding. “Don’t forget to tell my boss about this. I may be able to use it to get a raise.”

  The nausea faded as her sense of physical and spatial disorientation receded. She was still blinded by dense darkness and the obnoxious sound waves continued to assault her nerve endings but she found that she could now keep the nastier effects of the security system at bay by concentrating on holding the focus.

  She studied the off-the-chart level of power pouring through the glittering crystal prism she had projected on the psychic plane.

  “Class six, I believe your certification papers said,” she murmured very politely.

  There was a short, tense pause.

  “You don’t appear to be having any trouble dealing with my talent,” Rafe pointed out dryly. “That makes you something more than a full-spectrum. A lot more. In fact, now that I’ve had a chance to focus at this level with you, I can see that there’s something different about the kind of prism you project. What is it?”

  Orchid was suddenly grateful for the enveloping darkness. It made it impossible for Rafe to see her blush. At least, she amended, thinking of his para-heightened senses, she hoped it made it impossible for him to notice the heat she felt in her cheeks.

  “I’m an ice-prism,” she mumbled. Until tonight, there had been no reason to demonstrate the full range of her abilities to Rafe.

  “A what?”

  “An ice-prism.”

  There was another short silence. “I’ve heard of those. Never met one.”

  “There aren’t very many of us around.”

  “Is it true what they say about ice-prisms?” He sounded genuinely curious. “Can you really manipulate the prisms you project?”

  “Mr. Stonebraker, do you have any immediate plans to get us out of here or are we going to hang around chatting all night?”

  “Sure.” An unexpected note of amusement laced his voice. “But you’ve got to admit that this is rather ironic. A couple of psychic vampires meeting in the dark. Just like something out of a novel. One of yours, perhaps?”

  It was uncomfortably similar to a scene in her latest book, Dark Desires, but she had no intention of telling him that.

  Out on the metaphysical plane, the raw chaos of energy pulsed through the prism, emerging in sharply controlled, brilliant bands of power. Orchid knew that, so long as she channeled the energy for him, Rafe could use it the way he used any of his other senses.

  Strat-talent energy waves looked different from other kinds of paranormal power. The colors were deeper, stronger, less transparent. They vibrated on slightly different wavelengths, augmenting ancient hunting instincts and heightening senses that had long been lost to mankind. That was why the experts considered them more primitive in an evolutionary sense.

  Rafe’s psychic energy was fierce and powerful but it was clean, even at this level of intensity. It was not tainted with the muddy hues of evil and incipient madness that had shaded Calvin Hyde’s talent.

  She watched, enthralled as the energy surged across the metaphysical plane. It was exhilarating to focus at the highest ranges of her own power. This was what she had been born to do, she thought. It was akin to breaking into a run after walking all of her life.

  She knew that she was not the only one savoring the experience. She could feel Rafe’s exultant satisfaction. It occurred to her that he had probably seldom, if ever, had a chance to focus at this level for any extended period of time.

  “Five hells.” He sounded slightly dazed. “This is good. This is incredible.”

  She smiled to herself. The urge to show off overwhelmed common sense. She was an ice-prism, after all. One who rarely got to exercise the full range of her unique abilities.

  You think this is good? she thought. Watch this.

  She studied the nuances of Rafe’s strat-talent, noting the rhythms of the waves, the subtle differences in hues, the texture of his surging power.

  Using the exquisite control she wielded over her own psychic energy, she made minute adjustments in the focus. A gentle alteration here, a slight sharpening of power there...

  The prism glittered as she went to work on its myriad crystal facets. When she was finished, the metaphysical construct was so brilliantly clear that it seemed to glow with the light of an inner sun.

  She heard Rafe groan. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath as he watched his powerful talent focused with preternatural clarity and precision. It was the kind of elemental sound he might make in the moment of sexual release, Orchid thought, fascinated. An answering rush of sensual heat flooded her stomach.

  This was ridiculous. She took a couple of meta-zen-syn breaths to regain her self-control.

  “It’s as if you made that prism just for me,” Rafe whispered.

  “I did.”

  “A perfect focus.”

  “I told you, I’m an ice-prism.”

  “So it really is true... I never realized--” He broke off abruptly.

  Orchid took a couple more controlled breaths and called on an old meta-zen-syn mantra. Balance and harmony, she chanted silently to herself. Balance and harmony was the key. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool out of herself in front of Clementine’s most exclusive client.

  She had not felt anything that even remotely resembled physical attraction when she had focused for Calvin Hyde three years ago. All she had experienced on that occasion was complete and utter revulsion.

  So why the sudden rush of yearning when she focused for Rafe?

  Even now, in the midst of the crisis, she was aware of a passionate sense of intimacy, a wistful need for something more, something she could not describe. After her first focus assignment with him she had assured herself that the bizarre side effects of the focus link would disappear when she grew accustomed to working with his unusual talent.

  But familiarity was definitely not leading to
boredom or even to the customary, emotionally neutral state that defined the usual focus link.

  “I’d rather not spend the rest of the night here,” she said briskly. “Got any ideas of where the crypto-talent installed the second exit?”

  “I’m a strat-talent, remember? I can find things.”

  “Even in the dark?”

  “Especially in the dark. Why do you think I prefer to work at night?”

  Chapter 2

  “ Well? Did you find the seam you thought would be there?” Orchid’s voice held a crisp edge of urgency.

  “Yes.” Rafe ran his fingertips along the wall. His focus-heightened sense of touch assured him that it was more than the place where two strips of steel had been joined. He could feel the faint trace of escaping ah-. “It’s here. Right where I thought it would be.”

  “You’re kidding?” A cautious relief bubbled in the words. “You actually found it?”

  It occurred to him that she had not been terribly optimistic about his chances of locating the second exit. “Nice to know I had your confidence all along.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t mean to imply that I doubted your ability, it’s just that--”

  “Forget it.”

  “I’ve insulted you, haven’t I?”

  “I’ll get over it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “But you’ve got to admit, I had cause to be concerned. It’s impossible to see my own hand in front of my face. The odds against your finding a hidden door were pretty dismal.”

  “No, they weren’t. The odds were pretty damn good that I would locate it. Anything a crypto-talent can hide, I ought to be able to find.”

  The gallery was as dark as the inside of a sarcophagus but with his para-sharpened awareness, Rafe did not need light to see what he was doing.

  He could make do without illumination, he thought. What he really needed at that moment was a cold shower. Orchid was standing much too close. Her unique, shatteringly feminine scent was distracting in the normal course of events. It became a heady drug to his paranormal-enhanced senses. He could feel the heat of her body even though she was not touching him. Hell, he could feel the heat of his own body. He was burning up with the crazy desire that always hit him when he linked with Orchid.