All the Colors of Night

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  North opened his senses. Darkness was closing in fast, which made it easier to read the energy currents around them. One thin trickle of ice-bright light caught his attention.

  “Maybe not,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “See those quicksilver currents in the fog? I think they are emanating from a nearby source. This mountain is riddled with caves and tunnels, some natural, some human-engineered. Don’t know about you, but I’d rather spend the night inside a cavern than outdoors.”

  Sierra watched him with a cautious expression. “What quicksilver currents?” She glanced around at the fog-choked woods. “This mist is infused with enough paranormal heat to make it glow but I don’t see any currents in it.”

  North contemplated the stream of energy pouring through the fog. “There are two possibilities here. Either I’m hallucinating again or my talent is back in good working condition.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “My senses feel normal again, but there’s one way to find out if that quicksilver energy stream is real. If I’m right, it’s powerful. You’ll probably be able to sense it if you get close to it. But we should maintain physical contact. Hold on to my belt.”

  “Okay.” She reached under his leather jacket and took a grip on his belt. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re hallucinating,” she said. “I took a look at your aura in the car mirror a couple of times on the way up here. You’re stable.”

  Her faith in him fortified him as nothing else could have at that moment. He tightened his grip on the tuning machine and waded into the energy stream. The waves of quicksilver glowed like moonlight in the green fog. Sierra followed close behind.

  She caught her breath. “I can’t see them, but I can definitely feel the currents now.”

  “I’ve been told that the caverns and tunnels are the source of the paranormal energy in these mountains. Some of it is natural. Lucas Pine says that’s probably the reason the site was chosen as a location for one of the labs. But the heavy stuff is most likely the result of all the experiments and research that were done inside the caves. I’m betting that a strong river of heat like this indicates a nearby lab tunnel.”

  “That sounds reasonable.”

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that.”

  “Because it means I don’t think you’re unstable?”

  “It’s the small things in a relationship.”

  “Absolutely.”

  The currents of the quicksilver energy got stronger and more intense. North discovered that it required an increasing amount of effort from all of his senses, normal and paranormal, to forge ahead.

  “I feel like a salmon trying to swim upstream,” Sierra said.

  “Bad analogy. Salmon that swim upriver usually come to a bad end.”

  “Oh, right. The spawn-and-die thing.”

  “That’s assuming they don’t get caught in a fishing net or eaten by a bear along the way.”

  Night was coming on fast now. He knew that theoretically they could survive outside in the damp, disorienting fog, but it would be an ordeal. Olivia had warned them that people who got trapped in the mist tended to hallucinate. They got disoriented and they got lost, often permanently. North figured he’d had enough of ghostly visions.

  And then he saw it—the narrow river of quicksilver was pouring out of a dark opening in the rocks.

  “I see the entrance to a cave,” he said.

  “I’ll take your word for it. I still can’t make out anything except this damn green fog.”

  It dawned on him that she had been following him blindly for the past several minutes, trusting him to navigate the mist-clouded darkness. He was pretty sure the majority of people who knew about his shattered talent—and understood exactly what that meant—would have been terrified by now.

  “Almost there,” he said.

  He steered her through the cave entrance. To his relief, the interior of the cavern was big and mercifully clear of the mist. It was obvious at once that they had entered a human-engineered tunnel, not a natural rock cave. The walls, ceiling and floor of the space were lined with what looked like black glass. The material radiated enough energy to illuminate the room in an icy blue glow.

  “Can you see now?” North asked.

  Sierra looked around, took a deep breath and released her grip on his belt. “No problem. The light in here is visible to me. There’s some heat as well. We won’t be cold tonight. Can you still make out the quicksilver river?”

  “Yes. The currents are coming from that side tunnel.” He indicated the entrance to a narrow passageway. “We should be able to use the energy river to navigate back to the road in the morning.”

  “Olivia said the first rule of survival in the Fogg Lake tunnel system is to find the strongest current and follow it in. Then use the same current to find your way back out.”

  “Got news for you—that rule applies to navigating any sort of paranormal energy,” North said. “There’s just one problem with the concept.”

  “What?”

  “You may not like what you find when you reach the source of the energy stream you’re following.”

  Sierra looked around. “I think we’ll be okay in here tonight, but it’s going to be a long hike into Fogg Lake tomorrow.”

  “When we fail to show up tonight, the Foundation team in Fogg Lake will assume we got stranded in the fog. They’ll come looking for us in the morning. When they see the burned-out wreck of your SUV on the side of the road they’ll know where to start the search.”

  “Assuming they realize we didn’t die in that explosion,” Sierra said.

  “No bodies, remember? Trust me, they’ll look for us. We’ll go back to the road first thing in the morning. I’ll bet we run straight into the search party.”

  “Or the Puppets,” Sierra said.

  “Right now those four are probably telling themselves that we’ll be dead or hopelessly lost by morning. They aren’t our main problem, anyway.”

  “Could have fooled me. In case you didn’t notice they just tried to kill us and they destroyed my car,” Sierra said.

  “I know, but it’s the man they’re working for we have to worry about.”

  “Delbridge Loring. Yes, well, he must know that the Foundation is looking for him. If he’s smart he’ll disappear.”

  “He can’t do that,” North said.

  Sierra slanted him a considering look. “Why not?”

  North set the tuning machine down on the floor of the cavern and studied it for a moment. “Because he’s obsessed with finding something. Maybe the tuning device that was designed for Crocker Rancourt.”

  “Or maybe he’s looking for more paranormal weapons,” Sierra suggested. “It’s obvious he found a couple.”

  “They’re no good to him unless he finds a tuning crystal he can use.” North let his pack slide off his shoulder. “Somehow he ended up with the one that was made for Griffin Chastain.”

  “You’re sure there would have been two tuning machines?”

  “Rancourt and my grandfather were equal partners in their lab. I’m sure they would each have had a device they could use to work the weapons. But somehow Rancourt must have ended up with Griffin Chastain’s machine.”

  “So Loring is looking for Rancourt’s?”

  North thought about it for a minute. Got the ping of knowing. “It fits. He’s found a cache of powerful weapons but he doesn’t dare use them for fear of destroying his own aura. He needs Rancourt’s tuning crystal. I think he attacked my father because he thought Dad had found something important at Swan Antiques, maybe an artifact that could lead him to Rancourt’s crystal. That broken radio could have been mistaken for some sort of tuning device.”

  Sierra lowered her pack to the floor and gave him an odd look. “You think
you’ve found an angle you can work, don’t you?”

  “I know what Loring wants now. Yes, I can work with that.”

  “There’s only one reason he would think the other tuning crystal will work on the weapons he found,” Sierra said. “Loring must be convinced he inherited Crocker Rancourt’s psychic signature.”

  “A man who is willing to take the risks that Loring is taking is in the grip of an obsession. That’s his vulnerability.”

  “Okay, I’m not going to argue with your logic,” Sierra said. She sat down on the floor next to her pack and braced her back against the black glass wall. “In my business I run into obsessive types a lot. They’ll take big risks and spend a lot of money to get what they want. They can also be extremely dangerous.”

  North lowered himself to the floor beside her. “You don’t really want to work with clients like that for the rest of your career.”

  “There must be a better way to make a living. But so far I haven’t found it.” Sierra looked around. “I wonder why they lined this tunnel with black glass.”

  “Glass has some interesting properties when it comes to conducting and controlling paranormal energy. It’s not a liquid and it’s not a true crystal. No telling what Bluestone used this tunnel for, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with channeling power, maybe from that quicksilver river.”

  “So where’s the generator?”

  “It was probably destroyed when the orders were given to close down the labs.” North studied the quicksilver river. “I’d like to see where that energy stream is coming from.”

  “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.” Sierra reached for her bulging pack. “I vote we eat.”

  “Good plan.” North opened his own pack. He rummaged around for a moment before producing a bottle of vitamin water and a couple of energy bars. “Save some of your emergency rations for breakfast.”

  “Sure,” Sierra said.

  He watched her open her pack. The first item she removed was a neatly folded square of red-and-white checkered cloth. She spread the fabric out on the glass floor.

  “What the hell?” he said. “You brought a tablecloth?”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s just a big napkin.”

  She reached back into her pack and took out a plastic baggie. There was a large wedge of cheddar cheese inside. Next came a foot-long baguette. The bread was followed by a plastic container of mixed olives.

  North stared at the food, stunned. “You were buying those things at the grocery store while I was stocking up on nutrition bars?”

  She raised her brows. “Got a problem with my food?”

  “You call those emergency rations? It looks like you packed for a picnic.”

  “Just because people are trying to kill us doesn’t mean I have to eat boring food.”

  Annoyed for no discernible reason, North ripped off the wrapper of one of the nutrition bars and took a bite. It tasted like sawdust.

  Sierra pulled off a chunk of the baguette and used a small knife to cut a slice of the cheddar cheese. She took a bite of each and then opened the container of olives.

  “I don’t believe this,” North muttered. “Next thing I know you’ll be taking out a bottle of wine.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Glass bottles are heavy, plus they break easily.” She reached back into the pack and removed a carton. “Wine in a box is so much easier to transport. It’s not the finest cabernet on the market, but it’s a surprisingly drinkable red blend. They’ve made a lot of progress in the quality of boxed wines.”

  North gazed, floored, at the winery label on the box. “You brought wine.”

  She glanced at the plastic bottle that he had taken out of his own pack.

  “Beats vitamin water,” she said. “Besides, I need a drink. I deserve a drink. I lost my beautiful little SUV this afternoon. It was brand-new.”

  “Damn.”

  “I’m going to put it on the bill that I send to Victor Arganbright.”

  North felt the rush of laughter rise up from somewhere deep inside. It burst forth, echoing off the black glass walls of the cave. It was, he reflected, the first time he had laughed in a very long time.

  “Here, help yourself,” Sierra said. She thrust the box of wine into his hand. “Sorry, I forgot the cups. That’s the problem with shopping in a hurry. I should have made a proper list.”

  He stopped laughing, took the box from her hand and swallowed some of the wine. It tasted good. A hell of a lot better than vitamin water.

  “A very fine vintage,” he declared.

  “Goes better with cheese than with a nutrition bar.”

  Sierra offered him a chunk of cheese. He took it and ate it. She was right. It paired well with the wine.

  “How about some bread?” she suggested.

  He tore off a chunk of the baguette and ate it with some more cheese. Then he plucked a couple of olives out of the container.

  “Next time I pack emergency rations I’m going to let you do the grocery shopping,” he said.

  “Okay.” She retrieved the wine, took a sip and lowered the box. “Had any more thoughts about who might have poisoned you?”

  “No, but given the timing, I’m sure the attempt to destroy my talent is linked to this case.”

  Sierra nodded. “Sounds reasonable. If we’re right about Delbridge Loring—if he is a direct descendant of Crocker Rancourt—there’s a personal connection. Dosing you with a slow-acting poison feels like an act of revenge.”

  North took the box of wine and drank some of it while he thought about that.

  “You’re right,” he said. “This has to go back to my grandfather’s generation.”

  “You said Griffin Chastain disappeared?”

  “After being labeled a traitor. Dad and I don’t believe that he was executed by a spymaster who recruited him to steal Bluestone secrets. But we do believe he was most likely murdered.”

  “By Crocker Rancourt.”

  “Right. Now we can assume that Rancourt murdered Griffin in order to get the weapons and the tuning device. But something went wrong. Rancourt wound up with the wrong tuner.”

  “Wonder how that happened,” Sierra said.

  North rested his head against the wall and smiled a little, thinking about the question. “My grandfather was a very, very fine magician. One of a magician’s most basic skills is sleight of hand.”

  Sierra raised her brows. “You’re thinking he somehow made sure Rancourt got the wrong tuner?”

  “Yep.” North hoisted the wine box. “Nice work, Granddad.”

  “Well, one way or another, it seems obvious now that Vortex was not the only lab working on weaponizing paranormal energy.”

  North looked around at the glowing black glass walls. “Bluestone was supposed to be a wide-ranging research project designed to explore the possibilities of paranormal power in a variety of fields—communications, medicine, transportation, energy. But given that it was a government project, a lot of the emphasis was on national security and weapons. At the time, everyone was afraid the Soviet Union was way ahead of us in paranormal research.”

  “But you said the lab code-named Vortex was the lab that was dedicated to weaponizing paranormal energy.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a lot of similar research going on in the other labs. What set Vortex apart and made it a legend was that it was the only lab believed to have succeeded in creating some genuine prototypes of paranormal weapons.”

  “Well, we now know some other psychic engineers also created some weapons,” Sierra said

  “Griffin Chastain and Crocker Rancourt, working in their lab at the Fogg Lake facility.”

  Sierra nodded and ate another chunk of the baguette. “I keep wondering where those weapons have been all this time.”

 
“I’m guessing they were found quite recently. If the Rancourts had been hiding a cache of weapons all these years, I think Victor and Lucas would have figured it out.”

  They finished the meal in silence. When they were done, Sierra packed up the picnic things, secured them in a baggie and stowed them in her pack.

  “I don’t suppose you brought breakfast, too?” North asked.

  “Sorry. I was assuming that the cheese and bread would last a couple of days if necessary.”

  “Instead you ended up sharing them with me.” North smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be happy to give you a couple of nutrition bars and an energy drink in the morning.”

  “Yay.” Sierra fastened the pack. “Got any idea what you’ll do when this situation is finished?”

  “Now that I’ve got my talent back, I’ll probably continue working with my cleaner team.”

  Sierra gave him a shrewd look. “But that’s not really what you want to do with the rest of your life, is it?”

  “It’s a job,” North said. “You?”

  “Working as a Vault agent is a job, but no, I don’t want to do it much longer. I really want to find my calling, North. I feel I was meant to do something more meaningful than delivering hot artifacts.”

  “Maybe some of us don’t have a calling.”

  “My dad says if you want a calling it means you have one.”

  “I thought I had one once,” North said.

  “Being a badass Foundation cleaner?” Sierra asked. “What made you think that was your calling?”

  “I saw it as a way to clear the family name. There are a lot of people in the Foundation who believe my grandfather was a traitor. I thought working as a cleaner and taking down the bad guys might wipe away the stain on my family’s name.” North shrugged. “But it doesn’t work that way, not when it comes to reputations. Nothing I’ve accomplished has changed the legend of my grandfather.”

  Sierra smiled and quoted softly.

  “As if my sense of self,” you claim,

  “Has drifted into air,

  And nothing that I try to do

  Brings credit to my name.”