Canyons of Night lgt-3

by Jayne Castle

  “What, exactly, did you see?” he asked.

  “A lot of powerful ultralight. I can’t put a name to all of the various primary colors because I’ve never seen them before, but I can tell that they come from the far end of the spectrum and that the frequencies of the radiation are rock steady. There was no sign of instability.”

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “Well, for one thing, it means that you’ve got some serious talent you don’t seem to be aware of,” she said.

  “Whatever is out there in that storm that I can see when I go hot is not my old talent. I don’t recognize it, Charlotte. The energy looks chaotic to me. That is never a good sign when you’re talking about human psi. You know that as well as I do. Chaos on the spectrum is one of the surefire indicators that a person is either going psiblind or mad.”

  “It’s not chaos. I told you the bands of light in the rainbow are strong and stable.”

  “Then why don’t I recognize the energy?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You’re going to have to find out for yourself.”

  “How the hell do I do that?”

  “The same way you did when you first came into your talent back in your teens,” she said patiently. “The way I did it. The way Devin will eventually figure out his developing psychic nature. You work with it and you experiment until you understand how to focus and control it.”

  He went cold. “Damn it to hell. Are you telling me that I’m coming into a new talent?”

  She smiled. “Relax, you’re not becoming a Cerberus. You won’t go rogue.”

  Cerberus was Arcane slang for those who developed more than one kind of talent. Such individuals were so rare as to be the stuff of dark myth and legend. True multitalents generally died in their teens or early twenties. The problem, according to the Society’s experts, was that the human mind could not handle the high levels of stimulation and acute sensory perception that accompanied multiple talents. Cerberus talents invariably went insane and self-destructed. Most of the handful of recorded cases took their own lives early but a few had survived long enough to become murderous para-psychopaths.

  When it came to dealing with Cerberus talents, Arcane policy was simple and straightforward. Get rid of them. The corollary to that policy was by whatever means necessary. He happened to know from his time working for the Office that the FBPI and the Guilds had similar policies.

  “You’re sure?” he said.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Because I have to tell you that having Arcane, the Office, and the Guilds coming after me is all I’d need to make my life full, rich, and complete.”

  “Well, you did indicate that you were a trifle bored with being chief of police here on Rainshadow.”

  “I’m not joking,” he said. “How can you be certain that I’m not developing a second talent? No offense, but you sell antiques for a living. You’re not a para-shrink or even an aura-reader.”

  “I know.” Charlotte’s voice went flat. She folded her arms around herself and started walking again, very quickly. “You’re right. You probably shouldn’t be taking advice from a low-rent talent like a rainbow-reader.”

  He moved then, taking two long strides to catch up with her. He wrapped his fingers around her arm. “I didn’t mean that I don’t trust you.”

  “I know. It’s my talent you don’t trust. Believe me, I understand.”

  Coolly, she tried to pull free of his grasp. He wanted to hold on to her but he knew she would fight him. He let her go and clenched his hand around the barrel of the flashlight.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’ve spent the past three months dealing with the fallout of whatever that gas did to me. I was told that my talent and my life would never be the same.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I think the experts who told you that were right. I doubt if your talent or your life will ever return to whatever was normal for you before you were hit with the gas.”

  He frowned, hardly daring to allow himself even the slimmest ray of hope. “You really don’t think I’m going to go psiblind?”

  “No.” She hesitated. “But I think there is definitely the possibility of another, equally bad outcome.”

  “What could be worse?”

  “Living with a lot of powerful energy that you don’t know how to focus or control. That kind of situation truly will drive you mad.”

  He took a deep breath. “You think that I should push my talent. Start working with the dark energy that I see at the end of my spectrum.”

  “There’s an ancient Arcane saying that applies here. Learn to control your talent or it will control you.”

  Chapter 17

  “I DON’T BELIEVE IT.” DEVIN CAME TO A HALT IN THE trees and looked down the steep granite cliff at the rocky beach below. A small boat powered by an outboard engine had been drawn ashore. “Some jerks found Hidden Beach.”

  Nate stopped beside him. “I don’t recognize the boat. They didn’t rent it from Dad.”

  Nate Murphy had just turned thirteen. He was Devin’s best friend on the island. Nate had grown up on Rainshadow and knew all the hidden coves and secret inlets along the forbidding shoreline. Devin envied his knowledge of boats and all things connected to the water. Nate had worked around his dad’s marina his whole life and was really good when it came to that kind of stuff. He even had his own kayak and he was teaching Devin how to handle one.

  Devin wanted very badly to tell Nate about his developing psychic senses but he was pretty sure the chief was right. Nate would probably think he was weird.

  “How did they find this place?” Devin asked. “You said boaters hardly ever come to this side of the island because of the rip currents and the tides. You said there wasn’t any place to come ashore.”

  “Except Hidden Beach,” Nate pointed out. “They probably found it by accident.” He lowered his day pack to the ground and sat down on it. “So much for hunting for Captain Sebastian’s treasure today.”

  “Maybe those guys will leave soon.” Devin looked around. “Wonder where they are?”

  “Probably trying to see how far they can get inside the Preserve. Every so often someone tries it on a dare or just to see what will happen. They’ll find out soon that they can’t get through the fence.”

  “If they’re trespassing, Chief Attridge can arrest them.”

  “He won’t do that,” Nate said with cool certainty.

  “Why not? The chief used to work for the FBPI. Those guys are tough. They arrest serial killers and drug lords and really dangerous dudes.”

  “I’m not saying he couldn’t arrest ’em, just that he won’t. Why bother? Everyone knows that the fence stops most folks from getting more than a couple of feet inside the Preserve. People who do manage to get inside don’t come out alive. Why put folks in jail for trying to get themselves killed?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What do you want to do? Find another place to look for treasure or wait and see if those guys with the boat leave soon?”

  Devin hesitated. The logical decision was to move on up the shoreline. There were plenty of other interesting locations to explore on the perimeter of the Preserve. But Hidden Beach was the one that intrigued him the most. He wanted another look at the cavern.

  “We’ve been planning this trip for days,” he said. “Those guys will probably leave soon. Let’s wait and see what happens.”

  “Okay.”

  They took a couple of energy bars out of their packs and hunkered down to wait.

  “Do you really think we’ll find Captain Sebastian’s treasure inside the cave?” Nate asked after a while.

  “Maybe.” Devin wasn’t sure how much more to say so he decided to keep quiet.

  The entrance to the cave down below on the beach was almost invisible, a narrow crevasse in the rocks that widened unexpectedly once you got inside. Devin had sensed something intriguing inside the cavern the last time they had explored it, something that ne
eded to be found, but he had no idea what it was. Some part of him was certain that the secrets hidden inside the cavern were valuable. He could not explain how he knew that to Nate, though, without explaining his new senses.

  “I wonder if the guys who came here in that boat found the cave and went inside to look for the treasure,” Nate said. “Maybe that’s where they are now.”

  “I hope not. That cave is ours.”

  They munched the energy bars and drank the bottled water. Time passed. Devin was about to suggest that they dig out another round of energy bars when he heard the low rumble of voices. The sound did not come from the nearby woods where the Preserve fence began. It emanated from the hidden entrance to the treasure cave down on the beach.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said softly. “They did find it.”

  “Yeah,” Nate said. “But they’re leaving now. We’ve still got plenty of time to look for the treasure.”

  Down below two men squeezed out of the slit in the rock face and emerged into the open. A jolt of fear flashed through Devin when he saw the mag-rez pistols on their hips. Beside him, Nate froze, too.

  “Oh, shit,” Nate whispered. “They must be smugglers or drug runners.”

  Real-life pirates, Devin thought. He felt a terrible prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

  “Come on, we’d better get out of here,” he said.

  “If we move they might see us,” Nate said.

  “Okay, okay.”

  Devin stilled. Beside him, Nate seemed hardly to breathe.

  As if sensing that they were being observed, one of the men glanced up. His eyes locked with Devin’s. He reached for his gun.

  “Company,” he snarled to his companion.

  The other man looked up. “Couple of kids.”

  “Doesn’t matter. They’ve seen us.”

  Both men bounded up the trail that would take them to the top of the cliff. They moved very fast, faster than Devin had seen anyone move in his entire life.

  He jumped to his feet. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Nate watched the men coming up the cliff trail. It was as if he were paralyzed with fear.

  “Come on.” Devin reached down and grabbed his friend’s arm. “Run.”

  Nate scrambled to his feet. “We’ll never make it. They’ve got guns.”

  “They can’t follow us into the Preserve.”

  “We can’t get inside, either.”

  “I think maybe I can get us in,” Devin said.

  He did not know where the knowledge came from. Some voice inside his head was screaming at him that the Preserve was their only hope. He ran for the trees, hauling Nate with him.

  “What about the fence?” Nate gasped.

  “I think I can get you through it. Just don’t let go of my hand, okay?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s not like we have any choice.”

  He sensed the first jarring sparks that told him they were entering the strange energy field that marked the outer boundary of the invisible fence. Beside him Nate sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

  “You okay?” Devin asked.

  “Yeah. I think so. I’ve never been this far inside. It hurts.”

  Devin risked a glance back over his shoulder.

  The men were at the top of the cliff now.

  “They’re heading into the Preserve,” one of the smugglers shouted. “We can’t let them get away.”

  Devin heard gunshots but neither he nor Nate went down so he figured the shooters had missed. He ran as fast as he could. Nate pounded along beside him. The freaky energy was pulsing all around them now. It was like running through a lightning storm, Devin thought. Jolt after jolt shot through him but he pushed his new senses as hard as he could and the pain of the shocks seemed to diminish. Nate gripped his hand harder.

  “I can’t see them anymore,” one of the gunmen shouted. “I can feel the fence. This is as far as we can go.”

  Both men slammed to a halt.

  “Forget ’em,” the second man said. “The Preserve will take care of them for us.”

  Chapter 18

  “HOW DID YOUR DATE WITH CHARLOTTE GO LAST night?” Myrna asked from the doorway of the office.

  Slade did not look up from the list of names on the computer screen. “If one more person asks me that question, I may have to fire everyone in the department.”

  Rex was on the desk. He had his beaded clutch open and was busy selecting paperclips to go inside. He paused long enough to chortle a greeting to Myrna. She went to the desk and patted him a couple of times. Then she studied Slade.

  “Fire everyone, hmm?” she said. “All two of us?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did things go that badly or that well?”

  He pretended that he had not heard the question. “Where’s Willis? Did he finish checking out the alibis of Gaines’s known associates?”

  Kirk Willis materialized in the doorway. “Just finished the last one, Chief.” He walked into the office and put a file folder down in front of Slade. “None of the people on your list seems to have been anywhere near the island in the past year, let alone on the night Gaines died. What’s our next move?”

  Slade turned away from the screen and opened the folder. “There’s a rule that applies to situations like this. It comes from an Old World investigator, Sherlock somebody. Something to the effect that once you have excluded the probable, whatever remains, however improbable, is the answer.”

  Myrna frowned. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “It means,” Slade said, “that there’s a high probability that our killer is still here on the island.”

  Kirk and Myrna stared at him, disbelief in their eyes.

  “You really think so?” Kirk asked, dubious but intrigued.

  “Yes,” Slade said.

  “I can’t believe that any of the locals is a killer,” Myrna said slowly. “This is such a small town. Everyone knows everyone else.”

  “You’re forgetting the B&Bs that are scattered around the island and the folks attending those Reflection Retreats out at the lake lodge,” Slade reminded her. “We can get the names and addresses of the guests from the innkeepers.”

  “What, exactly, are we looking for?” Myrna asked. “We already know most of them probably don’t have solid alibis. Any one of them could have snuck out of a B&B or the lodge and met up with Gaines at Looking Glass.”

  “But most of them probably aren’t serious collectors of the kind of antiques that Charlotte handles,” Slade said.

  Kirk brightened. “You want me to see if I can find out if any of them are collectors?”

  “I want to know about any connections at all that any of them might have to the antique or antiquities trade.”

  “I can do that,” Kirk said.

  “I know you can,” Slade said. “But do it quietly. I don’t want the killer to get the idea that we think we have a murder on our hands or that we’re looking for him on the island. He’ll be gone on the next ferry and we might lose him altogether.”

  “What makes you think he didn’t leave the day after the murder?” Myrna asked.

  “I don’t think he got what he wanted,” Slade said. “He stuck around because as far as he knows there is no murder investigation going on. He feels safe. We want him to continue to feel that way.”

  “I’m on it,” Willis said. He straightened away from the doorjamb, preparing to head out.

  “One more thing,” Slade said. “Good work on these alibis. I know that some of the people on that list were very low profile. I’m impressed that you were able to confirm their whereabouts on the night of the murder.”

  Kirk reddened a little. “Yeah, well, I’ve always liked working on a computer.”

  “Good skill to have on this job. Get back to me as soon as you’ve got some information on the island guests.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kirk turned and went briskly down the hall. A moment later the
front door closed behind him.

  Myrna gave Slade a knowing smile. “Young Officer Willis has certainly developed a lot more enthusiasm for the law enforcement profession since you arrived on the island. I think he’s starting to feel like a real cop.”

  “It’s his first murder investigation,” Slade said. “The experience tends to have that effect.”

  “Actually, I think it may be the first murder investigation we’ve had on the island since Letty Porter decided she’d had enough of her husband getting drunk and beating up on her. She got him drunk one last time, drove him to Death Wish Point, and pushed him off. They never did find the body. That was almost twenty years ago.”

  “What happened to Letty Porter?”

  “She’s still here. Has a cabin out on Higgins Road. She’s in her seventies now. Chief Halstead was new on the job at the time. He was never able to prove murder. Not that he tried real hard. As far as everyone around here was concerned, George Porter had it coming. He was one mean drunk.”

  Slade leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desktop. “She killed once.”

  “Forget it,” Myrna said. “Take my word for it, Letty Porter has absolutely no interest in antiques. And knowing Letty, even if she had wanted to kill Gaines for some reason, she would have used the nearest blunt object.”

  “All the same, see if you can find out where she was on the night Gaines died.”

  “Okay.” Myrna glanced at her watch. “It’s not quite four o’clock. I can take a run out to her place right now.”

  “Do that.”

  Myrna started to step back from the doorway. She hesitated. “You know, I’m starting to get a little worried about Devin and Nate.”

  “Wasn’t this the day of the big treasure hunt?”

  “Yes, but they left early this morning,” Myrna said. “I expected them back by lunchtime. They’ve only got a few energy bars and some bottled water with them. They’re thirteen-year-old boys. They should be starving by now.”