by Jayne Castle
She looked thinner than ever today, he thought. The experts said there had been no change in her condition, but he sensed that she was getting weaker. The staff had assured him that she was eating properly and she received daily physical therapy. But something inside her was fading. He was losing his kid sister, and he was to blame.
In a few minutes he would urge her out of the wheelchair and take her for a short walk through the rose garden. He knew from experience that she would not resist, but he also knew that she would show no reaction. Everyone else in the family took her for walks, too, when they visited, which was daily. They got the same lack of results. He wished she would struggle or show some stubbornness. The Winters were all fighters. But it was as if Vickie had given up and gone to sleep.
“The first time I saw Marlowe, she was wearing a lot of leather and riding a Raleigh-Stark,” he said. “Got to tell you, there’s nothing like the sight of a woman in leather on a high-rez bike to make a man sit up and take notice.”
Vickie gazed straight ahead at the roses. He looked at the garden, too. The sundial in the center evolved into a glittering shard of mirror quartz. Nicholas Winters appeared in the face of the dial. His eyes burned psi-green. His mouth opened. He spoke in a voice that came not just from beyond the grave, but from beyond the Curtain.
“You are my true heir, blood of my blood, the one I have been waiting for all these many centuries. You will find the woman and the lamp. You will unlock the command I have infused into the Midnight Crystal. You will be the agent of my vengeance. You will destroy all that Sylvester Jones hath created. Every last one of his offspring must die. It is my line that shall triumph.”
Adam suppressed the hallucination with an act of will. He was getting better at it, he thought. Some days he was almost able to convince himself that the nightmares and the daytime visions were starting to fade.
“You know, Vickie, if any of your shrinks knew that I was having these damned hallucinations, they would suggest that I check in here, too.” He got to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.”
He tugged her gently out of the wheelchair and guided her along the path. When they had completed the circuit, he settled her into the chair and took her back to the private room. He placed a book in her lap, one of her favorite novels of romantic suspense.
“I’ll be back later tonight with Marlowe Jones,” he said.
Vickie did not respond. He left her sitting in front of the window that looked out over the gardens.
He walked down the hall and went outside to the parking lot, where he had left one of the anonymous cars that he used when he visited Vickie.
He got behind the wheel, rezzed the engine, and drove out of the lot.
His family did not blame him for what had happened. They were Winters. They all understood the risks of working in the underworld. If Vickie was aware on some deep level, he knew that she did not blame him, either. But that did nothing to alleviate the guilt that burned inside him. He alone was responsible for what had happened to her. He would live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Chapter 10
AT NINE THIRTY THAT EVENING, ADAM LOOKED around the expansive great room of the Jones home and discovered that he was alone with Marlowe’s uncle, Zeke Jones.
Dinner had concluded fifteen minutes ago, and now everyone was marking time until midnight when they would leave to go to the clinic. His father and Ben Jones had retired to Ben’s study for a private conversation. His mother and Elizabeth Jones had excused themselves to take a tour of the Joneses’ art collection.
Marlowe had said something about going outside onto the terrace for some fresh air. He could see her through the vast wall of windows that overlooked the ruins at the heart of the city. She looked very buttoned up in a black silk turtleneck top, a dark brown calf-length skirt, and high-heeled boots. She lounged against the stone wall, with Gibson perched beside her. Together they appeared to be drinking in the soft night. He wanted to join them, but it didn’t take a psychic to know that Zeke Jones had set up this private meeting.
“Marlowe’s been on the job for only three months,” Zeke said. “Still getting her bearings.”
Zeke was nearing eighty. Although he was officially retired, there was no sign of weakness or lack of energy in his posture. He possessed the stern, hard features that were characteristic of the men in the Jones family. A powerful streak of talent ran through the bloodline. You could see it in the eyes.
“She mentioned that she was new on the job,” Adam said.
“She’s the first Jones to take the helm of J&J in generations—centuries probably—who wasn’t a chaos-theory talent. Makes her a little uneasy. Tradition can be a heavy burden to carry.”
“I’m aware of that.”
Zeke nodded. “You were born and raised inside the Guild. You know all about the weight of tradition. In some ways, Arcane is even more hidebound than the Guilds, though.”
“Probably because it’s been around a lot longer.”
“I suppose so. But in Marlowe’s case, there’s an added element of family expectations. In addition to being high achievers, Joneses get married and produce large families. Marlowe’s convinced that’s not going to happen with her.”
The last thing that he wanted to talk about was Marlowe’s personal life, Adam thought. He tried to think of something discreet to say.
“She, uh, told me that her talent complicates things,” he finally managed.
“Yes, I’m sure she did. She’s always very up-front about that sort of thing when she gets involved in a relationship.”
Adam took a deep breath. “Marlowe prefers to describe our association as a working partnership.”
“Is that what she calls it?” Zeke snorted. “She probably thinks I don’t read the tabloid press. Well, it’s none of my business. Marlowe is a healthy young woman. Did she also tell you about Tucker Deene?”
“Never mentioned him. Marlowe and I have only known each other for about a day and a half, sir.”
“She met Deene earlier this month, and I’m sorry to say, she got badly burned.”
Adam watched Marlowe through the window. “She fell in love?”
“According to her, that’s not possible,” Zeke said. “They only dated for about ten days, but Deene did some damage. She’s still trying to recover.”
“What kind of damage?”
“The bastard managed to deceive her along with everyone else in the Jones clan who met him. In this family, that’s saying something. Hell, I liked him, myself. Deene made Marlowe think that he was the closest thing to Mr. Right that she would ever find. When she learned the truth, it shook her confidence in her own judgment.”
“She didn’t see anything in his dreamprints that warned her he was lying?”
“No. You have to understand, Marlowe has always been so certain of herself when it comes to reading dreamprints. But she had never run into anyone like Deene.”
“What was he after?”
Zeke’s eyes went cold. “We’re pretty sure that he had his sights set on nothing less than a Covenant Marriage with Marlowe.”
Adam whistled softly. “He wanted to marry into the Jones family? High stakes.”
“Deene’s father was a ghost hunter who died down in the catacombs shortly before he was born, but his mother was Arcane,” Zeke said. “He was registered with the Society at birth, together with his brother and sister.
“If he knew anything about Arcane, he would have known that the Joneses are one of the most powerful families in the Society. Some say the most powerful. Deene wasn’t your average fortune hunter, that’s for sure. He was going for the amber ring when he tried for a CM with Marlowe.
“Marlowe claims that, in spite of what Deene may have believed, marriage was never in the cards,” Zeke continued. “But she let Deene get close. She thought he might be Mr. Right.”
“Mr. Right for what? You said she never intended to marry him.”
“Just because Marlowe is convi
nced that she can’t get married doesn’t mean she wouldn’t like a long-term, stable relationship. She says that managing short-term affairs has become tedious. But after Deene, she told everyone that she was going to take a six-month break from dating.”
“She reads dreamprints. How in hell did he manage to deceive her?”
“Deene turned out to be a chameleon talent,” Zeke said.
Startled, Adam looked at him. “You mean they actually exist?”
“They’re exceedingly rare, but they do show up once in a great while. I ran J&J for over forty years, however, and never encountered one, which should tell you just how scarce they are. Very little information on them in the archives.”
“Is it true that they can imitate someone else’s dreamprints?”
“Not only that,” Zeke said, “they can alter their prints and their energy field to make you sense what you want to sense. In short, they can read you like a book and give you exactly what you want. Perfect con artists.”
“No wonder Marlowe got blindsided.”
“After it was all over, we realized that Deene had studied Marlowe closely before he made his move. Gave off the vibes of a serious-minded academic who was as passionate about his work as Marlowe is about hers. He shared an amazing number of her interests. And, last but not least, he rode a motorcycle.”
“A Raleigh-Stark?”
Zeke’s mouth twisted. “Naturally. Found out later that it was rented.”
Adam thought about it for a while. “Deene must have generated a hell of a lot of energy to maintain the illusion when he was with Marlowe.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“Sooner or later he was bound to make a slip. How did he intend to keep up the act long enough to get through a long engagement?
“Who knows? He was good, though. Very strong. Probably assumed that as long as he never spent too much time in Marlowe’s company, he could get away with it.” Zeke waved the issue aside. “And when you think about it, keeping up the pretense wasn’t as hard as you’d expect. Marlowe has never spent a night with a man in her life.”
Adam remembered what Marlowe had said during the long walk out of the catacombs. “Always gone by dawn.”
“And damn busy at J&J the rest of the time.”
“So she never saw him when he was sleeping, the one time when he wouldn’t have been able to maintain the pretense.”
“No. I think he knew that he was safe on that front, as well.”
Adam frowned. “He was aware of the downside of her talent?”
“Evidently. As I said, it’s clear that he studied her before he moved in.”
“How did she discover that he was a con?”
“Her intuition kicked in, and she did some old-fashioned investigative work. She had already done a routine background check on Deene in the Society’s computer records, but after she got suspicious, she went looking elsewhere. Police files and such. It took a while to dig up the truth because Deene covered his tracks well, but eventually the pieces started coming together. Deene and his brother and sister have a long history of shady dealings. A family of con artists.”
“In other words, Marlowe saved herself.”
“Yes. But as I said, unfortunately, the experience shook her self-confidence. It will take her a while to regain it.”
“I wonder how Deene planned to maintain the pretense after marriage?” Adam said.
“The general assumption in the family is that he wasn’t worried about keeping up the pretense after the wedding.”
“Why not?”
“You know how it is with a CM,” Zeke said. “Once you sign the papers and take the vows, you’re locked into the marriage for better or for worse for life.”
Adam smiled a little. “Something tells me that once the Jones family realized that they had a psi-path con man in the clan who had taken advantage of Marlowe, Deene’s life expectancy would have been shortened considerably.”
Zeke’s smile was equally cold. “Indeed.”
“I don’t get it. He had to know how powerful the Joneses are and how they would protect Marlowe. He must have understood the risk he was taking.”
“I’m sure that when the truth came out after the wedding, he expected that we would pay him a lot of money to go away and stay away. That’s how it’s usually done when a CM goes badly wrong.”
“Wonder what made Marlowe suspicious?”
“She’s a detective to the core. In addition to her talent, she’s got a detective’s intuition. She followed one of the oldest maxims in the Jones family. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”
“We say that a lot in my family, too.”
Chapter 11
“BEEN A WHILE SINCE WE HAD A DRINK TOGETHER,” BEN said. He poured a healthy measure of whiskey into his guest’s glass and then filled his own. “When was the last time?”
“Over thirty years ago.” Sam Winters held the glass up to the light to study the amber gold whiskey. “Right after you and Fortner and I took down the LeMasters gang.”
“Back when we were young and thought we could change the world.”
“Or at least change things within the Guilds and Arcane.” Sam tasted the whiskey, lowered the glass, and leaned his head against the back of the big leather easy chair. “We didn’t make a dent in either of the organizations, did we?”
“No.” Ben put the bottle aside, sat down, and picked up his glass. “The Guilds and Arcane are both as hidebound as ever. But that’s what happens when you’ve got a lot of secrets to keep.”
“What you call hidebound, others call tradition.”
“True.” Ben looked out the window to the terrace and watched Adam join Marlowe at the stone railing. “But maybe we laid the groundwork that will allow this generation to make a few changes.”
Sam came to stand beside him. “They’ve made one big change already. Adam told me that today a team of Arcane lab techs went below to work with the Bureau people who are already on site at that maze.”
“That’s a first, all right. Never would have imagined the two organizations sharing that kind of classified information.”
They drank their whiskey in silence for a time.
“Do you really think your daughter can save my little girl?” Sam asked after a while.
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “But when it comes to dealing with dreamlight trauma, Marlowe is the best.”
They drank a little more whiskey and contemplated the couple on the terrace.
“Whatever those two have together, it’s more than a working partnership,” Sam said eventually. “Lot of energy between your daughter and my son. Earlier this evening you could almost hear the snap and crackle in the atmosphere.”
“I noticed. So did Elizabeth.”
“Working together on a joint project is one thing,” Sam said. “But if those two get involved in a serious affair, there could be repercussions throughout both Arcane and the Guild.”
“Your family was Arcane once, at least until the Era of Discord. John Cabot Winters made his choice after the conflict. He could have stuck with the Society. Instead, he embedded his family into the heart of the new Guild organization here in Frequency. He had to know that would cut him off from Arcane.”
“It’s not like they chose different sides during a civil war,” Sam said. “They fought together against Vance’s rebels. Saved each other’s lives more than once, according to the old journals.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. They watched the couple on the terrace.
“Well, one thing’s certain,” Sam said eventually. “It’s a good bet that neither of our ancestors foresaw something like this happening. How the hell can it work, Ben?”
Ben looked at the way Adam was positioned beside Marlowe: close but not quite touching, leaning in a little, the way a man did when he was feeling protective, the way a man did when he wanted to make it clear to other men that this woman was his.
“Damned if I know,” Ben said
. “But if it does work, it could accomplish what you and I used to dream about all those years ago.”
“Build some bridges between Arcane and the Guilds?”
“Look what the underworld has done to your daughter, what it might do to the cities. If Adam is right, the destructive power in that maze is enormous. Even if he and Marlowe do manage to resolve this problem, who knows what else is waiting to bite us down below? There are only two organizations that can even begin to deal with the dangers underground.”
“Arcane and the Guilds.”
“They need to share resources and talents, or the technology the aliens left behind just might get us all in the end. Hell, maybe whatever took out the aliens is still down there, just waiting to pounce.”
“What about the liaison that seems to be forming out there on your terrace?”
“I don’t know how it will turn out,” Ben admitted. “But there’s one thing I can tell you for sure.”
“What?”
“There’s not a damn thing either of us can do to stop it.”
Chapter 12
“I AM SO SORRY TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR DAUGHTER’S condition,” Elizabeth said gently. “I can only imagine how devastating it must be for you.”
“Thank you,” Diana Winters said. “It has been so awful. At first the doctors were optimistic that Vickie would recover. But lately they’ve given up. They won’t say it out loud, but I can see it in their eyes. They simply do not know what is going on with Vickie. They admitted that they have never dealt with any parapsych trauma quite like the one that she suffered.”
They both looked at the painting on the wall. It was one of Elizabeth’s favorites, a scene of the ruins of Old Frequency glowing in the night beneath a lightning-charged thunderstorm.
“You do realize that Marlowe may not be able to help Vickie,” she said.