by Jayne Castle
He must have sensed her scrutiny because he looked up abruptly, his gaze trapping hers. His jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed. He knew that she had sensed the unusual vibe in his aura. Swiftly he lowered his talent but it was too late. She had seen the fever.
Part of her—the smart, intelligent, secret-keeping Siren part—informed her that she should be reaching for the little emergency button embedded in her telephone control panel. When you dealt with unusual and/or eccentric clients with major dream issues, you took a few security measures. If she pressed the button, Darren would come through the door in a matter of seconds. Members of the Crystal Center building security team would follow close behind.
But she did not push the emergency button. She told herself it was because Lorelei did not appear alarmed. But Lorelei was a dust bunny. What did she know about humans who burned with psi-fever?
What did humans know, come to that? The condition was extremely rare, although the experts believed it was underreported. Very little research had been done on the problem if, indeed, it was a problem. That murky situation had allowed a lot of urban legends and bad press to develop over the years.
In the popular imagination, a psi-fever was a strong indicator of dangerous psychic instability.
The only certainty about psi-fever was that it was not contagious.
She folded her hands together on her desk. Rafe had kept her secret. She would keep his. They were both strong talents and among powerful talents there were a few unspoken rules. So long as Rafe refrained from showing any signs of being seriously deranged, she would pretend that she had not noticed any weirdness in his aura. It was, after all, not the first time she had dealt with an off-the-charts talent who presented with an aura that had some peculiar things going on in the dreamlight region. The clients who came through her door tended to be out of the ordinary.
She smiled as if nothing unusual had occurred.
“Why don’t you tell me a little more about Rainshadow Island and why you think you need a dream counselor,” she said, employing her best professional tone.
Dark amusement came and went in Rafe’s eyes. She knew then that as long as she pretended nothing had happened, he would play the same game—at least for now.
He reached inside his leather jacket and removed a small sapphire-blue crystal. He offered the stone to Lorelei, who accepted it with her usual enthusiasm for anything sparkly. She retrieved her veil and bounded off the chair with her prize. Vaulting up onto Ella’s desk, she carefully placed the blue crystal in the cigar box.
“I hope that rock wasn’t valuable,” Ella said. “Might not be easy getting it back.”
“It’s a gift,” Rafe said. “Plenty more where that came from. Let’s get down to business. I’m not looking for a private dream counselor. I’m representing Coppersmith Mining today.”
“What happened to your FBPI consulting gig? Still doing odd jobs for the Bureau?”
“I’ve been a little busy with other things since I saw you last.”
Something in his voice told her that he did not want to discuss the other things. She wasn’t going to get an excuse or an explanation for the three months of silence.
“I see,” she said. “Please continue.”
“Like I said, I’m here today because of a Coppersmith venture. I’ve been tasked with troubleshooting a big project on Rainshadow. We can usually fill our field operation’s manpower requirements from the ranks of our employees. But something has come up in the jobsite that requires a strong music talent. We don’t have one in-house.”
“So you immediately thought of me.”
For the first time in three months, no doubt, she added silently. Another flash of anger sparked through her. She suppressed it with Siren control.
“I immediately thought of you,” Rafe agreed. But he looked a little wary now.
“I’m sure you’re aware that music talents aren’t particularly rare,” she said. “There are probably hundreds, if not thousands of them available throughout the city-states.”
“Sure. Anyone who can play air-rez-guitar thinks he’s a music talent. But I need someone who can handle paranormal music,” Rafe said. “That type of ability is rare, at least at the high end.”
She unfolded her hands, picked up a pen, and absently tapped the tip against the small crystal figurine of a dust bunny that sat on her desk. She listened to the faint, melodic ping ring gently out across the spectrum from the normal into the paranormal.
So Rafe Coppersmith wanted her help. Now, wasn’t that interesting? And just exactly how did she feel about the situation? she wondered. It was not as if he had finally remembered their coffee date. All the evidence indicated that he would not be sitting here in her office today if not for the fact that he wanted to hire her.
Face it, when it comes to relationships, Sirens never catch a break. You know that.
“I’m a dream counselor,” she said finally. “It’s true I can hear Alien music, but I really don’t see how I can help a company like Coppersmith.”
“Coppersmith signed a contract with the Rainshadow Preserve Foundation, which controls a recently discovered sector of the Underworld on Rainshadow Island. We’ve got the exploration and mining rights but first we have to secure the sector.”
“The Guilds secure the various territories of the Underworld.”
“The Rainshadow Guild lacks the in-house expertise needed so they’ve contracted out that work to Coppersmith.”
“In other words you’ve got a contract for the mining rights and another one for security,” Ella said. “Sounds complicated.”
“Complicated pretty much describes business as usual in the Underworld,” Rafe said. “The first priority is securing Wonderland.”
“Wonderland?”
“That’s the nickname the locals on Rainshadow have given the new sector.” Rafe paused. “You’ll see why if you take the contract.”
If she was wise, she would decline the offer outright, she thought. But she was intrigued in spite of herself. The chance to employ her talent in a new and unusual manner was almost irresistible. Nevertheless, she had to consider her long-term career and her social commitments. She could not afford to be away from her office or from Crystal City for an extended period of time.
“How long would this job last?” she asked.
“Depends. I think we’ll find out real fast whether you can handle the work. If it turns out you can, it shouldn’t take long to come up with the data the lab techs need to create a permanent fix.”
“Are you absolutely certain that this contract does not involve the FBPI or the illegal weapons trade?” she asked. “Because I really do not want to go there again.”
“This is the Underworld we’re talking about. It’s not inconceivable that we might come across some dangerous antiquities, and if that happens, it’s possible the FBPI might step in. It’s also possible that some pros in the illegal artifacts trade might pick up chatter about Wonderland and put out a few feelers.”
“Hmm.”
“But I can promise that you’ll have several layers of protection between you and the FBPI and also between you and any bad guys who might decide to come sniffing around Wonderland. Coppersmith takes care of its people.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Let me be perfectly clear. If I take the contract I would not be one of your people. I’m an independent consultant.”
“Okay, I can respect that. But the company will take responsibility for your welfare while you’re under contract. That’s how we do things.”
Ella tapped the pen against the crystal dust bunny again. She listened to the paranormal echoes fade away.
She had some personal issues with one Raphael Coppersmith but there was no getting around the fact that his family’s company was a prestigious firm. It would be very nice to add Coppersmith Mining to her list of clients. Also, she would be involved in opening up a new sector in the Underworld. The prospect was exciting.
She told herself not to co
nsider the fact that she would also be working with Rafe.
“I’m probably going to regret this, but keep talking,” she said.
“To date, we have hired four consultants, all of whom claimed to be able to handle paranormal music energy. The results have been . . . disappointing.”
“Define ‘disappointing.’”
“All four nearly got eaten.”
For a split second she thought she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did you say eaten?”
“By dinosaurs.”
She stared at him. Maybe she should take the psi-fever in his aura a little more seriously.
“You’re joking,” she said.
“Unfortunately, no. It looks like, back in the day, the Aliens engaged in some reverse bioengineering in Wonderland. The monsters they created look a hell of a lot like the reconstructions the paleontologists have created from fossils found here on Harmony. We think the creatures the Aliens created were frozen in a state of suspended animation for the past few thousand years.”
“Some sort of living museum?”
“Maybe. But recent paranormal activity on the island has evidently destroyed the mechanism that kept the animals in stasis. They have begun to wake up and the first thing they do, naturally, is go looking for food.”
“What, exactly, do these creatures eat?”
“Some eat foliage but most are predators,” Rafe said. “The only thing that is keeping them under control at the moment is that they require a heavy psi-ecosystem. That means they can only hunt inside the Preserve, which is an area aboveground on the island that is laced with a lot of strong paranormal energy. And they only hunt at night. Evidently they can’t handle normal sunlight, even the limited amount that reaches the surface inside the Preserve. They go back underground to Wonderland during the daylight hours.”
“Creatures of the night,” she said softly.
“We’ve got two problems. First, as I’m sure you know, standard-issue hunting rifles and other high-powered weapons don’t work in the Underworld. They don’t work in the thick paranormal atmosphere of the Preserve, either, so we don’t have a practical way to hunt down the dinosaurs.”
“I see.”
“Unfortunately, they’ve got a damn good way of hunting us.”
“How?”
“They sing.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The critters hunt with psychic energy,” Rafe said. “They use it the same way predators in the deep ocean use bioluminescence to draw their prey. There’s no way to know how their animal prey interpret the psychic lures, but the human mind translates the energy as music—hypnotic music. It’s damn near irresistible.”
She caught her breath. “Sirens.”
She didn’t realize that she had spoken aloud until she saw Rafe smile a little.
“The dino version,” he said. “We need to figure out what wavelengths the dinos broadcast on and then we need to develop defense mechanisms that can neutralize those wavelengths.”
“This is all quite . . . fascinating,” she said.
“I had a feeling you might be interested in the job.” Rafe glanced at his watch. “But if it turns out I’m wrong, I need to find someone else and fast. Every day spent looking for talent is a very expensive day lost in Wonderland. We’ve got research teams on site and ready to go down but they can’t make a move until we’ve cleaned out the monsters.”
She cleared her throat. “My fees are quite high.”
“Not a problem. Coppersmith will double them, plus add a bonus if you give us the para-physics data we need to solve the dinosaur problem.”
She tried not to show her surprise. But the truth was that no matter how much she charged, it would be a mere drop in the bucket to Coppersmith Mining.
Singing dinosaurs. Alien technology. The chance to help open up an uncharted sector in the Underworld. The Knightsbridge Dream Institute could not turn down such a golden opportunity, she thought. A successful outcome would put her one-person firm at the top of the dream analysis world. The Wilson Parsons Agency could go suck untuned quartz.
There was a great deal to be said for the pleasures of payback.
“When would you expect me to start?” she asked, trying not to let her excitement show; going for a cool, calm, and professional demeanor.
Rafe checked his watch again. “I’ve got a company jet sitting on the ground at a private airfield here in Crystal. If we leave today we can be in Thursday Harbor this evening. We’ll spend the night there and take a boat to Rainshadow at first light. Can’t fly a plane near the island even on a good day. Too much paranormal interference. Messes up the instruments. It’s possible to take a boat in after dark but it’s risky. Only the locals have the experience needed to navigate the area at night, and they do it only if it’s a flat-out emergency situation.”
“You want to leave this afternoon?” Shock and dismay cascaded through her. Well, she had known the offer to work for Coppersmith Mining was probably a little too good to be true. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’ve got a very important business reception tonight.”
“Cancel.”
She glared at him. “Easy for you to say. This is an important business affair held by a new client—the Dreamlight Research Department at Crystal City College. Coppersmith Mining may pay well for a one-time job but I have to think of future business.”
Rafe’s jaw twitched but she could see the frustration in his eyes. She held her breath.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Does that work for you?”
She glanced at her calendar again. “Yes, I can reschedule my appointments. I will have to be back here in Crystal by the twenty-fifth, however.”
“That’s cutting it kind of short. Might not work.”
“You said we would find out right away whether or not I could do the job.”
“All right.” He didn’t look happy but he appeared resigned. “Mind if I ask what’s so important that you can’t put it off if necessary?”
She flushed and cleared her throat. “A friend is getting married. It’s a Covenant wedding. I’m a bridesmaid. As a member of the wedding party I can’t just bow out at the last minute—certainly not for something as superficial as business reasons. This wedding has been nearly a year in the planning stages. You know as well as I do that I’d have to be at death’s door in an intensive care unit to get out of it.”
“Huh.”
He was not pleased but he was stymied and they both knew it. Covenant weddings were major life events. One did not casually RSVP with regrets—not if one wanted to maintain friendships.
“A return date by the twenty-fifth is nonnegotiable,” she said, not bothering to conceal the frosty edge on her words. “Now, do we have a deal?”
“We’ve got a deal. I’ll push the project timeline back another day. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“Excellent.” She exhaled, trying not to show her relief. “I’ll have Darren bring in the papers.”
“One more thing,” Rafe said. “Do you have a date for the reception this evening?”
She stiffened. “I don’t think that’s any business of yours.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. Just makes things simpler if you don’t have to explain me to your date, that’s all.”
“And why would I need to explain you?”
“Remember what I said about Coppersmith providing you with a bodyguard? That service kicks in as soon as you sign the contract.”
She tapped the pen against the crystal dust bunny one more time and listened to the ping fade away.
“Okay, I can understand why I need protection down below in that place you call Wonderland, but surely that’s not necessary here in Crystal City.”
“Probably not but I can’t be certain of that,” Rafe said. “Everyone involved in this project has tried to keep news of Wonderland from leaking out to the media, but maintaining airtight secrecy just isn’t po
ssible in this day and age. Stories about monsters and speculations about an ancient Alien bioengineering lab on the island have begun to appear in the tabloids. The conspiracy buffs are coming out from their caves. Coppersmith Security has received some threats.”
“There’s nothing new in that. The cranks are always all over new tales of the Underworld. I hardly think a few vague threats rise to the bodyguard level.”
“You may be right, but these particular threats have been coming from an outfit that calls itself the Do Not Disturb movement,” Rafe said. “They are more specific than the usual vague warnings we get from the fringe crowd. There have been a couple of incidents at the jobsite on Rainshadow. Small stuff, but we’ve tightened up security in response. Coppersmith doesn’t want to take any more chances than necessary. Rainshadow is dangerous enough on its own.”
“I see.” She wasn’t sure where to go with that.
“Very few people know I’m in town—I sure as hell didn’t broadcast the information. But after I leave here word will probably start to get around that we’ve signed a contract. Nothing stays secret in the business world for long, as I’m sure you’re well aware. The DND crowd may get wind of our arrangement. If they do they might try to harass or intimidate you.”
“I’ve heard of the Do Not Disturb crowd but I’ve never known them to be violent. I thought they were garden-variety cranks who hang out at the entrances to shopping malls and ask for donations.”
“Until recently they’ve limited their activities to making a lot of noise and issuing warnings along the lines of the world as we know it will end if big corporations excavate Alien ruins. But like I said, they seem to be escalating. If they find out that you’re going to a Coppersmith jobsite as a consultant they may try to convince you to cancel the contract.”
“Hmm.”