by Jayne Castle
“Wouldn’t be the first time someone picked up the same weapon that the enemy is using,” Ella said.
“True. And there’s no question but that DND has been escalating lately. You know, I’d tell you to bail on the contract but I’m not sure that would keep you safe. Not now. I’ve led the bastards straight to you. Even if you tear up the contract they might not leave you alone.”
“Which means there’s no point terminating our arrangement,” she said briskly. “I’m not going to pull out, Rafe. One thing has been bothering me, though.”
“Just one thing?”
She ignored that. “With the exception of the DND cult, most of the conspiracy buffs I’ve heard about are loners with no visible means of support. Whoever ambushed us tonight obviously has some serious financial backing—enough to put a fancy limo and a big Resonator on the street, not to mention all that high-end equipment those men were carrying. The bell, alone, is worth a fortune.”
“We’re dealing with someone who can afford some very expensive Alien toys.” Rafe paused. “It’s a damn good thing that you can suppress para-music frequencies.”
She glanced at him. “Can’t you?”
“No.”
“But you can activate Alien weapons,” she said. “You did it that day when the mob guy, Trent, and his enforcers tried to kill us. You fired the artifact as if it were a gun. You channeled that energy.”
“I can rez the trigger of a pistol, too. But I can’t stop the bullet once it’s been fired.”
“Oh, I see what you mean.”
“Being able to rez Alien tech is not exactly a common ability, but it’s not all that rare.” Rafe glanced at her. “Can you do it?”
“No. I can send out dampening wavelengths to suppress the paranormal forces in Alien tech but I can’t channel those forces and focus them the way you can. I’m a singer, not an Intuitive Power Channeler. That’s what you are, isn’t it? Technically speaking?”
“That’s what I was.”
“Why the past tense?”
“Things change,” Rafe said.
She might not be a high-level intuitive talent, but she could tell when someone had just shut down a conversation.
“What happened to those two Alien weapons that Vickary was trying to sell?” she asked. “They didn’t show up in the media accounts of the big bust.”
“Currently they’re in a special underground vault at FBPI headquarters.”
“Ah-hah. So, at least some of the conspiracy theories in the Curtain are right.”
Rafe glanced at her. “What?”
“Never mind.”
“Both of those men in the Resonator had to put on some sort of earphones before they used the bell. What do you think that was all about?”
“I think it’s safe to say that they needed the earphones to shield them from the effects of the weapon.” She looked at the makeshift sack Rafe was carrying. “That gear you confiscated might provide some clues. Stuff that sophisticated came out of a high-end lab.”
“True. I’m damn sure it wasn’t one of ours. But every para-tech engineer leaves his or her unique psychic prints, just like computer programmers leave their prints on their code. With luck our research people will be able to take these earphones apart and come up with a way to trace them back to whoever created them.”
“It seems to me that the real question here isn’t how those two were able to shield themselves from the effects of the bell,” Ella said. “It’s how did they activate it in the first place? I don’t think either one of them was a music talent. If that were the case they wouldn’t have had to use the headphones.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Same is true if they’d had my old talent. They wouldn’t have needed protection from the energy waves because they would have been channeling them. You know, if someone has discovered a way for the average bad guy to rez Alien tech, the FBPI, the police, and the Guilds are going to be facing some serious new problems on the streets.”
“That is not a cheery thought.”
“No, it’s not.” Rafe tightened his grip on the shirt sack. “The last thing we need are a bunch of thugs armed with Alien weapons. It’s hard enough to control illegal activity in the Underworld now.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I doubt if the man who used the bell on us could have kept the power surge going for long—a couple of minutes at most.”
“But long enough to force a person to surrender.”
“Or kill him.”
“Without a trace,” Rafe mused. “The perfect murder weapon. Most experts are aware that death by Alien tech is theoretically possible, but proving it in a court of law is usually impossible, at least with current forensic science.”
They arrived in a high-ceilinged rotunda with several intersecting corridors. Rafe checked his locator and chose a tunnel.
“I assume you have a specific destination in mind,” Ella said. “There are hidden holes-in-the-wall scattered all over the city, but the main gate—the one guarded by the Guild—is inside the Great Wall.”
“That won’t work for us,” Rafe said. “We don’t know who is after us or what Guild connections they might have. We have to assume that whoever set us up tonight will be watching all the obvious locations where we might be expected to show up. That includes the private airfield where the Coppersmith jet is waiting.”
“That’s a depressing thought,” she said. “I suppose our next move will be to call in the FBPI.”
“You really don’t like the Bureau, do you?”
“Nothing personal. The problem is, the Bureau tends to be innately suspicious of people like me.”
“Off-the-charts talents.”
“Specifically, off-the-charts talents the Bureau thinks are potentially dangerous,” Ella said. “I’ve been living with my secret ever since I came into my para-senses. My family has been living with it, too. I’ve got a career to protect. The bottom line is that I don’t want to end up on a watch list.”
“I never told anyone that you were a Siren,” Rafe said, a grim edge on the words. “But I’ve got some bad news for you.”
A frisson of panic zapped her nerves and her senses. “Please don’t tell me—”
“The head of the Crystal City FBPI has some suspicions concerning your talent based on what happened at that wedding.”
“Oh, damn. Damn.” She clenched her hand around her little purse. “Joe Harding has been watching me?”
“From a distance,” Rafe added hurriedly.
“Damn.” She shot him a quick look. “How long have you known?”
“I just found out today when I dropped by his office to see him. He asked why I was in town. I said I had come to Crystal to hire you. He warned me that he suspected you might be a full-on Siren.”
She wanted to hurl something at the nearest wall but all she had available was her small evening bag.
“Damn,” she said. Again.
“I’m sorry,” Rafe said. He watched her with an expression that contained a mix of sympathy and wariness.
She sighed. “It’s not your fault.”
“Joe’s suspicions were fueled by the fact that you moved up so fast in the business world.”
“Do you believe my story?”
“I admit I had a few questions at first,” he said. “But I believe it now.”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered.
“Are you sure you don’t want to terminate our contract?”
She glared at him. “Do you want me to terminate it?”
“No. I need you and I don’t know anyone else who can do the job. But it’s obvious you’re a little upset.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said. “I’m not upset, I’m stone-cold furious. There’s a difference.”
“Right. But not mad enough to end our arrangement.”
“It wouldn’t make any difference as far as my problems with the Bureau are concerned.”
“True,” he agreed.
She gave him a steely smile. “From the sound of things, I need you as much as you need me. Nothing like having Coppersmith Mining on my list of clients to give me some credibility in case the FBPI comes calling.”
Rafe thought about that. “Good point. We’ll have your back.”
“Fine. In that case we’ve still got a deal.”
“Good.” Rafe exhaled slowly. “That said, I don’t think we’ll contact the local office of the Bureau or anyone else here in Crystal City.”
“I’m delighted to hear that, of course.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I need to ask, why not?”
“Too many people are aware that I hired you today. We don’t know who sent those guys with the bad tats and this isn’t the time to find out.”
“Sounds like you may be working on a conspiracy theory.”
“Maybe. Bottom line is that I can’t afford any more delays. I want to get you to safety, which means that we need the second half of that plan you were asking about.”
“Got the second half?”
“I think so. To begin with, we’re going to stay out of sight until we get clear of Crystal City. Once we’re airborne and on our way to Rainshadow, I can dump the problem of the tattoo crowd into the lap of Coppersmith Security. You and I can focus on the singing dinos.”
“Okay.”
“I sense a lack of enthusiasm.”
“Well, it’s not like I have a better plan.”
“Definitely a lack of enthusiasm.”
“Don’t read too much into my response. I’m not at my enthusiastic best at the moment.” She gave up on the stiletto heels and came to a halt. “Hang on.”
She stepped out of the shoes and carried them, dangling, by the thin heel straps.
She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that her hair had come undone in the course of the mad scramble to avoid the kidnappers. Somewhere along the line she had lost her wrap. The center back seam of her skirt had ripped several inches up her thigh and now she was barefoot.
Rafe also looked a little the worse for wear but in a dashing, sexy way. She studied him, somewhat resentfully.
His collar-length hair, which had been sleeked back behind his ears earlier in the evening, now hung in dark wings, framing his predatory features and dangerous eyes. He had opened the collar of his crisp white shirt. The black silk tie was draped around his neck. The tux jacket was unfastened, revealing glimpses of his shoulder holster.
They looked like they’d had a very hard night on the town, she thought.
“We’ve still got a few logistical problems,” Rafe said.
“We certainly do.” She was aware that her tone was decidedly sharp. Not her fault, she thought. The evening had been stressful. And now she had confirmation of her mother’s greatest fear. She was on an FBPI watch list. She had a right to sound short-tempered. “For starters, how am I going to get my things before we leave town?”
“I’ll arrange to have whatever you need picked up at your place and sent on to Rainshadow by overnight courier,” Rafe said, dismissing the problem.
“Let’s get something straight. I can go to Rainshadow without a change of underwear, but I’m not leaving town without Lorelei.”
“I’ll make sure someone feeds Lorelei.”
“You don’t understand.” Her temper rose another notch. “Lorelei is not a pet. Lorelei is a companion. She’s a good hunter and she’s quite capable of feeding herself. That’s not the issue. The issue, Rafe Coppersmith, is that I am not going anywhere without her.”
“You didn’t mention Lorelei in the contract.”
“Damn it, Rafe—”
“Okay, okay.” Rafe thought for a moment. “What if we send someone to pick her up and take her to Rainshadow?”
“I doubt that she’d go with a stranger.” Ella paused, thinking. “Lorelei might get into a car with Pete.”
“Who is Pete?”
“He’s a business associate of mine. My old office was next door to his. It was his sled I borrowed the day I rescued the dust bunnies that Vickary was going to use for target practice. Pete’s the one who handled the sale of the ruby amber for me. Lorelei knows Pete and likes him. He gives her sparkly things for her collection.”
“You trust this Pete?” Rafe asked.
“Absolutely. I trust him a hell of a lot more than I do the FBPI.” A familiar chortle brought her to a halt. “Lorelei.”
The dust bunny came tearing around a corner, all four eyes wide open. She was running on four paws because she had the headpiece of her wedding veil clutched in one of her two front paws.
Ella leaned down to scoop her up. She buried her face in Lorelei’s fluffy gray fur.
“How did you know we were in trouble?” she asked.
Lorelei chortled again. Evidently satisfied that Ella was all right, she greeted Rafe.
Rafe looked at Lorelei and then at Ella.
“Satisfied now?” he asked.
“Have dust bunny, will travel,” Ella said.
“That’s good, because I’ve nailed down the rest of the plan.”
“What does it involve?”
“Road trip.”
Chapter 13
Ella watched the headlights consume great gulps of the mostly empty highway that stretched out to the midnight horizon. Rafe was behind the wheel of the car he had rented from an all-night agency in Resonance. She was in the passenger seat, although she was growing more convinced by the minute that she ought to be driving. She could tell that Rafe was using a lot of psi to stay alert at the wheel.
Lorelei was perched on the back of the seat, fully fluffed and munching on the chips that Ella had purchased from a vending machine at the car rental agency. Her precious wedding veil was in the rear seat.
Lorelei was the only one who appeared to be enjoying the midnight run to an unknown private airstrip.
In the faint glow of the dashboard lights, Rafe’s profile was hard and determined. When Ella heightened her senses she could see the low-burning fever in his dreamlight. At least it was no longer spiking, she thought.
“You know,” she said. “When you mentioned that a road trip was involved I didn’t think you meant it quite this literally.”
“The private airstrip is a few hours’ drive from the city. It should be safe. Belongs to a retired executive who owns her own plane, Gabriella Cremona. She was with the company for over forty years. Dad always trusted her, so we can, too.”
“I’m not arguing with you. I agree that getting out of town without alerting whoever is trying to kidnap me is the best bet at the moment. But I think you should let me drive.”
Rafe’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I’m okay. I can drive.”
“I don’t doubt that, but you need rest. I’m fully capable of driving.”
“I know, but it’s not necessary.”
“Are you really going to argue with me about this? Look, I can tell you’re running a psi-fever. You need to allow your aura to rest and recover. When was the last time you got some decent sleep?”
For a moment she wasn’t sure he would admit that he needed sleep or even that he had some issues with his aura. His hands flexed and he renewed his fierce grip on the wheel.
“Sleep doesn’t work well for me these days,” he said finally. “Best I can do are short naps.”
“All right, let me drive while you take a nap.”
“I’ll get some rest on the plane.”
“You need to sleep now. Be reasonable, Rafe. What if something goes wrong at the airstrip? You’ll need to be fully functional, and that’s not likely if you exhaust yourself driving for the next three hours.”
That bit of logic evidently broke through the wall of masculine pride. He hesitated and then, somewhat to her surprise, he took his foot off the accelerator. The car slowed. He pulled over to the side of the road and brought the vehicle to a halt.
Without a word he got out of the driver’s seat and walked around the front of the car. He had removed his tux jacket. In
the glare of the headlights the shoulder holster and gun made for an odd counterpoint to his elegant, formal white shirt and black trousers.
She jumped out of her side of the car and hurried around to the opposite side to get behind the wheel. Lorelei chortled a welcome to Rafe when he slid into the passenger seat. She graciously offered him a few chips.
“Thanks,” he said.
He fastened the seat belt and munched a few chips while Ella got the rental back on the road.
“Sleep,” Ella ordered.
“You’ve known about the fever right from the start, haven’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“I’ve got it under control.”
“I know. I wouldn’t have signed a contract with you if I thought you were about to go rogue in the immediate future.”
He crunched another chip. “You’re wondering if I know what caused the fever.”
“I’m curious, of course. Psi-fevers are not very common. The experts don’t know much about them.”
“And what they do know is that they usually end either in a severely damaged talent or the development of an unstable new talent.” Rafe sounded grimly resigned. “Either way the results are unpredictable and, therefore, dangerous.”
“I take it you’re quoting one of those so-called experts who hasn’t had much experience with psi-fever?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” She thought about that. “What’s your take on what’s going on with your aura?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the one running the fever. What effect do you think it’s having on you?”
“So far, the main problem is that it has burned out my talent for resonating with hot rocks and crystals. I’m no longer any good on exploration teams and I’m useless to the FBPI because I can’t rez Alien tech.”
There was cold acceptance in his voice. Shocked, she glanced at him. His face was a hard mask. The loss of a paranormal talent was uncommon but when it happened it was invariably traumatic. The stronger the talent had been, the more devastating the loss. Victims often felt as if they had lost a key aspect of their core identity.