by Jayne Castle
It was not uncommon for burnouts who had previously been strong talents to disappear into the tunnels without tuned amber. That kind of hike was a death sentence.
“I don’t understand,” she said carefully. “You are still powerful. I can sense it in your aura.”
“The para-shrinks think that the burnout is still going on even though my talent is all but gone. That’s why I’m running a fever. The symptoms of the ongoing destruction are hallucinations and nightmares. If I sleep more than twenty minutes or so I . . . dream.”
“Everyone dreams.”
“Not like I do. The dreams are nightmares. Bad enough to bring me wide awake in a cold sweat. For a short time after I wake up I feel like I’m still locked in the dream. I know I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake up.”
“Lucid dreaming,” she said.
He turned his head sharply to look at her. “One of the experts mentioned that term but said there wasn’t much data on the phenomenon.”
“Probably because there isn’t much data on any kind of dreaming. After all the centuries of research back on Earth and here on Harmony, we still don’t know a lot about dreams—except that they can provide a pathway between the normal and the paranormal.”
“No offense, but you’re a music talent.”
“A music talent who does dream analysis, remember? The reason I’m good at dreamwork is because music energy travels on the currents of dreamlight.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rafe said.
“Not many people, including the researchers, have figured it out. But for me, it’s obvious. I see the connection every day in my work. Think about it—music takes a direct paranormal path to the senses. It can give you chills or make you cry or induce a kind of euphoria or a sense of transcendence—all without having to be interpreted by logic and reason. Just like dreams.”
“Huh.” Rafe switched his attention back to the empty highway. “Never thought about it that way.”
“No reason you would unless you were a music talent who does dream analysis. Now, about your hallucinations.”
Rafe rubbed his eyes. “What about them?”
“When I first came into my talent and started telling people that I could hear Alien music, the initial assumption was that I was hallucinating. I was sent to a lot of dreamstate experts, none of whom could figure out what was going on with me. In the end they concluded that I was faking it.”
“Why would you fake the ability to hear Alien music?”
“Because I came from a family of brilliant music talents,” Ella said patiently. “It was obvious I had no real talent, myself, so I must have made up a talent. It was after the counselors announced that I had no talent and that the Alien music I claimed to hear was a product of my imagination that my family finally realized that I had very likely gotten the Siren gene. It’s in the family tree—my mother’s side. Anyhow, everyone concluded that it would be best if I shut up about the Alien music thing.”
“Tough secret for a person to keep.”
“Yes, it is.”
Rafe gave her a considering look. “Ever register with a matchmaking agency?”
She flexed her hands on the wheel. “No, of course not.”
He nodded. “Because it would have meant having to flat-out lie about your true paranormal nature.”
“It’s not like any of the agencies would have found me a match. It’s a lot more likely that they would have reported me to the FBPI.”
“All the reputable agencies guarantee confidentiality.”
“Sure. And if you believe a matrimonial agency would have kept my secret, I’ve got a lovely bridge I can sell you. Hardly used.”
“Okay, can’t argue with you on that,” Rafe said.
“But I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway, does it? If Joe Harding suspects I’m a Siren, I can take it as a given that I’m on some watch list.”
“I can’t do anything about that, but like I told you before, if the FBPI or anyone else comes after you, Coppersmith Mining will have your back.”
She knew from his expression that he was serious.
“I remember,” she said. “Thanks. But I’ve got to ask why?”
“Coppersmith takes care of its own.”
“I’m not a Coppersmith and I don’t work for your family’s company. I’m an outside consultant.”
“Semantics. You’re working for Coppersmith. As long as you don’t double-cross us, we’ll be there if you need us.”
She wasn’t sure where to go with that. No one had ever offered to have her back before. She was a Siren. She could take care of herself.
“Nap time,” she said quietly.
“Twenty minutes, no longer. If I wake up yelling or saying stuff that makes you nervous, don’t try to shake me awake. I’m not sure how I’ll respond. Just pull over to the side of the road, get out of the car, and wait. I’ll come out of it on my own. I’ve worked out a sort of psychic alarm that trips whenever the nightmares get too intense.”
“You don’t have to sound embarrassed about it. You’re running a psi-fever. Bad dreams would seem to be normal for that kind of thing.”
“Who knows what normal is for me now.”
The bleak, steely edge in his words made her realize that he was preparing himself for a worst-case scenario.
“I might be able to help you get some real sleep,” she said.
He shot her a look of disbelief. “I doubt it.”
“Okay if I try?”
“Not if it means I get stuck in a damn nightmare.”
“No nightmares, I promise. Hey, I’m the dream analyst here, remember? Just let me try.”
Rafe hesitated and then exhaled slowly. “I could really use a couple hours of decent sleep. Go for it. But like I said, if I show signs of sliding into a nightmare, pull over to the side.”
“Okay.”
He closed his eyes. It seemed to Ella that he fell asleep between one breath and the next. He was truly sleep-deprived, she thought. He needed a lot more than a twenty-minute nap.
Lorelei finished the last of the chips, hopped over to the back of Ella’s seat, and nattered encouragingly.
“I can’t go any faster,” Ella whispered. “I’m doing the speed limit. The last thing we need is to get stopped by a cop.”
She heightened her senses a little, watching for the feverish energy in Rafe’s aura. It was there, doing a slow burn. She kicked up her talent just enough to keep track of the fever and settled down to drive.
• • •
Twenty minutes later, almost to the minute, she felt energy shiver in the atmosphere. Rafe stirred in the seat. He muttered something unintelligible, sounding agitated.
Lorelei muttered in concern and opened all four eyes.
Ella realized Rafe’s dreams were turning dark. He said he had set his internal time clock to awaken him when the nightmares kicked in and that was exactly what was happening. But Rafe needed sleep desperately. His body was fighting the wake-up call.
She glanced at the car’s GPS. They still had another two and a half hours of driving.
She took one hand off the wheel and rested it lightly on Rafe’s shoulder. She touched the back of his neck with her fingertips. His skin was warm; a little too warm. Fever heat.
He twisted a little in the seat and muttered. The words were slurred with sleep but this time she understood.
“Ghost City.”
For the first time she noticed that his gray quartz ring was heating with energy. It looked for all the world like a hot gemstone enveloped in eerie fog.
Without warning Rafe’s eyes snapped open. They blazed with a hellish light. His hand clamped around her wrist.
She was so startled she almost lost control of the car. It swerved out of the lane. She struggled with the wheel and the brakes. Lorelei growled.
“Rafe, it’s me. Ella.”
“Siren.”
She knew then that he was caught in the web of a nightmare.
“I can make i
t go away, Rafe,” she said. “Let me make it go away.”
“Sing for me,” he whispered.
She raised her talent and pulled powerful, soothing harmonies from far out on the paranormal spectrum. After a few seconds they began to resonate gently with the fierce heat in Rafe’s aura. The tension in his energy field eased. The fever faded from his eyes.
“Siren,” he said again.
But there was no fear or disbelief in his eyes. If anything, he looked satisfied.
He slipped back into sleep.
Lorelei ceased looking alarmed and went back to enjoying the road trip.
Ella drove on into the night singing a silent, psychic song infused with peace, tranquility, and calm.
Rafe slept.
Chapter 14
He came awake from a dreamless sleep. For a moment he fought against surfacing. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into the magical realm.
An enthusiastic chortle made him open his eyes. He looked at Lorelei, who was perched on his knee, watching him intently. She clutched her wedding veil in one paw and nibbled on what looked like a chocolate chip cookie.
“Hey, there,” he said. Reflexively, he patted her head. “Where did you get the cookie?”
“The same place I got a cookie,” Ella said. “There’s one for you, too. And some coffee.”
Belatedly, he realized the car was parked and the driver’s side door was open. Ella was leaning into the vehicle, holding out a mug of coffee. The lights of a big house and a private landing strip glowed behind her.
“Sorry I had to wake you,” she said. “But we’re at your friend’s ranch and there is a very expensive corporate jet waiting for us. The pilot said we need to hurry because there is some bad weather moving in over the Amber Sea. He wants to get us to Thursday Harbor before the storm hits.”
“I’m awake,” Rafe said.
Reluctantly he rezzed a little psi and shook off the sweet lethargy. He unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. Lorelei jumped off his knee and onto the seat, bouncing a little.
He got out, reached back into the car, and plucked Lorelei off the seat. She chortled and vaulted up onto his shoulder, the wedding veil trailing behind her.
“Your friend Ms. Cremona is packing some food for us and the pilots,” Ella said, speaking across the roof of the car.
He drank in the sight of her standing there, silhouetted against the lights. She was wearing a gray sweatshirt over what was left of her tattered dress. The night breeze tossed her hair.
She was not running hot but he was aware of the strong energy of her aura. He would know it anywhere, he thought, even in his dreams, just as he would know her voice and her scent. Her power called to him; it sang to him. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced—fiercely intimate; shatteringly sexual. He had never even kissed her, yet in that moment he knew that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone or anything. The knowledge dazzled him. It also depressed him. She deserved a mate who was her equal in all ways, one who could match her strength. He was no longer that man.
But at the moment he was the only one around who could protect her. He had to get her to the safety of Rainshadow where Coppersmith Security could shield her from whoever was trying to grab her.
Strange to think of Rainshadow as a safe zone, he thought. But it offered a lot of the things the urban environment could not—a trustworthy security staff, a secure compound, and a perimeter that could be patrolled. In addition, he trusted the local chief of police. He and Slade Attridge went back a ways.
“Ella.” He stopped, unsure where to go next. “Thanks. That’s the first good sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
“You need more but I understand the flight to Thursday Harbor is nearly four hours so you’ll have time to catch up on your rest. Looks like the fever has gone down a little.”
A flicker of unease made him go still. He did not like knowing that she could sense the weakness in him. “You can detect it that clearly?”
She cleared her throat. “I think I’m especially sensitive to your aura because we’ve had some physical contact while we were running hot. You know how it is with strong talents.”
It dawned on him that she was struggling to make it all sound very clinical. Two strong talents touch each other while each is fully rezzed and, presto, they are suddenly able to sense each other’s auras more clearly.
Except it didn’t usually work like that, Rafe thought. Not unless something else was going on—something like sexual attraction, which often had a strong paranormal vibe.
But he knew this was not the time to point out a few of the basic bio-psi facts of life. Ella had been affected by the link between them. Knowing that was enough—for now.
He was suddenly feeling a little less depressed.
“Right,” he said. “Just one of those things.”
“Yep, just one of those things.”
The door of the big house opened. A woman dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater emerged. The porch light gleamed briefly on the silver in her black hair. Gabriella Cremona was a strong crystal talent who, for years, had overseen one of Coppersmith’s most innovative labs.
“Rafe.” Gabriella came down the steps carrying two large insulated carriers. “Good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
One of the pilots hurried toward her. “I’ll take those, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Gabriella handed the carriers to him. “Sandwiches and cookies. Should be enough to last all of you for the trip. You said you had coffee on board.”
“Yes, ma’am. Plenty of coffee but we didn’t have time to stock up on the food. Appreciate the sandwiches and cookies, believe me.”
He looked at Rafe. “Ready when you are, Mr. Coppersmith. We won’t file a flight plan until we’re in the air. We need to get going, though. We should be wheels-up in the next fifteen minutes if we want to beat the weather in the Amber Sea.”
“We’ll be on board in a minute, Larry.” Rafe walked around the car and gave Gabriella a hug. “Good to see you, too. You’ll be coming to the annual company picnic this summer on Copper Beach Island?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Gabriella said. She studied the wedding veil that Lorelei clutched. The netting drifted on the night breeze, floating around Rafe’s head and shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong—you’ll make a stunning bride, Rafe—but do you mind if I ask what is going on here?”
“I hate to say this, but the truth is, I’ve got no idea. Coppersmith is opening up a new territory in the Underworld. We need some specialized talent.”
“That would be me,” Ella said.
“I see,” Gabriella said.
“Someone evidently wants to prevent Ella from taking the job with Coppersmith,” Rafe concluded. “They tried to grab her tonight. They were using Alien tech.”
Gabriella raised her brows. “This new territory must be quite promising.”
“They’re calling it Wonderland,” Rafe said. “That’s a pretty damn good description. Maybe you’d like to come out to Rainshadow and see for yourself one of these days.”
“I’d like that,” Gabriella said. “I’d like that a lot.”
Rafe glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to get in the air. Thanks for everything, Gabriella.”
“Anytime. Tell your folks I said hello and that I’ll see them this summer.”
“Will do.”
Gabriella smiled at Ella. “A pleasure to meet you. Good luck in Wonderland.”
“Thanks,” Ella said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, too. And thanks for the sweatshirt.”
“No problem. Sorry I didn’t have anything else that would fit you.” Gabriella shot Rafe an unreadable glance and then smiled at Ella. “You can return the sweatshirt when I see you at the Coppersmith summer picnic.”
“Oh, no,” Ella said. “That sounds like a company event. I’m strictly a consulting talent.”
Her absolute denial of even a remote possibility of attending
the picnic was damned annoying. Rafe had to clamp down on a flash of temper.
“You never know,” he said. “Summer is a ways off. Let’s go. The pilots are waiting.”
“Okay,” Ella said. “Good-bye, Ms. Cremona.”
“Good-bye, Ella.” Gabriella reached up to pat Lorelei on Rafe’s shoulder. “And good-bye to you, my little friend. Here’s another cookie to hold you until they open the picnic coolers on the plane.”
She handed Lorelei a chocolate chip cookie. Lorelei went into ecstatic mode.
Gabriella chuckled. “Doesn’t take much to thrill a dust bunny, does it?”
“No,” Ella said. “I guess we could all learn something from dust bunnies.”
Gabriella laughed. “Definitely.”
Ella turned, stuffed her hands into the pockets of the sweatshirt, and started walking toward the jet. Rafe realized she was still wearing her stilettos.
Some bodyguard he had turned out to be. He had very nearly allowed her to get kidnapped tonight. Then he had run her through the catacombs, after which she had driven them both to an isolated airstrip where they were about to board a jet that would take them on a long flight to a very dangerous island. She had to be exhausted, he thought. But she had not complained or pointed out his several glaring inadequacies.
Oblivious of his dark thoughts, she contemplated the sleek jet sitting on the paved strip.
“You know, under other circumstances, this could be construed as a very romantic scene,” she said.
He stared at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Think about it—a mysterious man wearing a gun and a tux whisks the lady off to an exotic island in a private jet.”
“You call this romantic? In case you didn’t notice, you nearly got kidnapped tonight. And Rainshadow isn’t exotic. It’s an island where things get very weird and your primary objective will be to avoid becoming a snack for some Alien-engineered dinosaur.”
“Got it.”
“Whatever is going on here, one thing is for sure—this is not a romantic scenario.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t know what came over me. Just a poor attempt to lighten the situation. Sorry.”