Dark Light

by Randy Wayne White

  Tonight Sierra had become his wife—a Guild wife—and he had been overcome with a fierce desire to prove himself to her in the traditional Guild way.

  He should have known better than to expect an outsider to be impressed with such an archaic tradition, especially a woman like Sierra, who had been born into an upper-class family.

  The social status of the Guilds had always been an uneasy one, at least as far as mainstream society was concerned. Sure, high-ranking Guild members and their wives got invited to celebrity parties and elegant charity fund-raisers. A lot of people found raw power of any kind fascinating. They enjoyed rubbing shoulders with members of their local Guild Councils in certain social circles. Politicians and CEOs courted the top people in any Guild because the organizations possessed the kind of cash that could bankroll a campaign or invest in a hedge fund.

  But if you were a part of the elite of mainstream society, you didn’t want your daughter to marry a Guild man, not even if the marriage was a short-term MC with no lasting status. A Covenant Marriage between a high-ranking member of a Guild and a woman with Sierra’s social background was so rare as to be the stuff of legend. Such marriages did occur from time to time, but they were usually the result of financial considerations. A once-wealthy mainstream family seeking to recoup its fortunes might contemplate such an alliance, but only as a last resort.

  He wondered what Sierra’s classy parents would say when they discovered that she was in a Marriage of Convenience with a Guild boss who was also a bastard. One thing was certain: they would not be happy about the situation.

  He drank some of the brandy and wondered how long his marriage would last.

  Chapter 12

  “I DON’T BELIEVE IT,” SIERRA SAID. “YOU ACTUALLY SUBSCRIBE to the Curtain?”

  They were in the breakfast room. She had made an old family favorite, Earth toast. There was also orange juice and coffee. Elvis was perched on the windowsill, nibbling on the small slice of toast that she had given him. A cup of coffee sat beside him.

  “Well, sure,” Fontana said. He slapped the day’s edition down onto the breakfast table. “Figured it was in my own best interest to know how a certain investigative journalist was going to come at the Guild next. I was a Hunter Scout. Be prepared is my motto.”

  “I thought Never leave a man behind for ghost bait was your motto.”

  “That one came later.” He looked at the plates in her hands with interest. “Is that real Earth toast?”

  “My mom’s recipe.” She set one of the plates in front of him. “Hope you like it.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He surveyed the egg-battered toast as though it were one of the priceless pieces of dreamstone in his collection. “Haven’t had it in years.” He reached for the butter.

  His enthusiasm warmed her for some reason. She sat down across from him and picked up her glass of orange juice.

  “Let me see the headline,” she said.

  “Brace yourself.”

  “How bad is it?”

  He swiveled the paper around so that she could read it. “Got to give Runtley high marks for creativity.”

  Sierra looked at the screaming headline.

  GUILD BOSS WEDS MYSTERY BRIDE

  IN SECRET HUNTER CEREMONY

  Beneath that was a second banner line in a slightly smaller font.

  COUPLE GOES THROUGH

  SECRET HUNTER WEDDING-NIGHT RITUAL

  IN ALIEN TEMPLE OF LOVE

  Two photos accompanied the short piece. The larger shot was a tight close-up of Fontana and herself coming out of the registrar’s office. There was no mistaking the big Guild seal ring on her finger. She appeared somewhat the worse for wear, but it was the cool satisfaction on Fontana’s austere face that gave her a chill.

  “I think we lucked out,” she said, going for a positive spin. “There’s nothing in the piece about vampires.”

  “Don’t miss the description of the secret wedding-night ritual. It’s on the next page. Your friend Kay has a vivid imagination.”

  Sierra turned the page reluctantly.

  “. . . The mysterious rites associated with the consummation of a high-ranking Guild marriage are conducted in an alien temple of love that is concealed deep within the catacombs. The alien temple is said to resonate with a form of strange psi that greatly enhances the satisfaction of both bride and groom . . .”

  Sierra cleared her throat. “I’m afraid Kay went a little over the top.”

  “You think so?” Fontana’s mouth kicked up in a wicked grin. “Don’t know about you, but speaking personally, I’m sorry we missed that secret alien temple of love. Sounds interesting.”

  Aware that she was blushing, Sierra hastily closed the paper.

  “Normally the mainstream media doesn’t pay a lot of attention to what we print at the Curtain,” she said. “But it won’t be able to ignore a Guild boss wedding. That kind of thing is always news. And the Curtain got the scoop. Runtley is probably rubbing his hands together with glee as we speak.”

  Fontana checked his watch. “The other newsrooms will have hit the phones as soon as the day’s edition of the Curtain hit the street. Guild headquarters will have confirmed the story by now. It’s probably gone out on the major wire services. I’ll bet we’re on the morning news in the other city-states.”

  “Good grief.” Sierra gripped her fork very tightly. “Do you really think the news of our marriage will get beyond Crystal City?”

  Fontana raised his brows. “Don’t tell me you’ve been laboring under the illusion that our wedding would be nothing more than a local story.”

  She swallowed. “It’s just an MC, not exactly earth-shaking news.”

  “Trust me, when a high-ranking Guild man from any of the big cities gets married, its news. You’re a journalist. You should know that.”

  “I think I’ve been in denial.”

  “I can see that.”

  As if on cue, Sierra’s personal phone rang. She jumped a couple of inches. Annoyed with herself, she reached into her pocket, took out the small device, and glanced at the incoming number. She groaned and answered.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “What in the world is going on, Sierra?” Marilyn McIntyre demanded.

  Her voice was crisp, authoritative, and deeply concerned. Sierra was also pretty sure she detected an underlying edge of panic.

  “I can explain, Mom.”

  “Your father just called. He said that his executive assistant heard a news report about a woman with your name marrying the CEO of the Crystal City Ghost Hunter’s Guild. I assume its some sort of mix-up.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Please don’t tell me you let the editor of that dreadful tabloid you work for talk you into printing a ridiculous story like this just for the sake of boosting circulation.”

  “It wasn’t Mr. Runtley’s idea,” Sierra said.

  “Just tell me it isn’t true.”

  Sierra realized that something had changed in Fontana’s expression. It was a subtle shift, nothing more than a faint tightening at the corners of his mouth. The warm, intimate heat that had been in his eyes a moment ago had disappeared.

  “Mom, it’s only a Marriage of Convenience,” she said, trying to project the calm, cool air of an adult woman who is entirely capable of choosing her own lovers.

  “MCs are so tacky.” Marilyn’s voice rose. “Sierra, how could you? How in the world did you ever come to meet a Guild boss in the first place, let alone get intimately involved with him? You’ve only been in Crystal for six months.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Don’t you realize how this will look?” Marilyn said tightly. “We haven’t had a Marriage of Convenience in this family since your grandmother Larken entered into one with your grandfather. And that MC only lasted a few weeks before they came to their senses and converted it into a Covenant Marriage.”

  Sierra seized on that. “Speaking of which, did Grandmother ever tell you why she and Grandpa chose a
n MC first?”

  “She said something once about wanting to be sure because she didn’t trust her intuition when it came to love. But that’s ridiculous. Your grandmother’s talent is legendary in this family. I’ve never known her to be less than absolutely positive about anything.”

  Her grandmother had been right to be wary, Sierra thought. When it came to love, things got very murky, even for those with keen intuition.

  “Mom, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. It’s just a simple Marriage of Convenience. People go in and out of them all the time.”

  “Not people in this family,” Marilyn shot back. “What about Jonathan?”

  For some reason the mention of Jonathan’s name was one button too many.

  “You know, Mom, I don’t really give a flying chunk of untuned amber what Jonathan thinks.”

  “How can you say that?” Marilyn’s shock reverberated through the phone. “You loved him. You were engaged to him. He called just the other day wanting to know when you planned to return to Resonance.”

  “Whatever I felt for Jonathan ended the day I found him in bed with Adrianna Silbury.”

  “Good grief, you never said anything about that when you called off the engagement.”

  “You’re Jonathan’s mother’s best friend. I didn’t want to muck up your relationship with Mrs. Pemberley.”

  “I . . . don’t know what to say. I’m dumbfounded. I thought Jonathan loved you. He was one of us, a member of the Society. You were matched.”

  “Jon was fond of me. We were friends. But it turned out that he was primarily interested in me because he saw me as a business asset.”

  “You mean because you’re a McIntyre?” Marilyn asked sharply. “But that’s nonsense. His family name carries just as much weight in this city and in the Society as yours does.”

  “No, Mom.” She glanced at Fontana and let her eyes slide away. “Because of the other thing. You know.”

  Marilyn was no fool. “Your intuition?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

  “I’m stunned,” Marilyn said finally. “Your father and I had no idea. But if Jonathan’s feelings for you weren’t genuine, why didn’t you sense it? Why didn’t the matchmakers pick it up?”

  Fontana ate his Earth toast with a grim air. She knew he was listening to every word she said.

  “I really can’t explain right now, Mom. Let’s just say that the experience taught me a lesson. I had a very close call with Jonathan. I’ll never contemplate another Covenant Marriage without a trial Marriage of Convenience first. It’s just too risky.”

  “Obviously you didn’t need an MC with Jonathan to discover that he was cheating on you,” Marilyn pointed out smoothly.

  Sierra wrinkled her nose. “You know, that’s the problem with having a mom who is a philosophy professor. You’re always pulling the logic card on me. Okay, you win that one on points. Nevertheless, you can see why I’m feeling a little skittish about the whole concept of a Covenant Marriage these days. It’s a dangerous institution, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “So you plunge straight into a Marriage of Convenience with a Guild boss, instead?” Marilyn shot back. “That doesn’t sound a great deal safer.”

  Sierra caught Fontana’s eye. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but for some reason the short-term vows they had made to each other yesterday popped into her head. “I promise to remain faithful so long as we both are bound by this agreement . . .”

  She also remembered the strong currents of psi that had accompanied the promise. She had known in that moment that, whatever else happened, Fontana intended to keep his end of the bargain. The MC might not last longer than a week, but for those few days, he was hers. And she was his.

  “Got to go, Mom. I’m in the middle of fixing breakfast. Give my love to Dad, and tell him not to worry. Everything’s under control.”

  “You always say that, but things never quite work out that way,” Marilyn retorted. “And what about your grandparents’ anniversary next month?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “With or without your new husband?” Marilyn asked ominously.

  “We’ll see,” Sierra said airily.

  She ended the connection before her mother could respond and turned off the phone.

  “Sorry about that,” she said briskly. “My mom just heard the news.”

  Fontana poured more coffee into his cup. “I get the feeling your folks aren’t too thrilled to hear that you’re in an MC with me,” he said, his voice exquisitely neutral.

  “It isn’t you. It’s the whole MC thing. In my family they’re considered sort of, well—”

  “Lower-class?” he suggested with a cold smile. “Something a Guild man might do, for instance?”

  Anger flashed through her. She raised her fork in warning. “Stop right there, Fontana. I’ve had enough high drama with my mother this morning. Understood?”

  His eyes tightened at the corners, and his jaw looked as if it had been carved from stone. She almost smiled. He wasn’t accustomed to having people tell him to shut up. Somewhat to her surprise, however, he changed tactics.

  “Who’s Jonathan?” he asked.

  “Don’t play the innocent with me. I’m sure you know all about Jonathan Pemberley.” She forked up a bite of the toast. “You would never have gotten involved with me unless you had done a very thorough background check.”

  “I did come across the announcement of your engagement to Pemberley. Also noticed that it had been ended quietly and abruptly about eight months ago.”

  “Is there any other way to end an engagement?”

  Fontana ignored that snappy little riposte.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Well, what?”

  “Are you going to tell me about Pemberley?”

  She concentrated on her coffee. “You heard me explain to Mom that I found him in bed with someone else.”

  He waited. She did not volunteer anything further.

  “That’s it?” he said after a while.

  “That’s it.”

  “Why do I have this feeling that there’s more to the story?”

  “Beats me.” She smiled. “Possibly because you are suspicious by nature?”

  “Possibly. I heard you tell your mother that Pemberley viewed you as some kind of business asset.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Because of your family’s power in Resonance?”

  “Not exactly.” She put down her coffee cup. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about Jonathan. Let’s change the subject.”

  “Fine. You want to change the subject, let’s get down to business.”

  “Business?”

  “It’s time you kept your end of the bargain. I want to meet your source, the one who told you about the alien abductions and the discovery of a secret alien lab.”

  Her end of the bargain. Well, what had she expected? That’s what this marriage was all about, after all: a bargain.

  “Okay” she said, “but there are no freebies here, Fontana. I’ll introduce you to Jake, but in exchange I want the complete file on Jenner.”

  “What makes you think there’s a file?”

  “You know, there are a lot of things you do well, but looking innocent is not one of them. You’re a planner. I’m betting that when you decided to take down Jenner, you compiled a file.”

  “You’re right. There’s a file.”

  “Do I get it?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 13

  THE ALLEY WAS IN ONE OF THE SEEDIEST NEIGHBORHOODS of the Quarter, a narrow lane formed by buildings with boarded-up doorways and empty windows. The structures would have been real firetraps, Fontana thought, if it weren’t for the fact that the First Generation colonists had built them out of native stone and a lot of high-tech, fireproof materials imported from Earth before the closing of the Curtain.

  “Jake will probably still be asleep at this
hour,” Sierra said. She had her purse slung over one shoulder. Elvis, nattily attired in his white cape, was perched on the other shoulder. “He’s not what you’d call an early riser.”

  Fontana surveyed the alley. The lane smelled like a lot of other alleys he’d had occasion to visit, an aromatic mix of stale garbage, stale urine, and stale booze. Shards of broken bottles glittered on the ground.

  “Great location for a mugging,” he said, checking windows and doorways. “Come here often?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Sierra sounded irritated by the question. “It’s safe. Jake and his friend Hank have staked out this alley as their personal turf. They were both powerful hunters once upon a time. They can still defend their territory when necessary.”

  “The fearless lady reporter.”

  It took every scrap of his considerable powers of self-control not to start yelling at her. What the hell did she think she was doing meeting washed-up hunters in grimy alleys?

  He knew that Sierra sensed his simmering anger. She tightened her grip on the sack of cookies she had brought with her.

  “As it happens, I’m an excellent judge of character,” she said. Every word was iced with invisible frost.

  “Yeah?” And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “if that’s true, what went wrong with Pemberley? Why didn’t you figure him out right away?”

  She gave him a repressive glare. “I’ve always heard that it is not a good idea for a couple to dissect prior relationships.”

  A couple. She’d referred to the two of them as a couple. Maybe that was a good sign.

  Elvis was excited. He clung to Sierra’s shoulder and leaned forward with an air of anticipation.

  “Looks like the bunny enjoys strolling through dark alleys,” Fontana said.

  “Elvis knows this particular alley. He and Jake are buddies. Jake makes toys for him, and we give Jake cookies in return. Works for both of them.”