Canyons of Night

by Jayne Castle

  He turned her slowly to face him.

  “Thrilling,” he said.

  She smiled in the flaring shadows and he was suddenly on fire for her. He picked her up and carried her across the living room and down the hall to the darkened bedroom. There he stood her on her feet.

  He used both hands to remove her glasses and set them carefully aside on the end table. He cradled her face between his palms and kissed her.

  She responded, as she always did, with a passion that warmed his very soul. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth for him.

  He stripped her clothes from her and bundled her into bed. It took him only seconds to get out of his trousers, boots, and shirt. He lowered himself slowly down on top of her, braced himself on his elbows, and bracketed her head with his arms. He kissed her deeply until she was breathless and twisting beneath him.

  He made his way slowly down her soft, sleek body, glorying in the sensual curves of her breasts and the womanly fullness of her thighs. By the time he tangled his fingers in the triangle of soft hair below her belly he was desperate for her. But he wanted her to come first.

  He used his hand and then his mouth on her, letting her spicy, damp heat intoxicate his senses. She was full and wet and tight. Her fingers clenched in his hair.

  “Slade,” she gasped.

  Moments later he felt her release cascade through her. She was still pulsing when he climbed back up her body and thrust into her. He stroked once, twice and then his climax tore through him.

  Outside the storm raged, setting fire to the night.

  Chapter 29

  CHARLOTTE WAS ON THE FRONT PORCH, HEADING toward her car, when she heard her phone ring. She fished it out and glanced at the screen. She smiled when she saw the caller’s name.

  “Good morning, Thelma,” she said. “Is everything okay at your place?”

  “Actually, it’s not, dear.”

  “Are you all right?” Charlotte asked quickly.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I didn’t mean to alarm you. There was a good deal of damage to my garden and the high winds took off a section of the greenhouse roof. The power is off, of course.”

  “Same here. Slade said it’s off in town, too.”

  “There’s nothing that can’t be repaired here at my place,” Thelma said. “The problem is that there’s a tree down in my front yard. It’s blocking the driveway. I can’t get my car out and I need to go into town to pick up a few things. I wondered if you could give me a ride?”

  “Of course. I’m just about to leave to check up on Looking Glass. Slade did a quick drive-by early this morning when he went into town to assess the damage. He said everything looked fine at the shop but he didn’t have time to go inside. I want to make sure that there were no leaks. I’ll pick you up in about five minutes. How’s that?”

  “Perfect. I’ll walk out to the road and meet you. There is so much debris down in the drive that I don’t think you could get anywhere near the house.”

  Charlotte opened the car door. “I’m on my way.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “It’s the least I can do after all the fabulous zucchini bread and the basil and tomatoes you’ve given me.”

  Thelma chuckled. “I’m just grateful to have a neighbor who appreciates good veggies. See you in a few minutes.”

  The phone went silent. Charlotte dropped it back into her purse and drove cautiously out to the main road. Branches, limbs, and windblown debris littered the drive and the narrow strip of pavement that wound along the top of the cliffs.

  Slade had left early to organize his small staff and an assortment of volunteers. By now they were all out identifying hazards such as downed power lines and making sure those who lived alone were all right. When he had phoned earlier he had advised her that the road into town was reasonably clear.

  Thelma was waiting at the junction of her drive and the road. She was bundled up in a faded windbreaker and carried a covered basket on her arm. She opened the door on the passenger side and got into the car.

  “Good morning, dear,” she said. She settled the basket on her lap. “My goodness, that was quite the storm, wasn’t it?”

  “They predicted seventy-mile-an-hour winds and I think we got them,” Charlotte said.

  “I expect Slade will be very busy for the rest of the day.”

  “Looks like it. When he called a while ago he was on his way out to Zeke Hodson’s house to make sure everything was okay.”

  “Good. Zeke is getting on in years. He must be eighty-five or eighty-six by now and he has always kept to himself. Never had a phone. He could collapse in his house and no one would know it for weeks.”

  Charlotte’s phone rang again. She braked to a stop to answer it. A glance at the screen showed Slade’s name.

  “Hi,” she said. “How’s the recon going?”

  “So far nothing serious,” Slade said. “You okay?”

  The urgency in his voice surprised her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m on the way into town. Thelma is with me. She called a few minutes ago to ask for a lift.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes, but there’s a tree blocking her driveway so she couldn’t get her car out.”

  “All right,” he said. “Drive carefully. There are broken tree limbs hanging everywhere. Some of them are big. If one comes down on a windshield it would do some major damage.”

  “I know. I’ll be careful.”

  “Power is out all over the island and there’s some damage to the ferry dock and the marina. We won’t be getting any ferry service for at least forty-eight hours. Willis said some of the B&B guests are not happy about being trapped on the island. The visitors out at the lodge don’t like it, either. But aside from the whining, it shouldn’t be a major problem. I’ll check back with you later.”

  “Okay,” she said. She closed the phone and dropped it into her purse.

  Thelma smiled knowingly. “I do believe the town’s cunning strategy to keep Chief Attridge on the job is working nicely. He seems quite concerned about you, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Slade and I are dating but that’s all. I am not a part of the local conspiracy.”

  “I understand, dear,” Thelma said. “But that fact only makes it all the more romantic, don’t you think?”

  Charlotte laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I’ve lived alone for a long time but I haven’t forgotten what romance and passion feel like,” Thelma said. “I doubt if anyone ever forgets those things.”

  “No,” Charlotte said. For better or worse, she was certainly going to remember Slade for the rest of her life.

  The town’s small central core had come through the gale in remarkably good shape. The tourist-oriented shops were all closed but the grocery, hardware, and gardening supply stores were open and doing a brisk business.

  “Shall I drop you off at Spindler’s Garden Supply?” Charlotte asked.

  “No need for that. I’ll get out at Looking Glass and walk down the street to Spindler’s.”

  “Are you sure? It’s no trouble, really.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll just take a few minutes to make sure everything is okay inside my shop. Then I need to pick up a few things at the grocery store. After that I’ll drive you home.”

  “Perfect,” Thelma said. “I do appreciate this.”

  “You’re more than welcome,” Charlotte said.

  She drove down the lane behind the row of shops and parked at the back door of Looking Glass. She and Thelma got out of the car. Thelma waved and started off toward the walkway that separated Looking Glass from the neighboring shop.

  Charlotte went up the back steps and rezzed the lock on the door. She really was going to have to get a new lock, she reminded herself.

  She opened the door and stepped inside. The interior of the shop was heavily shadowed. Automatically she rezzed the wall switch. Ice sh
ivered down her spine when the lights did not come on.

  Thelma spoke behind her. “The power is out, remember, dear?”

  Charlotte turned quickly in the doorway. Thelma was coming up the steps. She held a Baroque silver-and-gold hand mirror, the glass face aimed at Charlotte. Dark crystals glittered on the frame and handle of the old looking glass. Strange alchemical markings were etched into the metal. It was impossible to focus on the face of the mirror. It was like looking into a pool of mercury. The surface seethed with energy.

  “The Quicksilver Mirror,” Charlotte whispered. The antiques dealer in her asked the first question that came to mind. “That’s supposed to be in an Arcane museum. How did you get it?”

  “This isn’t the place to chitchat about such things.” Thelma reached the top step. “Inside with you now. Wouldn’t want anyone to see us.”

  “Forget it.”

  Charlotte moved forward, intending to shove Thelma off the step. But the Quicksilver Mirror flashed with a shocking radiance. The force of the short blast of energy jolted through Charlotte. For a heartbeat the world around her exploded with eerie ultralight lightning.

  She gripped the doorjamb to steady herself and intuitively shut down her senses. It was the only move she could think of that might offer some protection. In the hands of a powerful talent, the mirror was a lethal weapon.

  “That’s better,” Thelma said, her voice hardening. “Now go back into the shop.”

  Still dazed from the stunning shock, Charlotte turned slowly and moved a short distance into the darkened room. Thelma followed quickly. She closed and locked the door.

  “What is this about?” Charlotte asked. It took everything she had to keep her own voice calm.

  “It’s about the Bridewell Engine,” Thelma snapped. “What did you think it was about, you silly woman?”

  “What engine?”

  “According to the old lab notebook, it looks something like a snow globe.”

  Events came together with sickening clarity.

  “You and Jeremy Gaines were working together,” Charlotte said.

  “We were partners for more than three years until he decided to cut me out of the biggest deal of all.”

  “You killed Jeremy?”

  “We were going to split the profits from the Bridewell Engine. But Gaines got greedy.”

  “I trust that didn’t come as a huge surprise,” Charlotte said.

  “No, but I made the mistake of thinking that he understood that he needed me as much as I needed him.” Thelma snorted. “Unfortunately, he was too shortsighted to see that. He planned to grab the engine and sell it on his own.”

  “Did you murder him with the Sylvester device?”

  “Oh, no, I used the mirror on Gaines,” Thelma said. “I had to work quickly that night, you see.”

  “I understand now. When I set out to find the snow globe for Jeremy I inadvertently led him to Mrs. Lambert. He realized that she was the collector who refused to sell.”

  “He broke into her house one night but he couldn’t find the engine.”

  “He wouldn’t have been able to find it even if he had known what it looks like because she kept it in a special vault.”

  “He was going to break in again to look for it but by then Lambert had already made arrangements to give her glass collection to the Arcane museum,” Thelma said. “The staff packed up what we assumed were all of the objects. The glassware was taken away and stored in the museum’s vaults.”

  “Then Mrs. Lambert suffered a heart attack and later died in the hospital,” Charlotte said.

  “We tried to come up with a plan to break into the museum vaults but it looked impossible. J&J recently tightened security there. Then Gaines found a copy of the inventory of the items that Mrs. Lambert had given to the museum. There was no object resembling the Bridewell Engine on it. But he learned that some additional items had been bequeathed to you.”

  “But by then the bequest that was coming to me was under lock and key in a vault at Lambert’s bank where it stayed until the estate was sorted out.”

  “Gaines and I cooled our heels until you took possession of the bequest. During that time Gaines tried to seduce you.” Thelma looked disgusted. “He was accustomed to being able to charm women and everyone else. I swear, it was part of his talent. But he finally realized that you were not going to fall at his feet. So he sat back to wait for you to take possession of the Lambert bequest.”

  “Then I screwed up his plans again by shipping the Lambert bequest along with most of the contents of my Frequency City shop here to the island.”

  “He was furious,” Thelma said. “But that was when he finally decided to tell me about the side deal he had made for the Bridewell Engine. The customer had offered him a huge amount of money, more than either Gaines or I had ever made on a single sale. It was enough to retire on.”

  “Why did he tell you about the deal he had arranged on his own?”

  “When he found out the globe was here on the island, he realized that he would need my help,” Thelma said. “I’m quite sure he planned to kill me afterward.”

  “But you murdered him first.”

  “I came to the same conclusion he did,” Thelma said coldly. “I decided that I no longer needed a partner.”

  “You killed him here in my shop so that if there was any sort of investigation, I would be the most likely suspect.”

  “I wasn’t terribly worried about the new police chief,” Thelma said. “Attridge wouldn’t have wound up on Rainshadow in the first place if he was a good cop. But one does have to keep an eye out for Jones & Jones. Occasionally the agency insists on meddling. But fortunately everyone involved accepted the obvious cause of death. Heart attack. They also accepted the obvious reason for Gaines’s presence in your shop. He was supposedly stalking you.”

  “But you couldn’t find the Bridewell Engine that night.”

  Thelma’s face twisted with rage. “I work glasslight. I was sure that the energy in the engine would be powerful enough to stand out, even amid all these objects. But I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were. The engine doesn’t get hot until someone fires it up.”

  Thelma’s eyes glittered. “You found it? Where is it?”

  “I unpacked it,” Charlotte said soothingly. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “If you try to trick me, I swear—”

  “Do you want it or not?”

  “Get it.”

  Charlotte walked across the room to the old safe. She rezzed the code. When the mag-steel door opened she reached inside and took out the dull gray glass object.

  “That’s not the Bridewell Engine,” Thelma barked. “It can’t be. It’s just an old paperweight.” She raised the mirror higher. “I warned you—”

  “Watch,” Charlotte said softly.

  She touched her pendant and pulsed a little energy into the heart of the globe. The dome started to glow. It grew first translucent and then clear. A storm of tiny glass particles fell like snow over the miniature Victorian landscape. Powerful currents of psi swirled in the atmosphere of the shop.

  “That’s it,” Thelma breathed. “I can feel it now. Give it to me.”

  “Be careful,” Charlotte said. “It’s psi-hot.”

  “I told you, I can handle glass energy.”

  Thelma seized the globe in her free hand. She gazed into it, transfixed.

  “It’s incredible,” she said. “I can feel the power in it. Absolutely incredible.”

  “Why is it worth murder?”

  “Don’t you know?” Thelma did not take her eyes off the sparkling scene. “This was Millicent Bridewell’s greatest secret. According to the old notebook, this was the device she created that allowed her to infuse energy into glass in such a way that it could be used as a weapon.”

  “She used the globe to create her clockwork curiosities?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “What?” Thelma seem
ed distracted by the crystal snow inside the globe. Her face tightened in concentration.

  “I just wondered how you know for certain that’s the Bridewell Engine,” Charlotte repeated softly.

  “It’s all in the notebook,” Thelma said absently. “That’s how I learned of the existence of the engine in the first place.” A visible tremor shivered through her. She gasped in response and frowned. “It’s incredibly powerful.”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said. “How did you come by the notebook?”

  “Your aunt found it for me, of course. After I deciphered it I realized that the rumors I had heard were true. One of the First Generation colonists had brought the Bridewell Engine through the Curtain. I told Gaines about it. He managed to locate the refurbished Sylvester doll but not the engine. I took a chance and asked your aunt to find a certain Nineteenth Century Old World snow globe. But she started to ask too many questions.”

  Another frisson of intuition sliced across Charlotte’s senses.

  “You killed Aunt Beatrix, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “As I said, she was starting to get suspicions. My sons and I ran a very profitable business here on the island for several years, selling items out of Looking Glass to mainland collectors. Beatrix never had a clue. All she cared about was her own search for some old artifact she called the Key. She never seemed to miss any of the antiques that my sons removed from her back room.”

  “Your sons?”

  “Brody and Mack. The two men Attridge just arrested. I’ll see about getting them out of jail later. Shouldn’t be difficult. They’re both hunters, after all. But right now the engine is my first priority.”

  “Jeremy handled the sale of the items you stole from my aunt, didn’t he?”

  “He was the one with the connections,” Thelma said. “Our partnership worked well until he tried to cheat me out of the snow globe.” She flinched. Her eyes tightened in pain. “It’s getting too hot.”

  “I know,” Charlotte said softly. “It’s going to get hotter.”

  She heard the back door of the shop open. The shiver of awareness that went through her told her that Slade had arrived. He moved silently into the doorway between the two rooms. Out of the corner of her eye Charlotte saw another, much smaller shadow at his heels. Rex.