by Jayne Castle
Drake surveyed the shuttered windows and graffiti-splashed buildings around them.
“Rough neighborhood,” he observed in a very neutral tone.
“Also a cheap neighborhood when it comes to rent,” Alice said. “And I don’t need a car. My apartment is only a few blocks away.”
“Very economical. Do you always leave the theater through that alley entrance?”
“Yes. But this is the last time I’ll be using that door.”
“Because of what nearly happened in the alley?” Drake asked.
“No, because the owner of the theater told me tonight that he has decided to cancel my lease. Alien Illusions closed this evening after only three performances.”
“Why did the owner cancel your lease?”
“He gave me the usual reason: low attendance. The magic business is very competitive. A new show, Catacombs of Mystery, opened here in the Quarter last week and it’s getting all the attention. Very high production values. Alien Illusions didn’t have the financial backing needed to compete. Actually, it didn’t have any financial backing at all.”
“That must have made things difficult.”
“Sure. Still, we were getting by, starting to draw bigger crowds.” She reached up to pat Houdini. “Thanks to the star of the show here. The audience loved Houdini. We were doing some very cool vanishing acts. I think we could have made it. I’m pretty sure the real reason the show got cancelled was because Ethel found me again and bribed the manager to shut me down. I’m certain she made it worth his while.”
“In the course of tracking you down, I did discover that your ex-mother-in-law has spent a lot of time and effort making your life miserable this past year,” Drake said.
“She thinks I murdered her son. In her position, I’d probably be obsessed with revenge, too. Just wish she’d focus on the real killer.”
“Assuming there is one,” Drake said quietly. “According to the police report, Fulton Whitcomb died of natural causes.”
“Ethel isn’t buying that opinion.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t buy it, either. But since I’m the most likely suspect, I figure my best bet is to keep a low profile.”
The lights of a beer sign hanging in a dark window sparked on Drake’s glasses when he turned to look at Houdini.
“You said the dust bunny was the star of Alien Illusions?”
“Right. He’s the magician. At least that’s how we billed him. I thought it made the act sound more interesting.”
“If you gave Houdini top billing, what did that make you?”
“Me?” She smiled. “I’m just the box-jumper.”
“What’s a box-jumper?”
“Old Earth word for a magician’s assistant. Comes from all those tricks that involve putting a woman into a box and making it look as if she disappeared or got sawed in half or pierced with knives.”
“Got it,” Drake said, sounding satisfied. “The box-jumper is the only other person on stage who knows the magician’s secrets.”
Chapter 3
DRAKE WAS A LITTLE SORRY TO SEE THE SIGN ABOVE THE entrance of the Green Gate Tavern. He realized that he had been savoring the combination of the psi-rezzed night and the woman at his side. He could have walked with Alice through the Quarter until dawn.
Viewed through his mirrored-quartz lenses, the light of the illuminated sign was a sharp, bright green. He knew it was also the wrong shade of green, or, at least, not the same shade that Alice saw. He no longer saw colors the way other people did. There were limits to the technology of his lenses.
He was fine with the psi-lit atmosphere of the Quarter. The energy that emanated from the Dead City Wall was mostly in the paranormal range, the part of the spectrum that he could see clearly. True, the glow of the ruins looked different to him than it did to most other people—he could detect a much broader spectrum of colors in the wavelengths generated by the ancient green quartz, for one thing—but it wasn’t painful to look at.
A simple tavern sign, on the other hand, like the light over the stage door, would have temporarily blinded him if he had attempted to view it without his glasses. When it came to sunlight, he might as well have been a vampire. True, the light of day wouldn’t kill him but it literally dazzled his senses, rendering him blind.
Alice stopped in front of the door. “This is the place I told you about. We can talk inside.”
He studied the entrance. “Inside where you have friends.”
She gave him what he was pretty sure was a fake smile. But it looked good. He would take any smile he could get from Alice North.
“Exactly,” she said.
“I have no problem with that. Doesn’t matter where we talk.”
He really needed to keep reminding himself that he had a goal here in Crystal City and that time mattered. Normally he had no difficulty maintaining his focus on whatever objective he had set for himself. Various members of his family, including his mother, claimed he did that to a fault. But something about Alice was proving to be distracting.
He was well aware that she did not trust him. He was almost certain she was not just wary of him but flat-out scared, although she hid it well. She had every right to be nervous. He knew from what little he had found during the course of a hasty background check that she had been on her own ever since leaving an orphanage at seventeen. She had managed to survive and make her way without family ties in a world where family was the most important building block in the social structure. Among the descendants of the colonists, family was everything.
Life could be very hard for those unfortunate enough to find themselves utterly alone. For the past year life had been especially harsh for Alice. It was bad enough to be stranded in the world without any family connections. To be alone and on the run from the wrath of a powerful woman like Ethel Whitcomb would have been a thousand times worse. A lot of people, male or female, would have been crushed by the experience.
He opened the door. The deep, throbbing rumble of a heavy rez-rock tune playing on a cheap sound system spilled out into the otherwise silent street. Houdini chortled, clearly excited.
“He’s a fan of rez-rock,” Alice said. “He also loves the bar snacks and pizza here.”
Drake heightened his senses a little as Alice slipped past him into the shadowy tavern. She was so close that she brushed against him. She seemed unaware of the brief physical contact but he got a hot, heady thrill that left him on edge.
He told himself that he was still gathering information about Alice, still analyzing the situation and evaluating possible strategies. Maybe, on some level, that was even true. But he knew that in reality he’d been fascinated from the moment he had seen her illuminated in a thousand shades of paranormal light, hauling a suitcase through an alley while she out-maneuvered two knife-wielding assailants.
In that moment he’d seen everything he needed to know about her—she was the kind of woman who would never give up, regardless of the obstacles. No matter what life threw at her, she would just keep going.
That inner fire marked her in subtle ways. There was a fierce, vibrant energy about her that called to his senses. She was striking rather than beautiful; intriguing rather than glamorous; strong-willed rather than flirtatious. She radiated an interesting mix of innocence, irrepressible optimism, and savvy, street-smart intelligence. Her dark brown hair was caught in a ponytail. Dressed in a sleek, long-sleeved black turtleneck, black jeans, and black sneakers, she looked like a cat burglar heading out for an evening’s work.
He followed her into the moderately crowded tavern. The khaki-and-leather gear worn by several of the men occupying barstools identified them as members of the local Ghost Hunters Guild. They were drinking beer and Green Ruin whiskey. A man and a woman sat in a nearby booth. The man looked as if he was trying to convince the blonde to go home with him. The blonde looked bored.
Another booth was filled with a gaggle of young women dressed in flirty little dresses—expensi
ve flirty little dresses—and stilettos. Definitely not from around this neighborhood, Drake thought. The women were drinking colorful drinks and trying to look as if they weren’t aware of the ghost hunters at the bar who were eyeing them in turn. It was a familiar ritual in the Old Quarters. Taverns like the Green Gate were popular destinations for bachelorette parties, coeds out for a little fun, and ladies from the more affluent suburbs who wanted to party.
The large, middle-aged woman working behind the bar was busy filling a beer glass. She looked up when Alice walked in.
“Hey there, Alice, you’re early tonight,” the bartender called in a hearty voice. “What happened?”
“The act closed, Maud.” Alice plunked her tote down on a seat in an empty booth and slid in beside it. “The owner of the theater cancelled me. Houdini and I are now unemployed. Again.”
There was a low chorus of commiserating responses from the crowd at the bar.
“Ah, now that’s just too damn bad,” one of the hunters said.
“Real sorry to hear that,” another added. “You gonna be okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Alice said. “This is the way it goes in show business.”
“Maybe you could get a job at that new magic show that opened up a few blocks from here,” someone offered. “Catacombs of Mystery.”
“Maybe,” Alice said. She did not sound optimistic.
Houdini was the only one who appeared unconcerned by the sudden reversal of fortune. He chortled and bounced down to the floor. He scampered across the room, bounded up onto an empty stool, and from there hopped onto the bar. Several of the hunters greeted him.
“Lookin’ good, Houdini,” one said. “Nice tie.”
A hunter pushed a bowl of bar snacks toward Houdini, who made happy sounds. He surveyed the offering, made a careful selection, and munched with enthusiasm.
Maud set the glass of beer in front of one of the patrons and wiped her hands on a towel. She looked at Alice with concern. “The usual for you and Houdini?”
“Yes, please,” Alice said. “I’m really hungry tonight. And Houdini is always hungry.”
Maud turned toward the open door at the far end of the bar and raised her voice to call to someone in the small kitchen. “Alice’s usual.”
A man garbed in a dingy apron and a yellowed cook’s hat peered back through the opening.
“Coming right up,” he promised.
Maud scrutinized Drake with a vaguely suspicious air. “Who’s your friend, Alice?”
“He’s not exactly a friend,” Alice said. “More like a new acquaintance. We met outside the stage door a few minutes ago.”
Maud raised her brows.
“The name is Drake Sebastian,” Drake said.
“You’re not from ’round here, are you?” Maud said.
“No. Just visiting.”
“They wear sunglasses after dark where you come from?” Maud asked.
“I do.”
“Huh.” Maud did not look impressed. “What can I get you?”
Drake sat down across from Alice. “I’ll have a beer.”
Maud looked at Alice, awaiting direction. The ghost hunters followed suit. A distinct hush fell over the small crowd. Everyone was suddenly watching the booth where Drake and Alice were seated. There was a little hum of energy in the atmosphere. Drake wondered if he was going to find himself in the middle of a barroom brawl. He, too, looked at Alice, politely waiting for her to decide if there would be a fight.
“He’s okay,” Alice said. She wrinkled her nose. “At least for now. He helped me deal with a couple of lowlifes who were waiting for me in the alley behind the theater tonight.”
“Damn,” Maud said. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Alice assured her. “But we left a couple of unconscious thugs back there, thanks to my new friend.”
There were murmurs of approval from the hunters.
“Huh.” Maud looked satisfied. She turned back to Drake. “What kind of beer?”
“Whatever you have on draft is fine,” he said.
Maud selected a glass. The ghost hunters at the bar went back to leering at the giggling young women. The energy level in the room went down.
Drake looked at Alice. “Thanks for the character reference.”
“You’ve got five minutes to convince me you are not going to be a problem for me,” she said.
“The thing is, I probably am going to be a problem. But on the positive side, I may be able to help you with your current unemployment situation.”
She sat back and watched him warily. “You need a box-jumper?”
He thought about it and then smiled. “That’s as good a description as any. A couple of very important items have disappeared. We need to find them, and fast.”
“We?”
“Let’s start at the beginning.”
“Where is that, exactly?”
“The last time you were on Rainshadow Island.”
Alice went very still. She got a little blurry around the edges. It was suddenly hard to focus on her. Drake was pretty sure it was not deliberate. Her instinct to disappear when she felt threatened was a natural aspect of her talent. He jacked up his senses a bit so that he could see her clearly once more and waited.
She took a sharp breath and snapped back into focus. Her expression gave nothing away, but it didn’t take any psychic talent to know that her anxiety level had spiked.
“What does this have to do with Rainshadow?” she asked, her voice unnaturally even.
Before he could answer, Maud bustled around the end of the bar with two glasses in her hands. She set the beer in front of Drake and the white wine in front of Alice.
“Eggs and pizza will be out in a minute,” she said to Alice.
“Thanks.” Alice gave her a grateful smile.
Drake waited until Maud was out of earshot.
“Eggs and pizza?” he asked.
“The eggs are for me. The pizza is for Houdini.”
“Got it,” he said. “All right, to get back to our business. You do know about the Sebastian-North legend, I assume.”
“I do now.” Alice took a small swallow of the wine and lowered the glass. “But I had never heard about it until a year ago.”
“A year ago?”
“That’s when I found out that I was descended from a certain Nicholas North.”
That stopped him for a few beats. “I know you grew up in an orphanage, but didn’t you know anything about your family history?”
“Nope.” She drank some more wine. “The most that anyone at the orphanage could recall was that I arrived there at about age three after my mother was killed in a car accident.”
“What do you mean, that was all anyone could recall? There must have been some records when you were taken in.”
Alice shrugged. “There was a fire in the records office at the orphanage when I was four. What little information there was relating to my family history was lost.”
“What about your father’s people?”
Alice gave him a cold smile. “Nothing. The general theory at the orphanage was that I was the product of a one-night stand or a short-term affair in which neither party had kept current with their anti-pregnancy shots.”
Drake said nothing.
Alice raised her brows. “They do happen, you know.”
“What happens?”
“One-night stands between two people who don’t take precautions.”
He realized he was flushing a little. “I’m aware of that.”
“Society and the legal system do everything possible to make sure no one grows up without a family, but kids still get orphaned.” She paused. “I realize that sort of thing doesn’t happen in the Sebastian family world, though.”
“No,” he said, refusing to let her sarcasm get to him. “It doesn’t. We take care of our own.”
Alice gave him a cool smile. “How very traditional.”
“Moving right along, how did you
find out about the connection to Nicholas North?”
“Long story. Involves my dead husband.” Alice drank more wine. “I don’t like to talk about him.”
“We’re going to have to discuss him at some point because I think he’s linked to this thing.”
Alice eyed him coldly. “What thing would that be?”
“The treasure that North and Sebastian buried on Rainshadow. It’s gone missing.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You think I stole it, don’t you?”
He watched her closely. “Did you?”
“No.” She held up one hand, palm out. “And before you ask, no I can’t prove it.”
“Do you know who did steal it?”
“Uh-huh.” She studied him over the rim of the glass. “Fulton Whitcomb.”
“Your husband.”
“Dead husband. And it was just a Marriage of Convenience so it doesn’t really count. Death results in an automatic dissolution of the marriage. The surviving spouse does not inherit any property. She has no legal or financial obligations pertaining to her husband’s estate. It’s like the marriage never happened.”
“Unless there are children from the union,” Drake said softly.
Children changed everything. The birth of a child into an MC automatically converted what was otherwise a dressed-up romantic affair into a full-blown Covenant Marriage. Dissolving a Covenant Marriage was a legal, financial, and social nightmare. His brother, Harry, had discovered that the hard way.
“Yes, well, there were no children,” Alice said coolly.
“Because both of you kept current with your vaccinations?”
“I certainly kept mine up-to-date. Not that it mattered.”