Obsidian Prey gh-7 Page 11

  "Okay, that's weird."

  "There's no way I can direct the effect toward a specific target. The energy is generated by my aura, and it sweeps out in a field all around me for a radius of about fifteen feet."

  "You're saying it wasn't one of my waking nightmares?"

  "I'm not sure what you mean by a waking nightmare, but I can guarantee you that you weren't hallucinating tonight."

  Relief crashed through her, leaving her a little jittery. She sank slowly back down onto the bed, hugging Vincent close.

  "That's it?" she asked, incredulous. "That's your family's secret talent?"

  "Well, it's my version of it. Like I said, the men in my family are all hunters of one kind or another, but no two talents are ever identical."

  "But you still need amber to focus your psi, right?"

  "No. Our talent has been in the family for generations. There were Sweetwater hunters on the Old World long before the Curtain opened. But here on Harmony, it turns out that certain forms of nonstandard amber can be used to enhance our natural abilities."

  "You say you're hunters but not ghost hunters?" she asked.

  "In the old days they called us para-hunters. We don't use the term anymore. We think of ourselves as amber talents. Sounds a little more modern, you know?"

  She looked at him. "A little less scary, you mean? A tad more politically correct?"

  "Yeah, that, too." He sat down beside her.

  "Who called you para-hunters back on Earth?"

  He shrugged. "It's the label that was used to describe people like me in the historical records of the Arcane Society."

  "What in the world is the Arcane Society?"

  "An organization that was founded by an alchemist several centuries ago, Old Earth time. Its members were all psychically talented people. The group was devoted to the study of the paranormal. The Society maintained a very low profile back on the home world."

  "Why?"

  "The paranormal was never really accepted as normal back on Earth."

  She gripped the lapels of her robe with one hand. "In some ways, it still isn't. People get nervous around those who have strong or unusual kinds of talents."

  He threaded his fingers through hers. "And that's why the Society still exists in the shadows."

  "You're saying this Arcane Society exists here on Harmony?"

  "A lot of registered members came through the Curtain, just like everyone else. When it became obvious that something in the environment here on Harmony was encouraging the development of latent psychic talents of all kinds, those in the Society thought things would be better here. But it turns out that being different is still not a good thing."

  "The definition of what is normal may shift but not the pressure to fit the definition."

  His smile held no trace of humor. "That's even truer when your brand of talent just happens to be really useful for pursuing and taking down a certain kind of prey."

  "What kind would that be?" she asked warily.

  "Human."

  She swallowed hard. "I see. Had a feeling you were going to say that. I saw the way you handled those two men tonight."

  "For generations on Earth, my family made a good living working for the Arcane Society and occasionally certain clandestine government agencies."

  "Tracking criminals?"

  "Not just any kind of criminals. On Earth, the Sweetwaters hunted down psychic sociopaths, the kind of bad guys regular law enforcement couldn't handle."

  She cleared her throat. "So you were the good guys?"

  "We like to think so. But not everyone saw it that way. The thing is, we did it for the money. A lot of money."

  "I see."

  "When someone called in a Sweetwater, it meant that all other alternatives had been exhausted. You didn't resort to hiring one of us unless you were convinced that the only option left was to terminate."

  Her mouth went dry. "Your ancestors were assassins for hire?"

  "I know. Talk about politically incorrect. We tried to be selective when it came to employers, but, yes, the Sweetwaters did the dirty work for those who couldn't or wouldn't get their own hands dirty." He paused. "We were good at it, too."

  She cleared her throat. "Please tell me that your family is no longer in that profession."

  There was a short pause.

  "Mostly we're in amber today," he said finally.

  "Excuse me, but your job title is CEO of Amber Inc. Security. You, personally, are not exactly in amber, Cruz."

  "AI Security is a legitimate private security firm," he said flatly. "A division of Amber Inc. We are no longer Murder Inc. My grandfather saw to that fifty years ago. He changed everything for us. That's what it was all about, you see."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Radiance Springs mine claim that he won in that poker game he played with Arthur Dore. Big Jake's new mining company was in a life-and-death struggle for survival against Erasmus Revere's RezStone. Big Jake needed the Radiance Springs mine in order to keep from going under."

  "So he stole it from my grandfather."

  "He won it in a card game."

  "Yeah, right." She took a breath. "So you're telling me that up until that point your family was still in the old business?"

  He exhaled deeply and with a lot of control. "I think we've talked about this enough tonight."

  "Conversation closed?"

  "For now."

  "Somehow I get the feeling that you don't tell every woman you date about your family history."

  "No." He tightened his grip on her hand. "You're the first one I've ever told."

  "Boy, howdy, why does that make me nervous?"

  "Relax. You're going to be family soon."

  Chapter 16

  HE COULD FEEL THE PANIC FLARE IN HER AURA. "RELAX, you're going to be family soon" had probably not been the smartest thing he could have said under the circumstances.

  "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to scare you. I'm moving too fast here, aren't I?"

  "It's not the speed that worries me, it's the direction in which you're traveling," Lyra said tightly. "What in the world are you talking about?"

  "Sorry," he repeated. "I just thought that, after what happened between us last night, it would be okay to talk about our future."

  "We had sex last night." She freed her hand and leaped to her feet, sending Vincent tumbling down to the floor. "It was great sex. Best I've ever had. But it was just sex."

  She sounded almost frantic. He rose slowly, watching her.

  "You still don't trust me, do you?" he said quietly. "In spite of how it was between us last night."

  "Or maybe because of it," she shot back. "Everyone knows it's easy to confuse passion with. . with, uh, the other thing."

  "It's called love," he said. "In my family we don't have a problem with the word."

  "Well, in mine, we do. Dores have never been lucky in love."

  "Maybe because you marry the wrong people."

  "Yeah, that's probably it," she said grimly. "Look. Not that long ago I fooled myself into thinking that maybe I could break the jinx with you. I am not going to make that mistake again. You've still got an agenda where I'm concerned. We both know that."

  "You call trying to protect you from whoever is attempting to frame you for killing a man and stealing a valuable antiquity 'an agenda'?"

  She drew herself up to her full height, which, given that she was barefoot, meant she still had to look up to meet his eyes. "Some might view it that way. I'm thrilled that you don't believe I'm the killer, but the bottom line here is that you are still looking for one, right?"

  "Yes."

  "It strikes me that one way for you to draw the bad guy out into the open is to hang around me. If he thinks that you are looking at me as a suspect, he's more likely to make a mistake."

  "You are a very cynical woman, Lyra Dore. Smart as hell and sexy as hell, but also cynical."

  "I prefer the term realistic," she said, raising her chin. "And you ha
ve to admit, I'm right."

  "You're right. But I swear on my honor as a Sweetwater that my goal is to protect you, not use you as bait. Hell, if I'd wanted to stake you out like a tethered goat, I would have come looking for you two weeks ago after the lab tech died. That's when I first began to suspect that someone was trying to set you up to take the fall. Believe it or not, at that point I was doing my level best to divert attention from you."

  "I believe you when you say that you didn't intend for me to get caught in the middle of this thing. But you are trying to catch a killer, and I happen to be conveniently in the middle. It's possible I could be useful. We both know that."

  He looked out the window at the rising light of dawn, trying to keep his temper in check, trying to think of a way out of the trap. When nothing came to mind, he headed for the bathroom.

  "This conversation isn't going anywhere good, so I'm going to take a shower instead," he said.

  She leaped into the bathroom doorway, showing an impressive turn of speed, and blocked his path, hands braced against the doorframe on either side.

  "One more thing, Sweetwater."

  He stopped in front of her. "What now?"

  "You said you induced that psi fog that overwhelmed my senses last night."

  "I told you, I can't aim my talent like a gun. I apologize again, but if you will recall, there were a couple of guys with mag-rezzes in the vicinity."

  "I know. I've got no problem with you saving us from that pair."

  "Gosh, thanks. Nothing gets a man hot like having his woman believe that he's a knight in shining armor."

  "What I want to know," she said, watching him very closely, "is if you're responsible for the other hallucinations I've been experiencing for the last six weeks."

  Anger and a terrible sense of helplessness roared through him. It took everything he had to clamp a lid on the churning emotions. He leaned in very close, gripping the doorframe on either side of her. His knuckles were white

  "Let me get this straight," he said. "Do your really believe that I've been stalking you for the past six weeks, inflicting nightmares on you?"

  Something in his very soft, very neutral voice must have gotten through to her. She seemed to crumple in on herself.

  "No," she said, her tone abruptly dull. "No, of course not."

  "So why are you acting as if you would have been happier if the answer had been yes?"

  "Because then I would at least have had a reasonable explanation for the waking nightmares." She moved out of the doorway, slipping under his extended arm. "Go take your shower, Cruz."

  The last of his frustration and anger evaporated. She was scared to death and fighting the fear with typical Dore guts and determination. He caught her around the waist.

  "Hold it right there," he said. "These waking nightmares you're talking about. What do you think is going on?"

  She looked at him. "Well, one explanation is that they are a result of the stress I've been under lately."

  "Have you ever suffered hallucinations when you've been under stress in the past?"

  "No."

  "Damn. You're really worried that you might be going crazy, aren't you?"

  "Well, I guess it is a possibility that should be considered."

  Her flippant tone belied her haunted eyes.

  "Forget it," he said, putting all of his conviction into the words. "You're not going crazy."

  "And just how would you know that, Dr. Sweetwater?"

  "Believe me, after last night, I would know."

  "Sex as a diagnostic tool in the field of parapsychology. Hey, I'll bet you could get a bestseller out of that."

  "I don't need a degree in parapsychology to know you're as sane as I am," he said calmly. "There's been a bond between us from the moment we met. Last night strengthened it in ways you haven't even begun to comprehend. If there was a streak of madness in you, I would have sensed it."

  Her eyes lit with cautious hope. "You're sure?"

  "Positive. Now, I'm going to take that shower. When I'm finished, you can take yours while I make breakfast."

  He kissed her lightly and walked past her into the bathroom.

  Chapter 17

  THE SMELL OF COFFEE, TOAST, AND SCRAMBLED EGGS greeted her when she emerged from the shower. The knowledge that Cruz did not believe that she was crazy was such an overwhelming relief she actually felt a little giddy.

  She dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt out of the closet, she dressed quickly and went out into the main room, barefoot.

  Vincent was at his favorite observation post on top of the refrigerator, supervising. The red beret was tilted at a rakish angle. He had a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter in one paw. There was more peanut butter on his fur. He chortled a greeting and bounced a little when he saw her.

  She winced at the sight of the peanut butter. "Looks like I'm going to be doing a little hand laundry after breakfast. Do you know how hard it is to get peanut butter out of dust bunny fur? It's almost as bad as paint."

  "Sorry, didn't think about that problem," Cruz said. He scraped eggs onto the two plates he had set on the counter. "I'll run him under the faucet when I do the dishes."

  "He loves that. I'll warn you right now you're going to have water all over the floor before you're finished."

  Cruz set the pan down and added several slices of toast to the plates. "Maybe I'll stick him in the shower, instead."

  "That works."

  He put a plate down in front of her. "We need to talk."

  "About what?"

  "Your schedule."

  She sat down at the counter. "What about it?"

  "Given events last night, you're going to have to put your usual routine on hold until I find out who is trying to set you up," he said. He sat down beside her.

  "You mean close my shop? I can't do that. I've got a business to run. It isn't Amber Inc., but it pays the bills. Barely. Besides, today I have a real VIP client. The biggest one I've had since, well, since I thought you were a real client."

  "Don't worry about the financial side of things. AI will take care of any lost income."

  "Thanks, I appreciate that, but this isn't about lost income. This is about trying to get the antiquities consulting side of my business off the ground. I absolutely cannot cancel on this new client. This is my chance at the big time."

  "I'm trying to keep you safe, Lyra."

  "I understand. But let's think this thing through. Whoever is behind this doesn't want me dead or disappeared. It would ruin his plan to frame me, right? Last night, those two men were after you, not me. One of them shouted something about not hurting the woman. It was you they were trying to kill. You're the one who needs protection."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Yes, I noticed that last night."

  "I've got work to do," Cruz said. "I can't stay with you at all times."

  "Of course you can't," she said encouragingly. "And it's not necessary. Like I said, I can take care of myself."

  "If you're going to be stubborn about this, I'll assign someone to keep an eye on you."

  She exhaled, resigned. "I knew you would be difficult. What am I supposed to do with a bodyguard? It will look strange to my clients."

  "Call him your assistant." He ate some eggs. "About your afternoon appointment."

  She slanted him a wary glance. "What about it?"

  "You said the client was important. Anyone I know?"

  This was going to be awkward. "I'm sure you've met him," she said coolly. "You and Wilson Revere both grew up in the amber business."

  A dangerous stillness came over Cruz. "Wilson Revere as in the head of RezStone?"

  "Uh-huh." She ate some eggs in an attempt to pretend that she did not sense the new, dangerous tension simmering in his aura. "He contacted me yesterday. He was looking for someone to evaluate a piece of amethyst amber that he plans to bid on at an auction at the Fairstead Gallery toda
y. He hired me to attend the auction with him."

  "You do realize that Revere's company is AI's biggest competitor."

  "Of course." She kept her tone even. "Common knowledge."

  "Given that fact and the timing, it has probably occurred to you that he may have heard some rumors about the missing relic and wants to know what the hell is going on. He plans to pump you for information."

  "That did occur to me," she admitted. "It is also possible that he really does need me to help him evaluate a specimen of amethyst. As you may have heard recently, there aren't a lot of tuners around who can work purple amber. The Fairstead Gallery is known for the quality of its raw amber specimens, and I've heard Wilson is an extremely passionate collector."

  "Wilson?" Cruz repeated in ominous tones.

  "He insisted I use his first name. He's very casual, very laid-back for such a wealthy, powerful man."

  "Wilson Revere would do anything to take down Amber Inc."

  "Yes, I'm aware of that," she said lightly. "But I'm not particularly interested in the corporate infighting between the two major amber monopolies. I'm just trying to fire up my career as a consultant. Besides, it's probably your fault that he called me."

  "My fault?"

  "You're the one who had the Amber Inc. PR department identify me to the media as an antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele."

  "Pay attention, Lyra. You can't trust Revere any farther than you can walk in the catacombs or the jungle without good amber. He's using you."

  "He sure is," she agreed. "He's using me to assess a chunk of amethyst for his collection."

  "I know this guy. Believe me when I tell you that he has an agenda."

  "No offense, Cruz, but you're starting to sound just the teensiest bit paranoid."

  "You know the old saying: even paranoids have enemies."

  "What is with RezStone and AI, anyway? I know you're business competitors, but the executives of most rival firms are usually capable of a modicum of civilized behavior. At least in public."

  Cruz smiled his hit man smile. "We're polite in public. But we Sweetwaters have a saying: never turn your back on anyone from RezStone."

  "Is that so?"