Canyons of Night Page 18

  Charlotte had rested her elbows on the counter and watched through the window for a while, debating whether or not to get seriously ticked by Slade’s attitude. He was acting as if nothing had changed in their relationship because of last night.

  In the end, she had decided to take a tolerant approach. After all, he’d had a hard day. And besides, to be fair, he had no way of knowing that she had made some crucial decisions regarding the future course of their relationship. She was no longer rezzing with the frequency. You couldn’t blame a man for assuming that nothing had changed when you hadn’t explained said changes to him, she told herself.

  It wasn’t until Slade parted with the Murphys and walked off toward the station that she chanced to look across the street at the front window of the Kane Gallery. She saw the familiar figures behind the glass and realized that she was not the only one who had been watching Slade talk to the Murphys. Fletcher Kane and Jasper Gilbert had been watching, too.

  Now, several hours later, she still wasn’t sure why the memory of Kane and Gilbert observing Slade through the window of the shop was still drifting, ghostlike, at the back of her mind. There had been nothing odd about it, she thought. Everyone in town had been talking about Slade and how he had tracked the boys into the Preserve and pulled them out.

  “Something interesting about that old compass you gave Devin,” Slade said.

  “What is that?”

  “All four crystals in the compass rose were lit up when I found him. On the way in, I noticed that his footsteps glowed a lot hotter than Nate’s. At the time I assumed that was because Devin has some talent. But now I’m not so sure.”

  “You think the compass generated some energy?”

  “Maybe. You said you tuned it for him?”

  “Right.”

  “Those old compasses were made of amber and crystals. That’s always a powerful combination. I’ve got a feeling that when you tuned it to Devin’s rainbow frequencies you did something that helped him amplify his own natural energy, at least while he was cranked up. Maybe that’s how he was able to get Nate through the fence. Something else. Dev’s prints were so hot that I believe any strong hunter could have followed them.”

  “You’re saying that the old compass worked as a tracking device?”

  “Yes.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, but if it works as a tracking device, it may be possible to transform it into a directional indicator like the ones ghost hunters use down in the Underworld. That, in turn, might make it possible for anyone with some talent to navigate inside the Preserve.”

  “Maybe it only works with certain kinds of talent. Devin’s, for instance. But we don’t yet know what kind of ability he possesses.”

  “No.” Slade went back to his lasagna.

  “So what really happened today and why do I think that you didn’t tell everyone the whole story?” she said.

  Slade did not even blink at the question. It was as if he had been expecting it. He picked up his fork and cut off a large chunk of lasagna.

  “The two gunmen who chased Devin and Nate into the Preserve may have been smugglers but if so, they were not standard issue,” he said.

  She paused, her own fork hovering an inch above the lasagna on her plate. “What do you mean?”

  “They were both talents of some kind. I could see it in their tracks. Devin says they moved very fast so I’m guessing they were hunters. But they didn’t want to risk going into the Preserve, not even to chase down a couple of witnesses, so I have a hunch they were only midlevel sensitives. Either that or their brand of the hunter-talent doesn’t allow them to navigate inside the fence.”

  “A couple of hunter-talents turned smugglers wouldn’t be the biggest surprise in the world. When you think about it, hunters are ideally suited to one of two career paths: a life of crime or a life of crime-fighting.”

  “True.” Slade ate some more lasagna. “But I’ve got a feeling about those two.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That a murder by paranormal means, combined with a hot artifact of unknown power and a couple of talents packing guns showing up in a small cove at the edge of the Preserve adds up to far too many coincidences.”

  “Do you believe that the smugglers had something to do with Jeremy’s murder?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “Are they the ones who killed him?”

  “Maybe. Seems logical because he was also dealing in an illicit business. But Gaines was killed by paranormal means. The pair at Hidden Beach had a preference for guns.”

  “So there may be another person involved?”

  “Maybe.”

  “A lot of maybes here.”

  “There always are when the case starts coming together.” Slade looked at the pan of lasagna. “I wouldn’t mind another slice.”

  She smiled and picked up the spatula. “How are Nate and Devin doing?”

  “They’re both describing the experience as weird and freaky and they’re still a little shaken. But now that it’s over they are well on their way to becoming rock stars among their peers here on the island.”

  “That status should help Devin make new friends when school starts.”

  “Oh, yeah. What is surprising is that they came through it all with coherent memories. According to the old records, that is highly unusual.”

  “You can go in and out of the Preserve without suffering any sense of disorientation. And you got me in and out. I recall every moment inside—” She broke off, aware that she was turning scarlet.

  For the first time since he had returned to town, sexy amusement gleamed in Slade’s eyes.

  “You recall every detail?” he said politely. “So do I.”

  She beetled her brows. “You know what I meant. Obviously some people of talent can come and go through the fence without any problem.”

  “Which explains why Devin is okay. I assume he was able to somehow shield Nate. But I’m not convinced that the fence or the energy inside the Preserve accounts for all the reports of disorientation and memory loss among the handful of people who have been rescued over the years.”

  “You have another theory?”

  “During the past fifty years the few people who have been rescued from the Preserve were all extracted by teams sent in by the Rainshadow Foundation or its predecessor, Amber Sea Trading.”

  “The members of the rescue teams are probably sensitives who can track the way you do.”

  “Sure,” Slade said. “But that doesn’t explain the survivors’ memory issues. What if the rescue teams go in not only with a hunter-talent of some kind but also with a para-hypnotist or maybe a dream-talent who could ensure that the folks who were rescued don’t have any clear memories of their time in the Preserve?”

  She stilled. “That would be highly illegal. Why would the Foundation go to such lengths and take such a risk?”

  Slade shrugged and forked up another bite of lasagna. “The obvious reason. To protect the secrets of the Preserve.”

  An icy shiver swept across her senses. “What secrets?”

  Slade looked at her. “I don’t know yet.”

  A chortle from the front room made Charlotte glance up at the refrigerator. Rex was not in sight.

  “What’s he up to?” she asked uneasily.

  “I think he just wants out.”

  She leaped to her feet and rushed into the other room. Rex was waiting in front of the door. She opened it for him. Rex chortled a cheery farewell and dashed off across the porch, clutch gripped tightly in one paw. He disappeared into the night.

  Charlotte closed the door and walked back into the kitchen. “Rex is not a normal dust bunny.”

  “Who knows what’s normal for a dust bunny?”

  “Good point,” she admitted.

  Slade met her eyes. “I’m not normal, either. I need to know what the hell is happening to my talent. I’ve decided to run some experiments
tonight.”

  “You can run them here, with me.”

  “No,” he said. “Not a good idea. I don’t know what to expect.”

  “There are only two plausible outcomes,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and reasonable as possible. “One is that the experts are right and you’ll take a heavy psi-burn from which you will not recover. The other is that I’m right, in which case, you’ll get a handle on whatever is going on with your para-senses. Either way there’s no reason to go through this alone.”

  “That’s how I work, Charlotte. Alone.”

  “Maybe that was the way you worked in the past but things are different here on Rainshadow,” she said.

  “Yeah?” He smiled but there was no amusement in his eyes. “What’s different?”

  “I’m here. Face it, Chief, you’re not alone tonight.”

  He seemed to struggle with that concept for a moment, then he shook his head. “No.”

  “Give me one good reason why I should let you do this on your own. Aside from your natural hardheaded stubbornness, that is.”

  “You said there are two plausible outcomes but what if you’re wrong? What if there’s a third?”

  “Such as?”

  “What if it turns out I can access the stormlight at the far end of my talent but I’m not able to control it?”

  She touched the pendant at her throat. “Whatever is waiting for you, I’m absolutely sure that you can control it. But if I’m wrong, I’ll know it before you do. I’ll stop you.”

  She was not absolutely certain she would be able to do that but she had no intention of letting him know that she had a few tiny doubts. In any event, the possibility that he might not be able to control his talent was the least of her concerns. He was going to run his experiment tonight with or without her and she could not let him face his worst nightmare—permanent psi-blindness—alone.

  He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. He looked out into the night for a long time and then he turned back to her.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll do this together.”

  Chapter 22

  SLADE SAT ON THE SOFA. HE WAITED WHILE CHARLOTTE walked through the small house, turning off the lights. With a few notable exceptions, psychic energy could be worked night or day. But according to most of the Arcane experts, it was easier to focus the strong stuff in darkness. The visible energy from the sun and artificial illumination did not necessarily dampen talent but it could interfere with control. At the very least, it was a distraction.

  He did not need any additional distractions, Slade thought. What he needed was absolute control.

  Charlotte put out the last light, the lamp on the end table. The living room was plunged into a darkness lit only by the low-burning fire. She sat down in an old, padded reading chair and tucked one black denim-clad leg under her.

  “Start whenever you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on your rainbow. If I get any bad vibes, you’ll be the first to know.”

  He looked at her. She was a dark shadow silhouetted against the night that filled the window behind her. He kicked up his talent a little so that he could see her more clearly. Her eyes gleamed a little with psi. He could feel the whispers in the atmosphere that told him she was slightly jacked. It was good to have her here, he thought. He was not sure it was wise on his part but he could not deny that it felt right.

  “Thanks,” he said, without thinking.

  “No problem,” she said.

  She understood what he was thanking her for, he thought. There was no need to explain. There didn’t seem to be anything else to add so he sat forward, legs braced a couple of feet apart, and rested his forearms on his thighs. He pulled his senses into a strong, clear focus.

  Charlotte removed her pendant from around her neck and held the mirror in the palm of her hand.

  He took his talent up slowly but steadily, watching for the thunderstorm of ultralight that was always waiting for him out on the paranormal plane. He slipped past the comfort zone and eased his way farther out onto the spectrum. The first, faint shadows of power pulsed in the distance.

  “I can sense the storm,” he said quietly. “Not that far off.”

  “You’re in full control,” Charlotte said. “How do you feel?”

  He thought about the question, assessing his senses. “Good. But I’m picking up the currents of the heavy energy out there. This is about as far as I’ve tried to go since I got burned by the gas.”

  “The reflected bands of primary ultralight in your rainbow are still steady and strong. There are no indications of rogue waves or instability.”

  “I hear you but from my perspective it’s like looking into a thunderstorm or a hurricane. I know that there has to be some natural pattern but I can’t detect it from the outside.”

  “You always talk about it in terms of a storm front,” she said.

  “That the nearest analogy I can find.”

  “Maybe it’s not an analogy. Maybe what you perceive is a true psychic thunderstorm or a paranormal hurricane.”

  He focused on the roiling, seething darkness. “Maybe. So?”

  “Energy is energy. That’s one of the oldest laws of para-physics. More to the point here, para-energy works on some of the same principles as normal energy.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “It occurs to me that if your talent is capable of generating a storm of ultralight it seems logical that the forces involved will be organized in the same way that a normal storm is, around a core. Think eye of the storm.”

  “You’re saying that I can control this damn hurricane if I find the calm place at the center?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “We’re both winging it here.”

  He saw that the mirrored pendant was glowing with a silvery light in her hand.

  “You said everything looks stable,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Looks like the only way to find out what’s going on is to go into the storm.”

  “I think you’re right,” Charlotte said quietly.

  There was no point hanging around out here in limbo, Slade thought. He would treat this like any other job. Go in, do what needed to be done, and get out. If he was lucky.

  “One thing before I do this,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “If the center of the storm turns out to be chaos I might not survive it.”

  “You’ll survive,” she said fiercely.

  “Physically, maybe, but we both know that’s not what I’m talking about. I might not be the same. If that’s how this ends up I want you to know that you are not responsible in any way. I made this decision.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Slade, this is no time to go melodramatic on me.”

  “You’re going to feel guilty if this doesn’t work.”

  “No, really, I won’t,” she said urgently.

  “Yes, you will. I don’t want that. And I sure as hell do not want you thinking that you have to continue to sleep with me just because you encouraged me to take the risk of a bad burn.”

  “Stop talking like that. Stop it right now.”

  “I was going to do this, remember?” he said. “If I get burned, I get burned. If the para-psychs and the medics were right, it was going to happen sooner or later, anyway.”

  “What part of think positive don’t you understand?” she said tightly. “Forget about me and concentrate on that storm you’re going to control.”

  “Right,” he said.

  He went hot, all the way into the zone, just like the old days. Adrenaline and the other potent bio-chemicals associated with raising his senses to the max spilled into his bloodstream in a fierce, thrilling wave.

  But a heartbeat later he knew that it wasn’t like the old days. He was suddenly flying into the dark winds of the storm and it was like nothing he had ever experienced.

  The hurricane of psi buffeted all of his senses, including his excellent vision and hearing. Lightning fl
ashed and sparked. The currents roared around him, cutting off all other sensation.

  An instant later, the world went black and he was drifting through a great emptiness. It was as if he had stepped into the farthest reaches of a starless universe.

  This was it, the center of the storm, and there was nothing here. He had survived the howling tornado but he was now officially psi-blind. Not only had his para-senses gone dark but so had all of his normal senses. He could not see, hear, touch, smell, or taste. Charlotte had vanished, leaving him alone in the endless storm.

  But he could still sense the churning energy around him. That made no sense.

  Charlotte’s words came back to him, blazing like lightning in the void. You’re not alone tonight.

  He had to find a way to control the stormlight energy. He concentrated with all of his focusing ability, pulling energy he had never before been able to channel.

  His senses reemerged with dazzling speed. He could see again, not only on the normal plane but far out on the paranormal spectrum as well. Exhilaration ripped through him. The only sensation that had equaled this was making love to Charlotte. He knew that for the rest of his life the two experiences would be forever linked in his mind.

  You’re not alone tonight.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “This works.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I am getting that impression, yes.”

  The mirrored pendant in her hand flashed with silvery light.

  He opened all of his senses to the wild energy that was now his to control. He called down bolts of lightning and channeled currents of ultralight that he had never known existed. The living room was ablaze with paranormal fire.

  “Better tone it down a little,” Charlotte said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m in control.”

  “Yes, but you’re playing with psi-fire.” Charlotte’s voice was edged with wariness now. “Got a hunch my insurance won’t cover that sort of damage.”

  “It’s incredible.” He could hardly concentrate enough to respond. A man could get drunk on power like this. Maybe he was already drunk.

  “Slade, pay attention.” Charlotte’s voice sharpened. “I think it’s time to shut down.”