Bridal Jitters Page 2

  She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. “Thought they’d never go.”

  “They meant well,” he said.

  “I know.” She rested her head against the back of her chair. “But they don’t understand.”

  “Sure they do. We’re getting married. People like to celebrate marriages. Even MCs.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “Because there is a streak of the romantic buried somewhere inside most people,” he explained patiently. “Deep down, everyone hopes that marriages-of-convenience will morph into the real thing.”

  “That’s a highly unrealistic expectation. Statistically speaking, most MCs end on the first or second renewal date unless someone makes a mistake and gets pregnant.” She paused meaningfully. “And there is absolutely no excuse for that kind of mistake.”

  “Right. No excuse.”

  Few mistakes of that sort were made because the First Generation colonists who had settled Harmony had crafted very strict legislation covering marriage and family. The more liberal social policies of Earth had been abandoned when the energy Curtain that had served as a gate between worlds had unexpectedly closed, stranding the settlers. The founders, desperate to provide a social structure that would ensure the survival of the colony, had opted for stern laws. But in their wisdom, the First Generation planners had also understood that harsh rules that did not take human weaknesses into account would ultimately fail. Failure of the social structure of the tiny band of desperate settlers would mean catastrophe.

  In an effort to deal with basic human foibles, the founders had provided the socially and legally sanctioned marriages-of-convenience to cover many of the traditional and less-than-romantic reasons that drove people into wedlock: family pressure, business, or simple passion. Couples who elected to have children were expected to file for the more formal covenant marriage.

  The muted warble and twang of a high-rez rock guitar sounded from the street. Sam crossed the office to the window, made a space between the blinds, and studied the night-shrouded sidewalk.

  The Old Quarter teemed with revelers tonight. The heavy river fog that had cloaked Cadence nightly for the past several days had deterred no one. People dressed as witches, goblins, and ghosts—the fairytale sort, not the very real remnants of dangerous alien energy known as unstable dissonance energy manifestations—drifted in and out of the mists. Orange lights came and went eerily in the shadows. As Sam watched, a grinning jack-o’-lantern appeared out the gloom. Someone shrieked in pretended fright. Raucous laughter echoed in the night.

  This was Halloween eve, and the noise level was already high. Tomorrow night, Halloween night, would be bedlam. Half of Cadence would flock to the Old Quarter to party. There was no place in town quite as atmospheric at Halloween as the seedy districts adjacent to the ancient walls of the Dead City.

  In this part of town, ambient psi energy leaked continuously through tiny, often invisible cracks in the emerald-colored stones. It seeped up from the endless miles of green quartz tunnels and corridors beneath the pavement. The little currents and eddies of energy were part of the lure of the Old Quarters of all the cities on Harmony that had been built near the sites of ancient ruins. Tourists and locals alike loved the creepy sensations, especially at this time of year.

  Maybe there was something to the theory that the flickers of psychic and para energy were stronger at this time of year, Sam thought. Ever since he had been a kid running loose on the streets, it had always seemed to him that he was more aware of the traces of ancient alien psi energy at Halloween. Tonight was no exception. The not-quite-human trickles of power that leaked out of the Dead City felt very strong. The stuff whispered through his mind, making him deeply aware of the unseen paranormal world that hovered just beyond the range of the physical senses. The surge in power levels that he detected were probably nothing more than the result of his overactive imagination, he thought. The same imagination that had conjured up the brilliant idea of talking Virginia into a marriage-of-convenience.

  In hindsight, all he could say was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Behind him, Virginia yawned. “We’d better get some sleep. Mac Ewert will be expecting us early tomorrow morning. He’s anxious to get his excavation site cleared so that he can get his team back on the job. He made a big point of reminding me of how much money he’s losing with every day of lost work.”

  “You’re right. We need some sleep. Don’t want to doze off in front of Gage & Burch’s first client.” Sam turned away from the window. “I’ll see you to your door.”

  For a few seconds, the tension in her eyes retreated. She gave him a familiar, laughing smile, the kind of smile she had bestowed on him frequently until he had asked her to merge her business with his and file for an MC. At the sight of the glowing look, he felt his whole body tighten. The desire he had worked so hard to conceal for the past two months heated his blood. With every passing hour it was getting harder to quash the rush of sexual anticipation that stirred him whenever he was near Virginia.

  By the time his nonwedding night arrived, he would be a basket case.

  What the hell had he been thinking? A marriage-of-convenience in which he slept on the third floor while Virginia slept on the second floor was going to make him certifiably crazy.

  She rose from the chair and stretched. “I thought it was my turn to see you to your door.”

  “Want to flip a coin?”

  “Okay, but this time let’s try one of my mine. I don’t trust that one that you like to use. It always comes up heads.” She dug a quarter out of her pocket. “Call it.”

  “Heads.” He moved toward her.

  She flipped the coin into the air. He caught it before it struck the polished surface of her desk.

  “Heads,” he said without bothering to look at it.

  She wrinkled her nose. “You’re in luck. I’m too tired to argue.”

  At the door of the office, she paused to switch off the lights. He followed her out into the front hall and locked up. Together, they climbed the elaborately carved central staircase to the second floor and went down the corridor to the small suite of rooms she used as an apartment.

  She opened her door, stepped inside, and swung around to face him through the narrow opening. Her green-and-gold eyes were big and deep in the shadows. He could feel the tingle of awareness in his paranormal senses and knew that he was responding to her on the psychic plane as well as on the physical level. Sensual psi energy shimmered disturbingly in the small space that separated them. Couldn’t she sense it? He wondered. Was she really oblivious to the attraction between them?

  The wariness in her eyes made him uneasy. With each passing day, she appeared to be growing more restless. His fears of being driven crazy by sexual frustration were submerged beneath a new concern: What if she changed her mind? What if she canceled the MC?

  Stay focused, he told himself. This will work. It had to work.

  “Good night,” he said as casually as he could manage. He forced himself to take a step back. What he really wanted to do was pick her up and carry her through the small living room, straight into her bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She hesitated. “Sam?”

  “Yeah?” He realized that he had stopped breathing.

  She sighed. “Never mind. It’s not important. Good night.”

  Very gently, she closed the door in his face.

  He reminded himself to breathe.

  Chapter 2

  He did not sleep well that night. It was not the noise from the crowds in the street or the whispers of Dead City psi energy that kept him awake. It was the realization that Virginia was getting ready to tell him that she did not want to go through with the marriage. He knew it as surely as he knew that when she called off the engagement, his world was going to become as bleak and gray as the tide of fog that had boiled up out of the river.

  He rolled out of bed at dawn, shaved, showered, and dressed for
the meeting with Ewert. He was still mulling over various means of convincing Virginia that the MC was a terrific idea when he went downstairs to collect the morning edition of the Cadence Star. He opened the front door and was greeted by a wall of gray mist. The fog was so thick that it had blotted out the early-morning sun, creating an artificial twilight that looked as if it would last all day.

  Perfect Halloween weather.

  He shrugged off the fog. It would not affect today’s job. He and Virginia would be working underground in the catacombs. Down below in the endless miles of glowing green corridors, there was no day or night.

  He saw the small package on the step just as he started to reach for the newspaper. A faint hiss of all-too-familiar psi energy whispered through his para senses in silent warning.

  “Damn.” Hell of a way to start the day.

  He crouched on his heels to get a closer look at the square object wrapped in brown paper. It was addressed to Gage & Burch Consulting. There was no return address. He did not pick it up.

  “Something wrong, Sam?” Virginia called out from halfway down the stairs.

  “An unscheduled delivery.” He did not take his eyes off the package.

  “What is it?”

  “I think you’d better take a look at this. If I’m right, it falls into your area of expertise, not mine.”

  She descended the rest of the stairs quickly and hurried across the wide front hall to the door. She came to a halt beside him and looked at the package.

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Uh-oh.”

  “I hate it when you use that professional jargon.” He glanced at her. “What do you think?”

  “The same thing you’re thinking, I imagine. It’s an illusion trap. I can feel the energy pattern. Someone left us a nasty little trick. I’ll bet it was some idiot who had one too many bottles of Green Ruin to drink last night. Probably thought it would be a great Halloween prank.”

  “I think he’ll change his mind when I find him,” Sam said softly.

  Virginia glanced at him, frowning slightly. “Don’t worry, it’s just a small trap.”

  “Can you de-rez it?”

  “Does amber resonate? Of course I can de-rez it. But I’m not going to do it out here on the front step. Let’s take it into the kitchen.”

  She reached down and scooped up the box with a nonchalance that made Sam wince. He followed her into the big kitchen at the back of the house and watched her set the box down on the scarred counter.

  “You might want to stand back a little,” she said as she clipped the string. “Just in case.”

  “We’re partners, remember?” He moved closer to the counter.

  She smiled as she began to unwrap the package. “Yes, but you’ve never seen me work. I wouldn’t blame you for being a tad cautious. Even small, simple illusion traps can be very unpleasant if they aren’t untangled properly.”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time underground and I’ve worked with some clumsy tanglers. I’ve caught the flashback from an accidentally sprung trap more than once.”

  “Well, there won’t be any flashback this time. You have my personal guarantee.”

  Her cool, professional arrogance amused him. He watched her peel away the brown paper. A small cardboard box was revealed. With a good deal more caution than she had exercised a moment ago, she raised the lid and gazed inside.

  “Well, well, well,” she murmured. She sounded as cheerful as if she had just received a bouquet of flowers.

  Personally, he could think of a number of other things he would rather find on his doorstep first thing in the morning besides an illusion trap. But if the challenge of de-rezzing it lifted Virginia’s spirits and gave her something else to think about besides calling off their marriage, he might be willing to overlook the prank.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “A very nice piece.” She angled the box to allow him a closer look at the object inside. “A little unguent jar. Museum quality. Not spectacular, but quite excellent. It would bring a good price in a gallery. I can’t imagine anyone in his right mind wasting it just to play a vicious Halloween trick.”

  Sam eyed the small green quartz jar. It was elegantly rounded in a shape that was not quite comfortable for a human hand. The top was carved in an airy, fanciful design similar to many he had seen in the course of his career. The art and sculpture left behind by the long-vanished Harmonics always reminded him of the Old Earth poet Goethe’s description of architecture: frozen music.

  “You’re right,” he said. “It’s not unique, but it’s definitely valuable. Whoever our prankster is, he must be a wealthy collector if he could afford to use an artifact worth a couple of grand just to pull off a Halloween stunt.”

  An illusion trap had to be anchored to an artifact or to old green quartz from the ruins.

  “Probably too drunk to realize what he was doing.” Virginia carefully lifted the top of the jar and peered into the dark interior. “Okay, here we go. It’s a simple pattern. This won’t take long.”

  “Easy for you to say.” He looked down into the shadows inside the little unguent jar. The darkness there was not normal. There was a dense quality to it, the only visible warning of the tiny trap. In the eerie glow of the green catacombs of the Dead City it was all too easy for a member of an excavation team to mistake illusion dark for ordinary shadow, but here in the brightly lit kitchen, the difference was obvious to the trained eye.

  Obvious, but no less dangerous.

  He had seen other tanglers work, but this was the first time he had watched Virginia in action. She’d only had a handful of clients during the time she had been renting office space from him, and she had dealt with them on her own.

  He felt psi energy spark and shiver in the air. Very high-rez. He was impressed. She was as powerful as her academic credentials claimed.

  Technically speaking, she was an ephemeral-energy para-resonator; a tangler in common parlance. With the aid of the specially tuned amber that she wore in her earrings, she could focus her particular type of paranormal energy in a way that allowed her to neutralize the vicious and sometimes deadly illusion traps. The wicked snares were one of the hazards of para-archaeological work in the alien ruins. The vast majority of tanglers became para-archaeologists. It was one of two natural career paths, the second being the illegal antiquities market.

  An illusion trap was tricky. Once tripped, it released a web of ephemeral psi energy in an alien nightmare that enveloped the mind of the unlucky person who had triggered it. No two traps produced the same harrowing visions. Some were simple to de-rez, especially the really old ones. But in later Harmonic traps, the energy had been woven into complex patterns that defied all but the most skilled tanglers.

  No one who had ever survived the experience of being caught in an illusion trap’s web could ever fully describe the nightmares. Sam had sensed enough on the occasions when he had been zapped with some of the flashback energy from a poorly sprung trap to know that the visions were composed of unimaginable colors and a vertigo-inspiring darkness. The experts claimed that the nightmares lasted only a few minutes before the human brain sought refuge in unconsciousness. The resulting coma, however, could last for hours or days. When the victim eventually awakened, he or she invariably suffered an amnesia that cloaked most memories of the event. Some never recovered completely. They tended to end up in the para-psych wards of mental institutions. Others were so traumatized they could never work underground again.

  No one knew why the Harmonics had booby trapped their underground catacombs. Whoever their enemies had been, they were as long gone as those who had set snares for them.

  “Got it,” Virginia said with soft satisfaction. She took a breath and looked up from the jar. “Didn’t even heat up my amber. It’s clean.”

  “Nice job.” He picked up the jar and turned it in his hands, examining it from every angle. The fizz of malign energy that had warned him of the trap had ceased. The trap could be reset by a skill
ed tangler, but unless that was done, the unguent jar was safe to handle.

  He looked down into the interior. The unnatural, viscous shadow was gone. In its place was the ordinary darkness one expected to find in the interior of any small vessel. There was also something else inside the little jar. He pulled out a square of folded paper.

  Virginia frowned. “It looks like a note.”

  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Maybe our prankster wants to brag. Thoughtful of him to provide a clue.” He unfolded the paper and read aloud the single sentence typed on it. “ ‘Happy Halloween. The ghosts and goblins are real in the catacombs this week. Stay out. This will be your only warning.’ “

  “What in the world?”

  “Not real original,” Sam remarked.

  Virginia snatched the paper from his hand. “Let me see that.” Her brows drew together in a stern line as she read it silently. Then she looked at him. “What do you think this is all about?”

  “I think,” Sam said, “that one of Mac Ewert’s competitors doesn’t want us to go to work for him. Wouldn’t be the first time a rival has tried to scare off another team’s consultants.”

  “Huh.” She dropped the note into the trash. “Obviously whoever sent this doesn’t realize who they’re dealing with. The firm of Gage & Burch doesn’t get scared off that easily.”

  Sam saw the gutsy determination in her eyes and smiled. For some reason he suddenly felt a lot more optimistic about his marriage prospects than he had when he had come downstairs earlier.

  “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen.” Mac Ewert ran a blunt-fingered hand through his thinning gray hair. “I’ve heard of waterfalls, but I’ve been mapping catacombs for twenty years, and this is the first one I’ve ever run into.”

  “They’re rare,” Sam agreed. “But I think we can handle it for you.”