Canyons of Night Read online

  “I’m aware of that. Don’t worry, I have no intention of discussing your talent with anyone else, including the members of my own family.”

  He was glad she was not going to argue with him. He put the bottle of orange juice back into the refrigerator and picked up the coffeepot.

  “You were right about one thing, I’m going to need time to figure out just what has changed in my talent,” he said.

  She carried the plates to the table and sat down. “You probably won’t figure it out until the first time you use it intuitively. We both know that’s how psychic abilities manifest themselves.”

  He sat down across from her. “And sometimes people find out the hard way.”

  She picked up a fork. “Don’t worry, you know now that you’ve got the control you’ll need to handle the energy you’re capable of generating.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He ate some eggs, thinking. “What was it like for you?”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Are we talking about last night or my talent?”

  He grinned. “I was thinking about your talent but if you’d rather discuss last night—”

  “Forget last night. I spent a good portion of it on a lumpy sofa because there was a dust bunny on my side of the bed.”

  He groaned. “Don’t remind me. It won’t happen again. By the way, I left your sheets on top of the washing machine.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of them before I go to Looking Glass.”

  “I don’t know why Rex took over your side of the bed last night. At my place, he never sleeps on the bed. In fact, he’s usually gone most of the night. Shows up around breakfast time.”

  “Got a hunch he was guarding you,” she said, very thoughtful now.

  “From you?”

  “No.” She paused. “I think he was watching over you while you slept off the burn. Somehow he understood that you weren’t in a normal sleep state. He must have sensed that you were vulnerable until you woke up. He’s your buddy. He was watching your back.”

  “You know, they say we shouldn’t anthropomorphize animals.”

  “True. But Rex’s relationship with you is certainly odd.”

  “I can’t argue that.” He slathered butter on a slice of toast. “You were going to tell me what it was like coming into your talent.”

  “When I was thirteen, I started seeing faint rainbows in various reflective surfaces but only whenever there was someone else in the vicinity. I didn’t realize what was happening for the first few months, although I soon discovered that if I concentrated hard, the rainbows got brighter.”

  “You didn’t realize you were seeing ultralight rainbows?”

  “Not for some time. And neither did anyone else because it is not only a low-rent talent it is generally a very weak talent. A lot of people with the ability never realize what they’re seeing. They catch a glimpse of an ultralight rainbow in a mirror or a window and assume it’s just a trick of the light. Also, because the talent is not exactly impressive, it hasn’t been studied. It is poorly understood and not adequately described in the literature.”

  “So how did you figure out what was going on and what you could do with your ability?”

  “It was a long process,” she said. “When I mentioned the rainbows to my mother, the first thing she did was take me to an ophthalmologist who concluded that there was nothing wrong with my eyes. Aside from the fact that I needed glasses, that is.”

  “But you kept seeing rainbows.”

  “Of course. And they got increasingly vivid. My parents finally started to wonder if there was a link to my psychic senses because I certainly wasn’t showing signs of developing any other kind of talent. Everyone in my family has some talent, you see.”

  “They say there’s a strong genetic component in some families.”

  “Yes, but psychic genetics are extremely complicated. My talent doesn’t appear anywhere on the family tree. At any rate, the next appointment Mom made for me was with some experts in rare talents at one of the Arcane labs. They ran a lot of tests on me and eventually announced that I was an unusually strong rainbow-talent.” Charlotte waved one hand. “And that was the end of it, as far as everyone was concerned because, as everyone knows, the talent is just a novelty at best.”

  “You seem to have parlayed it into a good career as an antiques dealer.”

  She looked at him over the top of her mug, her eyes shadowed with darkly luminous mysteries. He felt the hair stir on the back of his neck, as it always did when he sensed secrets.

  “Yes,” she said. “It has worked out well for me from a financial point of view.”

  He looked at the mirrored pendant she wore. “Tell me about that necklace.”

  “This?” She touched the pendant with her fingers. “I came across it a few years ago in an estate sale. I had no idea what it was but I knew that I had to have it. Later I figured out that it works a bit like tuned amber. It helps me focus my talent more precisely.”

  “Interesting.”

  She looked hesitant. He got the feeling that she was about to tell him something else about the pendant but in the next moment she changed her mind. She glanced out the window.

  “Brace yourself,” she said lightly. “We have a visitor.”

  He followed her gaze and saw Thelma Duncan striding briskly along the drive toward the cottage. She was dressed in her standard uniform, an oversized denim shirt heavily embroidered with colorful flowers, sturdy trousers, and a pair of well-worn boots. Her gray hair was covered by a broad-brimmed straw hat. She carried a basket on one arm.

  “Something tells me you’re going to be eating zucchini bread for another week,” Slade said. “Rex will be happy.”

  Charlotte set down her mug and got to her feet. “I admit I’ve had enough zucchini bread to last me until next summer’s crop comes in but I hope she brought more of those incredible tomatoes and basil. I could eat those all year long.”

  Under other circumstances, her enthusiasm for the free produce would have been amusing, he thought.

  “You do realize that Mrs. Duncan is going to see me here having breakfast with you,” he said. “She will draw the obvious conclusions. The news will be all over town by noon.”

  Charlotte paused in the kitchen doorway and looked at him. “So what? Everyone assumes we’re sleeping together, anyway.”

  “Assuming is one thing. Having the facts confirmed by a witness who actually saw us at breakfast takes the quality of the gossip to a whole new level.”

  Charlotte winked. “The locals will conclude that their cunning plan to keep you happy here on the island is working.”

  He thought about that for a beat and smiled slowly. “They’ll conclude right.”

  She looked surprised and then she turned a delightful shade of pink and disappeared into the living room. He picked up his mug, got to his feet, and went to stand in the doorway between the two rooms.

  Charlotte opened the door to a beaming Thelma Duncan.

  “Good morning,” Charlotte said. “Won’t you come in? You’re just in time to join Slade and me for coffee.”

  “Oh, goodness, is the chief here?” Thelma looked at Slade and managed to feign a start of surprise, as if she had not noticed him filling the kitchen doorway. “Why, so he is. Good morning, Slade. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  “According to the weather report there’s a storm coming in tonight,” Slade said.

  “Yes, well, of course there is.” Thelma smiled serenely. “That’s the thing about life, isn’t it? Always something dark out there on the horizon. The trick is to enjoy the sunshine while you’ve got it.” She handed the basket to Charlotte. “I brought you a few things from my garden and another loaf of the zucchini bread. I know how much you like it.”

  “Thank you so much.” Charlotte took the basket and examined the contents with enthusiasm. “More tomatoes, oh and the peas are coming in, I see. Fabulous. The basil is absolutely gorge
ous. I should display it in a flower vase.”

  Thelma looked pleased. “I must say the tomatoes and basil have been especially good this summer.”

  “I’ve never seen garden produce as beautiful as what you grow,” Charlotte said. “You’re an incredible gardener.”

  Thelma chuckled. “I don’t know about incredible, but I do enjoy my little hobby.”

  “Come on into the kitchen and have some coffee,” Charlotte said.

  “Thank you, dear, but I really don’t want to interrupt your breakfast.”

  “Nonsense, you’re not interrupting anything,” Charlotte said.

  She started toward the kitchen, basket in one hand. Slade got out of her way.

  “Well, if you’re sure,” Thelma murmured. She fixed Slade with her twinkling gray eyes. “Where is Rex?”

  “Who knows?” Slade said. “He took off at dawn. Haven’t seen him since.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be back. He seems to have adopted you. Very odd behavior, really. I didn’t know dust bunnies made good pets.”

  “They don’t,” he said.

  Chapter 25

  SLADE SENSED REX SHORTLY BEFORE THE DUST BUNNY materialized out of the woods at the edge of the road.

  “I knew you’d show up sooner or later,” he said. “If you’re going to hang with me, we’re going to have to talk about some rules.”

  Rex chortled cheerfully and bounded up onto Slade’s shoulder. He settled down with his purse.

  “Rule number one,” Slade said, “you don’t take over the lady’s side of the bed. Understood?”

  Rex mumbled happily but otherwise gave no indication that he grasped the finer points of human sexual etiquette.

  They turned off the main road and onto the graveled drive that wound through the trees to the cottage. The first chill of awareness trickled across Slade’s senses when they emerged into the open area that surrounded the cabin. He stopped. On his shoulder, Rex growled.

  They both looked hard at the cottage. Slade had no idea what was going through Rex’s brain but his own hunter’s intuition was flashing a warning. His first instinctive thought was, No need to make yourself a target.

  He moved back into the trees. Rex sleeked out. They had both picked up the same bad vibes, Slade thought. There was something very wrong with the tranquil scene.

  He raised his talent. He was no longer worried about being overwhelmed by the darkness at the end of the spectrum; nevertheless, he was cautious. He knew that he could control the storm of power but it was useless to him until he figured out how to focus it. He did not need the distraction just then.

  It did not require a lot of energy to view the psi-prints on the ground. There were two distinct sets. The tracks came out of the trees on the right and wound around the cabin, vanishing behind it. The intruders had not wanted to chance being surprised by someone coming along the drive. They had gone in through the kitchen door.

  The question now was whether the pair was still inside the house. He studied the fluorescing prints closely. There were two more sets of tracks leading away from the house and back into the trees toward the road.

  He worked his way through the woods to the trail of retreating prints. Rex growled softly. When they reached the tracks, Slade crouched and took a close look. The prints were familiar. He’d seen them yesterday at Hidden Beach. The two men who had chased Devin and Nate into the Preserve had evidently concluded that the local chief of police was going to be a problem.

  “I thought we’d have to go looking for them,” Slade said quietly to Rex. “Maybe do some actual investigation work. But they’re going to make it easy. They’re coming after me. Probably disappointed last night when they found out I wasn’t home. I’m sure they’ll try again.”

  Rex rumbled.

  Slade returned to the cabin. The front door was still locked. He made his way around to the back porch and went up the steps. The intruders had popped the lock on the kitchen door, as he had expected. He shook his head, disgusted.

  “Looks like they weren’t even trying to be subtle,” he said.

  He opened the door and moved into the kitchen, rezzing his talent again. Out of long habit he stood quietly for a moment, absorbing the silence. Empty houses always had a unique vibe. He did not pick up any of the energy that indicated there was someone lurking on the premises. He went to the cupboard and opened a door.

  Rex muttered. Slade understood the outrage. This was their territory. It had been invaded by intruders. That could not be allowed to stand.

  “We’ll get them,” Slade said.

  Rex tumbled down to the ground, still sleeked, and headed for the front room of the cabin.

  Slade was mildly surprised to find his laptop still safely tucked away on the highest shelf of the cupboard. Not the most original of hiding places, but on the other hand, he hadn’t been trying to protect Bureau secrets, just a business plan. Losing the computer would have been annoying and expensive but not a disaster.

  “They didn’t do a very good job of searching the place,” he said.

  But maybe that had not been their goal, he thought. Maybe they had just come here to kill him and had left when it turned out he wasn’t home. Typical thug mentality.

  Rex’s low growl rumbled from the living room. Slade went to the kitchen doorway.

  Rex was standing on his hind paws, gazing intently into the short hall that led to the bath and bedroom. He had dropped his beloved purse on the floor.

  “What is it?” Slade asked. He walked across the small space. “Did they screw up and leave something behind? That would be useful. More hard evidence is always good.”

  He heard the sound just as he reached Rex. The scrape-and-clunk iced his senses. He looked down the hall and saw a large, mechanical doll nearly three feet tall coming toward him. The gnomelike figure had long white hair and a flowing beard. There was a floppy velvet cap on its head. It was dressed in elaborately embroidered green-and-gold robes decorated with ancient alchemical symbols. The doll’s glass eyes glittered with dark, malevolent energy.

  “Son of a bitch,” Slade said. “Sylvester Jones.”

  He had a vague memory of an old Arcane legend, something about a Victorian clockmaker who had created some very dangerous clockwork toys.

  The blast of ice and lightning hit him before he could remember the details, threatening to freeze both his paranormal as well as his normal senses. The force of the blast drove him to his knees. Rex crouched beside him, snarling furiously. He was fully sleeked out, a tough little predator.

  It took everything Slade had not to crumple to the floor. His heart started to pound. He could hardly breathe. The atmosphere was darkening around him. He was dying, murdered by a damn clockwork toy.

  Charlotte, he thought. He would never see her again. He wanted to explain that it hadn’t been just an island romance for him. But now there would not be time.

  Rex crowded close against his thigh. Slade managed to put one hand on him. Rex was shivering, too.

  The clockwork Sylvester halted a short distance away. Its glass eyes radiated a steady, sustained blast of lethal energy.

  Slade grew colder. He tightened his hold on the snarling Rex and whispered the only name that mattered to him.

  “Charlotte.”

  THE FLASH OF DREAD ARCED ACROSS CHARLOTTE’S senses just as she stepped outside onto the front porch. The chilling frisson struck along with the wind that was bringing in the storm. The sensation was so ominous, so overwhelming, it shocked her breathless. Something awful was happening. To Slade.

  She did not know how she could be certain that Slade was in danger but she did not question the knowledge. The Arcane experts claimed there was no such thing as telepathy but no one in the Society doubted the reality of intuition. She did not even try to tell herself that she was imagining things. She yanked her keys out of her purse and ran for her car.

  Chapter 26

  THIS WOULD BE A DAMN STUPID WAY TO GO OUT, SLADE thought. He could see the
note in his Bureau file, Agent Slade Attridge assassinated by large doll.

  He was still on his knees confronting Sylvester, the snarling Rex pressed close to his side. It was as if they were trying to give each other some psychical support through physical contact. And maybe that was what was happening.

  Charlotte.

  This time he said it in his head, not aloud, but it had the same steadying effect. It helped him focus and that was what he needed most in that moment. He summoned the full force of his will, the same will that he used to control his talent, and slammed his senses into the hot zone.

  He entered the stormlight region of his talent. For an instant the gale of energy threatened to disorient him but he powered through the disruptive currents until he found the eerie calm at the center.

  The energy storm flashed around him in multicolored lightning strikes. It was an astonishingly simple, wholly intuitive process to identify the wavelengths he required to neutralize the energy of the Sylvester toy. The pressure of the cold, killing radiation lessened quickly but it took everything he had to maintain the dampening currents. He could not move. It was all he could do to take another breath. All of his energy had to be focused on countering the lethal currents. He knew he would not be able to hold on for long.

  The clockwork device, on the other hand, seemed to be able to generate an endless stream of energy. It showed no signs of weakening. Every time he eased off the counterpoint currents, the energy from the Sylvester doll intensified immediately. He had to find a way to shut it down and quickly, before he exhausted his senses. If he did not show up at the station this morning, Myrna would send someone to look for him, Devin, maybe. Whoever walked through the front door to see what had happened to him would fall victim to Sylvester.

  He tightened his grip on Rex, willing the dust bunny to understand.

  “Fetch,” he said. It was all he could do to get the single word past his lips.