Canyons of Night Page 24

  But Thelma did not notice. She was staring, transfixed, into the snow globe.

  “Why didn’t Brody and Mack use the Quicksilver Mirror on Slade?” Charlotte asked.

  “Bah. Neither of them is strong enough to generate killing energy with the mirror. I had them use the automaton, instead. But something obviously went wrong. No matter, I’ll deal with the chief later.”

  “I wouldn’t plan on it, if I were you,” Charlotte said.

  “Nonsense. I did some research on him when he took the job. It appears that he had some talent at one time but he’s just a burned-out FBPI agent now. According to his para-psych records, he’s deteriorating and will continue to do so.” Thelma started to shiver violently. “What’s happening?”

  “Among sensitives, a talent for viewing aura rainbows isn’t considered especially useful,” Charlotte said quietly. “But it turns out that if you’re really, really good at it you can tune the energy in certain objects to resonate with an individual’s aura.”

  Dawning horror lit Thelma’s features but she still could not look away from the engine.

  “What are you talking about?” she gasped.

  “As it happens, what can be tuned to resonate positively can be tuned to achieve the . . . opposite effect,” Charlotte said.

  “No.”

  Thelma struggled to unclamp her hand from around the snow globe. When that failed she smashed the object violently against a nearby table. The glass did not shatter. Inside the dome, ominous snow continued to fall over the ancient city of London.

  Thelma shuddered violently. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She collapsed abruptly, crumpling to the floor.

  The engine fell from her limp fingers, landing with a thud. The glass snow disappeared. The dome went dark.

  Slade moved into the room, pistol in hand. He crouched briefly to check Thelma’s throat for a pulse. Charlotte watched him, gripping the edge of a nearby table to steady herself. The shock of what she had done slammed through her. Her pulse was skidding violently.

  Slade got to his feet, holstered the gun, and pulled Charlotte into his arms.

  “It’s all right,” he said into her hair. “She’s still alive, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  Charlotte realized she was getting short of breath. “I wasn’t sure what would happen. There was so much energy in that s-snow globe.”

  “What did you do to the globe?”

  “Usually I t-tune objects so that they resonate harmoniously with a person’s aura. This time I reversed the p-process. I tweaked the globe’s c-currents so that they dampened Thelma’s own frequencies.”

  He looked down at Thelma. “You flatlined her aura for a time. Long enough to make her lose consciousness.”

  “Something like that, y-yes.” She touched the pendant. “It wasn’t until I found this that I realized I might be able to do such a thing. But until now, I’ve never had a reason to actually try it and there was no way to run an experiment. I wasn’t sure it would work.”

  Slade whistled softly. “I’ll be damned. You could turn just about any psi-infused antique into a weapon.”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled slowly. “If word got out what you can do with antiques, it would not be good for your business.”

  “That thought o-occurred to me a few years ago. That’s why I’ve never told anyone, not even my own family. You’re the only one who knows.”

  He held her a little away from him. “And you’re the only one who knows what I can do with my talent.”

  “D-don’t worry, I can k-keep a secret,” she whispered.

  “So can I.”

  “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a panic attack.”

  “Breathe,” Slade ordered.

  “Right. I can do that.”

  Chapter 30

  AT NINE THIRTY THAT NIGHT SLADE LOUNGED ON Charlotte’s sofa, phone in one hand, a beer in the other. He propped his ankles on a hassock and watched the flames leap on the hearth while he gave Marlowe Jones a summary of events.

  “Brody and Mack Duncan were living under fake IDs,” he said. “Took a while to find out their real names. They were picked up by the Frequency City cops this afternoon and booked on a number of charges. They’re ratting out dear old Mom as fast as they can. Thelma Duncan is in a locked ward in the para-psych wing of Frequency Memorial Hospital. Looks like she had a stroke. She’s confused and disoriented and no one thinks she’ll make a full recovery.”

  “There is a detective in the Frequency Police Department who is Arcane,” Marlowe said. “He’s keeping an eye on things for me. He says that as far as the authorities are concerned, the Duncan boys and their mother were operating a small-time burglary ring that specialized in antiques.”

  “All true as far as it goes,” Slade said. He caught Charlotte’s eye.

  “I called the museum lab people and warned them that in addition to the Sylvester curiosity they’ll have two more hot objects to transport, the Quicksilver Mirror and the Bridewell Engine. They’re very excited.”

  Slade watched Rex hop up onto the coffee table. Rex opened the clutch purse and removed the shiny, crystal-encrusted lady’s compact that Charlotte had convinced him to exchange for the gold watch. He started playing with the compact. He had not yet figured out how to open it but that did not seem to bother him. He clearly considered the project a game.

  “There’s a fourth object,” Slade said. “A gold watch that seems to be able to de-rez the automaton.”

  “I’ll tell the transport team.”

  “That’s it for now,” Slade said. “Time to eat here.”

  “Dinner? It’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  “It’s been busy here on Rainshadow, what with the problem of Thelma and her boys and the poststorm cleanup. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Wait, don’t hang up. Now that your talent has, uh, stabilized, will you be going back to work for the Bureau?”

  “No,” Slade said. He watched Charlotte set a plate of cheese and pickle sandwiches on the coffee table. “I won’t be going back to my old job.”

  “Well, in that case,” Marlowe said smoothly, “would you be interested in working as a contract agent for Jones & Jones? I’m getting more work now since Adam and I got all that publicity a while back. I could really use someone with your professional background.” She paused a beat. “And your talent.”

  Charlotte sat down next to Slade and propped her slipper-clad feet on the table. He put his arm around her and allowed himself to relax into her warm, bright energy.

  “I’ll be staying here on Rainshadow,” he said. “Nice little town. I like the job. It suits me. So if I can do you any favors from here, let me know.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that,” Marlowe said. “But are you sure you want to stay on that hunk of rock there in the Amber Sea?”

  Slade thought about the deep certainty that had been coalescing inside him ever since he had arrived on the island.

  “I’m sure,” he said. “Good night, Marlowe.”

  “See you at the wedding,” she said.

  “I’ll be bringing a date.”

  “Good,” Marlowe said. She sounded like she meant it. “That’s wonderful.”

  He closed the phone and reached for a sandwich.

  Charlotte watched him closely. “You told her you would be staying on Rainshadow.”

  “I did, yes.” He took a large bite out of the sandwich.

  “I’m glad,” Charlotte said. “The island needs you.”

  He swallowed the bite of sandwich and looked at her. “Think so?”

  “We both know now that there is something stirring out there in the Preserve. Someone needs to keep an eye on the situation. Who better than a former special agent of the FBPI?”

  “I didn’t make the decision to stay on the island because of the Preserve.” He put the uneaten portion of the sandwich back on the plate. “I made it because of
you.”

  Charlotte went very still. “Are you certain?”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. The day I walked off the ferry and found you waiting for me I knew it in my bones. It was as if I’d spent the past fifteen years trying to get back to you. If you leave the island, I’ll leave with you. But as long as you’re staying here, I’m staying, too. You’re my future. I love you.”

  Her smile and her eyes were suddenly luminous. “Oh, Slade.”

  “For most of my life, home was always where I happened to be at any given time. But when I saw you at the ferry dock last week, I knew that home is where you are. The trouble was that I had nothing to offer you. I thought I was going psi-blind. The last thing I wanted from you was pity. So I tried to tell myself that I could handle a brief affair and then walk away before you realized what was happening to me.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t know if I could have done that.”

  She touched the side of his jaw with gentle fingertips. “You would have because you would have told yourself that it was the best thing for me. And then I would have had to chase after you, which would have been very embarrassing.”

  “But you would have come after me?”

  “In a heartbeat,” she said. “I love you. I knew that we were meant for each other the day I watched you walk off the ferry. Actually, I knew it fifteen years ago but I told myself that it was just a teenage crush. Now I know better. It was the real thing.”

  A strange, heady sensation unfurled inside him. It took him a heartbeat to recognize it because he had kept it locked away in the deepest part of his being for so long. But now that he could set it free he could give it a name. Joy.

  “You were always there in the back of my mind,” he said. “That was why I kept the pocketknife that you gave me the morning I left town. It’s the only thing I’ve ever hung on to in my life. And now I’m going to hang on to you. I’ll never let go.”

  “And I’ll never let go of you,” she vowed.

  He drew her close and kissed her. The warm, bright, abiding energy of love shimmered in the atmosphere around them.

  Chapter 31

  RANDOLPH SEBASTIAN TOOK THE PHONE CALL HE HAD been dreading ever since he had taken the helm of Sebastian, Inc., and been entrusted with the family secrets.

  “This is Sebastian,” he said.

  “Slade Attridge. I’m the new chief of police here on the island.”

  Randolph tightened his grip on the phone. A chill of intuition went through him. He could tell from Attridge’s cold, controlled voice that the new police chief was a man to be reckoned with and, quite possibly, a problem.

  “My assistant advised me of your identity when she put through the call,” Randolph said. “What can I do for you, Chief Attridge?”

  “According to the notes left by one of my predecessors, your family controls the Rainshadow Preserve Foundation.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Something is going on inside the Preserve,” Slade said. “I need to know what is happening in there.”

  Alarm flashed through Randolph. After all these years the secrets of the Preserve were stirring.

  “Has a section of the fence failed?” he asked. But he knew even as he asked that he was grasping at straws. “I can send out a repair crew.”

  “The fence is holding, at least as far as I know.”

  “I don’t understand. Has someone gotten through it? That fence was made more secure by our security people five years ago after a couple of trespassers managed to get inside. Has there been another intrusion? Do you need a search-and-rescue team?”

  “No, I need answers. What does that fence protect?”

  Randolph tightened his grip on the phone. He got to his feet and walked to the window of his office. He stood looking out over the city of Cadence. The headquarters of Amber Sea Trading was a modern business tower located on the outskirts of the city’s old Colonial-Era Quarter. Randolph had an excellent view of the ancient alien ruins in the heart of the city. The green quartz walls and ethereal towers sparkled in the sunlight as if they had been made of emeralds. At night the Dead City glowed with green psi, giving off enough light to illuminate the streets of the Quarter.

  The time had come to make a decision, Randolph thought. He had to go with his intuition.

  “The short answer to your question, Chief, is that I don’t know what the fence is guarding,” he said.

  “That’s not good enough. I’ve got a town to protect.”

  “I assure you, the people of Shadow Bay are safe as long as they refrain from trespassing inside the Preserve,” Randolph said. “But it is imperative that no one goes through the fence.”

  “You know as well as I do that a No Trespassing sign is an irresistible attraction for some people.”

  “The fence is virtually impenetrable.”

  “No,” Slade said. “It’s not. Earlier this week I had to go in and pull out a couple of teenagers.”

  “What?” A terrible sensation swept through Randolph. It took him a second to recognize it as a flash of panic. “Two kids got in? You went in? You were able to find them? I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Slade said. “I need to know what I’m up against here. If this requires the evacuation of the island I’m going to have to contact the authorities. And I’m going to need some real good reasons to give them.”

  “I can’t give you any reasons,” Randolph said, “because I don’t know what is going on inside the Preserve. All I can tell you is that everyone is safe so long as they stay out.” I hope, he added silently.

  “I want answers.”

  “I will send the head of Sebastian Security to investigate and assess the situation immediately. He’ll be on the island tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be waiting for him.”

  The phone went dead in Randolph’s hand. He stood at the window a moment longer, composing himself and trying to clarify his thoughts. After a time he rezzed a number into the phone. His grandson answered at once.

  “What’s wrong?” Harry Sebastian asked without preamble.

  “Something’s come up on Rainshadow. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. How soon can you be in my office?”

  “Five minutes.”

  Randolph put the phone down. He had doubled the family fortune in the thirty years he had been in command of the company. That had been the easy part. The hardest part about running Sebastian, Inc., was managing the complicated dynamics of the sprawling Sebastian family. His strong intuitive talent made him a force of nature in the business world but it was not nearly so useful when it came to dealing with his willful, stubborn, intelligent, and highly talented relatives. His two grandsons were the most maddening of all. Probably because they had turned out a lot like him, he thought.

  Four minutes later the door opened. Harry walked into the room. He had been named for his pirate ancestor and with his black hair, ascetic features, and cold, green eyes, he was the living image of the man in the portrait that hung on the wall of the office. But it was only much later when his unusual talent had appeared that everyone in the family realized he resembled the original Harry in more than just looks.

  “We have a problem on Rainshadow?” Harry asked.

  “If even a fraction of the legends concerning the secrets our ancestor buried there are true,” Randolph said, “we have a very big problem on the island.”

  Chapter 32

  ON FRIDAY EVENING, CHARLOTTE STOOD WITH RACHEL on the outdoor deck of the Shorebird Restaurant, glasses of lemonade in their hands. Together they contemplated the crowd. Slade was in the center of the group, a large knife in one hand. There was a vast sheet cake covered in chocolate and lemon-colored icing on the table in front of him. The words on the cake read Happy Birthday, Chief.

  “You know, I think he actually was surprised when he walked in a few minutes ago,” Rachel said.

  Charlotte laughed. “Stunned speechless is more like it. Who’d have thought
that you could pull off a real surprise party for a former Bureau agent who also happens to be Arcane?”

  Devin and Nate were in front of the table, euphoric over the success of the party they had planned. Myrna and Kirk Willis stood nearby. Both had wide grins on their faces. All of the shopkeepers on Waterfront Street, including Fletcher Kane and Jasper Gilbert, as well as most of the permanent residents of the island had turned out. Rex was perched on the railing with his clutch. His attention was riveted on the cake.

  “Being an FBPI agent doesn’t mean you can see a surprise party coming,” Rachel said. “And a man who hasn’t done a lot of celebrating in his life wouldn’t have any reason to expect a couple of kids to organize a whole town for a birthday party.”

  “No, probably not,” Charlotte said.

  Rachel smiled. “Something tells me that Slade has a lot to celebrate now, though.”

  Slade caught Charlotte’s eye across the crowded space and winked. He put the large cake knife aside.

  “This is a very special cake,” he announced. “Myrna tells me that I get the first slice so that slice will be cut with a very special knife.”

  He reached into his pocket and took out the Takashima pocketknife. Charlotte felt tears gather in her eyes.

  “Hang on,” Myrna yelped. “You can’t cut my beautiful cake with a dirty knife.” She whipped a packet out of her purse, tore it open, and produced a sterilizing wipe.

  Slade obediently wiped the gleaming blade and then he cut a neat square of the cake and slid it onto a paper plate.

  Myrna bustled around to take his place behind the cake. “I’ll cut the rest of the pieces, Chief. Rex gets the next slice.”

  Rachel looked at Charlotte. “Has anyone told Rex that the glory days of endless zucchini bread are over?”

  “We’re hoping he’ll move on,” Charlotte said. “Dust bunnies are very adaptable. They know how to rez with the frequency, unlike some of us.”