Silver Master gh-5 Page 26

  For a moment he just looked at her, aware of the sensation of deep, hungry longing welling up inside. She was turned partially away from him, one arm resting on the railing as she gazed pensively at the view of the ruins cloaked in the starry night. He could see the curve of her cheek and the sweet, echoing arcs of her shoulder, breast, and hip.

  He took a grip on his self-control, walked to the table, and poured two small glasses of the Emerald Glow. Her fingers brushed against his when he handed one of the glasses to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, turning to smile at him. “I need this. I’m exhausted, but I think I’m going to have trouble sleeping tonight.”

  “It’s the adrenaline.” He swallowed some of the Emerald Glow, savoring the green heat. “It jacks you up and wears you out at the same time. Takes a while to de-rez. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days.”

  “Not my usual routine, that’s for sure.” She searched his face. “I don’t think it’s been routine for you, either. You never said what happened when you followed Hollings down into the rain forest.”

  He leaned both elbows on the railing, cradling the little glass in one hand, and looked out at the glowing ruins. “He used the relic on me. Felt like I was standing in front of a huge dam that had just broken. A wall of psi crashed over me, wiping out everything, my normal as well as my paranormal senses. It was chaos.” He stopped for a beat. “I thought I was dying.”

  “Davis.” She put her glass down and moved closer, sliding her arm around his waist. She leaned into him, letting him absorb her warmth the way she had the night she had driven him back to Cadence after the encounter with Landry’s men. She didn’t say anything more.

  He set his own glass aside and pulled her tightly to him, breathing in her scent.

  “You were right about the strategy to combat the effects of the relic,” he said into her hair. “I focused on something really important to me, something that was even more important than my own survival. I hung on to it the way a man hangs on to a life preserver when the ship is going down.”

  She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank heavens it worked. I wasn’t sure if it would.”

  Very gently he eased back and used one finger to raise her chin so that she had to meet his eyes.

  “It was your name I used to anchor me in the storm, Celinda.”

  “My name?” She sounded bewildered.

  “I didn’t want to die, I couldn’t die, because that would leave you in mortal danger from Hollings. I know that according to that book of yours, it’s probably way too soon to say this, but I love you.”

  “Oh, Davis.” She flung herself hard against him. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you from the moment I walked into my office at Promises, Inc., and sensed your psi energy. I knew that day that you were Mr. Perfect.”

  “Let me get this straight.” He laughed a little, as the euphoria hit him. “You fell in love with my psi wave patterns?”

  She raised her head. “I always knew I would recognize the man of my dreams when I met him.”

  “Hang on a second. Doesn’t that theory run counter to the advice in your book? Trig said that in chapter one it states very clearly that there is no such thing as love at first sight.”

  “If there is ever a second edition of the book, I’ll make it a point to correct that obviously inaccurate statement.”

  Chapter 42

  THE EXECUTIVE SUITE OF THE HIGH-RISE TOWER THAT housed the headquarters of the Cadence Guild had a very fine view of the Dead City. The interior décor of Mercer Wyatt’s private office was as sleek and sophisticated as that of any other seriously successful CEO in the city. Very mainstream, Celinda thought. If you didn’t know much about Guild history, you wouldn’t even guess that you were dealing with an organization that was steeped in secrecy, outmoded traditions, and archaic rules.

  “I’ve given your suggestion concerning how to handle the relics a great deal of thought, Miss Ingram,” Mercer Wyatt said.

  He was standing in front of the windows, looking even more formidable in person than he did in news photos or when he was being interviewed by a rez-screen reporter. From his hawklike features, silver hair, and specter-cat eyes to the heavy amber rings he wore on his hands, he projected an image of power.

  It was his eyes that had caught her attention when they had been introduced a short time ago. Emmett London had the same eyes. There were certain similarities in their psi patterns, too. She knew, without being told, that the rumors were true. Emmett was Wyatt’s son.

  Celinda was glad that she and Davis were not facing the Guild boss alone today. They had brought plenty of backup. Emmett and Lydia London were present. So was Max, who was perched on the back of Davis’s chair, and Araminta, who was peering out from the tote at Celinda’s feet.

  But Wyatt had some backup of his own, namely his elegant, attractive, much younger wife, Tamara. Davis had explained that Wyatt considered her his most trusted confidante. Tamara was a hunter, one of a statistically small number of women who possessed dissonance-energy para-rez talent. There were rumors circulating to the effect that Wyatt was grooming her to take over his position as head of the Guild. No one believed for one moment that he could do the impossible and install a female as the next boss of the Cadence Guild. But Wyatt had a reputation for getting what he wanted.

  It was that reputation that was worrying Celinda this morning.

  “It’s not a suggestion,” she said, keeping her tone very polite and respectful. No sense pissing off the Guild boss any more than absolutely necessary. “I must insist that both relics be turned over to a reputable medical research lab. If you want a suggestion, I’ll give you one. Put Dr. Phillips of the Glenfield Institute in charge of studying the therapeutic aspects of the relics.”

  Wyatt frowned. “I realize you are concerned about the Guild’s intentions toward the relics. I understand that your unfortunate experience with a member of the Frequency City Guild has left you with a poor impression. However, I assure you that the Cadence Guild adheres to the strictest standards.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t trust the Guild establishment. In my opinion, the organizations lack an appropriate system of checks and balances. However, I will acknowledge that they have a role to play in society.”

  Wyatt’s silver brows rose. Something that might have been amusement gleamed in his dangerous eyes. “Do you, indeed? That is very open-minded of you.”

  “The Guilds are, however, peculiar blends of business corporations and emergency militias,” she continued. “I am convinced that if any Guild, including the Cadence Guild, gets its hands on the relics, they will view them as possible weapons. While I believe that they have only a very limited potential in that regard, it irritates me to think that the possible therapeutic qualities will be ignored.”

  Tamara, seated on a black leather chair, crossed her knees and looked suddenly very curious. “Why do you believe that the relics have only limited potential as weapons?”

  Celinda looked at her. “Several reasons. Based on my admittedly limited experience, I am convinced that only someone who possesses the type of psi talent that I have and that Dr. Hollings had can activate them. What’s more, it has to be a very strong form of that talent. That means that the pool of people who can resonate with the relics is probably going to be extremely limited.” She paused for emphasis. “And I’m betting that no ghost hunters will be in that pool.”

  “Why not?” Wyatt asked sharply.

  Lydia answered with a triumphant smile. “She’s right. It’s a known fact that when a particularly strong talent exists in an individual, it is not generalized across the psychic spectrum. It always takes a specific form such as the ability to resonate with ephemeral or dissonance energy. There is no recorded instance of a person possessing two equally powerful forms of psi talent. That certainly implies that no strong ghost hunters will be able to rez the relic.”

  “You’d have to rely entirely on non-Guild talent to
conduct your research,” Emmett observed in a businesslike manner. “That means you wouldn’t have full control.”

  Wyatt’s mouth tightened. Celinda knew he did not like hearing that.

  “Celinda and Lydia have a point,” Davis said. “One way or another, you’re going to have to turn the research over to an outside lab. Why not make it a medical lab?”

  There was a long beat of silence before Tamara said thoughtfully, “They’re right, Mercer.”

  Wyatt looked at her, scowling, but he didn’t argue.

  “There’s another factor that you should keep in mind,” Celinda added quickly. “Although I’m sure that there are other people around who can rez that relic for you, the fact is, with Hollings dead, I’m the only one you know for certain who can do it.”

  Wyatt looked suddenly fascinated. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Miss Ingram?”

  “No, of course not.” She took a deep breath. “What I’m telling you is that if you want my cooperation in testing the relics, the research will have to be done on my terms.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Certainly sounds like blackmail to me.”

  Lydia cleared her throat. “There’s another aspect of this thing that you might want to consider. If you do turn the relics over to a legitimate medical research lab, you stand to reap some extremely good publicity for the Guild.”

  Tamara inclined her head. “True. Mercer, there’s not much point retaining control over the relics if we can’t make use of them, but if they do turn out to be therapeutic medical devices, we can gain some excellent press. We provide security for the Glenfield Institute because that is where we send our people when they get hurt in the line of duty. We’ll be able to protect the artifacts there. Also, we know Dr. Phillips, and we trust him.”

  Wyatt stopped prowling and came to a halt. It was obvious that he had made his decision. He was a CEO who knew how to cut his losses.

  “Very well, Miss Ingram,” he said. “The relics will be entrusted to Dr. Phillips and his staff for further research. Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes.” She looked down at Araminta, who was munching a cookie. “There’s just one tiny little problem left.”

  Chapter 43

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, CELINDA AND DAVIS SAT on the veranda of the Glenfield Institute. Araminta, perched on the arm of Celinda’s chair, was eating a lemon square that Dr. Phillips had given her. There were several more lemon squares arranged on a plate on a nearby table. Max had scampered off to investigate the gardens.

  “You say these ruby amber relics might actually be able to counteract the effects of serious psi trauma?” Dr. Phillips studied the one he was holding in his hands.

  Araminta had raised no objection when the relic that had been in Hollings’s possession had been turned over to Phillips. Celinda was still uncertain how she would react when the second one was handed to him.

  “To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how effective they’ll be,” Celinda said. “All I know is that I was able to strengthen Davis’s psi waves the other night to keep him from sliding into a coma after he pulled ghost silver. I was also able to manipulate the waves of two of the men he fought underground.”

  “I told you what Hollings did with that thing when he and I faced off underground,” Davis said.

  “A double-edged sword,” Phillips said quietly. “Historically that has often been the case with many of the most significant advances in medicine. Antibiotics and drugs, surgical procedures, instruments, machines, and all the rest. They must be treated with the utmost respect because they can kill or cure.”

  “Which is why we’re giving you the relics,” Celinda said. “I’ll do what I can to help you research the appropriate uses of the devices, but I think in the long run you’ll be better off if you can find some people in the medical profession who possess my kind of psi talent.”

  Phillips continued to examine the relic. “We will begin a search immediately. I can’t tell you how excited I am by the possibilities. We have had so few effective treatments for psi trauma. Ultimately, as in Davis’s case, it generally comes down to whether or not the patient has the psychic strength to fight his or her way back to recovery. Sadly, too many don’t make it. These relics offer great hope.”

  “Here goes,” Celinda said.

  She reached into the tote and removed the relic that Araminta had insisted she purchase. Araminta went very still and alert on the arm of the chair, watching intently.

  Celinda put the relic down and picked her up. She held her in both hands and looked straight into her baby-blue eyes. “I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I’m hoping you can sense that I really want Dr. Phillips to have the relic. It’s very important to me, Araminta. He’s a good man, a fine doctor. He’ll put this thing to good use. Okay?”

  Araminta blinked a couple of times. Celinda put her back down on the arm of the chair. Then she picked up the relic and handed it slowly to Dr. Phillips.

  Araminta followed the action with close attention. Then she gave what was evidently the equivalent of a dust bunny shrug and scampered up onto the table to help herself to a third lemon square.

  “There you have it,” Davis said. “Another great moment in medical history made possible by a dust bunny and a plate of lemon squares.”

  Chapter 44

  Ten Days Later…

  “ANOTHER WEEK, ANOTHER WEDDING,” DAVIS GROWLED.

  “What do you expect?” Celinda laughed. “It’s the season. Besides, you shouldn’t complain. You look terrific in a tux.”

  They stood together with the other guests and watched the bride and groom take the floor for their first waltz as a married couple. The new Mrs. Boone looked spectacular in an old-fashioned wedding gown and a veil that fell all the way to her heels. Her husband, Cooper Boone, looked every inch the powerful Guild boss that he was in his formal uniform adorned with the insignia of his position as head of the Aurora City Guild.

  The ballroom was filled with high-ranking Guild men and Guild families from all four city-states and a lot of the small towns in between. Everything about the wedding had been old-style Guild traditional, right down to and including the quartz-green and amber-yellow floral arrangements and the towering wedding cake trimmed with amber and green roses. Green champagne flowed freely from a half-dozen fountains scattered around the brilliantly lit chamber.

  Elly and Cooper Boone circled the floor, clearly lost in each other.

  A perfect match, Celinda thought. She dabbed her eyes. Other couples were taking the floor now, including Lydia and Emmett and Tamara and Mercer Wyatt.

  “You just met Cooper and Elly today,” Davis said, amused. “You hardly know them. Why the heck are you crying?”

  “I can’t help it.” She blinked away the tears. “I’m a matchmaker. It goes with the territory.”

  “Are you going to cry at our wedding?” he asked with grave interest.

  She sniffed and tossed the tissue into a nearby container. “No, of course not. Brides never cry at their own weddings. They’re too busy making sure everything is under control.”

  “Good.” He caught her hand, gripping it tightly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think you were having regrets at the last minute.”

  “Never.” Satisfaction welled up inside. “You’re Mr. Perfect, the man I’ve been waiting for all of my life.”

  He laughed and drew her out onto the dance floor. “I’m a long way from perfect,” he said, taking her into his arms. “But what I feel for you is absolutely perfect. I love you, Celinda.”

  She glowed in the sweet certainty of his love.

  “I love you, Davis,” she whispered.

  A SMALL GROUP OF UNINVITED WEDDING GUESTS SUR veyed the happy scene from the cover of a buffet table draped with amber and green. Each was dressed for the occasion. Fuzz wore an amber-yellow ribbon. The bride’s special pal, Rose, glittered in a sparkling bracelet draped around her neck. Max and Araminta were adorned with gleaming paper clips that secured little tufts
of fur on top of their heads in a rakish fashion.

  From the perspective of a bunch of hungry dust bunnies, the glorious wedding cake loomed a mile high, and the champagne fountains flowed like rivers.

  If the humans would rather dance than eat, that was their problem. Dust bunnies knew what to do with a fully loaded buffet table.

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