Текст книги "Canyons of Night"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 21

“YOU KNOW, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS job and off Rainshadow, you’re going to have to stop playing hero,” Charlotte said. She used hot pads to set the pan of hot, fragrant lasagna on the table. “Now that Myrna and Officer Willis as well as everyone else in town know that you can go into the Preserve to rescue lost kids, the locals are going to pull out all the stops to keep you from resigning in a few months.”

“I wasn’t the hero today.” Slade studied the lasagna with a sense of great anticipation. It occurred to him that he was hungry, especially for Charlotte’s home cooking. “The kids saved themselves. All I did was go into the Preserve to retrieve them.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, being able to go into the Preserve is considered an impressive feat in these parts. The ability to track a couple of people inside the grounds is held to be downright amazing. This is the first time anyone around here can recall that a rescue was carried out without having to call the Preserve authorities. And the first time in years when the folks who needed rescuing were found alive.”

“Probably the first time the local chief of police has had some psychic talent,” Slade allowed.

“Or at least your particular type of talent,” Charlotte said. “Clearly not every kind of ability works equally well inside the Preserve. I’ve got a fair amount of talent but I’m quite sure I could not have found my way back out, let alone track a couple of kids.”

She cut two large portions of lasagna and set them on plates. She set one of the plates on top of the refrigerator for Rex. He favored heights, she noticed. He chortled exuberantly and bounded up on top of the appliance. He set his clutch aside and settled down to dine with his customary enthusiasm.

She put the second plate of lasagna in front of Slade. She cut a smaller slice for herself and sat down at the kitchen table.

Inviting Slade to dinner tonight had been an impulse, Charlotte thought. She had not intended to do so because she had concluded that he needed some space. He was, after all, dealing with a lot of heavy stuff these days. She knew that he had not yet allowed himself to believe that he might recover his senses. He was not a man to be pushed or manipulated. He had to come to his own decisions. Hence her give-the-man-some-space strategy.

But when he had stopped by her shop shortly after returning to town with the boys, she had changed her mind. The shadows in his eyes and the hard, grim cast of his face had told her that, unlike everyone else in Shadow Bay, he was not in a celebratory mood.

“I take it this isn’t over?” she had asked.

“No, it’s not,” he’d said.

There had been no time to talk because Nate’s parents had arrived on the sidewalk out front, eager to thank him for bringing their son home safe and sound. But she’d gotten the distinct impression that Slade wanted to talk and he definitely needed to unwind. So she’d tossed aside her carefully orchestrated strategy and asked him to dinner. She wanted to hear every single detail of the big rescue, anyway.

Slade’s response had been so casual that she had known immediately that he had been planning to show up on her doorstep with or without the invitation.

“Right, see you sometime after six,” he’d said.

He had walked outside, Rex on his shoulder, to meet with Vern and Laurinda Murphy.

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 psiblindness—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 parapsychs and the medics were right, it was going to happen sooner or later, anyway.”

“What part of think positivedon’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 flashed 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 psiblind. 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.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to crash soon. It’s one thing to push yourself to the limit. The worst that can happen is that you exhaust your senses for a while. But this is about controlling your talent.”

Control. That was the critical thing, he thought. Above all he had to stay in control.

Reluctantly, he lowered his talent. The thunderstorm of energy dissipated quickly. He shut down his psychic senses altogether and sank back into his normal senses. But the intoxicating mix of soaring exhilaration, relief, and euphoria was still sweeping through him. He was in the grip of the biggest post-burn buzz he had ever experienced in his life. He was also more physically aroused than he had been since last night. He would crash soon but not yet.

He looked at Charlotte.

“Down, Big Boy,” she said firmly.

“What?” He could not take his eyes off her. It was all he could do not to sweep her up in his arms and race down the short hall to the bedroom. No, forget the bedroom; he wanted to take her right here on the floor or up against the wall.

“There’s no reason to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she said. “Just so you know, your eyes are still hot. I’m not naïve. I get panic attacks if I run flat-out for a while but most folks, most men, get a different reaction.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve heard the jokes. I know about the paraphysiology involved. The bio-cocktail created by a heavy burn results in a big surge of testosterone and adrenaline and other related hormones related to physical arousal. Forget it. We’re trying to conduct a scientific experiment here.”

A tide of urgent need swelled through him.

“I said, forget it,” she added for good measure.

“Okay,” he said.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Okay,” he said again. But he could not look away.

“Let’s talk about what just happened,” Charlotte said.

She spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact way that was no doubt meant to de-escalate the prowling tension in the atmosphere but it had no impact on his arousal. Control, he reminded himself.

“What just happened,” he made himself say, “was that I found out that I’m not going psiblind. What just happened is that I have a whole new level of talent.”

“I understand. But what can you do with it that you couldn’t do before?”

“I have no idea in hell what I have become,” he said quietly.

“Don’t talk as if you’ve developed a new talent. You’re just stronger now.”

“Maybe. Whatever it is, I know that I can handle it. That’s what I learned tonight.”

“I see.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. Her brows crinkled together above the frames of her glasses. “I suppose it may take a while to understand intuitively how to focus all that energy in a useful way.”

“I’ll figure it out some other time.” The deep hunger was eating him alive. He got to his feet and went to the window.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte asked quietly.

“Sure. I just need to work off this edge,” he said. “I’m going to take a run.”

“All right but please be careful. It won’t be long before you need to sleep. Be sure you make it home to your own bed before you go down. People might get the wrong impression of the town’s new police chief if you’re found sleeping on the side of the road.”

He ignored her attempt at humor. He was not in a humorous mood. “I’ve got time.”

He had to get out of here, he thought. He pivoted and went to the door, careful not to look at her. He got the door open.

“Slade,” Charlotte said softly.

That was all she said but it was enough. He turned and looked at her. She was on her feet. He saw that she had replaced the pendant around her neck. The mirror no longer glowed. The yearning inside him became a howl of need. He gripped the doorknob so tightly it was a wonder that he did not crush the knob.

“I have to go,” he said.

“No. I want you to stay here with me tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

She smiled and walked toward him through the shadows. When she was directly in front of him she put her arms around his neck.

“I’m sure,” she said.

The door closed with a solid and very final-sounding chunk. Slade stopped trying to suppress the all-consuming fire inside him. He locked his hands around Charlotte and lifted her into the air. She clung to his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

He did not try to speak because he knew that he was incapable of being coherent. He kissed her instead, letting her feel all of the lightning-hot passion that was flooding his veins.

And then he carried her down the hall to the bedroom.