Текст книги "In Too Deep"

Автор книги: Jayne Krentz

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

27

Fallon opened the trailer door, making sure to keep the gun out of Mrs. Ragsdale’s line of sight. He made certain the man on the front steps got a clear look at it.

“Ah, shit,” Julian Garrett said, weary and resigned. “Take it easy. I just want to talk to Angela. I swear, she’s got it all wrong. No one is trying to hurt her.”

“That’s good,” Fallon said. “Because anyone who lays a finger on her will wake up dead.”

Julian was dressed in a green work shirt, pants and low boots. The logo for a company named Desert Sun Maintenance was stitched on the pocket of the shirt. Garrett looked to be in his midthirties. His gray eyes, high cheekbones and sharply etched features gave him the air of a lone wolf. There was energy in the atmosphere around him, a lot of it.

“Trust me, the last thing my boss wants me to do is bring Arcane down on his neck,” Julian said.

Isabella moved up behind Fallon and looked at Garrett. “My name is Isabella Valdez now, and if you don’t want to hurt me, why did you send those two thugs to grab me in Phoenix?”

Julian glanced meaningfully over his shoulder and then lowered his voice another notch. “I admit that was badly handled. My men had instructions to pick you up, that’s all. Look, I can explain everything. Mind if I come inside? I don’t want to get too dramatic here, but there’s a small matter of national security at stake.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Isabella said.

Julian’s mouth tightened. He switched his attention back to Fallon. “Department A has done some jobs for some very black-arts agencies. Just like J&J.”

Isabella rounded on Fallon. “You never told me that we do work for the Feds.”

“We try to avoid those jobs,” he said patiently. “But we have been known to do some consulting for certain agencies.”

“Consulting.” Julian’s mouth twisted in a humorless smile. “Nice turn of phrase. It’s the same kind of consulting work that Department A does at Lucan. And that’s what this is all about.” He looked at Isabella. “Give me five minutes. That’s all I ask.”

Fallon did not take his eyes off Julian. “What do you think, Isabella?”

“Well,” she said. “I guess we can’t just shoot him here in front of Mrs. Ragsdale. The gossip would be all over the Court in about twenty seconds. And then there’s the problem of the body.”

Julian winced.

“You’re right,” Fallon said. He realized he was starting to enjoy himself in a perverse way. “Probably be better to do the actual shooting somewhere else where there aren’t any witnesses.”

“Lot of desert out here,” Isabella observed.

Julian’s jaw tightened. “Very funny. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

Isabella stepped back. “Okay, there’s not much he can do here in the Court. He’s got the same problem that we’ve got, too many witnesses.”

“True,” Fallon said. He moved back but he kept the gun visible. “Five minutes.”

“Thanks.” Julian stepped into the trailer and pulled the door closed behind him. He gave Isabella a wry smile. “Isabella Valdez?”

“That’s my name.”

“Glad to meet you,” Julian said dryly. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”

“Can’t say the same.” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you kill my grandmother?”

“No, I swear it,” Julian said. “I only discovered a few days ago that she even existed. When I finally tracked her down to this trailer park, hoping to find you, she was already dead. Heart attack, according to what I could determine.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, right. Explain those two men in Phoenix if you can.”

“As I said, Phoenix was a bungled operation. I apologize.”

“For sending two men to kidnap me?” Isabella said, her voice rising. “You apologize?”

“You were never in any danger from that team,” Julian said.

“They chased me up to the roof of a department store. They had guns. They were trying to grab me.”

“Like I said, it was clumsy work and that was my fault.” Julian shoved his fingers through his hair. “All I can say is that we were desperate to find you and bring you in before some really bad guys got to you first. I knew that you were running scared. I was afraid that if you got wind that anyone associated with Lucan was in the vicinity, you’d disappear again.”

“Good guess,” she said.

“I told the team to do whatever they had to do to bring you in. Figured I could explain everything once I met with you face-to-face. I made it clear you were not to be hurt. But you ditched my men and we lost you again.”

“You set me up, damn it. You were dealing para-weapons out of Department A. You knew Max Lucan was getting suspicious, so you put that incriminating file on my office computer. As if I’d be dumb enough to actually use an office computer to keep a file that could get me fired or sent to prison. You don’t think very highly of me, do you, Julian?”

“You were set up, all right,” Julian said. “But not by me. Caitlin Phillips was the one dealing the para-weapons. She’s the person who installed that file on your computer.”

Isabella felt blindsided. “Caitlin?”

“My administrative assistant, remember?”

“Of course,” Isabella said, struggling to process the new information.

“She resigned and then she disappeared. We think one of her connections in the black market killed her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“After we found the file of para-weapons sales on your computer, Max and I tracked it back to Caitlin. But by then she was gone.”

Isabella frowned. “If you know I’m innocent, why are you looking for me?”

“Because you’re in danger. Listen to me, Isabella. Caitlin did one last deal before she was murdered. She arranged an acquisition for one of her clients, a South American drug lord. But the transaction was never completed because the broker got himself shot.”

“That would be Orville Sloan?” Fallon asked, as if he were only remotely interested in the answer.

Julian frowned. “You know about Sloan?”

“J&J is a detective agency, if you will recall,” Fallon said.

Julian sighed. “Right. Sloan was the broker Caitlin used. It looks like he was killed by a disgruntled client. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, given the nature of the profession. But the problem for us is the timing.”

“I’m assuming that means that the broker was shot after he had arranged for the delivery of the artifact but before he told Caitlin Phillips where the package could be found,” Fallon said.

“Yeah, that’s about it.” Julian turned back to Isabella. “Word of the missing artifact has hit the underworld. A lot of people are looking for it, including the drug lord and a certain black-ops agency. The agency wants that para-weapon found before the drug lord gets it.”

Isabella shrugged. “So?”

Julian cleared his throat. “Due to the rumors that circulated after you took off, a lot of people, including, we believe, the drug lord, think that you might be able to find the weapon.”

“Crap,” Isabella said. “Now I’ve got a drug lord looking for me?”

“Luckily I found you first. We have to recover that para-weapon and get it out of circulation. Once the drug lord realizes the Feds have it, he’ll stop looking for you because you won’t be of any use to him.”

“Nice theory,” Fallon said.

“For Pete’s sake, Julian, I can’t just pull missing stuff out of thin air,” Isabella said. “That’s not how my talent works. I need some kind of trail or a connection. Something.”

“Take it easy,” Julian said. “We know the general whereabouts of the weapon because we had a team following Sloan. But they lost him for a short time. When they picked him up again, they realized he no longer had the artifact. And then he got shot.”

“Where did he leave the weapon?” Isabella asked.

“Turns out the broker had a thing about old movies,” Julian said. “He went on a tour of the Vantara Estate. He had the artifact when he went into the mansion, but it wasn’t on him when he came out. We think he left the weapon inside.”

“You’re talking about the old film star’s house?” Isabella asked. “The mansion near Santa Barbara that’s open to the public for tours?”

“That’s it,” Julian said, grim-faced. “Ever been there?”

“No,” Isabella said.

“The house is an architectural monstrosity on the outside, but it’s even more over-the-top inside,” Julian said. “Dozens and dozens of rooms filled with an incredible amount of art and antiques. Sloan’s intention was to get safely away from the estate before letting Caitlin know exactly where he had hidden the weapon.”

Fallon thought about that. “Not a bad hiding place for a paranormal gun that in all likelihood won’t look anything like a real gun.”

“Tell me about it,” Julian grumbled. “I’ve sent people inside the mansion posing as tourists. I even got one of my hunters hired on as a night guard and had him take a look around. I went in myself twice. The mansion is crammed with antiques. It’s like the basement of a very large museum in there. Talk about a needle in a haystack.”

“Now you need Isabella to help you find the weapon,” Fallon said.

Julian looked at him. “We’re on the same side here, Jones. Arcane doesn’t want a potentially dangerous para-weapon falling into the hands of some drug lord who happens to have a little talent any more than the black-ops people do.”

“Agreed,” Fallon said.

“One way or another, we have to recover that artifact,” Julian said. “It’s the only way to guarantee Isabella’s safety. As long as the drug lord thinks she can find it, she’s in danger.”

Fallon looked at Isabella. “Your call.”

She folded her arms and looked at Fallon. “Do you believe him?”

Fallon opened his senses again. Points of light appeared on the multidimensional grid. Connections sparked and flashed, and the sector in which Julian Garrett moved was starkly illuminated in both light and shadow.

“I think he’s telling you part of the truth,” he said. “And I can call Max Lucan to verify.”

Julian looked at him. “You do that. Max will back me up.”

Fallon took out his phone, ran through a list of contacts and punched in a number.

“Lucan? This is Fallon Jones. Yeah, that Jones. I’m with a woman who used to work with you. Called herself Angela Desmond. Her name is Isabella Valdez now. One of your people is here with us. Julian Garrett.”

Fallon went silent, listening.

“Tell me about Caitlin Phillips,” he said after a while.

More silence.

“All right,” Fallon said eventually. “That’s it for now. No, I don’t know yet if Isabella will agree to look for the weapon. It’s up to her. Hang on, I’ll ask her.” Fallon looked at Isabella. “Lucan confirms the facts that Garrett gave us. He says the black-ops people do want the artifact and so does the drug lord.”

Julian looked at Isabella. “Satisfied? Do we have a deal?”

“I’ll look for the para-weapon at the Vantara Estate,” she said. “But no guarantees.”

“Understood,” Julian said. “Thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But I’m with J&J now. If you want to hire me, you have to pay our fees. We charge for this sort of work, you know. We’re running a business here, not a philanthropic society.”

Julian did not argue. “Name your price.”

“Oh, we will,” Isabella said.

Fallon spoke into the phone. “We’ll take the case, Lucan.”

He closed the phone.

Julian cleared his throat and smiled at Isabella. “So, uh, I’ve never actually watched you work. Do you need to examine something that belonged to the broker to pick up the scent or whatever it is you do?”

“I’m not a dog, Julian,” she said.

Fallon did not say a word. He simply looked at Julian with a cold, unwavering stare. Energy crackled in the atmosphere.

Julian reddened. He closed his eyes briefly and then gave Isabella an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I never really understood how you do what you do. None of us did. All we knew was that you were the best tech we’d ever had in Department A. But I was under the impression that when you searched for something that was connected to an individual, you liked to get a psychic reading on the person.”

“I’m a little touchy when it comes to how I work,” Isabella said. “You’re right. It would be helpful to have some physical contact with an object that the broker, Orville Sloan, also would have handled. The stronger his emotional connection to the item, the better.”

“How about his computer?” Julian said. “He had it with him when he was shot. One of the hunters I had tracking him managed to grab it.”

“That’ll do nicely,” Isabella said.

Fallon looked at Julian. “You can leave now. We’ll meet you at the Vantara Estate tonight. I’ll call you later with a time.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the idea of leaving Isabella unprotected.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Isabella said. “I’ve been doing fine without any protection from Lucan for the past month.”

“The drug lord is serious,” Julian said.

Fallon looked at him. “So is J&J. Get out of here, Garrett.”

Julian hesitated, clearly unhappy. But he seemed to realize he could not win the argument. He left.

Isabella waited until the door closed behind him. She uncrossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter, hands braced on either side.

“So Caitlin Phillips was the one running the arms-dealing operation,” she said. “I never would have guessed. But I suppose it makes sense. As Julian’s administrative assistant, she had access to all the data and records and connections that Julian had.”

“Maybe.” Fallon pulled out his computer and set it on the dining table.

“When I look at Julian, I see lots of fog, but then I see that when I look at you as well,” she mused. “Everyone has secrets.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m a walking lost-and-found department, Fallon, not a human lie detector,” Isabella said. “You’re the one who can assess the subtle details and spot tiny inconsistencies. Do you really think Julian is telling the truth?”

“He definitely wants to recover that device and he needs you to do it. No question about that.”

“But?”

“But I think he knows more about the nature of the weapon than he’s letting on.”

“Well, that’s no surprise.” She hesitated. “So Lucan really is working for a government client. And here I thought Julian was the one doing the illegal deals.”

“It can get complicated in the black market.”

Isabella was quiet for a moment.

“The beagle,” she said, perfectly neutral.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s what Julian and the others used to call me behind my back when I worked for Lucan. Whenever one of the agents came up against a brick wall in an investigation, someone would say, get the beagle. She can find anything.”

“Beagles are born to hunt.”

She brightened. “Never thought of it like that.”

“Doesn’t matter now. You don’t work for Lucan anymore.”

“That’s true.” She looked around the trailer. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I guess I’m going to have to accept the fact that Grandma really did die of a heart attack.”

“I’m ninety-seven percent sure that your grandmother is alive.”

“What?”

He took the calendar out from under his jacket. “I think she left this picture behind because she knew that I’d be with you when you finally came here to the trailer park. She knew I’d recognize it. Your grandmother has gone to ground like the former intelligence agent that she probably is.”

“Are you telling me that Grandma once worked for some secret agency?”

He studied the picture. “Got a hunch she’s hiding out with an old colleague.”

“But that beach scene means nothing to me.”

“It does to me.” He held out the calendar so that she could read the caption beneath the photo.

“Eclipse Arch, Eclipse Bay, Oregon,”Isabella read. She looked up. “Never heard of the place.”

“I have. Your grandmother is safe, but we can’t risk contacting her until this thing is over. She was right about one thing. Communication between the two of you at this juncture might put both of you in danger.”

“You said if my grandmother was alive, it would change everything.”

“Yes,” Fallon said. “It does.”

28

Shortly before midnight, Isabella stood with Fallon in the night-darkened gardens of the Vantara Estate. They were not alone. Julian and the Lucan agent who was posing as a security guard were with them. They all contemplated the theatrically illuminated mansion. With its pastiche of Baroque, Renaissance and Iberian architectural elements, the ornate structure looked like a fairy-tale castle.

“Got to admit, those old 1930s film stars knew how to do over-the-top,” Fallon said.

Isabella smiled. “I like it.”

“Let’s go,” Julian said. Urgency and impatience crackled in the atmosphere around him.

“I’ve got the code,” the hunter said. “I’ll let you into the house through one of the side doors. I turned off the alarm system just before you got here. You’ll have the mansion to yourselves. You should be okay if you stick to pencil flashlights, but don’t turn on any lights in the main rooms. There’s not a lot of traffic out here at night, but the county cops run regular patrols every couple of hours.”

“I don’t need visible spectrum light to do my job,” Isabella said.

The hunter led them through a section of gardens steeped in shadows. He wielded a flashlight, but Isabella knew that he did not need it for himself. His preternatural night vision allowed him to move through the darkness as confidently as if the path were lit with floodlights.

He stopped at a discreetly concealed side door and punched in a code. The door opened. He ushered Isabella, Fallon and Julian into a hallway.

“Got the floor plan?” he asked.

“Yes,” Julian said.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the hunter said. “I need to check in with company headquarters. Don’t want to break routine or they might send someone to check.”

He closed the door, plunging the hall into darkness.

Fallon switched on a pencil flashlight. Julian did the same. Isabella raised her talent.

There were always secrets aplenty in old houses and the Vantara mansion was no exception. Traces of psi fog swirled in the hallway. Layer upon layer of wispy mists indicated decades of small, private secrets that were nobody’s business but that of the individuals who harbored them. Isabella suppressed her awareness of the old radiation and concentrated on the newer mysteries. As usual in a space that had been well traveled, there was a great deal of fog, including some very hot stuff that she recognized as having been left by the hunter.

“Nothing here that looks like it ever had any connection to your broker,” she said.

Fallon consulted the map. “According to the team, he entered the mansion on a regularly scheduled tour. All the tours start in the Grand Hall.”

“To the left,” Julian said.

He led the way around the corner and down a long, high-ceilinged corridor paneled in rich, dark hardwood.

Isabella lowered her senses, not wanting to waste energy that she might need later for more nuanced detective work. Still, even when perceived with only a fraction of her talent, there was an abundance of fog to wade through. There were no such things as ghosts, but sometimes she wondered if down through the centuries, others endowed with her kind of talent had started the rumors of spirits from the Other Side. It was easy enough to imagine phantoms in the eerie light.

She followed Fallon and Julian through another doorway and into a heavy sea of fog.

“Whoa.” She stopped abruptly, adjusting her senses down another notch. “This, I take it, is the Grand Hall?”

Even in darkness lit only by moonlight slanting through high, Gothic-style windows and the two thin beams of the flashlights, the vast space glowed with gilded splendor. The walls were hung with huge ancient tapestries depicting medieval hunting scenes. Marble tiles covered the floor. Heavy, ornate furniture adorned the room. Couches and chairs covered in velvet and embroidered brocades were arranged in groupings around tables inset with lapis and malachite. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

“We know for certain that the broker was in this room,” Julian said. “He was seen entering. He exited the house with the rest of the tour group through the kitchens.”

“There’s a high probability that your broker had some serious talent in order to survive as long as he did in his line of work,” Fallon said. He studied the cavernous space, keeping his flashlight aimed at the marble-tiled floor and the richly woven rugs. “Probably a strategy-talent or an intuitive.”

“He definitely had some juice,” Julian agreed, “although he seemed unaware of it.”

“Strats and intuitives often take their psychic side for granted,” Fallon said absently. He crossed the room to examine a wall of glass-fronted bookcases. “Their abilities don’t strike them or those around them as unusual unless they are extremely powerful.”

“If he did have some talent, he would have been jacked when he entered this hall,” Isabella said.

“Right.” Fallon aimed the beam of the flashlight at a gilded red lacquer console table. “He knew that what he was about to do was dangerous. There would have been a lot of adrenaline, and that means his senses would have bounced sky-high.”

“Which would heat up the fog,” Isabella said.

Julian frowned. “What fog?”

“Never mind,” Isabella said. “Just give me a minute to take a closer look.” She opened her senses slowly. “Sheesh. There’s a ton of energy in here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Julian demanded.

“This place gets half a million visitors a year, according to the brochure,” Fallon said.

“Well, no wonder the mist is so thick,” she said. “There’s so much stuff in this house that anything smaller than a refrigerator would be hard to find unless you knew where to look.”

“Damn it, Isabella,” Julian said. “Can you handle this or not?”

“Oh, shut up, Julian,” she said. “I don’t work for you anymore, remember? I’m a J&J investigator now.”

Fallon’s shadowed smile bordered on the macabre.

Julian shut up.

Isabella ignored them both and concentrated on calibrating her senses. She tuned out the older fog, concentrating on the brighter, more recent traces. Then she refined the search further, looking for only the very hot, icy light that she had detected on the broker’s computer.

And suddenly, there it was, the unique trail of searing fog that could only have been laid down by the broker.

“Got it,” she said softly. “You’re right, Fallon, he was running very hot. He was definitely nervous but mostly he was excited, thrilled.”

“No surprise there,” Julian said. “It was probably the biggest deal of his career.”

Fallon watched Isabella. “You’re in charge here. We’ll follow you.”

“This way,” she said, confident now that she had the trail.

She went quickly up the wide, curving staircase at the far end of the Grand Hall to the second floor. The river of fog flowed along another paneled passageway, past rooms and chambers and alcoves that gleamed and glowed and glittered in the shadows.

“Wouldn’t want to have to pay the utilities bill for this place,” she said.

“It would be the salaries for the staff required to maintain the mansion that would ruin you financially,” Fallon observed.

“Could you two try to stay focused here?” Julian muttered.

Isabella ignored him. So did Fallon.

She followed the searing mist down another hallway, past a large ballroom. She hated to admit it, but at times like this she did feel a little like a dog that had picked up the scent. Fallon’s words floated through her head. Born to hunt. Somehow that made her talent sound a lot more impressive.

She rounded another corner and came to a halt. Fallon and Julian stopped behind her.

“What do you see?” Julian asked urgently.

She studied the energy on the carpet. “He went into this room,” she said. “But the others on the tour did not.”

Fallon aimed his flashlight at the doorway of the room. A velvet rope blocked the entrance. “He hung back, waited until the tour group had moved on and then he ducked under the rope.”

“Looks like it,” Isabella said.

Julian moved to stand beside Fallon. Together they speared the shadows with their penlights.

Isabella stood on tiptoe behind the men, trying to peer past the barricade created by their broad shoulders.

“How sweet,” she said. “It’s a little girl’s bedroom.”

“Vantara had a daughter,” Julian said. “She inherited this place. Couldn’t afford to maintain it so she sold it to the historical foundation that runs the tours.”

The bedroom was a frilly fairyland of pink and white. The small bed was adorned with ruffles and flounces and covered with a herd of stuffed animals. Lacy curtains bracketed the windows. A child-sized dressing table and stool stood in one corner. Dolls, rocking horses and stuffed pandas littered the floor.

“I don’t see anything that even remotely resembles a weapon,” Julian said.

“No,” Fallon agreed. “But there’s something of a paranormal nature in here. I can feel the energy.”

Isabella tapped the shoulders of both men. “Excuse me. Mind if I take a look?”

Fallon stepped back. So did Julian.

She ducked under the velvet rope and stepped into the bedroom, concentrating on the trail of fog.

The mists led straight to the top of a pink-and-gilt chest of drawers. For the first time, Isabella took out her own flashlight and switched it on. She started opening and closing the drawers. Most were crammed with dainty petticoats, nightgowns and other items that had been made for a little girl.

The bottom drawer was filled with small pink and white socks and a cauldron of boiling fog.

“Got it,” Isabella said.

“What is it?” Julian asked urgently.

“Hang on.” Isabella dug beneath the neatly arranged socks and saw an elaborately wrought hand mirror. She aimed the beam of the flashlight at the object and caught her breath. The mirror was spectacular. The gold-and-silver frame was intricately worked in an elaborate Baroque design that subtly incorporated ancient alchemical symbols. Strange crystals glittered in the light. Although the object looked as if it had been crafted during the seventeenth century, the glass was not dark with age.

Captivated, she reached down to grasp the curved handle.

Electricity sparked through her. She flinched but she did not let go.

“This thing is definitely hot,” she said softly.

“Are you okay?” Fallon asked.

“I think so.”

She looked into the mirror, aware that Fallon and Julian had come up behind her and were doing the same thing. They were all fascinated, she realized.

It was like looking into a pool of liquid mercury. She could almost see her image but not quite. The seemingly solid glass of the mirror appeared molten. Silver energy swirled just beneath the surface, compelling her to look deeper.

“It’s incredible,” she whispered.

“Lower your senses,” Fallon ordered.

The razor-sharp words snapped her out of the mini-trance. Startled, she hastily cut her talent. The surface of the mirror took on a more normal appearance. She could still sense the power in the artifact, but it no longer exerted the strong pull that it had a few seconds earlier.

Julian plucked the mirror from her hand. Energy whipped the air around him. His triumphant excitement was palpable.

“Damn, you did it, Isabella,” he breathed. “This has to be the para-weapon that the broker left here.”

“But what does it do?” Isabella asked.

She half expected Fallon to respond. He was always the one with the answers. But for once he had nothing to offer.

“I told you, I don’t know exactly how it works.” Julian examined the back of the mirror. “All I can tell you is that the black-ops folks who hired Lucan to make the buy are willing to pay a hell of a lot to get it off the market.”

“Time to go,” Fallon said. “We got what we came for. Let’s move.”

The chillingly neutral quality of his voice sent a shiver of awareness through Isabella. Something was wrong. In that moment she knew that he had recognized the mirror and had some knowledge of its power.

She looked at him, but in the deep shadows it was impossible to read his face. She heightened her talent a little and saw the heat in Fallon’s eyes. It was not the kind she associated with their lovemaking. Fallon was jacked and dangerous.

“Jones is right,” Julian said. “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

He went swiftly toward the doorway. Fallon grabbed Isabella’s arm, his grip uncharacteristically rough. She turned to look at him in surprise. But he was already shoving her across the room toward the bed.

She landed with a jolt and a shocked gasp. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Julian had spun around in the doorway. The mirror in his hand flashed white-hot.

The room was suddenly ablaze with a blinding paranormal fire. Isabella realized that although she could still see and hear and feel, she felt terrifyingly numb. It took her a heartbeat to understand that was because her para-senses were frozen.

She was vaguely aware that Fallon was in motion, launching himself through the raging storm of psi. He slammed into Julian. His momentum took both of them to the floor in the hallway. They landed with a sickening thud.

The energy storm cut off abruptly when Julian lost his grip on the mirror. But when Isabella tried to raise her talent, she discovered that her senses were still numb.

The sickening sounds of hand-to-hand combat brought her up off the bed. She found the flashlight she had dropped and staggered across the room to the doorway. She had to grip the frame to stay on her feet.

Fallon and Julian were locked in a cage fight because of the narrow confines of the hallway. The primal nature of the battle sent a nauseating wave of panic through Isabella. Fists rose and fell, smashing again and again into muscular flesh. Boots and shoulders struck the wall. She caught glimpses of blood as the two men heaved and rolled and collided again and again.

A lethally thin blade flashed evilly in the shadows. She could not tell which man gripped the knife. But in the next moment she heard a terrible crack. Fallon had slammed Julian’s hand against the floor.

The knife dropped on the carpet. Julian howled, rolled onto his side and clutched his broken wrist.

“Bastard,” he snarled. “You son of a bitch. You should be dead.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.” Fallon got to his feet. There was blood on his face. He took his gun out from under his black leather jacket. “The Quicksilver Mirror can kill,” Fallon said. “But only in the hands of a talent who is powerful enough to control the maximum amount of energy latent in it. You just weren’t strong enough, Garrett.”