Not Quite an Angel (2 page)

Sameh didn't know. She shook her head.

“In celebration of our bimillennium, we're compiling docudata for the history roms that trace the events leading up to the Four Hundred Years of Peace. But we're finding that our source material is woefully sketchy on several influential souls.”

“Why not just tap into the reincarnational records?” Sameh asked.

Alpha gave her a patient smile. “It would be a simpler solution, I agree, but you know we can only look into past lives with the consent of the present incarnation, and unfortunately, all the individuals concerned are not presently incarnate,” the tutor explained. “We would violate the privacy laws.”

Sameh nodded. She knew that, of course. Her brain wasn't working properly. Her thoughts were racing. “But…but why, why…me?”

Gamma sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. He was wearing a rather garish ring, gold set with an immense, perfect crystal, and he toyed with it as he answered her question. “We feel you have a rare gift, Sameh, in that you understand and appreciate vulnerability and uncertainty and primitive human emotions more than most of your fellow students. Unfortunately we Adepts tend to lose sight of the basics.”

Sameh was dumbfounded. They were actually saying she
was
better
at something than the others were? Even knowing the unlimited dangers of this feeling of being better, she still couldn't help but be elated by Gamma's words. A warm glow spread from the tips of her sandaled feet to the top of the riotous golden curls on the crown of her head.

She released her empty cup into the air, not even realizing she was successfully teleporting it over to the dishchute until Gamma ducked playfully as it sailed past his right ear. Sameh blinked in astonishment. It was one of the few times she'd managed perfect execution.

“We've checked and it seems you didn't have an active incarnation during the late 1900s, which means you will avoid the awkwardness of meeting a former version of yourself. If, of course, you decide to accept our assignment.” Alpha sounded a trifle smug at having thought of an earlier incarnation being around then.

Sameh shuddered at the thought. Living with one version of herself was tough enough, never mind meeting another one.

“The choice of whether to go or not is always yours, as you know. Freedom of choice is what awareness is all about, after all,” Gamma reminded her, but Sameh could see by the heightened pink and silver in all of their auras that they were eagerly waiting for her answer.

“But of course I want to go. I very much want to go,” she managed to blurt out, wondering for just a split second exactly what her assignment would consist of, and whether or not she'd be able to accomplish whatever it was they expected of her.

“The assignment is pure research,” Gamma reassured her. “And there are those back there with whom you'd be most compatible, so loneliness won't be a problem. Most compatible, indeed.” Gamma gave her that twinkling grin, and she could have sworn he winked at her.

“This could be a dangerous undertaking for you, Sameh. Not in the physical sense, of course,” Beta pronounced. “The techies assure us that the transport system is perfectly safe, going and returning. But in other ways, many of which even we can't anticipate, it could be risky for you. Lonely. Foreign. The nineties were a period of great turmoil. And it's going to be terribly difficult, for instance, to slow your vibrations to match those of the natives. As far as we can determine, there were only a handful of old-soul Adepts incarnate back then. Like attracts like, of course, so you'll probably encounter them, but basically you'll be with the totally unenlightened, which is what defeated the other travelers.”

Beta frowned. “You'll be away from the guidance data banks, and although we'll try to contact you telepathically, if we succeed we won't be able to assist you in any physical way. If you decide to accept, you must be aware there are risks. Perhaps you should take an interval to consider it?”

“No, I want to do it. I
really
want to do it.” Just the idea of being away from the disciplines for a while lifted a heavy burden from her heart. She was so tired of struggling with them, every day, day after day…and failing. She jumped up from the floating chair, and was halfway to the top of the pyramid before she realized she was levitating. Now how many times had she struggled with the levitation exercises and not managed to elevate herself even an inch? If only she could remember what she'd done just now…or not done, she corrected herself.

All the tutors were smiling when she landed a little awkwardly on the cushioned floor. She turned her ankle and stumbled, and then had to grab at the chair for support, but she refused to let herself feel clumsy. She was far too excited to get upset about a little slip here and there.

“When can I leave?”

They were all looking at her and smiling, shaking their heads at her impetuosity. “Meditate on it, Sameh,” Alpha suggested. “It's a big decision. If you still feel the same way after meditation, we'll begin briefing you on what you'll need to know.”

Sometimes Sameh considered meditation a colossal waste of hours. She was an instant too late with the mental block that would have prevented the tutors from mind reading such blasphemy. Damn her undisciplined mind, anyway. She blushed a furious scarlet, and they all politely pretended they hadn't caught the treacherous thought. “I'll meditate,” she promised with a contrite sigh.

“Good. Whenever you're ready, notify Central and we'll meet with you again.” They rose in unison, dismissing her. She took their hands and held them to her face in the traditional loving gesture of farewell.

She wasn't absolutely certain whether it was her efforts or theirs that slid the invisible door panel neatly open and then closed it behind her, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she effortlessly skipped all the way down the steps and into the gardens. The smile that spread across her face brought answering smiles from the Aggie robots as she bounded past the lilies, her lithe, slender body managing heights above the ground she'd never dreamed she'd master. Usually as earthbound as a caterpillar, she felt like a butterfly, light as down, fragile, shimmering with breathtaking color, filled with an elation too heady to contain.

Certainly she could fly.

 

T
HE ROOM WAS SILENT
for long moments after Sameh's departure.

“Do you think we should tell her all the implications of this trip?” Alpha's aura reflected her concern.

Beta shook her head. “She has enough problems with
self-image. Loading her down with the responsibility of salvaging some of our New Age beginnings will only tend to block her natural abilities, which are considerable. She has more raw talent than any student we've had in eons. I only wish she had more confidence in herself.”

“She's a born worrywart,” Gamma remarked, affection plain in his tone. “And in this case, ignorance is bliss.” The other two rolled their eyes heavenward at his archaic use of language. Gamma's interest in history affected his slang.

“Well, I only hope the child is tough enough for this assignment,” Beta remarked with a shudder. “The nineties aren't my idea of a pleasant decade to visit.”

Gamma snorted. “Sameh may look fragile, but don't lose sight of the fact that she's Kendra's great-grandchild. She has the same core of purity and steel running through her veins that her great-grandmother has. And Kendra's given her approval. She knows the girl better than any of us. She'd never have allowed us to mention it if she didn't feel Sameh was the person for the job.”

The others were silent. They knew, of course, that Gamma and Kendra were lifelong friends. If he and Kendra felt Sameh was equal to the challenges facing her, so be it.

All that remained was the tricky task of briefing Sameh without revealing to her the vast implications her assignment could have on the successful and peaceful evolution of all their ancestors into the New Age.

“O
H
, G
OD
, A
DAM
, that's wonderful, don't stop….”

Her eyes were shut tight, her pretty face contorted with the erotic sensations Adam was creating in her naked body.

“You're beautiful, honey.” Julie? Judy? He wasn't sure which, so he was careful to avoid calling her by name. “You're lovely, here, and here…and down here.”

“Oh, Adam…let me…I need to touch you, too….” She moaned and wriggled out from under him, running a fevered hand over the muscles rippling under the slickness of his sweat-soaked skin. “You're so strong, I adore your chest, all this hair…and this…”

She began using her teeth on his nipples, tugging gently but effectively. Sprawled on his back across the bed, Adam Hawkins let her explore his body with her clever mouth for several more minutes before he flipped her effortlessly beneath him and took control of the lovemaking.

A quick, unobtrusive glance at the bedside clock had told him he had exactly thirty-three more minutes before he needed to be back at the office. It was a fifteen-minute drive even in light traffic, and he was going to have to shower.

With the expertise of long practice, he brought her to climax in less than five minutes. Another two for his own release, with five left over for the necessary post mortem….

“Oh, God, honey, I felt that one all the way down to my toenails. You're sooo good at this, Adam. I never met a guy who could make me come this way right off, y'know? Es
pecially over and over like that.” She sighed and wriggled with satisfaction. “It usually takes a time or two, sorta getting used to each other, know what I mean?”

Adam nodded, hoping she was going to run down soon, but she took a deep breath and went right on, words spewing out of her mouth like soap bubbles. “I'm so glad you came over here when I asked you, I was kinda scared to, but I couldn't stand to be alone, not today. Where'd ya get all these scars from, anyway?”

She was beginning to bore him. “Old war wounds.”

She traced the raised line of jagged tissue on his side with a long scarlet nail. “From Vietnam? Boy, you musta been shot up good. How'd it happen?”

“Just bad luck. Out on patrol.” It was the simplest answer, even though it wasn't strictly true. To stop any further questions, he kissed her swollen lips and ran a hand down the luscious curves that had attracted him to her the first time she'd come to enlist the services of the firm.

She'd been about to marry a regular sleazeball with two convictions for battering women and three wants for non-payment of child support. It had taken Blue Knights exactly three days to come up with the guy's rap sheet. Adam had been with her when she confronted the dirtbag with the evidence, and he'd dared the lowlife to take a swing at him. Of course he hadn't, much to Adam's disappointment.

She'd been devastated at the collapse of her romance, the way they always were, and she'd also been the one to initiate the comfort Adam had been administering for the past two hours. That, too, was the way it usually worked.

He had twenty-one minutes left. Good thing he'd perfected the fastest shower in L.A. He gave her a last, lingering kiss. “Darlin', you're the best. Wish I could stay all afternoon,” he lied. “But I've got appointments, and the
secretary's leaving early.” He swung his legs free of the musk-scented sheets and stood up.

“Why not come over later? I'll fix us something for dinner. I make wonderful spaghetti sauce.” She gazed up at him, and something in her eyes set off warning bells in Adam's brain.

When they started offering to cook for you, it was past time to say goodbye. He'd perfected this part of it, too. He sat down again beside her and took her hand. “Look, darlin'. I'm going to be up front with you here. This afternoon's been great, but I'm a dead loss when it comes to relationships.”

Her lips trembled, and Adam hoped to God she wasn't going to cry. Why the hell did they have to cry? Jeez, he'd known her less than a week.

“You're a beautiful, special kind of lady,” he told her gently, looking deep into her eyes. “You deserve a guy who'll give you everything you need and want, and I'm not him. See, baby, I'm a loner. I'm selfish as hell and not reliable, pushing forty and not about to change at this late stage in my life. I can't promise any tomorrows, so I figure it's best if we don't see each other again. I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you, and you're way too good for a shabby ride like that.”

She pouted and argued and pleaded, which made Adam despise himself and her, as well, but by the time he left, she'd accepted it.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he loped down the stairs and out into the fierce California sunshine. The leather seat in his red convertible burned through the lightweight fabric of his trousers, and he swore under his breath as he tipped his sunglasses down over his eyes and wheeled into traffic.

Eight minutes left. He was going to be late, and Bernie wasn't in the office to cover for him. He'd have to ask
Janice to stay until he got there, and she was going to give him the worst side of her bitter tongue. He cursed under his breath as he dialed the mobile. He must be getting old. These “working” lunches weren't as much of a kick as they once had been.

Forty minutes and one traffic violation later, he strode into the impressive offices Blue Knights had taken over when the celebrity security business had started bringing in big money. As far as Adam was concerned, he still got nostalgic for the tiny hole-in-the-wall joint he and Bernie had rented when they started out, but even he had to concede that in Los Angeles, appearance was everything.

He shot the secretary a look that had served to intimidate the local Mafia, but Janice Monk just sniffed and gave him the slightly contemptuous, knowing once-over she'd perfected during the eighteen months she'd worked for Blue Knights. “It's about time you turned up, boss man. I believe I told you I have a dentist appointment this afternoon. I was supposed to leave at two-thirty and it's after three. I'm billing you triple time because the dentist is going to charge me for being late. He happens to have an opening now, but I hope you realize you've disrupted everyone's schedule.”

She gave him a long, accusing glare. “Ms. Temple's in your office. I brought her Perrier and ice and she asked where the gin was so I got it out for her. The file on Delilah McDonell's on the desk—Temple works for her, remember? There's lipstick on the collar of your shirt, just on the right side. I certainly hope you're practicing safe sex, boss,” she went on without a break, ignoring the lethal look he shot her. “You been tested recently? Even condoms aren't foolproof, you know.”

Son of a bitch, he ought to fire her. She'd been getting under his skin with smart cracks like that one since the day Bernie took her on. Trouble was, she now knew more about
the day-to-day details of running the business than he and Bernie combined, and she was utterly reliable. Also smart. A few times she'd come up with ideas that were, he hated to admit, brilliant.

And she was safe. He'd taken one look at Janice Monk and known the two of them would never be sexually compatible, which was a great asset in somebody you were around every working day. It was relaxing.

Not that Janice was unattractive. She was twenty-eight, a little on the plump side, but plump could be downright sexy. Behind the half glasses she usually wore perched on the end of her nose, she had big brown eyes and a great deal of frizzy hair that changed color every few weeks. Just now it was a rich mahogany, and she'd tied a huge yellow polka-dot bow around it. She wore minis almost exclusively, and her legs were good. Excellent, in fact.

No, the reason he didn't want to take Janice to bed wasn't physical; it had to do with a certain way she had of looking at him that made him feel she could see some invisible side of him nobody else knew was there. She made it obvious she didn't particularly like what she saw. Which was fine with him; he appreciated honesty. They might still have gotten along fine if only Janice could keep her opinions about his private life to herself. The fact that she didn't made her a regular pain in the butt.

“I'm leaving right now. There were several messages for Bernie, and three for you. They're all on your desk.”

With a curt nod to her, he headed down the corridor to his office. The door was shut, and he stopped to take a deep breath and wipe the scowl off his face before he opened it.

The tall, bony woman sitting in his comfortable leather chair glanced toward him, nodded, then took another deep swallow of the colorless liquid in her glass. The bottle of gin was sitting in front of her, and he could smell the alcohol
despite the air-conditioning. She must have poured herself a good stiff shot.

“Violet, good to see you again.” He crossed the room and shook the clammy hand she offered, then sat down behind his desk, glancing down at the file Janice had placed on his desk blotter. Violet Temple worked as bookkeeper, chauffeur and sometimes cook for Delilah McDonell, one of Hollywood's aging but still legendary stars. Blue Knights had arranged celebrity security half a dozen times for Delilah, getting to know the members of her household in the process,

Adam had never been good at small talk, so he cut straight to business. “How can we help you, Violet? Your boss in need of security again?” Violet shook her head. Adam guessed her to be in her late forties, and she'd had her thick salt-and-pepper hair cut too short on top. She looked a bit like a basset hound with a brush cut, with her droopy, faded eyes, long-jawed face and prominent ears.

She drained her glass and set it carefully on the desk before she spoke. She had a voice that didn't match her appearance at all, a breathy, little-girl voice unfortunately modeled, Adam figured, on Monroe. He found it both irritating and incongruous.

“Delilah doesn't know I'm here and I don't want her to know. I want you people to do a special job for me, and I want it to be private. Confidential,” she said, barely above a whisper. She was obviously nervous, even after belting back a good few ounces of his gin. “I understand Blue Knights does private investigations as well as the security you provide for the stars?”

Adam nodded, wondering what the blazes Temple could have gotten herself into. Not a romance, surely, although you never knew. “We do a great deal of private investigation, most of it of a confidential nature,” he assured her.
“Want to tell me who it is you want investigated, and why?”

Violet's narrow mouth set in a grim line. “Her name's Sameh Smith,” Violet all but hissed. “Not plain old Sammy, you understand.
Sam-ay.
” She snorted disdainfully and then belched, patting her mouth with her fingers. “Oops. Excuse me. Delilah's secretary, Loretta? Well, she died, you know. Cancer. Almost three months ago, March fifteenth.”

Adam didn't know. Loretta had been a self-effacing wisp of a woman who made the arrangements for security over the telephone. He'd only met her a couple of times. He waited impatiently, hoping that Violet would link up these scattered bits of information so he could make some sort of sense of them.

“Anyhow, after Loretta died, Delilah hired this woman, this Smith woman, to take her place.” Violet sat forward in her chair, narrowing her eyes at him. “I warned her, there's something fishy about Smith, but once Delilah gets an idea in her head, there's no changing her mind.” Violet made a disparaging sound in her throat. “And I'm not the only one who doesn't like her, either. Mr. Wallace doesn't trust Sameh Smith any more than I do.”

So old Tyrone was still hanging in there, Adam reflected. Tyrone Wallace had been McDonell's live-in lover when Blue Knights did the last security stint, over a year ago now, and Adam had met him and liked him. Wallace was distinguished-looking, and if he was a little stuck on himself, what the hell. He'd been an actor, after all, and Adam had met enough actors to know they all had egos the size of the Goodyear blimp—particularly the ones like Wallace who hadn't been all that successful at it. Tyrone Wallace had given up acting and gone into selling investment securities or some such thing.

Adam didn't figure Wallace was busting his ass pounding the pavement as a salesman, though. He had it made with McDonell. She seemed to adore him, and God knew she had enough money to afford him. She wasn't acting much anymore, but she'd had three books on the bestseller lists for months at a time, and she was a big item on the lecture circuit, so she sure as hell wasn't hurting for money.

“What is it exactly that bothers you about Ms. Smith?” Apart from the fact that Delilah likes her and you're dead jealous, Adam mused.

“She's not what she pretends to be,” Violet snapped. Her breathy voice was giving way to a certain shrewishness. “Oh, she's one smart bimbo, I'll give her that, but I'm not as easily taken in as Delilah. She's up to no good, that one.”

Adam had to curb his impatience. “Anything more specific? Stealing the cutlery, poisoning the houseplants, little things like that?”

Violet glared at him. “There's her references, if you want to know. I tried to check the references she gave, and it turns out every single person on the list is either dead or senile. What are the chances of that happening? And when I brought it to Delilah's attention, she laughed at me.” Violet's lower lip quivered.

“You figure Smith had something to do with those deaths?”

Violet shook her head, but the gesture was reluctant. “I wouldn't go so far as to say that. I don't trust her, though.”

Adam persevered, bored but thorough. “You think she might do Delilah physical harm?”

Again, Violet shook her head. “Not physical exactly. But some other way. She's got some kind of power over Delilah. She knows all about that junk Delilah writes about, parapsychology and New Age and reincarnation, all that airy-
fairy stuff. They talk about it until it's like to drive me crazy. And things happen when she's around, odd things.”