Silver Master (6 page)

No wonder Celinda had been so anxious not to get involved in Guild business. She'd been badly burned by a high-ranking Guild man.

He did a quick search on Benson Landry. It was no surprise that Landry fit the profile of most of the ghost hunters at the top of the Guilds: a strong dissonance-energy para-rez talent, extremely ambitious, hints of ruthlessness, and enough gaps in the record to indicate that he had some secrets.

Davis looked at Max. “Wonder what the hell she saw in him.”

HE HATED THIS GREEN HELL, BUT IT WAS THE PERFECT HID
ing place for the gun. He pushed it inside the small grotto and covered it with a few leaves and palm fronds. The foliage was green, but not the natural-looking green you saw on the surface. Everything down here in the underground rain forest was a weird shade of iridescent green, like the luminous quartz that had been used to construct the catacombs. Even the artificial sunlight was an eerie green.

It wasn't just the colors in the jungle that were strange. Most of the flora and fauna bore a vague resemblance to the plants and wildlife on the surface of Harmony, but down here evolution, modified by the underground environment, alien engineering, and the constant presence of a lot of ambient psi had produced several startling twists and turns.

The experts theorized that the aliens had engineered the belowground ecosystem because the one aboveground was toxic to their kind. It was clear that the aliens had never been at home on the surface of Harmony. They had evidently lived most of their lives in the vast maze of tunnels and chambers they had built beneath the surface. When they had fashioned cityscapes aboveground, they had surrounded them with massive green quartz walls. It was believed that the psi energy given off by the quartz and by something here in the jungle had been an antidote to whatever it was that had been dangerous to them aboveground.

He surveyed his handiwork and was satisfied. The gun was well-concealed, but it would be easily available if he needed it again in the future.

He hurried quickly through a stand of tall fern trees. It made him nervous to get out of eyesight of the gate. He had an amber-rez compass with him, but they were not infallible down here where vast currents of psi energy called ghost rivers could distort the delicate devices. He had a great fear of getting lost in the jungle.

The hot, humid atmosphere was almost smothering. It would rain soon.

A large green bird took flight directly in front of him, startling him so badly he cried out. The creature flapped madly, shrieking its annoyance, and then disappeared into the heavy green canopy overhead.

The constant din of birdcalls and mysterious rustlings in the undergrowth rattled his nerves. He was terrified of snakes and insects. While thus far no species down here had been identified as lethal to humans, that didn't mean they didn't exist. Exploration of the jungle had barely begun. The Guilds were still in the process of trying to find the special kind of psi talents who could open gates to the rain forest. To date only a handful had been discovered.

The gate he used was not one that had been opened under the auspices of the Guild. It was not listed on any official chart. The six-foot-tall hole had been created for him by one of his street clinic patients who happened to possess the unusual type of para-rez talent needed to access the rain forest. The junkie had suffered a most unfortunate overdose once he had finished the job. But what could you expect of an addict?

He hurried through the opening, breathing easier once he was outside in the green quartz corridor. It always amazed him that nothing from the rain forest followed him through the gate. There was not so much as a stray leaf or twig or insect on the glowing green floor of the tunnel. The gates all seemed to generate invisible and, to most humans, undetectable energy barriers that kept the jungle contained.

He walked quickly toward a quartz staircase, adjusting the cuffs of his immaculately tailored white shirt. Even if the police did somehow manage to connect him to the shooting and even if they figured out that he had concealed the weapon in the rain forest, they would never be able to find it. There was no way it could ever be used as evidence against him in a court of law.

Of course, that still left the Cadence Guild. Alvis Shaw had warned him that Mercer Wyatt had hired an investigator to search for the relic. It was no secret that the Guilds did not always feel it necessary to honor the legal niceties when it came to hunting down those who stole from their vaults.

But he was safe. He had been careful. And he was infinitely more intelligent than any Guild man.

Nevertheless, he now had a serious problem. Things had gone terribly wrong last night. He was a brilliant para-psychiatrist, an expert on reading people, but for some reason he simply hadn't expected a low-end, drug-addicted thief like Alvis Shaw to double-cross him. The bastard had actually threatened to set up an auction and sell the relic to the highest bidder. He'd had no choice but to kill Shaw. It wasn't as if he hadn't intended to get rid of him anyway, once he took possession of the relic.

The realization that he had a disaster on his hands had hit when he searched the dying man. Shaw hadn't had the relic on him.

Even as Shaw lay dying, his blood running across the alley bricks, the bastard had laughed.

“Hid it in the antique shop last night. Seemed like the perfect place. Didn't think anyone would notice it, not with all that other junk piled around it. But it's gone. You're screwed, man. You'll never find it now.”

He had torn the antique shop apart, hoping that Shaw had lied to him when he had claimed that the relic was gone. But in the end he had been forced to conclude that the thief had told him the truth.

He had no choice now. Against his own professional judgment he would have to use another patient from the street clinic. The man he had in mind was a former ghost hunter who had been badly psi-burned and was now heavily medicated. The patient was extremely fragile, but that condition had the advantage of making him easier to control than Shaw had been.

He climbed the staircase, aware that he was still shivering. It was a perfectly normal reaction to a highly stressful situation, he assured himself. He was a doctor. He should know.

ARAMINTA WAS WAITING FOR CELINDA WHEN SHE GOT
back to her apartment. The dust bunny was sitting on the railing of the small balcony that overlooked the Old Quarter. She was fully fluffed, with only her innocent blue eyes showing. There was no sign of the red artifact.

Celinda yanked open the sliding glass door, scooped her up, and looked her in the eye.

“Where have you been? Are you all right? You scared the you know what out of me. You've never acted like that before.”

Araminta chattered cheerfully and hopped up onto her shoulder. Celinda reached up to pet her. “Don't ever do that again, okay? It's very hard on the nerves.”

Araminta muttered reassuringly.

“You hid that relic somewhere, didn't you? I hope you realize that Davis Oakes isn't going to leave us alone until he gets his hands on that thing.”

Araminta displayed a vast amount of unconcern. She made hopeful little noises. Celinda recognized them immediately.

“You're hungry again, aren't you? Well, this time I'm not surprised. No telling how long you've been running around. Probably worked off lunch. Let's go see what's left in the refrigerator.”

Dusk had begun to overtake the Old Quarter. The Dead City wall was starting to glow faintly. When darkness fell, the ambient luminescence would infuse the surrounding neighborhoods with a pale emerald radiance. Celinda thought of it as a permanent nightlight.

She gave Araminta another pat. Together they went back inside the apartment and into the little kitchen. Most of the apartments in the Old Quarter were small, and this one was no exception. The buildings had all been constructed during the Colonial era. The First Generation colonists had built their original structures in the shadows of the ancient walls that surrounded each of the four Dead Cities that had been discovered: Old Cadence, Old Resonance, Old Frequency, and Old Crystal.

Over the years, as the new human cities had grown and expanded into the surrounding countrysides the Old Quarter had fallen into decay and disrepair. Many of the neighborhoods with their tight, cramped streets and dark, looming buildings had become home to derelicts, prostitutes, and the down and out.

Although gentrification had begun in certain sections, you could still get a cheap apartment in the Quarter. That fact had figured heavily into Celinda's decision to rent in the neighborhood. She had been on a very tight budget when she moved to Cadence to start over. But it wasn't cost alone that had brought her to the Quarter. Like most strong para-rez talents, her senses responded pleasantly to the gentle ambient psi that leaked out of the ancient city.

She opened the door of the refrigerator. Together she and Araminta surveyed the contents. There was a large wedge of leftover lasagna, some salad greens, a carton of milk, and a half-empty bottle of wine.

Araminta displayed great interest in the lasagna.

“Well, I was going to have that for my dinner, but since it looks like I'm eating out tonight, whether I like it or not, you can have the lasagna,” Celinda said.

She spooned the lasagna into Araminta's plate on the floor and then went into the bedroom and opened the closet. Her social life had been nonexistent since the debacle in Frequency. She hadn't been inspired to shop for anything more interesting than extremely conservative business suits.

Her choices tonight were limited to two possibilities. The very pink dress sheathed in clear plastic did not count. She was quite certain that once she wore it for her sister's wedding, she would never wear it again. Pink was not her color.

She contemplated instead the classic little black dress hanging at the back. It was long-sleeved and had a demure neckline. The last time it had been worn was at a funeral. She pondered it for a long moment. According to
Ten Steps to a Covenant Marriage
, black was always safe. Furthermore, on a first date
elegant
was the watchword, not
provocative
.

On the other hand, there was a fine line between elegant and dull, and as Davis had made clear, this wasn't exactly the start of a Covenant Marriage courtship.

She pushed aside a couple of jackets and studied option number two, a sleek, dark violet number with a deep, off-the-shoulder cowl neckline that could only be described as provocative.

Number two was probably not a good idea. Regardless of how it had started out, this was not a real date.

But a strange recklessness seemed to have replaced her usual good sense. What the heck, the relic was his problem, not hers. This was the first time she'd been out to dinner with a man in months, and she intended to enjoy it, even if she was breaking all the rules.

She headed for the shower, stripping off her clothes.

 

AN HOUR LATER SHE INSERTED THE SECOND OF A PAIR OF
amber earrings into her ears and stood back to survey the results in the mirror. In spite of the stern lecture she had given herself in the shower, she could not suppress the little thrill of anticipation that shivered through her.

“Think the neckline is too low?” she asked Araminta.

Araminta was perched on the dresser in front of the mirror, playing with a shiny tube of lipstick. She looked up at the sound of Celinda's voice and made what Celinda took to be an approving noise.

“I'm not sure.” Celinda leaned forward, studying the drape of the fluid fabric of the cowl neckline in the mirror. There were lots of deep shadows and some cleavage, but on the whole, everything still looked decent.

“The earrings may be a little too much,” she said to Araminta. “If there's a fine line between elegant and boring, the line between sexy and slutty is even thinner. What do you think?”

The doorbell rezzed. Araminta bounced up and down, dropped the lipstick, and hopped up onto Celinda's bare shoulder. Celinda could feel four of the dust bunny's six paws gripping her bare skin.

“Watch the claws,” she said. The warning was probably unnecessary. Araminta had never scratched her, not even by accident.

The night was warm and humid. There was no need for a wrap. She stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals and went down the short hall to answer the door.

Araminta was chortling exuberantly now, scarcely able to contain herself.

“Sheesh,” Celinda muttered. “If you like Oakes so much, why did you run off with his relic?”

Araminta ignored the question, of course. But her eagerness was plain.

Celinda stopped in front of the door to check the security peephole.

Her pulse kicked up immediately at the sight of Davis standing on the other side. He looked as if he had just walked straight out of the heart of midnight in a pair of black trousers, an elegantly casual black jacket, and a black shirt undone at the collar. The only touches of color were his amber cuff links and the amber face of his watch.

But the really startling accessory was the big ball of blue-eyed lint sitting on his shoulder. That explained Araminta's excitement. She had sensed the other dust bunny.

Astonished, Celinda opened the door. “No wonder you know so much about dust bunnies,” she said.

“This is Max,” Davis said.

Max and Araminta made small, welcoming noises at each other and blinked their daylight eyes.

Celinda stood back to allow Davis and Max into the tiny front hall. Her astonishment gave way to deep suspicion. “Did you bring Max because you think he can find the artifact that Araminta hid?”

“No,” Davis said. “That's not why I brought him along tonight.”

“Why, then?” she asked, still wary.

He smiled faintly. “Thought that since you and I are going to be busy, he might like to make friends with Araminta. I doubt if Verdigris welcomes critters. Figured we could leave these two in the car while we eat.”

Araminta made more small, squeaky sounds. Max responded in kind.

“Well, they do seem to like each other,” Celinda said, still a little uneasy about the situation. “How did you find Max?”

“He found me. Started coming around my back door a few months ago after I got out of the—” Davis broke off abruptly. “Made the mistake of feeding him. Next thing I knew, he had moved in.”

“That was pretty much how it was with Araminta and me. Got a hunch dust bunnies choose the people they want to attach themselves to for reasons we'll probably never figure out.”

“Mysterious dust bunny thing,” he agreed. He surveyed the cowl neckline with masculine approval. “Great dress.”

She blushed a little. “Thanks. Nice jacket.”

“Thanks.”

There was a short pause. Celinda tried to think of what to say or do next. Now that the rules against wearing a provocative dress and allowing a date to pick you up at your home had been broken, things were getting murky fast. She was definitely on a slippery slope, but she had to admit it was exciting.

“Ready?” Davis asked.

“Yes.” She picked up the small clutch purse on the hall table and followed him out onto the landing. She paused to rez the lock and then dropped her key into the purse.

They went downstairs into the tiny front hall. Mrs. Furnell's front door snapped open right on cue. Betty Furnell peered out. She was dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants and matching top, snappy pink running shoes, and a lot of oversized jewelry that she had purchased from the shopping channel. Her white hair was severely permed into a helmet shape, and her round face was illuminated with avid curiosity.

She gave Davis a not-so-discreet once-over before pinning Celinda with feigned innocence.

“Oh, hello, dear.” She hoisted the small plastic sack she held in one hand. “I was just on my way to empty the garbage.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Furnell.” Celinda hesitated and then decided she had no option but to introduce Davis. “This is Mr. Oakes.”

Davis offered his hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Furnell.”

Betty shook his hand vigorously. “I see you've got one of those little dust bunny beasts, too. Cute little devils.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He looked at the plastic sack. “Would you like me to take that out to the trash bin for you?”

“Heavens no, wouldn't dream of it, not with you all dressed up so nice like that.”

“Then, if you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way. We've got reservations.”

“Have a lovely time,” Betty said.

“We will,” he assured her.

Celinda was startled by the unmistakably possessive way he took her arm, opened the front door, and escorted her outside onto the sidewalk.

“I'm guessing that's your alibi for last night?” he asked, sounding amused. “The landlady who can vouch for the fact that you were at home alone between midnight and three
AM
?”

“Mrs. Furnell doesn't miss a thing that goes on around here.”

“Yeah, I got that impression. Does she greet all your dates that way?”

“I have no idea. You're the first date I've had since I moved here to Cadence.”

“Hard to believe.”

She wasn't sure how to take that, so she let it go.

“How long have you been in town?” he asked, opening the door of a sleek, black Phantom 3000.

“Four months.” Celinda got into the car. Now, why did her intuition tell her that he already knew the answer to that question? Maybe it was that subtle little pulse in his psi waves.

The passenger seat cradled her like a leather-clad lover. Araminta hopped from her shoulder onto the back of the seat. Davis closed the door and went around the front of the vehicle.

Surreptitiously, Celinda inhaled the unmistakable smell of expensive car and tried not to appear impressed. The security consulting business obviously paid well, she decided. Whatever else he was, Davis was no ordinary PI.

When he got in beside her, however, she was suddenly very aware of just how close and intimate the interior of the Phantom was.

“Where did you live before you came here?” Davis asked, rezzing the engine.

No doubt about it, she was being interrogated. Well, he was a private investigator after all. She must not forget that.

“Frequency City,” she said, cooling her tone a little.

“I'm just making conversation. That's what you're supposed to do on a date, isn't it?” He eased the Phantom away from the curb. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm getting the impression that you would prefer not to talk about your life in Frequency.”

“Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. The thing is, I have to go back to Frequency tomorrow to attend a wedding, and I am not looking forward to it.”

“Whose wedding?”

“My sister's. Big Covenant affair. You know the drill, I'm sure.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She noticed that his jaw had gone very rigid.

“I'm the maid of honor,” she said.

“I would have thought that a professional matchmaker would enjoy attending weddings.”

This was a first date, and there was a very real possibility that there might never be another. No need to put a damper on things by dredging up her sordid past. She gave him a high-rez smile.

“You'd understand if you saw the dress,” she said.

“What dress?”

“The one I have to wear.”

He flashed her a quick, curious glance. “What's wrong with it?”

“It's pink. The whole wedding is going to be pink. It's my sister's favorite color.”

“Got it. Other than the fact that there's a major pink theme going, you're okay with the wedding? This isn't one of those nightmare scenarios where your sister is marrying your ex-boyfriend or anything, is it?”

“Absolutely not. My sister is marrying a wonderful man. I matched them, myself. It's just that it's going to be a little awkward going back to Frequency.”

“Why?”

“The usual story,” she said, trying to sound at ease. “I don't have a date for the wedding. You know how it will be. Everyone will start trying to play matchmaker. It's particularly awkward when you're the expert.”