Siren's Call (A Rainshadow Novel) (12 page)

She looked down the empty street. “It’s going to be a long walk out of this neighborhood.”

“We’ll use the tunnels.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

“More like half a plan. We’ll work on the other half after we’re underground.” He slung the makeshift sack of gear over one shoulder and started toward the door of the old nightclub. “But I’d like to get one thing clear between us going forward.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Next time we go out on a date, I’m driving.”

Rafe was in trouble—psi-fever trouble. Ella could sense it but she could also tell that this was not the time to question his ability to control the heat in his aura. No strong talent welcomed that kind of very personal inquiry, and in her experience, that usually went double for talents who happened to be of the male gender. It was right up there with questioning their manhood.

The critical thing at the moment was that Rafe appeared to be in control of his talent and the fever.

They made their way back downstairs into the nightclub’s cluttered basement and wove a path through the long-forgotten evidence of more prosperous days. Extra chairs, unopened cases of glassware, broken stage equipment, and empty liquor cartons littered the floor. Faded banners and decorative streamers celebrating New Year’s
Eve dangled from the ceiling. The date on the decorations was three decades earlier.

The entrance to the catacombs lay behind a door in the wall that sagged on its hinges.

She followed Rafe into another stairwell. This one featured a spiral staircase made of glowing green quartz that descended deep into the Underworld. The wide steps were designed for feet that were not quite human in shape.

Once inside the quartz stairwell, she breathed a small sigh of relief and opened her senses. The walls sang to her in elegant, exhilarating harmonies that originated far out on the paranormal spectrum. Other people experienced the catacombs as a slightly intoxicating, refreshing tonic that induced a certain buzz—frequently a buzz with sexual undertones. She got that effect, too, but she also heard the kind of music that no human-made instrument could ever produce.

The First Generation Colonists had been terrified of the tunnels with good reason. Until they had discovered how to use tuned amber to steer a path through the heavy-psi environment, the Underworld had been a lethal maze for humans. Like the vast oceans, the underground rainforest, and other natural hazards, the catacombs were still deadly for those who did not have proper navigational equipment.

At the foot of the staircase, Rafe checked his amber locator and turned left into an illuminated green hallway that was identical to the three other green corridors that branched off in various directions. Ella knew that he had selected coordinates for an exit.

“Any idea who wants you badly enough to risk grabbing you off the street?” he asked.

“Good heavens, no,” she said. “I’ve got some odd clients but none who would resort to kidnapping and attempted murder—at least, none that I know of. I’m very careful when it comes to clients.”

“Until me?”

His tone was a little too even.

“I was ready for dinosaurs—not kidnappers.”

“Yeah, same here. I keep thinking about those tattoos.”

“One of your competitors maybe?”

“The mining business can get rough,” Rafe said. “People play hardball. But I can’t see any of Coppersmith’s corporate competitors risking this kind of action. There is another, more likely possibility, however.”

“What?”

“I think those guys who tried to grab you tonight are probably linked to the crazies who have been sending us warnings about how Harmony will be doomed if we keep digging up Alien secrets.”

“The Do Not Disturb crowd?” She thought about that. “The Alien return whackjobs are certainly out there. But mostly they seem like harmless crackpots.”

“Until now, I’ve never heard of them using Alien tech to make their point, though. Hell, they’re against Alien tech.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone picked up the same weapon that the enemy is using,” Ella said.

“True. And there’s no question but that DND has been escalating lately. You know, I’d tell you to bail on the
contract but I’m not sure that would keep you safe. Not now. I’ve led the bastards straight to you. Even if you tear up the contract they might not leave you alone.”

“Which means there’s no point terminating our arrangement,” she said briskly. “I’m not going to pull out, Rafe. One thing has been bothering me, though.”

“Just one thing?”

She ignored that. “With the exception of the DND cult, most of the conspiracy buffs I’ve heard about are loners with no visible means of support. Whoever ambushed us tonight obviously has some serious financial backing—enough to put a fancy limo and a big Resonator on the street, not to mention all that high-end equipment those men were carrying. The bell, alone, is worth a fortune.”

“We’re dealing with someone who can afford some very expensive Alien toys.” Rafe paused. “It’s a damn good thing that you can suppress para-music frequencies.”

She glanced at him. “Can’t you?”

“No.”

“But you can activate Alien weapons,” she said. “You did it that day when the mob guy, Trent, and his enforcers tried to kill us. You fired the artifact as if it were a gun. You channeled that energy.”

“I can rez the trigger of a pistol, too. But I can’t stop the bullet once it’s been fired.”

“Oh, I see what you mean.”

“Being able to rez Alien tech is not exactly a common ability, but it’s not all that rare.” Rafe glanced at her. “Can you do it?”

“No. I can send out dampening wavelengths to
suppress the paranormal forces in Alien tech but I can’t channel those forces and focus them the way you can. I’m a singer, not an Intuitive Power Channeler. That’s what you are, isn’t it? Technically speaking?”

“That’s what I was.”

“Why the past tense?”

“Things change,” Rafe said.

She might not be a high-level intuitive talent, but she could tell when someone had just shut down a conversation.

“What happened to those two Alien weapons that Vickary was trying to sell?” she asked. “They didn’t show up in the media accounts of the big bust.”

“Currently they’re in a special underground vault at FBPI headquarters.”

“Ah-hah. So, at least some of the conspiracy theories in the
Curtain
are right.”

Rafe glanced at her. “What?”

“Never mind.”

“Both of those men in the Resonator had to put on some sort of earphones before they used the bell. What do you think that was all about?”

“I think it’s safe to say that they needed the earphones to shield them from the effects of the weapon.” She looked at the makeshift sack Rafe was carrying. “That gear you confiscated might provide some clues. Stuff that sophisticated came out of a high-end lab.”

“True. I’m damn sure it wasn’t one of ours. But every para-tech engineer leaves his or her unique psychic prints, just like computer programmers leave their prints on their code. With luck our research people will be able to take
these earphones apart and come up with a way to trace them back to whoever created them.”

“It seems to me that the real question here isn’t how those two were able to shield themselves from the effects of the bell,” Ella said. “It’s how did they activate it in the first place? I don’t think either one of them was a music talent. If that were the case they wouldn’t have had to use the headphones.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Same is true if they’d had my old talent. They wouldn’t have needed protection from the energy waves because they would have been channeling them. You know, if someone has discovered a way for the average bad guy to rez Alien tech, the FBPI, the police, and the Guilds are going to be facing some serious new problems on the streets.”

“That is not a cheery thought.”

“No, it’s not.” Rafe tightened his grip on the shirt sack. “The last thing we need are a bunch of thugs armed with Alien weapons. It’s hard enough to control illegal activity in the Underworld now.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I doubt if the man who used the bell on us could have kept the power surge going for long—a couple of minutes at most.”

“But long enough to force a person to surrender.”

“Or kill him.”

“Without a trace,” Rafe mused. “The perfect murder weapon. Most experts are aware that death by Alien tech is theoretically possible, but proving it in a court of law is usually impossible, at least with current forensic science.”

They arrived in a high-ceilinged rotunda with several
intersecting corridors. Rafe checked his locator and chose a tunnel.

“I assume you have a specific destination in mind,” Ella said. “There are hidden holes-in-the-wall scattered all over the city, but the main gate—the one guarded by the Guild—is inside the Great Wall.”

“That won’t work for us,” Rafe said. “We don’t know who is after us or what Guild connections they might have. We have to assume that whoever set us up tonight will be watching all the obvious locations where we might be expected to show up. That includes the private airfield where the Coppersmith jet is waiting.”

“That’s a depressing thought,” she said. “I suppose our next move will be to call in the FBPI.”

“You really don’t like the Bureau, do you?”

“Nothing personal. The problem is, the Bureau tends to be innately suspicious of people like me.”

“Off-the-charts talents.”

“Specifically, off-the-charts talents the Bureau thinks are potentially dangerous,” Ella said. “I’ve been living with my secret ever since I came into my para-senses. My family has been living with it, too. I’ve got a career to protect. The bottom line is that I don’t want to end up on a watch list.”

“I never told anyone that you were a Siren,” Rafe said, a grim edge on the words. “But I’ve got some bad news for you.”

A frisson of panic zapped her nerves and her senses. “Please don’t tell me—”

“The head of the Crystal City FBPI has some suspicions
concerning your talent based on what happened at that wedding.”

“Oh, damn.
Damn
.” She clenched her hand around her little purse. “Joe Harding has been watching me?”

“From a distance,” Rafe added hurriedly.

“Damn.” She shot him a quick look. “How long have you known?”

“I just found out today when I dropped by his office to see him. He asked why I was in town. I said I had come to Crystal to hire you. He warned me that he suspected you might be a full-on Siren.”

She wanted to hurl something at the nearest wall but all she had available was her small evening bag.

“Damn,”
she said. Again.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said. He watched her with an expression that contained a mix of sympathy and wariness.

She sighed. “It’s not your fault.”

“Joe’s suspicions were fueled by the fact that you moved up so fast in the business world.”

“Do you believe my story?”

“I admit I had a few questions at first,” he said. “But I believe it now.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered.

“Are you sure you don’t want to terminate our contract?”

She glared at him. “Do you want me to terminate it?”

“No. I need you and I don’t know anyone else who can do the job. But it’s obvious you’re a little upset.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said. “I’m not upset, I’m stone-cold furious. There’s a difference.”

“Right. But not mad enough to end our arrangement.”

“It wouldn’t make any difference as far as my problems with the Bureau are concerned.”

“True,” he agreed.

She gave him a steely smile. “From the sound of things, I need you as much as you need me. Nothing like having Coppersmith Mining on my list of clients to give me some credibility in case the FBPI comes calling.”

Rafe thought about that. “Good point. We’ll have your back.”

“Fine. In that case we’ve still got a deal.”

“Good.” Rafe exhaled slowly. “That said, I don’t think we’ll contact the local office of the Bureau or anyone else here in Crystal City.”

“I’m delighted to hear that, of course.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I need to ask, why not?”

“Too many people are aware that I hired you today. We don’t know who sent those guys with the bad tats and this isn’t the time to find out.”

“Sounds like you may be working on a conspiracy theory.”

“Maybe. Bottom line is that I can’t afford any more delays. I want to get you to safety, which means that we need the second half of that plan you were asking about.”

“Got the second half?”

“I think so. To begin with, we’re going to stay out of sight until we get clear of Crystal City. Once we’re airborne and on our way to Rainshadow, I can dump the problem of the tattoo crowd into the lap of Coppersmith Security. You and I can focus on the singing dinos.”

“Okay.”

“I sense a lack of enthusiasm.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a better plan.”

“Definitely a lack of enthusiasm.”

“Don’t read too much into my response. I’m not at my enthusiastic best at the moment.” She gave up on the stiletto heels and came to a halt. “Hang on.”

She stepped out of the shoes and carried them, dangling, by the thin heel straps.

She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that her hair had come undone in the course of the mad scramble to avoid the kidnappers. Somewhere along the line she had lost her wrap. The center back seam of her skirt had ripped several inches up her thigh and now she was barefoot.