Fired Up

  “But that didn’t happen with Jack.”

  “Miss Knight suggests, and I’m inclined to agree, that outcome is likely the result of the genetic mutation created in Nicholas Winters all those years ago when the lamp was first used on him. You see, the Burning Lamp accomplishes, essentially, the same thing that the formula does. It opens up the channels between the dreamstate and the waking state. But when the lamp was first used it evidently affected Nicholas’s DNA. Certain of his descendants, including Griffin Winters and Jack Winters, evidently inherited a genetic ability to access the power of the dreamstate naturally. They don’t need the formula. From her reading of the Pyne journal, Miss Knight was convinced that age was a factor.”

  “Jack is thirty-six.”

  “Indeed. Miss Knight believed that if Jack had inherited the altered DNA the changes would have begun to manifest by now.”

  Outrage pulsed through her, as hot as the fever.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You and this Miss Knight kidnapped Jack Winters and injected him with the formula to see if he was immune. After he escaped you sat back and waited to see what would happen to him. As far as you were concerned, he was just an experiment.”

  “Quite,” Hulsey said cheerfully. “And a very interesting one, I must say. Following the escape we concluded that Winters was not only immune, he had, indeed, developed an additional talent. We agreed that there was no other way he could have overcome the guard. Miss Knight established a twenty-four-hour surveillance on Winters’s residence. When he did not emerge for a few days, we thought that perhaps the experiment had failed. But when he finally did come out it was clear that he was in excellent shape.”

  “Except for the blackouts.”

  Hulsey frowned again. “What blackouts?”

  She stopped breathing for a few seconds, trying not to show any reaction. If Hulsey did not know about the blackouts, it could only mean one thing: The watchers Jack had frightened into looking the other way when he had gone sleepwalking had never seen him. They didn’t know that he had found his way back to the gym where he had been held captive.

  She cleared her throat. “I just assumed that there would be blackouts, given the mix of the sedative and the formula.”

  Hulsey relaxed and chuckled. “Not at all. Winters is proof that the lamp can be used to stabilize the channels between the dreamstate and the waking state. It represents a huge advance over the formula. I must admit that I was very intrigued. The next step, of course, was to acquire the lamp and a strong dreamlight reader. Miss Knight was just starting to orchestrate such a search when, to our surprise, Winters himself contacted a certain private investigator who just happened to be a high-level dreamlight reader.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Indeed, Miss Harper.”

  “When you realized that Jack was searching for the lamp, the two of you waited to see if we would find it.”

  “Well, Miss Knight had not had any luck on her own, and there is that old legend, you know, the one that holds that only a strong dreamlight reader can find the lamp.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that you believe in myths and legends, Hulsey. Not exactly a scientific approach, is it?”

  “Normally I would not give such a tale any credence, but in this case I made an exception. We are talking about a paranormal artifact, after all, one infused with a massive amount of dreamlight. It is entirely logical that a person with your unusual kind of talent would have an affinity for the lamp and, therefore, a better shot at locating it. Be that as it may, the plan worked.”

  “Except that your people failed in their attempt to steal the lamp. It’s now in Arcane hands.”

  Hulsey chuckled. “Not any longer.”

  She gripped the edge of the gurney. “What do you mean?”

  “The Burning Lamp was recovered from the Arcane vault yesterday and is now in our possession.”

  She was trying to wrap her brain around that disheartening news when another low moan sounded through the thin wall.

  “Can’t you do anything for him?” she pleaded.

  “No, Miss Harper, I can’t.” Hulsey gave her a beatific smile. “Only you can save him.”

  49

  “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, IT’S GONE?” PHONE CRUSHED in one fist, Jack used his other hand to rip open his office door. “It was in an Arcane vault. It was supposed to be safe there.”

  “I told you, Zack and I have suspected for some months now that Arcane has been infiltrated on several levels.” Fallon’s voice was a growl. Tension and weariness pulsed in each word. “It’s possible that one of the Nightshade people works in the L.A. museum and has access to the vault.”

  Jack went out into the hall, moving fast. “Great. You’re hiring Nightshade operatives off the street to work in the Society’s museums. Why not just take out an ad in the paper? Psychic sociopaths wanted. Excellent benefits.”

  “In the past the Society hasn’t had the time or personnel to conduct anything more than routine background checks on low-ranking employees. I keep telling you, J&J is not some secret government agency with unlimited funding. I’m one man trying to run the whole damn show.”

  Jack reached the elevator and leaned on the call button.

  “I don’t have time to listen to your excuses, Jones.”

  “What’s going on? You sound like you’re working out. Are you on a treadmill or something?”

  “No. I’m trying to get out of the building. It’s a high-rise. I’m waiting for the damned elevator.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Before I called you, I called Chloe’s office. She never returned from her three o’clock appointment with a client. She’s not answering her phone.”

  “Shit.”

  “Took the word right out of my mouth.”

  The elevator doors opened. He cut the connection, got inside and rode the cab down to the basement parking garage.

  He made record time to the address on Mercer Island. Hector was inside Chloe’s car, howling like a lost soul. When he saw Jack he ceased abruptly and waited, ears sharply pricked, every muscle taut, while Jack got the door open. Once free, he bounded out onto the pavement and charged up the walk to the entrance of the big house. He started barking wildly and clawed at the door, leaving deep grooves in the white paint.

  The door opened just as Jack went up the front step. An elegant-looking woman in her early seventies appeared. Hector surged past her and disappeared into the house.

  “What on earth?” The woman stared at Jack, mouth open, eyes widening with alarm.

  She started to close the door. Jack got a foot in the opening.

  “Mrs. Rollins?”

  “I’m Barbara Rollins. Who are you?”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Jack Winters. I’m a friend of Chloe Harper. She had an appointment with you at three today. She never returned to her office. I’m trying to find her.”

  “Miss Winters?” Barbara Rollins frowned in confusion. “Yes, I did have an appointment. Miss Harper arrived right on time. I remember now. But she left. I don’t understand.”

  “Her car is still parked at the curb. Her dog was inside. He was howling.”

  “I heard a dog. I was going to call animal control.” Barbara paused. Anxiety tightened her features. “But for some reason, I never got around to it. Every time I went to look for the phone number I got a headache.”

  “May I come in, Mrs. Rollins?”

  “No, I don’t know you.”

  Hector started barking again. He was somewhere at the rear of the house.

  Barbara flinched.

  “The dog,” Jack said gently. “I should get him.”

  He used a small pulse of nightmare psi to make her nervous.

  “Yes, the dog,” Barbara said uneasily. “I can’t have him running around my house.”

  Jack eased his way into the front hall. He found Hector at the sliding glass doors that overlooked the lake. When Ja
ck opened the slider for him he rushed outside, charged across the garden and halted on the boat dock.

  Once again he started to howl. Jack went out onto the dock and put his hand on the dog’s head. Hector quieted. Together they looked at the empty dock.

  “They took her away by boat,” Jack said.

  50

  LARRY BROWN COULD NOT HAVE BEEN MORE THAN EIGHTEEN years old, and he was dying. A bulked-up hunter held open the door of the small room. Chloe took one step inside and halted. She thought she had been prepared, but she was, nonetheless, truly horrified. She hugged herself against the chills wracking her body.

  “Dear heaven,” she whispered. “How could you do this to him? He’s just a kid.”

  Brown was lying on a gurney, leather restraints on his wrists and ankles. He was flushed with fever. His eyes were squeezed shut against the fluorescent light. The sound of her soft voice sent a shudder through him. He whimpered.

  Hulsey followed her into the room and assumed a pedantic air. “Subject A has had four doses of the newest version of my formula, the same amount that was given to Jack Winters. We halted the drug last night. Dream psi is now spilling chaotically across his senses. He is not yet insane, but he soon will be unless you can save him with the lamp.”

  “That’s impossible,” she said quietly. It required everything she had to control her rage, but this was not the time to lose her temper. Hulsey might be quite mad, but he was, nevertheless, a scientist. Her only hope was that he would listen to reason. “I don’t think the lamp will work on anyone else the way it did on Jack. Only someone with his level and type of talent can handle the power.”

  “Nonsense,” Hulsey snapped. For the first time he appeared annoyed. “Power is power. Subject A was initially a Level Three on the Jones Scale but he has received enough of the formula to elevate him to a seven. That should be more than enough to handle the radiation from the lamp.”

  She bit back another argument. No one, including mad scientists, evidently, was immune to becoming obsessed with a theory. Hulsey was wrong, she was sure of it, but she knew that he was not going to listen to her.

  Hulsey turned to the guard. “We’re ready for the lamp.”

  “Yes, Dr. Hulsey.”

  Chloe went to stand beside the gurney. “Can you hear me, Larry?”

  She was careful to keep her voice as low and soothing as possible. Even so, Larry Brown shivered. His senses were in such chaos now that any type of stimulation was no doubt extremely painful. He did not speak, but he opened his eyes a little and looked up at her. She saw that he was drowning in fever and terror. Very gently she touched his bound hand. He jerked in response. His lips parted in a silent scream. She maintained the light contact and cautiously opened her senses.

  The shock of energy that snapped and crackled across her senses was almost more than she could stand in her feverish, weakened condition. Larry Brown’s dreamlight was a dark storm of unstable psi. She managed to stay on her feet, but she had to grip the gurney rail to steady herself.

  Another wave of outrage slashed through her when she saw the ravaging effects the formula had produced. Larry was well beyond being able to distinguish between his dreamscape and reality. He was living in a nightmare world.

  There were voices at the door of the room. She looked up and saw two men. One of them was the hunter who had gone to fetch the lamp. He had it tucked under his thick arm.

  The second man looked like a standard-issue corporate suit. He could have been an executive at an investment company. Rain dripped from his expensive coat. He wasn’t bulked up like the bodybuilder hunters, but there was an air of powerful energy about him. Her senses were still open. She glanced down at his footprints. They burned with unstable, acidic fire. Whoever he was, he was taking the Nightshade drug.

  “I see you were able to make it here in time for the experiment, after all, Mr. Nash,” Hulsey said. He sounded sullen, even annoyed.

  “There’s a storm in Portland,” Nash said coldly. “My plane was delayed. I told you I wanted to be on hand when you ran the test on the lamp. Why didn’t you wait until you were certain I could get here?”

  “There wasn’t a moment to lose,” Hulsey said. “Subject A is failing rapidly. Another hour or two and it might well be too late to intervene with the lamp.”

  There was no love lost between these two, Chloe thought, or even respect. Hulsey clearly despised Nash and, just as obviously, Nash could barely tolerate Hulsey. It was a marriage of convenience.

  Nash examined Chloe for a few seconds. He did not appear impressed. She felt energy pulse and quicken in the atmosphere and knew that he had heightened his senses. She shivered again. Nash’s prints were too murky and smoky to read, but it was clear that whatever the nature of his talent, it was very, very dangerous. It was equally evident that he was struggling hard to control it.

  “This is the dreamlight reader you told me about?” Nash said to Hulsey.

  “Yes.” Hulsey did not bother to conceal his impatience. He took the lamp from the hunter and bustled across the room with it. “We were able to acquire her without incident a short time ago.”

  “You’re certain your people weren’t seen or followed?” Nash demanded.

  “Absolutely, certain. Everything went like clockwork. The para-hypnotist took care of the woman on Mercer Island.”

  Chloe looked at Nash. “Who are you?”

  “Your new boss.” He paused a beat. “If you’re successful here today, that is.”

  Fingers of crystal and ice played a staccato drumbeat down her spine.

  Hulsey set the lamp on the table next to the gurney. “Time to run our little experiment, Miss Harper. And let’s have no more nonsense about not being able to save Subject A. If you can’t manipulate the energy of the lamp in a useful manner, we will have no more use for you, and that would be a pity, wouldn’t it?”

  She looked at the lamp. Power whispered in the atmosphere around it. Jack is looking for you. She knew that in her bones. Her only hope was to buy some time.

  “Stand back,” she said, trying to sound cool and authoritative, a woman of power.

  “Certainly,” Hulsey replied. His eyes glittered.

  Nash did not move.

  She put one hand on the lamp and pulsed a little psi into the waves of energy trapped inside the strange metal. Only Jack could access the full power of the artifact, but she could make it glow. That might be enough to convince Hulsey and Nash that she was activating it.

  Energy stirred and shifted within the lamp. She knew everyone in the room could sense it. Larry Brown groaned and closed his eyes again.

  The relic began to brighten.

  “Yes,” Hulsey breathed. “It’s working. It’s working.”

  Nash shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and moved a little farther into the room. His attention was fixed on the lamp.

  She gave the relic a couple more pulses of power and managed to make it shine with the light of a pale moon. It did not become transparent, though. The gray gemstones remained opaque and there was no rainbow, but the transformation was dramatic nonetheless. Hulsey and Nash were clearly fascinated.

  She switched her attention to Larry Brown. Carefully she probed for the currents of his dreamstate, bracing herself against the searing, disorienting waves of his drug-infused energy. The only thing that made her able to hold on was the knowledge that Larry would surely die if she retreated. Waves of dark dreamlight washed across her senses for a few seconds while she struggled to find some semblance of a normal, healthy pattern.

  The taint of the formula was everywhere, distorting and disturbing Larry’s natural rhythms. The chaos was growing because he lacked the strength to control the energy that the drug had released from the dream-psi end of the spectrum. The heavy, erratic waves would soon destroy his sanity and his para-senses.

  But deep in the chaos there were still traces of his normal currents. She found them at last and set to work, easing calm, soothing energy into
the fractured wavelengths.

  There was no way to know if she was doing the right thing for Larry Brown. The experience with Jack was not applicable. His mind and body had fought off the effects of the drug and because of his genetic twist he was able to handle the currents of power unleashed from the dreamlight end of the spectrum.

  But Larry Brown could not control the wild river of psi that was flooding his senses with an excess of paranormal stimulation. The only way to save him was to close down the channels that the drug had opened. It would not be the same thing as easing the disturbing currents of psi produced by her street clients’ nightmares. What she was doing now would have far more profound effects on Larry Brown’s senses, possibly permanent effects. She was winging it, going with her intuition, but that was all she had to work with.

  Gradually she gained control. The raging, spiking currents began to respond to her careful, cautious counterpoint pattern. The wavelengths grew more stable and steady.

  “It’s working,” Hulsey crowed softly.

  Larry was visibly calmer now. His breathing slowed to a more normal rate. He opened his eyes, revealing tears of exhaustion, relief and gratitude. His fingers closed tightly around Chloe’s hand.

  “You’re going to be fine,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you,” he rasped.

  He looked at her with something approaching adoration. She’d seen that expression before. She wondered if he would be feeling quite so grateful later when he discovered that in saving his sanity and his life she had destroyed his formula- enhanced abilities. In addition, there was no knowing if his mind would be strong enough to repair the damage done to his original talent. According to Hulsey, Larry Brown had come to Nightshade as a three on the Jones Scale. When he awakened he might not have any of his psychic senses left at all. Such a loss could be psychologically devastating.

  “You need to sleep now,” she said.

  She gave him a little extra pulse. Larry closed his eyes and went to sleep.