Fired Up

  “I love you,” she said.

  She sank down into sleep. The last thing she remembered was the comforting strength of his arms and his power wrapping her close.

  She thought she heard him say I love you, too, but maybe that was just a dream.

  53

  THE PHONE RANG JUST AS FALLON WAS SCOOPING AN EXTRA spoonful of Bold Roast into the filter basket of his industrial-size coffeemaker. He would have preferred to go across the street to the Sunshine Café for another cup, but the little restaurant had closed, as always, promptly at five thirty. As was his newfound custom, he had watched Isabella Valdez turn over the sign in the window. And, as was her custom, Isabella had looked up and waved cheerfully at him. Then she had walked the four blocks to the inn, where she rented a room.

  He grabbed the phone midway through the first ring. “What do you have for me, Jack?”

  “I’ve got Chloe. She’s safe. We’re out of the gym. If you get someone in there quickly you’ll find a dead high-level Nightshade agent named Nash. We think he’s from Portland. There are also a bunch of unconscious drug-hyped hunters. At least they were all unconscious when we left. Guy named Hulsey got away through what looked like an underground tunnel. That must have been how they smuggled Chloe inside without the auras noticing.”

  Fallon forgot about the coffee and everything else around him. He felt as if he’d been winded by a body blow.

  “Hulsey?” he repeated. “Are you certain that was the name of the man who got away?”

  “That’s how he introduced himself to Chloe. Claimed to be the director of research for Nightshade.”

  “Humphrey Hulsey, Basil Hulsey’s descendant.” While he talked, Fallon picked up another phone and punched in a code. “We recently found out that’s how Nightshade got the drug in the first place. Basil Hulsey worked on the formula for the First Cabal in the late eighteen hundreds.”

  “I remember the story.”

  “Hulsey left his notes and journals to his son, who passed them on down through the family. A couple of months ago we learned that one of those descendants, Humphrey Hulsey, was responsible for creating the new version of the drug. What did they want with Chloe?”

  “It all goes back to the usual problem. The formula is inherently unstable and the results unpredictable. They figured that maybe Chloe could work the lamp to correct those issues.”

  “Hell. I need to talk to Chloe, but I don’t have time right now. I’ll call you back after I get my people into that gym.”

  “Don’t send anyone in without plenty of backup.”

  “Oh, sure, like I’ve got plenty of backup available. Haven’t you been listening? I’d send Zack in, but unfortunately he and Raine are in L.A. this week. There is one illusion-talent, who may or may not be available, in the Seattle area. He gets results, but it’s usually best not to ask how.”

  He cut the connection to Jack and started talking urgently to the man who had answered the other phone.

  The illusion-talent listened in silence.

  “I’ll take the job,” he said. He cut the connection.

  Fallon tightened his hand around the phone and took a deep breath. He did not consider himself the imaginative type, but something about the illusion-talent’s ice-cold voice succeeded in chilling his senses for a couple of heartbeats. He did not like using the guy, but sometimes he had no choice when it came to agents.

  He punched in Jack’s number. There was no answer. He tried Chloe’s cell and then her office phone.

  “You have reached the office of Harper Investigations. We are unable to take your call, but if you leave a name and number we’ll get back to you.”

  He cut the connection and sat at his desk for a while, wondering why Jack and Chloe had gone off the radar. There was only one reason that made any sense. Something had happened to Chloe while she was inside the gym. Jack was protecting her.

  54

  JACK’S VOICE CAME THROUGH THE DARKNESS, PULLING HER back to the surface. “Chloe, can you hear me?”

  “Sure.” She could feel his hand wrapped tightly around hers. She opened her eyes and looked up at a familiar ceiling. “No place like home.”

  “Welcome back,” Jack said. His stark features were drawn hard and taut. She sensed a subtle pulse of psi.

  “You’re not sleeping again,” she accused.

  “Not for the past twenty-four hours,” he said. “I’ll live.”

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  “Thursday. I carried you out of that Rollins gym the night before last.”

  “And he’s been sitting here at your bedside ever since,” Rose announced from the other side of the bed. “We all have.”

  At the foot of the bed, Hector got to his feet and ambled across the quilt to lick Chloe’s face. She grimaced and patted him.

  “Please tell me he hasn’t been drinking out of the toilet bowl again,” she said.

  Rose looked at Jack across the width of the bed. “Definitely back to normal. I’ll get her a glass of water. She needs fluids after that fever.”

  Memory came slamming back. Chloe clutched Jack’s hand.

  “Am I okay? You didn’t let Arcane do anything to me, did you?”

  He smiled a little. “As far as Fallon knows you’re resting after your traumatic ordeal.”

  “What time is it now?”

  Jack checked his watch. “It’s just going on seven o’clock in the evening.”

  “That certainly explains why I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” She pushed the covers aside and got to her feet. Belatedly she glanced down and saw that she was wearing a nightgown. The gown and the bed were damp with sweat.

  “Rose insisted on being the one to undress you,” Jack said.

  She felt herself grow warm, not with fever this time. “Well, it’s not as if you’ve never seen me naked.”

  “No. But Rose seemed to think you would be embarrassed later. Something about your intimacy issues combined with being vulnerable because you were asleep.”

  “Right. Intimacy issues.” She pushed herself off the bed and hurried down the short hall into the bathroom.

  Hector padded after her and settled down outside the door to wait for her. Abandonment issues, she thought. What the heck, we’ve all got issues.

  She looked into the mirror and saw a woman who had just survived a raging fever. It was not, she thought, an attractive sight. Her hair was matted with dried perspiration, her complexion was wan and dehydrated and her eyes showed clear evidence of the strain and exhaustion. She was not exactly a candidate for Miss Perky of the Month, but she was alive, reasonably sane and when she cautiously opened her senses she realized she still had her talent. Thanks to Jack, she thought. He had trusted her and kept his promise.

  She smiled at the woman in the mirror. Suddenly she felt a lot better than she had a few minutes ago.

  When she emerged from the shower she found Rose busy in the small kitchen. Jack had made a pot of herbal tea. They drank it in front of the window, looking out at the view of the old- fashioned streetlights of Pioneer Square glowing in the rainy night.

  “Did you tell Fallon Jones about my theory that dreamlight talents are immune to the formula?” Chloe asked.

  “Didn’t know it was a theory,” Jack said, his tone a little too neutral. “On the way out of the gym you said that you were sure you were immune.”

  She cleared her throat and reached for her mug. “Yes, well, I was almost positive. Anyhow, did you tell him?”

  “No. Thought I’d leave the explanations to you.”

  Rose spoke from the kitchen. “Fallon Jones has called every hour on the hour since Jack brought you back here. I turned off all the phones. Doesn’t that man ever sleep?”

  “Not a lot, apparently,” Chloe said.

  There was a short silence. Chloe looked at Jack.

  “So now we know the origin of the Cerberus legend,” she said.

  He nodded once, understanding immediately. “The third talent
is the ability to use the lamp as a weapon.”

  “I still say it’s all a single talent. And don’t forget, it takes two people to work the lamp that way.”

  He said nothing for a moment.

  “What are you thinking?” she said.

  “I’m thinking that we don’t tell Fallon Jones exactly what the lamp can do. Arcane doesn’t need any more Winters legends.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry; Harper Investigations takes client confidentiality very seriously.”

  “Speaking of Fallon, I’m ready to give him a call. I want to find out what happened after we left the gym. There was nothing in the morning papers yesterday or today, so it looks like Arcane and Nightshade managed to keep things low profile.”

  “Nothing beats a couple of clandestine paranormal organizations when it comes to keeping secrets,” Chloe said. “By the way, I think I know what happened to Adelaide Pyne’s journal. A woman named Victoria Knight has it.”

  “ABOUT TIME YOU CALLED,” Fallon growled. “Chloe okay?”

  “I told you that she was fine,” Jack said.

  “You lied. But I’m getting used to it.”

  “She needed rest. I didn’t want you disturbing her. What happened at the gym?”

  Fallon exhaled slowly. “Not much. The illusion-talent I sent in found Nash’s body and a bunch of unconscious guards but not much else. Hulsey was long gone.”

  “What did he do with the body?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Fallon said.

  “What about computers? Hulsey’s notes? Files?”

  “The agent retrieved a few items of interest, but nothing that looks useful. Evidently Hulsey grabbed the essential stuff when he fled.”

  “Probably had it all on a computer that he took with him when he escaped through the tunnel. What about the hunters?”

  “They all recovered consciousness and were offered the antidote. Four of them accepted. They’re being treated now, but I doubt that we’ll get anything useful out of them. Nightshade operatives at that level never know much.”

  “What about the ones who didn’t accept the antidote?”

  “The illusion-talent let them go,” Fallon said wearily. “Not much else we can do. If Nightshade follows its usual pattern and cuts them loose, they’ll all be dead soon. We tried to warn them, but these guys were seriously indoctrinated. It’s like they’d joined a cult.”

  Jack thought about that. “Maybe that’s how Nightshade recruits at the lower levels.”

  “Presents itself as a cult?” Fallon asked.

  “When it comes to moneymaking businesses, nothing beats a cult except maybe the drug trade.”

  “I need to think about that angle,” Fallon said. “We did find one guy who might be of some use. Says his name is Larry Brown. He was asleep in one of the basement rooms. Tied to a gurney. Claims a woman saved his life. The description he gave fits Chloe. Put her on.”

  “Later,” Jack said. “She’s going to eat dinner first.”

  “Damn it,” Fallon said. But there wasn’t a lot of heat in the curse.

  Very gently Jack ended the connection.

  55

  SHE RETURNED FALLON’S CALL AFTER SHE FINISHED THE LIGHT meal of poached eggs and salad that Rose prepared. She sat ensconced in her big reading chair, Hector on the floor beside her, Rose fussing around her. Jack went into the kitchen to make another pot of herbal tea.

  “What the hell happened night before last?” Fallon demanded.

  “Well, let’s see if I can summarize,” she said. “A woman named Victoria Knight somehow got hold of the journal of Adelaide Pyne. Knight teamed up with Humphrey Hulsey to see if the lamp was the solution to the problem of the inherent instability of the formula.”

  “Ninety-eight percent probability that Victoria Knight is our missing para-hypnotist,” Fallon said. “It fits.”

  “You may be right. At any rate, Hulsey’s boss, Nash, was also involved. They had me kidnapped because they wanted to see if I could work the lamp to stabilize a very unstable talent they had created with the formula.”

  “Larry Brown?”

  “Right. I can light the lamp, of course, but only Jack or someone with his particular psychic genetics can access the deep power in the thing. So, to buy some time I sort of faked the whole lamp scene. I’m a Harper, remember? I can do fake. Anyway, after Larry went to sleep—”

  “Hang on,” Fallon cut in. “Are you telling me you saved Brown without using the lamp?”

  “The formula, like the lamp, works by opening up channels between the dreamstate and the waking state. I have an affinity for dream psi.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I resealed the dreamlight channels that had been opened by the drug, but I didn’t have a chance to study Larry Brown’s entire spectrum, so I don’t know how much damage the formula did. Hulsey told me that Larry was a Level Three before they injected him. The poor kid might not have any talent left when he recovers. I’m so sorry.”

  “Brown was flown down to L.A. this morning,” Fallon said. “He’s being tested in the Arcane lab there. Early indications are that he’s now a Level Two. The techs think it’s possible he might recover to a Level Three. They’re running around in circles like a bunch of hamsters on a wheel trying to figure out how some of Brown’s para-talent survived both the heavy dose of the formula and the subsequent withdrawal. By all rights, the kid should be certifiably insane by now.”

  Relief washed through her. “Larry will be okay, then?”

  “Looks like it, thanks to you. You’re a walking antidote, Chloe Harper. Hell, you’re better than the antidote we’ve been using because you can get rid of the effects of the drug without destroying the victim’s senses. Not that I’m expecting a big rush of people looking to get off the Nightshade drug.”

  “Because of the cult mentality?”

  “And because when the drug works, it does deliver a higher level of talent. How many people are going to want to give up real power?”

  “Yes, but the long-term complications—”

  “Most folks don’t think long-term. Just ask the cigarette companies. I’m sure Nightshade is aware that we have an antidote but we haven’t exactly had a run on it.”

  “In other words, they’re selling the perfect drug.”

  “The perfect poison, as Lucinda Bromley called it in her journal.”

  “Bromley? Wasn’t she the woman who married your ancestor, Caleb Jones?”

  “Right. My multi-great grandmother. The second J in J&J. And don’t say it.”

  “Don’t say what?”

  “Lately people keep telling me that I need a partner, too. But it would have to be someone I could trust completely, the same way Caleb Jones trusted Lucinda. Someone with a high level of intuitive talent so that she could almost read my mind because I can’t explain everything that I do. Not a nine-to-five type who takes vacations, either. I need someone who is available twenty-four/seven. I’m not interested in a partner or a wife, but I’m starting to think that maybe an assistant might work.”

  She smiled. “An assistant who can read your mind, who will be available twenty-four hours a day and who never takes vacations. Good luck with that, Mr. Jones.”

  “Thanks,” he said, oblivious. “Getting back to the antidote, do you think you could help someone who has already received it to regain her para-senses?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “A couple of months ago we used the antidote for the first time on a woman named Damaris Kemble. Long story. Let’s just say we saved her life and her sanity, but she hasn’t recovered her para-senses and the experts tell me that she probably never will.”

  “What was she before she got the antidote?”

  “A Level Seven. The para-shrinks told me that, although at first she was relieved just to be alive, she’s now sinking into a severe depression.”

  “That’s not surprising. The loss of a high level of talent would be enough to cause anyone to become depressed.”
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  “I’ll have her flown up there as soon as possible. See what you can do. Send your bill to me by e- mail when you’re done. By the way, I like to see itemized bills, not just big round numbers.”

  She was struck speechless for a few seconds. “You want me to work for J&J?”

  “I’ll start recruiting other dreamlight readers as fast as I can, but I’ve got a feeling that only those who are as strong as you will be able to do what you did for Larry Brown. There just aren’t that many talents like you around. Arcane needs you.”

  “But I’m a Harper.”

  “I’m a Jones. What of it? I don’t give a damn where I get my talents as long as I can trust them to get the job done.”

  She felt a strange rush of what could only be described as panic. “I live in Seattle. The nearest Arcane lab is in L.A. I really don’t want to move there. This is my home. I’ve got family and clients here.”

  “The new Master of the Society lives up there near you.”

  “Oriana Bay. Yes, I know, but what does that have to do with it?”

  “Zack and his wife, Raine, don’t want to move, either. Given that Zack is now in charge of Arcane, he gets what he wants. Arcane has rented office space in the Seattle area and is getting ready to set up a lab. Meanwhile, I don’t see any reason why you can’t work out of your office. It’s not like you’re going to be overwhelmed with ex- Nightshade clients.”

  She took a breath. “Okay, I guess.”

  “I’ll have Damaris Kemble in your office before noon tomorrow. Give me a complete report after you talk to her. And don’t forget, I want all time and expenses itemized. Oh, and tell Jack I’m sending another team to pick up the lamp tomorrow.”

  The phone went dead in her ear.

  She looked at Jack. “He’s sending someone to pick up the lamp tomorrow.”

  “Is he, now?” Jack handed her a mug of tea. “Isn’t that nice of him? And after Arcane did such a swell job of taking care of it last time.”

  She sipped some of the tea and lowered the mug. “Well, at least he doesn’t know exactly what the lamp can do.”