In Too Deep

  He looked at her. "You're good."

  "Thanks," she said. Pride tingled through her. Fallon Jones did not give praise lightly. "So whoever operated the Arcane Club got a kick out of creating a shadow version of the real Arcane Society, including the Council. Creepy."

  "It was," Fallon agreed. "Also smart marketing."

  "Did the club offer a parallel version of Jones & Jones?"

  "Within the world of the club, J&J provided security."

  "For crying out loud," she said, incensed. "They made the J&J staff the bouncers? That's just wrong. We are an elite investigative firm."

  He smiled a little at that and went on with the story. "Unlike most insider clubs, the big draw wasn't a drug; it was the lighting fixtures in the rooms that were reserved for the exclusive patrons."

  "The lights?"

  "They were called magic lanterns," Fallon said. "They were based on crystal technology. The paranormal radiation they emitted acted like an intense hallucinogen on people with talent. The higher the talent level, the bigger the hit."

  "Lot of energy in light," Isabella mused. "All across the spectrum."

  "My uncle was aware of the club, but he was not too concerned at first. Even when it became obvious that there was some kind of drug dealing going on, he figured it was a problem for regular law enforcement. J&J didn't get concerned until people who were deeply involved in the scene in the Arcane Club started dying."

  "How did they die?"

  "Two thought they could fly. They jumped out windows. A couple of others were so disoriented by the state of altered consciousness that they engaged in high-risk behavior that got them killed. The authorities investigated the deaths but never made the connection to the club because no evidence of drugs showed up in the autopsies. My uncle decided it was time for J&J to take a look at the situation."

  "What happened?"

  Fallon focused on the crashing waves. "He assigned Tucker and me to the case. We both realized immediately that there was no way we were going to get the kind of evidence that would stand up in court. Tucker suggested that we recommend to my uncle that he put pressure on the club owners to shut down. I agreed."

  "Did that work?"

  "The club closed, but my uncle wanted to know who had designed and built the magic lanterns. He asked me to look a little deeper."

  "Wait," Isabella said. "Let me get this straight. Your uncle assigned you but not your partner to conduct the more detailed investigation?"

  Fallon looked down at the ring. "I think my uncle had his suspicions about Tucker by then. Once I started looking, though, I could see the connections myself. Just a few things at first, but it didn't take long before they formed a pattern. Should have seen it much sooner."

  "The pattern pointed to your friend, Tucker?"

  "I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it. I had trusted Tucker with my life in the course of some of our investigations. But in the end I had to face the truth. He was the secret owner of the club. He was responsible for the magic-lantern deaths."

  "Something tells me you did not go straight to your uncle with the results of your investigation."

  Fallon frowned. "Why do you assume that?"

  She waved off the question. "Because he was your friend and partner. You had to be absolutely certain."

  "I should have turned things over to my uncle at that point. But you're right--I needed to be sure. I confronted Tucker. I hoped that I was missing some piece of the puzzle that would exonerate him. Like everyone else I know, he had been warning me that my talent gave me a skewed vision of reality, that it made me inclined to see conspiracy fantasies where there was nothing but random chance. He told me more than once that some day I'd go too deep into the darkness and never return."

  "So you gave him a chance to convince you that you were wrong. I'll bet he had a really good explanation."

  "He laughed at me," Fallon said, sounding resigned. "He told me that I really had lost it. He said he could prove that he was innocent. He asked me to give him twenty-four hours. I said okay."

  "What happened?"

  "He tried to kill me."

  "With his talent?"

  "With an overdose of magic-lantern psi."

  "Oh, crap."

  "I had dinner with my fiancee that night."

  An odd little chill fluttered through Isabella. "I didn't know that you were engaged."

  "I was at the time," Fallon said. "Obviously I'm not now."

  "Right." She did not know how to take that. The thought of Fallon Jones having had his heart broken by another woman left her feeling slightly unnerved for some inexplicable reason. She did not want to think that someone else had ever had the power to hurt him in that way. "Go on."

  "We had dinner at Jenny's condo. Tucker must have used his talent to slip into her place and conceal a magic-lantern lightbulb in one of the floor lamps. The visible light waves given off by the crystals look normal. You don't notice the paranormal effects of the lanterns until it's too late. The radiation hit both Jenny and me, of course, but I'm a more powerful talent than she is."

  "So it hit you harder."

  "It slammed my senses straight into overdrive." Fallon's jaw tightened. "Never felt anything like it in my life. I went into what I thought was an enlightened state. Suddenly I could see all the mysteries of the cosmos. I was sure I could comprehend them if only I looked a little deeper."

  "What happened?"

  "I was in a state of altered reality, completely disoriented. It was as if I was moving through a dream. I went out onto the balcony of Jenny's condo, convinced that I would be able to see the heart of the universe. While I was in that condition, Tucker entered the apartment. He tried to force me over the railing. Actually, he tried to talk me into going over under my own willpower."

  "What?"

  "I was hallucinating," Fallon said. "Out of my head. He tried to convince me that there was a crystal bridge that connected the balcony of Jenny's condo with the roof of the building across the street."

  "I think I saw that movie."

  "So did I. According to Tucker, all I had to do was step out onto the bridge. When that didn't work, he resorted to force. There was a struggle. In the end, I . . . killed him. He went off the balcony, instead of me."

  "Dear heaven. How on earth did you manage to save yourself when you were in such a disoriented state?"

  "This is going to sound weird," Fallon said. "Even though the magic lantern affected my talent, I think it was my talent that somehow saved me."

  "Nah, it was your willpower and self-control that saved you, not your talent."

  He looked at her. "You think so?"

  "Sure. You've got more self-control than any talent I've ever met. When push came to shove, it was that ability that saved you, not your talent." She paused. "Then again, the two are sort of linked, I suppose. The fact that you can handle such a powerful talent means that you've got a lot of built-in control. Chicken-and-egg thing, I guess. If you didn't have a lot of control, you'd have gone crazy by now."

  "Thanks for that visual," Fallon said.

  "Just trying to clarify here."

  "You have a way of doing that."

  "Doing what?" she asked.

  "Clarifying."

  "Oh. Okay."

  "The bottom line is that I survived and Tucker died."

  "You did what you had to do," Isabella assured him.

  "Maybe. Maybe not."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I was out of my head," Fallon said. "Who knows how I might have handled the situation if I'd been in a normal state of mind? Jenny started screaming and crying. She was hysterical with grief and rage."

  "Why was she so upset? Because of the hallucinogenic light of the lantern? Surely when she came back to her senses, she understood that you had been forced to fight for your life."

  "Tucker Austin was her brother."

  Isabella sighed. "I see. Well, that certainly explains her distraught reaction."

&nbs
p; "Tucker was her older brother. She idolized him. Hell, he was the golden boy of the Austin family. Jenny and her parents have never believed that Tucker was running the club or selling the magic-lantern light. They have what you might call another theory of the crime."

  Understanding hit her hard.

  "They think you were the one running the Arcane Club and dealing the magic-lantern light."

  "Their version of events is that after J&J fired up the investigation, I decided to cut my losses, shut down the club and set Tucker up to take the fall. Literally, in this case."

  "To cover your tracks?"

  "Yes," Fallon said evenly. "They also believe that my family protected me."

  "Of course they can't prove that because there is no proof, so they comfort themselves with their own version of history. It's actually a pretty solid conspiracy theory, because within Arcane the Joneses wield a lot of power. It would be easy to believe they would circle the wagons around one of their own."

  Fallon's eyes were bleak. He said nothing.

  "That's one of the hallmarks of conspiracy theories, isn't it?" She shook her head. "As someone once said, they are the losers' version of history."

  "Never thought about it like that."

  "Probably because you weren't raised in a family of dedicated conspiracy freaks." She glanced down at the ring. "So every year on the anniversary of Tucker's death someone sends you a nasty little memento mori. Who is it? Jenny?"

  "Probably, although I suppose it could be Tucker's mother or father."

  "You've never tracked down the sender?"

  "Didn't seem to be much point. I got the message."

  "Will the Austin family be at the Sedona conference?"

  "The Austins are power brokers within Arcane. Yes, they will be in Sedona."

  "No wonder you're not keen on attending."

  "At least this year I'll have a date."

  21

  The following morning Isabella took a break at the Sunshine with Marge. As was the custom, Violet and Patty walked over from the inn to join them. Isabella sat at the counter and sipped tea from a heavy mug. The other three drank Marge's high-test coffee and told tales about the brief heyday of the Seekers' community.

  The arrival of an overnight delivery van interrupted yet another denunciation of Gordon Lasher. They all watched the vehicle roll down the street and stop in front of Jones & Jones.

  "They found me," Isabella yelped. She set down her mug and jumped to her feet. "I was so afraid that there would be a screwup and they wouldn't be able to find Scargill Cove."

  "I'm assuming that's the dress and the shoes?" Marge asked.

  "I sure hope so," Isabella said. She headed for the door. "Otherwise, I'm in bad shape for that business conference in Sedona."

  "Bring the clothes back here," Violet called after her. "We want to see them."

  "Especially the shoes," Patty said.

  Isabella paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Why the shoes?"

  Patty grinned. "I want to see if they really are glass slippers."

  Isabella frowned. "I keep telling you, this visit to Sedona is a company business trip."

  "Sure," Marge said. She chuckled. "A business trip that involves a corporate jet, a dressy reception and high-end fund-raiser auction. Woohoo! Go get the dress and the shoes and bring them back here so we can see them."

  Isabella hurried outside. The driver of the delivery van had the rear door of the vehicle open. He removed two boxes.

  Isabella rushed across the street. "Are those for me?"

  He glanced at the labels. "Address says Jones & Jones."

  "That's me. I mean, I work for Jones & Jones. I'll take the packages."

  "Sign here."

  She scrawled her signature, took the boxes and went back inside the Sunshine. Marge was waiting with scissors. She got the first box open in a flash.

  Isabella parted the packing tissue and removed a long sweep of midnight blue. There were gasps all around.

  "Oh, my," Violet said in prayerful tones. "What a beautiful dress. You're going to look gorgeous in it."

  Isabella touched the liquid fabric. "It is nice, isn't it? Cost a fortune, but Fallon told me to bill it to the agency."

  "Of course," Marge said. "He's the one who told you this was a business trip."

  "The shoes," Patty said impatiently.

  Marge used the scissors to open the second package. There was a shoe box inside. Isabella opened it and took out the pair of black evening sandals. Jet crystals gleamed discreetly on the gleaming patent leather straps.

  "Oooh, they're so sexy," Patty said.

  "Very nice," Marge agreed. "Not exactly glass slippers, though."

  Violet smiled and touched one of the delicate black crystals. "Close enough. You can always count on Zappos."

  Marge looked at Isabella. "Just think--you're going to the ball, Cinderella."

  22

  The glittering hotel ballroom was awash in power, both the kind that came with money and status and the psychic sort.

  "Feels like the whole room is ever so slightly electrified," Isabella said.

  Raine smiled. "When you gather this many people of talent together in one space, the atmosphere does tend to get a little hot."

  "Yes, it does."

  Isabella looked across the room at Fallon, who stood with Zack and two other men. As she watched, a distinguished-looking woman with silver-gray hair joined the men.

  "The man on Zack's right is Hector Guerrero," Raine said in low tones. "The other one is Paul Akashida. The woman is Marilyn Houston. All three are on the Council. Zack considers them to be allies. They understand the true danger of Nightshade and they will support measures to make sure J&J remains vigilant."

  "Fallon tells me some of the other Council members are wobbling because of some vicious rumors about him."

  "Which is why Zack insisted that Fallon come tonight." Raine smiled. "I've got to tell you, though, I wasn't sure he would show up."

  "Why not?"

  "Fallon isn't the kind of man who responds to social pressure. But I suppose a threat to cut off funding for his precious anti-Nightshade project did the trick." Raine wrinkled her nose. "I'm afraid Zack is very good at figuring out exactly what it will take to get someone to do what he wants that person to do. It's part of his talent. One of the two reasons they put him in charge of Arcane."

  "What's the other reason?"

  Raine raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. "He's a Jones. There has always been a Jones in the Master's Chair. Technically speaking, since the changes made by Gabriel Jones back in the Victorian era, the Council has the power to elect anyone it pleases to the Chair."

  "But somehow the result of every election has been a Jones?"

  Raine raised her brows. "Yes. Coincidence?"

  "I think not." Isabella smiled. "Sounds like the Society operates more like a hereditary monarchy than a democracy."

  "Power rules in this organization, just as it does in any group," Raine said simply. "Within Arcane that means, among other things, a lot of raw talent. There happens to be a great deal of that in the Jones bloodline. In addition, the Joneses have been running Arcane a long time. They know where all the bodies are buried. In fact, they buried a few of them."

  "Hmm."

  Raine's brows went up. "What?"

  "I'm not so sure that Fallon is here just because he's worried about the J&J budget. At least I don't think that's the only reason he agreed to show up tonight."

  "Really? What other reason might there be?"

  "I don't know," Isabella admitted. "Fallon is not always entirely forthcoming."

  "You mean he's devious."

  "No, he's just a very private person, and he's not accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others because most people don't understand how he thinks."

  "That's certainly one way of putting it," Raine said. She gave Isabella a searching look. "I think you may understand him better than anyone ever has."

&
nbsp; Isabella took a sip of champagne and lowered the glass. "I expect that somewhere along the line he got tired of trying to explain himself and his talent."

  Raine switched her attention back to Fallon. "You may be right. I hadn't thought about it quite like that."

  An attractive, expensively dressed woman in her late fifties approached the alcove.

  "Good evening, Raine," she said warmly. "You look lovely tonight, as always."

  Raine smiled. "So do you. Nice to see you, Maryann. Have you met Isabella Valdez, Fallon's new assistant?"

  "No, I haven't had the pleasure." Maryann turned quickly to Isabella. "I'm Maryann Jones, one of Fallon's many aunts. Ours is a somewhat extended family, to say the least."

  Raine grinned. "That tends to happen when one of your ancestors sires offspring by three different women."

  "Old Sylvester was a bit of a rogue," Maryann sighed. "Then, again, he considered fathering a lot of children part of his research program. He was anxious to test his theories of the laws of psychic inheritance."

  "How do you do, Maryann," Isabella said politely.

  "It really is nice to meet you," Maryann said. "All of us in the family are so relieved that Fallon finally hired an assistant. He has been trying to handle far too much alone for far too long."

  Isabella cleared her throat. "Actually, I'm an investigator at the agency now."

  Maryann looked intrigued. "Is that so?"

  "In addition to being the office manager," Isabella added hastily.

  "Well, regardless of the title, I'm just grateful that Fallon found someone who could work with him day in and day out," Maryann said. "I'm afraid most people find him rather difficult."

  "He needs his space," Isabella said. "Given the nature of his talent, he has to spend a lot of time in his own head."

  Maryann's expression sharpened. "Yes, he's always been somewhat of a loner. Not everyone understands that. Oh, there goes Linda McDonald. I must speak to her. If you'll both excuse me?"

  "Of course," Raine said.

  Isabella waited until Maryann had been swept up in the crowd.

  "A woman of strong talent," she said.

  "Oh, yeah," Raine said. "Like everyone else in the family."

  "Uh, mind if I ask what kind?"

  Raine smiled. "Didn't you know? Maryann Jones is one of the top matchmakers at arcanematch.com. In fact, she is considered to be the best. Runs the agency."