Amaryllis (35 page)

“Damn you, Trent, you're one yourself, aren't you? That's the only explanation for what happened when I leaned on you last night. And you've found yourself a prism who can handle something more than class-ten talent.”

Lucas smiled faintly. “You're mistaken. I'm only a class nine. And I've got the certification papers to prove it.”

“You're a hell of a lot higher than a class ten. You must have rigged the test.”

“Impossible. Everyone knows the tests are infallible.”

A feverish excitement flashed in Sheffield's eyes. “How did you do it?”

“I didn't do a damn thing, Sheffield. I just took the test and got myself certified a class nine.”

“Tell me how you did it.”

Lucas shrugged. “Unlike some people, I have nothing to hide.”

“Listen to me, Trent, there's no need for us to be on opposite sides. I could take you with me to the president's office. I could name you as my vice president.”

“No thanks.”

“I'm offering you power, Trent. Real power.”

“I've got all the power I need.”

“It's Amaryllis Lark, isn't it? You don't want to give her up. I don't blame you. But there's no need to worry. Prisms can work for any talent. We can share her, Trent.”

It took every ounce of self-control Lucas possessed to keep his hands from Sheffield's throat “Touch her and I'll destroy you.”

Sheffield made a visible effort to regain control of himself. His composure settled over him, a slightly tattered cloak. “The most you can do is accuse me of focusing a personality trait, and everyone knows personality traits don't count as true talents.”

“People don't like to feel that they've been manipulated, Sheffield. And the sort of contributor who gives big bucks to a campaign doesn't like to feel that he or she has been made to look like a fool.”

“Get out of my office. I don't have to listen to this.”

“Your power is limited by the strength of the prism who works with you. So long as you're getting your focus from a normal full-spectrum prism, I figure you're not much more of a threat than any other smart politician. But if you try to link with Amaryllis, your career is finished. Count on it.”

Lucas turned and walked out of the office.

Amaryllis wrapped her coat more securely around herself and surveyed the night-darkened street with grave misgivings. “Are you certain that this Stonebraker person is a qualified private investigator?”

“Rafe Stonebraker is fully qualified.” Lucas locked the Icer's door before he joined Amaryllis on the cracked, uneven sidewalk. “The trick is to convince him to take the case.”

“I thought all investigators needed work. In mystery novels they're always hard up for clients.”

“Stonebraker only takes cases that interest him. He's a little eccentric.”

“You can say that again. Lucas, I don't like the look of this neighborhood.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“You have to ask? It looks like a cemetery.”

“Your imagination is running away with you.” Lucas took her arm. “Come on, let's go see Stonebraker.”

Amaryllis glanced up and down the silent, empty street. It was not her imagination, she thought. The neighborhood did look like the sort of place where one might encounter a few specters.

The address of Stonebraker Investigations was located on a hillside overlooking the city. The district was an old one dotted with huge mansions built by the wealthy during the Later Expansion Period. Fifty years ago the heavy, somber architecture had been all the rage, an overreaction to the ebullience of the Early Explorations Period.

The style had quickly fallen out of favor. Most of the great, dark houses were empty these days. They crouched on the hill like so many brooding gargoyles frozen in time. Their windows were shuttered, and their doors had been nailed closed. Realtors threw up their hands whenever one came on the market. There were very few buyers for the old, decaying mansions. Even the Historical Preservation Society was not very interested in them.

Amaryllis shivered when Lucas brought her to a halt in front of a massive iron gate. “I don't like this, Lucas.”

He grinned for the first time all day, his teeth white and dangerous in the shadows. “If you think the neighborhood is spooky, wait until you see Stonebraker's home.”

“Why did we have to come here at night? Why couldn't we have made an appointment during regular business hours?”

“These are Stonebraker's regular hours. He only works nights.”

Lucas's warning about the house proved correct. Rafe Stonebraker's mansion was an eerie mausoleum lit by old-fashioned jelly-ice flare candles that cast long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. Amaryllis had little opportunity to examine the interior closely, but what little she saw as she and Lucas were shown into a fire-lit library was enough to make her shudder. It was a house filled with darkness in more ways than one.

“You're really going to have to see about getting an interior designer in here, Stonebraker,” Lucas said as the library door closed. “You may have pushed the atmosphere bit a little too far.”

“I'll take your advice under consideration, Trent.” The voice, as dark as the shadowed halls of the mansion, emanated from the depths of a deep chair that faced the fire. “What brings you here tonight?”

“Business.”

“Naturally.” There was a laconic, soul-weary sigh buried in the single word.

“My friend Amaryllis here has a small job for you, if you're interested.” Lucas strolled over to a side table and picked up a crystal decanter filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. “Might help you shake off a little of that pesky ennui for a while.”

“What sort of job?”

Amaryllis cleared her throat. “I want you to find a missing file, Mr. Stonebraker.”

“Are you certain that it's missing?” Stonebraker asked.

Amaryllis scowled. “Of course, I'm certain. Why would I be here if it weren't? The contents relate to an investigation I'm conducting into the matter of the death of a very fine man.”

There was a long silence from the vicinity of the chair.

“It has been my experience that such investigations generally reveal more than anyone really wants to know about the victim.”

“Are you or are you not interested in my offer of employment?” Amaryllis snapped.

“Tell me about it,” Stonebraker said at last.

She did, as succinctly as possible. It only took a few minutes during which time Lucas lounged against the side table and sipped the bright, clear brew that he had poured from the decanter.

Amaryllis finally got to the end of her tale. Braced for a rejection, she was surprised when Stonebraker gave her his answer.

“I'll look into it,” he said softly.

Amaryllis glanced at Lucas, who shrugged and put down his glass.

“You've got your investigator,” he said. “Let's let him get on with his work.”

Amaryllis did not hesitate when Lucas started toward the door. With one last, uneasy glance at the back of the chair, she hurried after him.

A few minutes later she breathed a sigh of relief as they walked back through the iron gates. “You said he was a little eccentric. You didn't tell me that he was downright weird.”

“Stonebraker is kind of difficult to explain.”

“He's impossible to explain. Lucas, I don't like him, I don't trust him, and I don't think he'll find the missing file. Hiring him is a complete waste of time.”

Lucas unlocked the car door. “You're just saying that because you don't approve of him.”

“Who could possibly approve of a man who keeps bizarre hours, has no discernible work ethic, and who doesn't even use modern light fixtures?” Amaryllis glowered at Lucas as she slid into the passenger seat. “I never even got a good look at him. The only illumination in that creepy old house was from the fire and a couple of old-fashioned jelly-ice candles.”

“Stonebraker has excellent night vision.” Lucas got behind the steering bar. “It came in handy when we went pirate hunting in the islands.”

Amaryllis groaned. “I should have guessed. He's another one of your acquaintances from the Western Islands Action, isn't he?”

“Yeah.” Lucas activated the ignition system. “He may be weird, but if anyone can find your missing file, he can.”

Amaryllis shuddered. “Are all of your friends off-the-scale talents?”

Lucas gave her a strange sidelong glance as he pulled away from the curb. “What makes you think Stonebraker is a talent?”

“I could feel the power in him.” Amaryllis paused. “The same way I could feel it in Nick Chastain. They're both as strong as you, aren't they?”

“Probably.” Lucas shrugged. “But neither of them has any interest in getting tested, and neither has ever met a prism who could work with them at the full range of their power.”

“I'm not surprised. No reputable prism would work with an untested talent.”

“Picky, picky, picky.”

“Amaryllis, my dear, I hear today is the big day.” Gracie Proud paused in the doorway of Amaryllis's office. “Clementine tells me you've got an appointment at four for your marriage agency interview.”

Amaryllis looked up from the notes she was making for a client's final bill. She managed a wan smile. She liked Gracie, but so did everyone. Gracie was one of those warm and charming individuals people gravitated toward instinctively.

She was Clementine's opposite in many ways, tastefully fashionable where Clementine was defiantly outrageous in her choice of clothes and hairstyle; soft-spoken where Clementine was loud and brusque; even-tempered where Clementine was inclined to jump to conclusions or fly off the handle.

Today Gracie was dressed in one of her trademark pastel business suits that fit her elegant figure like a glove. Her dainty high-heeled shoes and stockings were carefully toned to match the pale blue jacket and skirt. Clementine had once told Amaryllis that Gracie had all her suits made by a tailor in New Portland.

“Hi, Gracie.” Amaryllis put down her pen. “Yes, this is the day.”

Gracie raised her finely drawn brows. “You don't appear to be too thrilled about the whole thing.”

“To tell you the truth, I'm a little nervous.”

“Don't worry, everyone is. I practically had an anxiety attack right there in the counselor's office on the day of my interview.” Gracie smiled reminiscently. “Of course, that was nothing compared to my reaction when the agency introduced me to Clementine and told me it would be a perfect match. I very nearly had heart failure on that occasion.”

“What's this?” Clementine loomed in the doorway behind Gracie. “For crying out loud, don't terrorize her, Gracie. She's already a nervous wreck.”

“I was about to point out that the agencies generally do an excellent job,” Gracie said smoothly. “Certainly much better than most people could manage on their own. Just look at you and me.”

Clementine grinned. “Yep, here we are, about to celebrate fifteen years of happy camping. It's a sure bet that you and I would never have gotten together without the aid of a good matchmaking agency. Left to my own devices, I would have run a mile the first time I saw you. I'll never forget that ridiculous little pink suit you wore that day.”

Gracie gave Amaryllis a reassuring look. “Clementine and I are walking testimonials to the fact that occasionally opposites do attract, and the syn-shrinks at the agencies are shrewd enough to figure it out. When's your appointment?”

“In half an hour.” Amaryllis glanced at Clementine and then switched her attention back to Gracie. “Any last words of advice?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have,” Gracie said. “Don't try to fake it. The counselors are all trained syn-psych talents working with strong prisms. They'll be able to tell immediately if you're trying to make yourself look like something other than what you really are.”

“There's a time and a place for cheating,” Clementine said cheerfully, “but this interview ain't it, kid. Your whole future is at stake.”

The bottom fell out of Amaryllis's stomach. She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. “Excuse me, I have to get to the restroom. I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Well, now, Mr. Trent, that takes care of the portion of the interview that covers your attitudes toward vacations and hobbies.” Hobart Batt glanced up briefly as he turned the page. His eyes sparkled behind the lenses of his round glasses. Hobart obviously loved his work.

The counselor was a small, dapper man who apparently had a penchant for vividly patterned vests and heavy gold jewelry. The prism who was focusing for him this afternoon was an older woman who sat quietly nearby.

During the grueling interview, Lucas occasionally felt the erratic twinges of awareness which told him that Hobart was focusing his syn-psych talent.