Authors: Jayne Castle
Midnight Crystal (32 page)
“Hubert O’Conner,” he said. “That certainly fits. The second set will probably lead straight to the buffet table.”
“How did you know?” She followed his glance and saw a familiar figure. “Douglas Drake. I’ve seen him on the evening news. I wonder if he or his buddy, O’Conner, was driving the SUV that tried to run me down today.”
“Good question.”
“I still can’t figure out why they would risk coming after me, though. I’m what you all in the Guild call a civilian.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. There’s only one reason they would take that kind of risk.”
“And the reason is?”
“They think I’m going to marry you.”
“What?”
She was so stunned that she knew she would have lost her balance in her extremely high heels if Adam hadn’t been holding her.
She was so stunned that she knew she would have lost her balance in her extremely high heels if Adam hadn’t been holding her.
“Keep smiling,” he said.
“But why would either of them care if you, uh, married me?”
“Remember back at the start of this thing you asked me why the heads of the Guilds are almost always married?”
“You said something about tradition. But you never really answered the question.”
“There is an old tradition in the Guilds that allows any member to challenge the chief to a ghost light duel. The duels are fought underground in the tunnels.”
“Good grief,” Marlowe said. “You could kill someone with the kind of energy that a ghost hunter can pull underground, or at the very least, permanently fry his brains. At best, the loser would probably spend the rest of his life in a parapsych ward. You say this is an old Guild tradition?”
“The right of challenge is incorporated in old Guild law. It’s rarely used.”
“I can certainly understand why,” she said. “What a ridiculous, primitive, idiotic, macho tradition. Dueling is positively archaic, for heaven’s sake.”
“Got a hunch that, having failed to kill me, Drake is planning to challenge me. I’m stronger than he is, but he may have concluded that he can take me now.”
Shock slammed through her a second time. “Because he plans to use one of those crystal flashlights that Keith made?”
“It would be like bringing a mag-rez gun to an old-style amber-rez pistol duel.”
“What does marriage have to do with this dumb-ass tradition?”
He smiled. “The wife of a Guild boss has a few exclusive privileges. One of them is the right to go before the Council and block a challenge to her husband.”
She caught her breath. “In other words, if you marry me, I can make sure that Drake can’t challenge you to a duel?”
“Now do you understand why Guild bosses usually get married?”
“I think so, yes. But I can’t believe that they are still conducting duels within the Guilds.”
“You’re Arcane. When it comes to traditions, you’ve got very little room to criticize.”
Chapter 36
“ADAM, I’VE BEEN THINKING,” MARLOWE SAID. “WE should get married. Now. Tonight.”
“No.”
She ignored him to unlock her front door. “We can go to one of those twenty-four-hour MC places. There’s one a few blocks from here. I pass it every day on my way to the office.”
“No,” he repeated. He reached around her to open the door. He had known this subject was going to come up, he reminded himself. He had to stand firm. The truth was, part of him wanted to jump at any excuse to tie her to him. Even a Marriage of Convenience seemed like a good idea right now.
She moved into the darkened foyer and turned to confront him. “Give me one good reason.”
“Because marrying you would make you even more of a target.” He closed the door. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary. Now that I know for certain that Drake and O’Conner are using the crystals, I’ll take care of the problem.”
She looked at him very steadily. “The Guild polices its own?”
“That’s how it works, Marlowe.”
“But what will you do with them?”
“The first step is to confiscate the crystals. Once those rocks are all accounted for, Drake and O’Conner will get the same option the others did. Take early retirement or face a Chamber tribunal.”
“I see.” She sighed and walked into the shadowed living room. “You know, this has all been very exciting for me.”
“Yeah?” He followed her, stripping off his jacket and loosening his tie.
“When Uncle Zeke gave me the keys to the office, he warned me that J&J was just a small-time psychic private investigation agency these days. He said it only handled routine cases for members of the Society, and not a lot of those came through the door anymore. Too much competition, he said. Lots of psychic detectives around now. Not like the old days, he said.”
“Right. The old days.” He tossed the jacket over the back of a chair.
She stepped out of her heels. “Back on the Old World, J&J must have been a very exciting business. Arcane was always busy hunting down conspiracies of rogue talents and mad scientists. They took down dangerous conspiracies like the Order of the Emerald Tablet and Nightshade. Thrilling stuff.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Then, here on Harmony, during the Era of Discord, J&J helped to defeat Vance’s rebels. The records from that time detail all sorts of intelligence operations including the one that John Cabot Winters and Jeremiah Jones conducted against the lab that was turning out the crystal guns.”
“Good times.”
“Great times. I thought I’d never be lucky enough to get involved in a major case like one of those in the old files, but thanks to you, I’ve had a taste of what the business must have been like for some of J&J’s legendary directors like Caleb Jones and Fallon Jones. Sometimes I almost wish—” She broke off. “Oh, geez. Look. Out on the balcony.”
He realized she was staring through the darkened windows at the far end of the room. He walked to where she had come to an abrupt halt and studied the scene.
In the glow of the green psi emanating from the ruins he saw a couple of dozen furry blobs. The dust bunnies perched on the railing and the loungers and the small table, eyes glinting in the eerie light.
“Looks like Gibson invited a few friends over while you were out,” he said.
Two dozen pairs of dust bunny eyes abruptly stared back at them through the windows. For an instant no creature on either side of the glass doors moved. Then there was a great deal of mad scurrying on the balcony. The fluffy blobs tumbled and fluttered away into the night. Within seconds the dust bunnies had all disappeared save one.
Gibson dashed through the small door set into the living room next to the glass doors and gave a cheery greeting.
“You threw a party while I was out?” Marlowe scooped him up and continued on into the kitchen. “I’ll bet you really impressed your friends with the story of how you helped save the underworld.”
Gibson chattered enthusiastically. He bounded out of her arms and up onto the top of the refrigerator. Marlowe turned toward the cookie jar. She stopped short and stared down at the floor. “Good grief.”
Adam went to the counter and looked over the edge. The remains of the shattered cookie jar littered the tile floor. There was no sign of any energy bars.
“Must have been a wild party,” he said. “A kegger.”
“Guess Gibson gave up trying to figure out how to open the wire lock and took the Gordian knot approach to accessing the cookie jar,” Marlowe said.
She started to collect the broken shards.
“I’ll do that,” Adam said. “You’re in bare feet. You’ll cut yourself.”
He went around the corner, hoisted Marlowe by the waist, and carried her out of the scene of the wreckage. He set her on the carpet and went back to pick up the pieces of broken jar.
Marlowe looked sternly at Gibson. “I hope your friends enjoyed themselves.”
Gibson chortled and bounced up and down a few times.
Adam dumped the pottery shards and a handful of crumbs into the trash. “You know, what with one thing and another this evening, neither of us got any dinner tonight. Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Marlowe glanced at the clock. “It’s a little late, but we could order out.”
“It will take too long. Let’s see what you’ve got on hand.”
“Not much,” she warned.
He opened the door of the refrigerator and contemplated the sparse contents. Gibson leaned over, watching with great interest.
“No offense, but the cupboard looks bare,” Adam said. “Don’t you ever eat?”
“As often as possible,” Marlowe said. “It’s one of my favorite hobbies. But for some inexplicable reason, I don’t seem to have had time to go grocery shopping lately.”
“No problem. I’m good when it comes to working with the basics.”
He took out a package of sharp cheddar, the half-empty jar of dill pickles, mayonnaise, and mustard. He set everything down on the counter and returned to the refrigerator. “You keep your bread in the fridge?”
“I live alone, remember? I can’t get through an entire loaf before it starts to mold. It lasts longer in the refrigerator.”
“I’ll have to remember that trick. I have the same problem.” He put the bread on the counter, undid the wrapper, and removed four very dry slices. “Now all I need is a toaster.”
“Behind you. I’ll open some wine.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
A short time later they sat side by side at the counter, munching on toasted cheddar and dill pickle sandwiches and drinking a little of the good red that Marlowe had poured.
“You know,” Marlowe said, “I would never have thought to put pickles and cheddar together in a sandwich.”
“Guild bosses are known for their creativity in the kitchen.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
They finished the sandwiches in a companionable silence and carried their glasses of wine out onto the balcony. They stood together, leaning on the railing, drinking in the psi-bright night. Gibson crouched next to Marlowe, munching a pickle.
Adam drank some of the wine. It was good to be out here sharing the night with Marlowe. The sense of intimacy and the heady energy that surrounded her felt right.
This is the woman I was born to be with.
This is the woman I was born to be with.
“What happens now?” she asked after a while.
He contemplated the glowing ruins. “You mean, when do I move on Drake and O’Conner?
“Yes. I know what you said earlier about giving them the option of retirement or facing a tribunal. But I don’t think it’s going to work, Adam. Not with those two. They won’t go quietly like the others did.”
“I know.” He drank a little more wine.
When he did not offer anything further, Marlowe turned her head to look down at his feet. He felt her open her senses and knew that she was reading his dreamprints.
“You’re going to have to kill them, aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Maybe.” He finished his wine and cradled the glass in his hands. “Maybe not. Depends.”
“On what?”
He thought about his options. “How long do you think it will take the crystals to do the job?”
“A couple of months, maybe, before they start showing physical signs of the damage. They’re powerful, Adam.”
He set his empty glass down on the nearby patio table. “Well, one thing’s for sure. Can’t let O’Conner and Drake run around Frequency stirring up trouble for the next couple of months while I wait for them to get sick. Not now.”
She turned away and very deliberately set her glass down next to his. “You mean because they might come after me again?”
He said nothing.
“I don’t want you to have to do this,” she whispered, her back to him.
“Won’t be the first time.”
“I know that, too.” She turned slowly around to face him. In the glowing green night her eyes were hot with the sheen of tears. “Doesn’t make it any easier. Not for a man like you.”
“I can handle it,” he said.
“I know. That doesn’t change a thing.”
He said nothing. There was nothing he could say to that. She came to him. He opened his arms. She pressed her damp face into his shoulder. He pulled her close and tight. For a few minutes they stood quietly together, enveloped in the gentle heat that was always there between them.
After a while he raised her chin and kissed her.
He had intended it to be a gentle, reassuring kiss, but within seconds she was clutching at his shoulders, fierce and desperate. He knew it was because she had accepted that she could not protect him from whatever lay ahead; she accepted it but didn’t like it.
His senses flashed, igniting his blood and the night.
After a while he picked her up in his arms and carried her back into the dimly lit condo. In the shadows of the bedroom he stripped off the black silk gown and the lacy scraps of underwear beneath it. He clawed the pins from her hair, his hands shaking with the force of his need. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and unbuckled his belt.
He got out of his boots, trousers, and briefs, picked her up, and fell with her across the bed.
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