“You’re crazier than I am.” Keegan rolled a boulder to protect his right flank. Mariah dug another hole in front of it.
They had the world’s weirdest bunker established by the time they heard the first vehicle roll up the road. Foot-high stone statues with gleaming eyes formed the first barricade. Hip-high boulders, and sticks streaming feathered nets, formed an inner barrier. Keegan topped two of the boulders with a flat-top, table-sized slab of granite. Behind him, he had the manzanita-covered hillock containing the bunker—poor defense but he hoped the enemy didn’t know where he was until they came around front.
“Hide,” he ordered. “I can’t pull this off if they see you here.”
“You might, if you’d tell me your plan,” she grumbled. She produced a key on a ribbon and unlocked the bunker. “We’ve left all the Lucys behind. We’re on our own.”
“Which is the way I wanted it,” he retorted. “Here they come. Get in there.”
She left the door somewhat ajar. Keegan figured his bulk and the towering bushes would conceal it.
He spread his samples on top of the table rock and faked working with them.
An older man with receding gray hair and a portly build ambled down the rutted drive. He had his suit coat hooked over his shoulder with one hand. Sweat stained his pink dress shirt. Keegan seethed in frustration. This wasn’t a physically-fit man capable of bringing down Daisy with a bow, or even one capable of climbing into the canyon to shoot Thompson.
“Thought I might find you here,” the stranger said with jolly humor. “You’re one of us, aren’t you? We could use more of your kind.”
“Wainwright,” Mariah whispered behind him. “Related to Cass, Lucinda, and you.”
How the hell could she identify him? Oh right, she studied computer files and apparently had the memory of one. Narrowing his eyes, Keegan thought he almost recognized the affable gentleman who had visited his family back when he was in primary school. Wainwright was grayer and stouter and looked a little rougher around the edges these days. Bri looked nothing like him, but they apparently had similar souls if Mariah’s research was right.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Keegan said with equally false cheer, not admitting he recognized Wainwright to see how this played out. “This is private property. Wasn’t the security guard out there?”
“Didn’t see a soul. You’re wearing the same ring as Gabriel. Noticed that right away about both of you. I didn’t get the ring. It went to Lucinda’s sister and her brood. Were you planning on converting those rocks before you take them down to the reception? They’re not really the originals from the commune are they?”
“You might at least introduce yourself,” Keegan said, applying pressure to one of the sample pebbles. He’d spent some time practicing this last night.
“Oh, sorry, thought you recognized me. We met once, but that was in another time and place. I’m Ralph Wainwright. Brianna is my granddaughter. I’d hoped you would see reason and work with her. She’s a smart girl and can make your fortune.”
Behind him, Mariah hissed. Keegan would like to do the same, but he shrugged instead. “I have my own fortune, earned honestly through hard work. Bri apparently chose a different path.”
“Not so different,” Wainwright objected, stepping over the guardian stones to examine the sample table. “The molecular construction of the gems we created wasn’t as genuine as the ones Gabriel creates. Unfortunately, he’s something of a loose cannon. I think the rocks are affecting his stability. If he’d read the journals, he’d understand that. You don’t have the journals, so you don’t know the danger of what you’re doing.”
Keegan had a pretty damned good idea that turning rocks into gems wasn’t healthy.
Wainwright was doing his best to adopt an avuncular tone, but Keegan knew his type well. The world was full of charlatans who sold the modern version of snake oil. These were the greedy people Mariah called soulless. Or lacking essence. Bloodsuckers were dangerous to one’s pocket, but this one appeared physically harmless.
“You have the journals then? I’d wondered.” Keegan held out the artificial diamond he’d just created. “Are these what you need?”
Wainwright’s eyes glittered, but he resisted reaching for it. “The market is too wary right now. We had to back out of selling diamonds and use them for experimentation. What we need is the tourmaline. I thought that’s what you planned to display tonight.”
“No, the feds took that for safekeeping,” Keegan lied as blithely as any Lucy. He didn’t know if the goons were feds or if safekeeping was their intent. But there was enough truth in his statement for him to stretch it. “You aren’t working with them? I should think they’d be funding your line of work.”
Wainwright went blank, then suspicious. “The feds? Why would they be interested?”
“Computers that run on synthetic crystals without using energy? Why wouldn’t the feds be interested? I’m thinking of giving the labs a call, see if they can use my ability. It’s pretty freaky, but not any freakier than what they’re doing. Warping the space-time continuum? That’s huge.”
His portly visitor lost his jovial expression. “Don’t be ridiculous. Those labs are underfunded. They’ll never get their theory off the drawing board. But we’ve done it. We’re on the brink of accomplishing the impossible. We only need a little more funding. Can you make rubellite? Gabriel’s aren’t holding up. The journal says the structure holds the intent of the maker, and Gabriel has lost his focus.”
Keegan wanted his hands on those journals so bad his teeth ached with it. The structure? The molecular structure of the crystal? Holds the intent of the maker? What did that mean?
“Danger!” Mariah whispered urgently.
He glanced past Wainwright. The ghostcatchers danced violently.
“Down!” Keegan shouted. He couldn’t reach across the table to force Wainwright to obey. He ducked behind the boulder just as he heard a thud followed by Wainwright’s groan. Oh shit. This was not what he’d planned at all.
That hadn’t been a gun shot.
“How good are you at archery?” Mariah whispered. “That has to be Daisy’s killer up behind that piece of Bald Rock, halfway up the hill. I saw his bow. Tullah is getting too damned good at predictions.”
Crouched behind the boulder, Keegan could see movement behind a broken slab of sandstone. “How did he get there without us seeing him?”
“There’s a trail behind him. All the Lucys know it. We need to drive him out so we can check on Wainwright. The old boy dodged at your yell and threw the shooter off. He may still be alive, but he’s visible.”
“All right, hand me the bow. Do I make war cries or is that your department?” He placed himself in front of the bunker door so she couldn’t go around him.
“My Nana was Ohlone. If they have a war cry, I don’t know it. I can do better—echo effect.” She passed him the quiver and bow through the opening. He notched the arrow and tried to look for a good shot without having to stand. Without warning, she hooted. The sound bounced off the bluff and resounded through the valley.
Startled, the archer jerked around to look behind him, just enough for Keegan to catch a glimpse of a khaki shirt . It had been a long time since he’d pulled a bow and this one was unfamiliar. . .
With no chance to think, he simply acted. Drawing the bow until his shoulder muscles strained and the string brushed his ear, he squinted to narrow his focus—and let the arrow fly.
The ensuing cry of pain indicated he’d hit flesh. Whether it was sufficient to stop someone determined to kill. . .
A hawk screeched and swooped low. Waving his arms, the archer tumbled from his hiding place. With the man fully visible, Keegan pulled his bow again. He released the arrow the instant his mark scrambled for escape. This time, he had a clear view but had the wind and a moving target working against him. He couldn’t tell how hard he’d hit, but the archer collapsed on the rocks.
“Are you still with
me?” he demanded, lowering the bow but terrified to look behind him and find Mariah lost to a hawk again.
“I’m good,” she said. “The hawk was just providence working, not me. I think you got him. Can I come out now? That has to be Daisy’s killer, and I want to rip his eyes out.”
“Or maybe that was Daisy trying to rip his eyes out,” he said in relief.
Verifying that his target wasn’t moving, Keegan leaned inside the doorway and kissed her. “No eye ripping. Give me a minute more. And thank you for listening.”
“You did what none of us could, Big Boy. I’ll try to listen more often.”
He snorted in disbelief. Standing to circle around his boulder barricade, he located Wainwright on the ground between Daisy’s statues and the rock table. An arrow stuck out of his left shoulder, but the old man was still breathing.
“Gabriel is cracking,” Wainwright muttered through his pain.
Keegan threw a glance up the hill. Did that mean he’d just shot his distant cousin? Horror rippled through him. If Gabriel hadn’t used crystals for wrong—could he be saved? He had to climb up there and find out.
Apparently Wainwright felt the same. “Our line will die out if you don’t carry it on. Don’t let him get you too.”
“The crystals are more likely to get me than Gabriel is,” Keegan warned. “I need those journals you and Bri stole. Tell me where they are, or I’ll just let you die here the way you and your fiendish friends did poor Daisy.”
“I didn’t know anything about the old lady,” Wainwright protested. “I told you, Gabriel is cracking. We only kept him on because he spent his summers here, knows everyone and everything.”
Interesting point, but not the one he wanted addressed. “The journals,” Keegan demanded again.
“In my briefcase, in my office in Sacramento.” Wainwright was looking more gray.
Somehow, he’d have to reach that office before anyone else did. Checking the archer now attempting to escape, Keegan fought a snarl. “Mariah, wait until I’m up the hill before you come out. There’s a security guard on the road who can call Walker.”
She peered from behind the partially open door. “Harvey is up on top. He can’t do more than smack people with a stick, but he has your back. If we’re lucky, Aaron or someone else is stationed on the road by now. I’ll send a signal.”
Lucys! Keegan didn’t know whether to be happy or furious at their interference. He didn’t want anyone hurt in this battle he’d chosen for himself. But he acknowledged her warning with a nod and headed out, praying his quarry didn’t have a gun.
Thirty-two
July 14: Saturday afternoon
The spirits that inhabited the valley had been stirred by the violent encounter between Keegan and the archer. The ghostcatchers swung warily, but not with the agitation of earlier. Mariah had no idea why spirits lingered here. She just knew the spirits of those who had gone before them clung to this land.
She crawled out of her safe abode and scanned the hillside. Keegan strode up the mountain as if he were a boulder rolling uphill. She held her breath as the man he approached reached under his shirt.
Whatever Keegan did or said had the injured man collapsing.
“Thank you, Daisy,” she whispered, stopping to wipe her nets clean. She didn’t know if Daisy’s stone guardians had kept them safe or not, but she felt connected to Daisy here.
She continued around the barricade to Wainwright. Because she was angry and scared, she sent her bits of ectoplasm into the ether by slapping his wounded shoulder as she tested the arrow. It was lodged firmly. “I’m no medic. I probably need to leave this for the professionals.”
He winced at her rough handling. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“We’re working on corporeal transitioning,” she said maliciously.
He rightfully ignored that riposte. “You’re the worthless illegal Keegan prefers to Brianna?” he asked in what sounded like incredulity.
“I’m the relatively wealthy, totally legal Californian with a degree from Stanford who told him about cryptocurrency and how it might work with your synthetic gems and computers. Want to call me more names?” So much for concealing her identity.
But in Hillvale, she didn’t have to put up with sexist, racist crap. Obligated to no employer, she could stand tall and punch back with impunity. She rather enjoyed his wince as he shut up. She could see where people might get off on power trips.
Not wanting to be that kind of troll, she turned her attention away from her selfish whims. Up the hill, Keegan had his knee in the back of the man he’d brought down. She whistled and waved her staff to signal others it was safe to come out.
Harvey’s crystal glinted in acknowledgement above Keegan. From the road, Aaron and Walker sauntered down. Hillvale was becoming really good at predicting trouble—although she and Keegan had left a pretty clear trail.
“I meant no insult.” Finding another angle to work, Wainwright whimpered while trying to sit up. “You would benefit from asking Keegan to join us. We have the future in our hands.”
A whole new world of computing beckoned if what Keegan had told her was true. Bending space and time and creating energy with crystals. . . Every household could have a computer.
And this clod’s only goal was to make money with Keegan’s ability. Avarice instead of thinking of how the earth and humankind could be improved. She’d seen greed at work. She wanted no part of it. She waved her staff as peremptorily as Cass at the men approaching.
“Ralph Wainwright,” she called. “Probably guilty of money-laundering and fraud. The real killer is up there with Keegan.”
Walker jogged toward Keegan. Aaron joined her out of curiosity—or perhaps he picked up vibrations from the stones he ran his hand over, ones Wainwright may have touched.
“Ralph here has Keegan’s journals in a briefcase in his office in Sacramento.” She kept her voice down so Walker wouldn’t hear. “Is there any way we can retrieve them before the feds seal the place?”
With his long thin face and goatee, solemn Aaron looked as if he belonged on the apostle mural. He raised his dark eyebrows, glanced down at the groaning man holding his shoulder, and nodded. “I’ll go down to get help. We’ll figure it out while you’re dealing with the law. Tell Keegan I have the ATV, and he’ll have to ride with Walker. That should slow them all down.”
“We’re pretty sure there’s still a third one involved,” Mariah warned. “Maybe in addition to whoever is working with Carmel. I don’t think this is over. Be careful.”
Aaron watched the men up the hill and nodded thoughtfully. “Keegan has an interesting family. I’ll let Cass know you’re all right.” He jogged back toward the road.
“You can’t just break into my office,” Wainwright complained after Aaron left. “And I’m not a money launderer. I’m a scientist.”
“You don’t deny you’re financing cryptocurrency with fake gems and dealing with killers?” She offered him a bottle of water from her bag.
He leaned against a boulder and sipped, grimacing in pain. “Gabriel is unstable. I don’t know what he’s done. All I’m doing is building a better future. Brianna understands. She helped me set up the funding, but now that she no longer has access to Keegan’s firm, we’re having difficulty. Converting the malleable crystals seems best. Learning there might still be some here was a blessing. If Keegan would only work with me. . .”
The ATV roared off, and Wainwright sent a worried glance in the direction of the road.
“Who told you there were malleable crystals here—Gabriel?” If so, she hoped that gray-haired man they were carrying down the hill was Gabriel.
“Gabriel is an arse. Thompson was the one who knew where to find this bunker and the crystal crevasse. Gabriel just wanted to make more pretty crystals like his father’s. He never applied himself to learning anything other than how to use them for his own purposes. I warned. . .” He shut up, looking puzzled that he’d revealed so much.
Mariah wanted answers before Walker warned Wainwright he had a right to remain silent.
The old man closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the boulder. “Gabriel was obsessed with his mother, convinced she was keeping him from some truth only she knew. He warned us she had ways of stopping us from collecting the crystals, that she probably had a supply hidden here. He pointed out those little stone men she made as proof.” Wainwright nodded at the figurine Mariah hadn’t realized she’d picked up.
She gripped the stones tighter, studying the little warrior, appalled at what Wainwright seemed to be saying. Those little stone men she made—Daisy? Peace-loving, crazy, talented Daisy? Mother of a killer?
Daisy had carried the sketch in her cart because Robert Gabriel was her son?
The whole appalling story unraveled in Mariah’s head just as if Daisy were here to tell it. Unlovely, socially impaired Daisy, playing with her stones and crystals in a commune filled with handsome, talented young men. The pot, the mushrooms, the LSD, and free love. Handsome Trevor from the mural, the man who talked dozens of old ladies out of their fortunes, who used crystal power to mesmerize the vulnerable—Daisy wouldn’t have resisted his charm.
“Gabriel might have been born unstable,” Mariah murmured, horrified. Remembering the photo of a plump young Daisy dancing in the field—Daisy had been happy about the child. Daisy had not been competent enough to raise one. No one knew about the danger of drugs to fetuses back then. And if that fetus had an erratic Lucy heritage from both parents. . .
Crystal Vision Page 30
