“The flashlight is under the bed,” Verity said slowly, in answer to his question. “I didn’t have room for it when I packed your duffel bag for the trip to town.” Verity leaned down and retrieved the large flashlight.
Jonas raised beseeching eyes toward the ceiling. “Anything else of mine hidden under there?”
“Nope. That’s it.”
“I’m grateful.”
Verity ignored his sarcasm as she slowly sat down on the bed. She didn’t know how to apologize for not having shown sufficient jealousy, so she decided to move on to a safer topic.
“You know something, Jonas? Elyssa and Preston are both aware of the fact that you were tested at Vincent College. Preston has kept it quiet. He claims he respects your desire for anonymity. The only one he told was Elyssa—that’s why she’s convinced you’re a psychic.”
Jonas glanced up from checking the flashlight batteries. He frowned. “How much do they know about what happened at Vincent? Did you find out?”
Verity shook her head. “No, but I gather they don’t know too much, other than that the researchers confirmed your psychic abilities. That’s all that matters to Little Miss Sunshine, by the way. She wants to mate with a true psychic. Maybe she’s begun to have a few doubts about Preston. Her temple-priestess mentor thinks your genes might produce more impressive offspring.”
“She’s crazy.”
“Elyssa?” Verity gave him a wry glance. “I think Elyssa is just the overly enthusiastic type. Which is why I didn’t make a scene just now. I mean, after all, she’s basically harmless, and she is a client, and I…”
“Forget it. I’ve got to get back to work. Warwick is paying me to make a thorough inspection of this joint, and time is running out. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Verity sighed as he left the room. She sat staring at the grimy portrait on the wall, wondering why she hadn’t had the sense to make a scene over the issue of another woman setting her sights on Jonas.
But how could she explain to Jonas that she didn’t see other women as a threat? Compared to the real dangers their relationship faced, other women were a piece of cake. Jonas, my love, she thought bleakly, you don’t know what real fear and jealousy are. I’ve got them in spades and they’ve got nothing to do with other women.
Real fear was the kind that woke her up in the middle of the night and made her wonder if the psychic link between her and Jonas was all that held him at her side. Real jealousy was torturing herself with visions of what might happen if that link ever dissolved, or if Jonas discovered that he no longer needed her to control his talent. And there was another fear she carried deep in her heart. There was a part of Jonas that reminded her of her father. It was the part of him that had an easy acquaintance with violence and adventuring. And every time she caught a glimpse of that part of his nature she found herself wondering how long he would be content to stick around her, and the baby, and Sequence Springs.
Other women? No, Verity could laugh off that threat. There were too many other things in this relationship to panic over.
But until now it had never occurred to her that Jonas might be panicking, too. It was clear for the first time that she wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.
She had been so wrapped up in her own uncertainties and fears that she hadn’t even realized that Jonas had a few of his own.
After a few minutes of pondering that revelation, Verity remembered her new earrings. She got up and went to the dresser to put them on. When they were in place, she turned her head from side to side, examining the effect.
Jonas was wrong—she didn’t need earrings the color of her eyes. These red crystals were perfect for her. The fire in them danced whenever she moved her head.
“We are as one in our search for the higher levels of truth,” Preston Yarwood intoned. “Our combined psychic energy is a powerful force. Together we will project it into the crystal, where it will be tuned, amplified, and fed back to us. Together we will make the journey this evening to another plane. Together we will find a state of altered consciousness in which we can leap across the limitations of normal logic, and use our intuition to arrive at new answers. Together. We must work together.”
Rain beat down in the dark courtyard. Verity could hear it slapping against the windows of the salon. Her left hand was gripped firmly by Jonas and her right hand was held loosely by Oliver Crump. She narrowed her eyes and risked a quick glance around the small circle seated on the Boor in front of the fireplace.
The room was dark except for the glow from the fire. Yarwood had turned off the lights, saying that it was easier to harmonize a variety of psychic energies in darkness. In the center of their circle sat a large piece of pink crystal. The idea, Yarwood had explained, was to focus their psychic energy on the crystal. Theoretically the rock would channel and enhance that energy.
Verity saw that Jonas’s eyes were open and he looked bored. He had joined the circle reluctantly, at Elyssa’s urging. Catching Verity peeking, he flashed her a sexy grin. She smiled back at him ruefully. Talk about a waste of time, she thought. But this sort of thing was part of humoring the client, as she had explained to Jonas earlier.
“We must all focus together,” Yarwood said with a hint of rebuke.
Verity realized that Preston must have caught her and Jonas exchanging their silent joke. Obediently, she closed her eyes again. Yarwood resumed droning in a steady, hypnotic chant.
Jonas started to tickle Verity’s palm with his middle finger. She ignored it for as long as she could, but after several moments she couldn’t stand it. She tightened her hand around his, and he stopped. As soon as she loosened her warning grip, however, he started in again. Verity nudged him with her knee. Jonas turned the tickling action into a long, intimate stroking that was blatantly erotic. His finger slipped slowly from her palm to her wrist and back again in a movement that she knew was meant to simulate sex.
Verity used her nails briefly to punish him. Jonas obligingly stopped the teasing motion of his finger until she withdrew her nails from his skin, then he started it up again.
Verity tried desperately to concentrate on something else. She thought about the legendary treasure, picturing the frozen vision of the Renaissance man seated at the writing desk with the full treasure chest behind him.
Something shimmered in her mind.
Startled, she stopped playing hand games with Jonas. He stopped too, as if sensing her surprise. The shimmering feeling came again. Verity opened her eyes and stared at the crystal. The shard of pink rock sat in the middle of the circle. It wasn’t glowing, or changing color, or doing anything mysterious.
But Verity’s earrings suddenly felt very warm.
She frowned intently and closed her eyes again. Her imagination was working overtime. Preston Yarwood continued to talk, urging everyone to project harder. Verity wished he would shut up. She felt a sudden need to concentrate.
The shimmering image in Verity’s mind began to take shape. She became very still, gripping Jonas’s hand hard.
This wasn’t like the times she had entered the psychic corridor with Jonas. This was different. There was a faint image appearing inside her head, but it had nothing to do with the time tunnel.
She knew that Jonas was aware that she was suddenly distracted. His fingers closed tightly around hers. On the other side of her, Oliver Crump also started to squeeze her fingers more firmly.
Verity studied the picture in her head. It was a dark stone room. Against one wall of the forbidding little room was a heavily carved chest, fashioned out of black wood.
A cold draft sliced suddenly through the salon. The fire flickered and nearly died.
“Maggie must have left a window open,” Elyssa Warwick complained. “It’s cold in here.”
Her words broke the spell. The image in Verity’s mind vanished abruptly, and her earrings no longer felt warm. O
n her right, Oliver Crump slowly released her hand. When she opened her eyes she found him looking at her with a strange expression. Jonas squeezed her left hand so tightly Verity thought he might cut off the circulation in her fingers.
“I think that’s enough projecting for this evening,” Jonas announced as he got to his feet and pulled Verity up beside him. “It’s late, and Verity and I are going to bed. Good night, everyone.”
“I’m with you,” Doug Warwick said. “I wish there were a television in this place.”
“At least we’ve got booze,” Slade muttered, walking to the liquor cabinet. He surreptitiously uncapped his pill bottle. “Good booze at that.” He downed the pills with a stiff shot of whiskey.
Verity had noticed earlier in the evening that Spencer’s bruises had worsened slightly during the past twenty-four hours. It was not uncommon for a bruise to show more color two or three days after it had been caused. She winced as she said good night to him, hoping that every time he looked in the mirror he didn’t think of contacting a lawyer.
“I’ll have Maggie find that open window,” Elyssa murmured as she swept out of the room. “She’s really not the most efficient housekeeper, is she?” Preston followed her.
Oliver peered at her intently through his wire-rimmed glasses. “Good night, Verity. Sleep well.”
“Let’s go.” Jonas tugged Verity toward the door, using more force than was necessary. As soon as they reached their bedroom, he said sternly, “All right, what happened back there?”
Verity pulled her wrist free of his hand and sat down. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “Did you see it too?”
“See what?”
“An image of a room. A stone-walled room with a black chest sitting in it. I would swear it’s the chest we saw in the vision. I was just sitting there in that circle, Jonas, thinking about the treasure and wondering where it might be when all of a sudden this picture of a small dark room popped into my head. I thought you might have seen it too.”
Jonas paced the length of the room, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression was grim. “I didn’t really feel or see anything. I just got the impression you were suddenly somewhere else.” He shot her a sharp glance. “I hope you’re not going to get sucked into believing in this psychic crap about crystals and astral energy and the rest of that nonsense.”
“I got sucked into believing in your psychic abilities, didn’t I?” Verity retorted.
He stopped pacing long enough to throw her a severe glance. “That’s different.”
“I see. Thank you for pointing that out.”
“You didn’t really see an image of a room tonight, did you?” he demanded.
“I saw it.”
“It was your imagination.”
“Possibly.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I was picking up on someone else’s thoughts,” she said slowly, thinking of Oliver Crump. “Jonas, you don’t suppose that someone in that group really is psychic, do you? You and I were just playing parlor games tonight for the sake of the client, but some of the others were actually trying to project through that crystal. What if one of them really did pick up on something, and I got some of the backlash, the way I do when you use your powers?”
“I can’t believe that any of those idiots are genuine psychics,” Jonas said coldly.
“They’re not idiots, Jonas. Two of them are clients. One of them is a very nice man who’s studying herbs and crystal healing techniques, and one of them believes sufficiently in his own psychic powers that he once paid to have himself tested.”
“Yarwood.” Jonas considered that for a moment. “I still don’t believe it. If he did have some talent, why would he have the Warwicks pay me to check out this villa? He could have done it himself.”
“Doug wanted someone with genuine academic credentials, remember? Besides, Preston doesn’t claim any talent for psychometry, just a little precognitive ability. That wouldn’t have helped in a treasure hunt, let alone in authenticating the villa. Elyssa and Preston felt they needed you.”
Jonas shook his head. “I can’t believe Yarwood’s got any real psychic ability. The man’s a con artist, pure and simple.”
“One who apparently believes in his own con.”
“They’re the most dangerous kind.”
Verity looked at Jonas. “Are we going into that hidden tunnel tonight?”
“I’m going in. But I think you ought to stay here.”
“We’ve already been through this, Jonas. I insist on coming with you. I’m warning you, I’ll follow you if I have to.”
“I don’t like it, Verity.” But it was obvious that he had no real hope of talking her out of it.
“We’ll both be very careful.” She rose to her feet. “Ready when you are.”
“Verity…
She was already at the tapestry, moving it aside. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Jonas.”
“For better or for worse?” he asked softly.
She saw the intensity in his golden eyes. She looked away again nervously. “We’d better hurry if we want to get any sleep tonight.”
“Little coward,” he muttered. He picked up the flashlight and switched it on. You stay two paces behind me at all times, and you don’t touch anything or step anywhere I haven’t already touched or stepped.”
“Yes, O Great Psychic Hunter of the Night.”
“Give me any lip and I’ll tie you to the bed and leave you there while I explore this tunnel.”
Verity shut up and smiled her most dazzling smile. Jonas sighed and picked up her discarded cane. He hefted it experimentally and stepped into the stone passage.
“Is it still there?” Verity asked as she followed him into the tunnel.
“Is what still here?” His voice was a soft echo in the passageway.
“The skeleton.”
“Of course it’s still here. Where did you think it might go?”
She refused to glance behind the stone door. “I was just checking. What are you going to use the cane for?”
“As a probe for booby traps.”
“Good idea.”
“Thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “I don’t know how much good it will do. I think I’m better off relying on my psychic ability and these footprints that Digby or his buddy left behind. As long as we step where someone else has already stepped, we should be safe.”
They prowled slowly along the hidden passage, following the old footprints in the dust. Jonas said little as he led the way.
After following the angling corridor for some distance Jonas stopped and crouched in the dust, examining a series of steps that led downward abruptly. “The tunnel continues down between the walls to the lower level.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Be careful on these steps. They’re narrow.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to twist this ankle again. Do the footprints come from that direction?”
“Yeah. Digby must have come up these steps a few times. It looks like someone else might have, also. It’s hard to tell with all this dust, but I’d swear there are at least two different sets of shoe prints here.”
“Digby and whoever killed him.” Verity shuddered.
“Probably.” Jonas straightened and started down the steps. “I think these stairs bypass the first floor. Looks like we’re going down farther than one level.”
“Did Renaissance homes have basements?”
“This one did. It was a combination storage facility and dungeon. I was going to check it out tomorrow.”
“Maggie Frampton did mention a torture chamber, didn’t she?”
The stairs led down into what seemed an endless darkness. Jonas’s flashlight cut a brave swath of light, but it left a great deal of darkness untouched. Verity told herself that she was not claustrophobic and was not afraid of the dark. But she had to admit that so
mething was sending uncomfortable chills down her spine.
The stairs stopped abruptly. Jonas halted on the last step and shone the flashlight along a new passageway. “The way this corridor is designed, it could wander all over the whole villa,” he complained. “We could spend weeks exploring it.”
“We don’t have weeks, we’ve only got a few days.” Verity glanced ahead into the eerie shadows. “Why build a hidden corridor that just wanders around the house? There must be other exits besides the one in our room.”
“Looks like Digby or his friend found one.” Jonas was studying the footprints in the dust.
“What do you mean?” Verity moved closer.
“One set of prints seems to come straight out of this section of wall. Probably another hidden door. The others come from farther down the passageway.”
“Let’s see if we can find the mechanism that activates this tunnel door. I wouldn’t mind having an alternate route out of this damn passageway.”
Jonas played the flashlight over the stone walls. “With any luck the design will be the same one used on the door that opens into our room. Ah, here we go,” he added with sudden satisfaction. “Another testimonial to the Renaissance love of harmonic proportion and symmetry. The mechanism for this door is in exactly the same position as the one at the other end of the corridor. Stand back.”
“Be careful. Jonas.”
“I will, but I don’t think this exit is booby-trapped. The other one wasn’t.” He traced a path between stones, pausing at various spots to push carefully. He was finally rewarded by a groaning sound that was almost human. A seam appeared in the stone, and then a heavy stone door swung slowly inward.
Verity gasped in shock as Jonas shone the flashlight into a room that looked like a wax museum’s chamber of horrors.
“This is the love nest Maggie shared with Digby?” Verity asked in stunned amazement.
“And you called me kinky,” Jonas chided as he stepped into the room. It was full of grim machines, chains, manacles, and other assorted implements of terror. He aimed the bean of the flashlight at one wall. “Nice collection of whips.”
Gift of Fire Page 18
