“Well, sure,” Zack said. “But when it comes to your kind of serious, there are nuances.”
Fallon looked at his cousin. Zack sat casually angled across the corner of Fallon’s desk, arms folded. There was certainly some family resemblance between them. Like most of the men in the Jones family line, they were both dark-haired and built along the lean lines typical of the clan which had, for generations, produced a lot of hunter-talents.
That was where the physical resemblance ended, though. Zack’s eyes were a glacial blue, and he was a couple of inches shorter than Fallon. But the biggest difference between them was the nature of their talents. Zack’s psychic ability gave him an edge when it came to anticipating the actions of others, a major plus given his new responsibilities as Master of the Society. His talent was actually a rare form of psychometry. Zack could pick up a knife or a gun that had been used to commit murder and sense what the killer had been feeling at the time the act of violence had been committed.
He had married a woman with a similar talent. When Raine came in contact with the psychic residue of violence, her clairaudient intuition translated the energy into the form of voices. Sometimes it was the killer’s voice she heard. Sometimes the victim’s.
Like many in the Jones family, Zack had once worked as a J&J agent. But he was now the latest in a long line of Joneses to take the reins of the Arcane Society. In Fallon’s opinion, the career change was a good move for both of them. Zack had a natural flair for giving orders, but he had never been any good at taking them.
“You want to talk about my nuances or do you want to discuss the fact that we may have located a cache of Bridewell’s nasty little gadgets?” Fallon asked.
“Good to see you, too, cousin,” Zack said.
Fallon winced. “Sorry. Things have been a little busy around here lately. Getting your phone call this morning informing me that you were on the way to the Cove caught me off guard, that’s all. I wasn’t planning on visitors.”
“After we talked on the phone last night, I told Raine about what you had found. We both agreed this was a piece of Arcane history that we did not want to miss.”
“You didn’t come all the way from Seattle just to take a look at some old clockwork inventions.”
“Okay, there is another reason,” Zack said. “But I’m also interested in Bridewell’s curiosities. J&J was never able to recover all of the devices after the case was closed back in the late eighteen hundreds. Couldn’t even come up with an accurate estimate of how many had been made. The curiosities that were found were stored in the vault at Arcane House in England, but several vanished during the Second World War. How the hell did some of the gadgets end up here in Scargill Cove?”
“I’m still working on that problem,” Fallon said. “At this point all I can tell you is that twenty-two years ago three people managed to get hold of some of the curiosities. They brought them here, tuned them up, and tried to run some experiments on them. One man evidently died in the explosion.”
“They wanted to figure out how the damn things work,” Zack said.
“Evidently,” Fallon said. “I checked the property records. The Sea Breeze Motor Lodge was once owned by a family named Kelso. The last surviving member of the clan is a man named Jonathan Kelso. He had some kind of mental breakdown about twenty-two years ago. He’s been living in an institution ever since.”
“The result of the explosion?”
“That’s what my talent is telling me,” Fallon said. “I’m going to try to interview him when I have a chance. But right now I’ve got other priorities. The first item at the top of my to-do list is to get the curiosities safely out of the shelter and into the lab.”
“The secret of the weapons is in the glass Bridewell used and in her unique talent. To this day, no one understands the para-physics involved. But why did Kelso and his companions bring the gadgets here? Obviously they knew about the old bomb shelter, but they could have found equally good shielding in a hundred other locations.”
“I’m ninety-nine-point-three percent sure the deciding factor was that they knew that Scargill Cove is a natural para-nexus.”
“Yeah?” Zack glanced out the window. “I didn’t know that. I thought you moved the office back here because you liked the solitude.”
“That was part of it, but mostly I selected it because of the energy here. The nexus currents aren’t obvious at first, but they are very strong. After you’ve been here awhile, you can sense them. The atmosphere around here helps me to focus.”
“All right, I’ll buy that,” Zack said. “But let’s be honest: you were never what anyone would call the sociable type even before all the crap that went down three years ago. Afterward your loner tendencies got a whole lot more pronounced. Hell, you practically disappeared when you moved here.”
“I like it here.”
“I can see that,” Zack said.
He did not say anything else for a time. Fallon waited.
“I should probably mention the other reason I decided to pay you a visit today,” Zack said eventually.
“I knew it,” Fallon said.
“Well, you are psychic.”
“Let’s have it.”
“I want you to show up at the Society’s Winter Conference this week,” Zack said.
Fallon did not hesitate. “No.”
“You’ve skipped it for two years in a row.”
“You know why.”
“Yes, but things are different this year.”
“Give me one good reason I should make the trip to Sedona.”
“I’ll give you two. The first is that there’s a move afoot to encourage the Council to replace you as the head of J&J.”
Fallon felt as if he’d walked into a stone wall. It took an effort of will backed up by a little talent to pull his senses together.
“That’s not possible,” he said. “J&J is mine. I inherited the firm from Uncle Gresham. It’s always been a privately held business within the family. It’s not just another branch of Arcane like the labs or the museums. The Council can’t fire me.”
“There is talk to the effect that if replacing you is not an option, the Council should sever its ties with J&J and hire a new investigation firm.”
Fallon gripped the window ledge. “Someone thinks I’ve lost it?”
“It has been suggested,” Zack said neutrally. “But the politically correct argument being used is that you’re spending too many resources on Nightshade.”
Fallon closed his eyes. “They think Nightshade is finished because of the Hawaii case.”
“Yes,” Zack said.
“It’s not.” Fallon opened his eyes. “I can feel it, Zack. That damn organization is like a hydra. We cut off one of the snake’s heads, but a new one will soon take its place. Trust me. As long as they have Humphrey Hulsey and the recipe for the formula, we can’t let down our guard.”
“I believe you and I’ll back you all the way. But in the meantime, I need you to back me.”
“You want me to do that by showing up at the Sedona conference?”
Zack watched him very steadily, his startling blue eyes cold and determined. But there was understanding in his expression as well.
“Yes,” he said. “Face it, cousin, you can’t stay hidden away here in Scargill Cove forever. We both know that. Those who wield power within Arcane need to see you. If you remain out of sight, the rumors will only get worse.”
Fallon exhaled slowly. He had known this request was coming sooner or later, he reminded himself. His parents had dropped a few pointed hints some weeks back. Nevertheless, Zack was applying more pressure than the situation appeared to warrant. There was an underlying urgency to the demand that required a little study.
Fallon heightened his senses and watched the paranormal web light up.
“Well, hell,” he said softly. “It’s not just me or J&J they’re after, is it?”
“I don’t think so,” Zack said, very serious now. “Got a feeling
that severing the connection with J&J and cutting off the resources you require to fight Nightshade is part of a long-term strategy.”
“You’re next,” Fallon said, comprehension hitting him in the gut. “With J&J out of the picture, the next logical step would be to convince the Council to remove you and put someone else in charge of the Society.”
“Someone other than a Jones, to be specific,” Zack said. “Someone who would be in a position to redirect not only the full resources of the Society but its goals and objectives, as well. My talent tells me we’re looking at what those in the business world call a hostile takeover.”
Fallon whistled softly. “More like a coup d’état.”
“I want to counter it with a show of force. Within Arcane, power and talent are everything, always have been. The Jones family has a lot of both of those commodities. I want to remind the members of that. Hell, we founded the organization. We aren’t going to give it up without a fight.”
More sectors of the paranormal spiderweb shivered with light. “Nightshade,” Fallon said softly. “Or what’s left of it. Got to be.”
“Maybe,” Zack cautioned. “Maybe not. I haven’t been able to identify the source of the recent wave of rumors, let alone whether or not the individual responsible is linked to Nightshade. This thing could be coming from an entirely different direction. There have always been those within the Society who resented everyone on our family tree.”
“Because we’re descended from the founder.” Fallon looked around the room, mentally cataloging the antiques scattered around the space: the desk and the old inkwell, the Victorian umbrella stand and the wrought iron coatrack on the wall. All of the offices of J&J across the U.S. and in London had some mementos that reflected the history of J&J and the Society. Both of which were inextricably bound to the history of the Jones family, he thought. “They fear us because we’ve always controlled Arcane.”
“Not just the organization,” Zack reminded him. “But a lot of its deepest secrets, as well. The family has always had enemies. You know the old saying.”
“Friends may come and go but enemies accumulate.”
“The Joneses have had more than four hundred years to acquire our enemies.”
Fallon smiled grimly. “And what’s more, we’re good at it.”
“Comes with the territory,” Zack said. “Like I told you, I don’t know yet if the person who started the rumors about you and J&J is in any way connected to Nightshade, but I think it’s clear that his ultimate goal is to make certain that the Joneses lose control of Arcane.”
“And its secrets. It’s actually a hell of a strategy, when you think about it. Why go to all the trouble and risk of resurrecting the currently broken version of Nightshade if you can take over Arcane from the inside and create a super-Nightshade? It’s brilliant.”
Zack cleared his throat. “Let’s save the conspiracy theories until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
Fallon turned back to the window. Even those within his own family circle considered him a conspiracy nut. Zack and everyone else used the term conspiracy theory so loosely, he thought. They did not seem to grasp the bright, shining line that separated a valid theory of a case and a conspiracy fantasy. No wonder it had been easy for someone to fire up the new rumors at the highest levels of Arcane. I gave the traitor all the ammunition he needed.
“Will you come to the Winter Conference?” Zack asked quietly.
Zack was right, Fallon thought. Within Arcane, power spoke and spoke loudly.
“I’ll show up for the opening-night reception,” he said. “Will that satisfy you?”
“Yes.” Zack came up off the desk and clapped Fallon on the shoulder. “Thanks, cousin. I knew I could count on you.”
“One thing you should know. I’m working on another project at the moment.”
“Sorting out the Bridewell curiosities? No problem. Once Rafanelli and his team pick up the gadgets, that old case will be closed.”
“I’m not talking about the curiosities,” Fallon said. “I meant Isabella.”
Zack shot him a knowing smile. “Bring her to the conference. Hell, the fact that you’ve got a date will, uh—”
“Make me look more stable?” Fallon asked evenly. “Normal?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Zack admitted.
Fallon turned back to the view of the Sunshine. “You don’t understand. I’m working on Isabella’s case.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She thinks someone killed her grandmother. She’s convinced that the same person may be gunning for her.”
“No offense,” Zack said, “but why would anyone bother to kill the Sentinel? She’s a nutcase. Everyone knows that. And why would anyone want to murder Isabella?”
“She thinks that she stumbled into a real conspiracy. She told her grandmother and now she thinks her grandmother is dead. So, yes, Isabella thinks there’s a connection. I agreed to investigate.”
Down below, the door of the Sunshine opened. Isabella and Raine emerged carrying paper sacks that were no doubt filled with fresh, hot muffins. Fallon could see that the two women were talking easily together, as if they were old friends. You’d never know they had met only a short time ago. Isabella’s energy had that effect on people as well as dogs and plants, he thought. But, then, energy was energy. Living things always responded to it, one way or another.
Raine was tall with distinctive eyes that she tried to veil behind the severe frames of her glasses. Like Zack, she wore a lot of black.
“Let me get this straight,” Zack said. “J&J is investigating the possible death of one of the nuttiest conspiracy freaks who ever fired up a website.”
“More or less,” Fallon said.
“You’re the man who does the numbers. You never say more or less. What are the odds there’s a real conspiracy involved here?”
“I don’t know,” Fallon admitted.
“You always know,” Zack said.
“Not this time.” He watched a big silver-gray SUV drive slowly down the narrow street. “There’s the team.”
The driver of the vehicle stopped and rolled down the window to speak to Raine and Isabella. Fallon watched Isabella point toward the small parking area behind the office. Then the two women entered the empty lower floor of the building.
There were footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. Isabella and Raine walked into the room preceded by the spicy aroma of the warm muffins. They brought something else into the office, as well, the subtle heat of their auras. Both women were powerful talents. Strong sensitives stirred the atmosphere in a space even when they were not running hot.
“Dr. Rafanelli and his team will be here in a few minutes,” Isabella said. “We told them to get some coffee and muffins at the Sunshine first.”
“Damn.” Impatience flashed through Fallon. He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have all day. We need to get started. It’s going to take some time to make sure those gadgets are deactivated and properly stowed for safe transport.”
“I’m sure the crew won’t be long,” Isabella said. She opened her sack and held it out to him. “Here, have a muffin. They’re right out of the oven.”
Distracted, he peered into the sack. “Okay, thanks.”
He selected a muffin and downed half of it before he realized that Zack and Raine were watching him with scarcely veiled amusement.
“Something funny?” he asked, munching.
“No,” Zack said quickly. He took a bite of the muffin that Raine had handed to him. “You said there’s a lot of old para-energy in the bomb shelter. Anything else we ought to know about?”
Isabella tossed the empty muffin sack into the trash. “We should probably tell you about the body.”
Raine looked at her and then at Fallon. “There’s a body?”
“Old one,” Fallon explained. “Just a skeleton. Belongs to the con artist who founded an intentional community here twenty-two years ago. The members
of the community kicked him out when they realized that he’d taken all their money and was trying to set up his own private harem. He returned one night to try to steal the curiosities. He got one out, the clock.”
Zack dusted muffin crumbs off his hands and looked interested. “How did he get dead?”
“Workplace accident,” Fallon said.
AN HOUR LATER Fallon stood with Zack in the shelter. They watched Rafanelli and his team painstakingly deactivate the clockwork mechanisms that animated the objects in the glass cases. Each curiosity was carefully stowed in one of the leaded-glass boxes the Society’s museums used to transport artifacts infused with a hefty amount of unknown crystal or glass-based psi.
Isabella and Raine were on the other side of the room, standing over the skeleton. They talked in low voices. Zack glanced at the body with a thoughtful expression.
“That was no workplace accident,” he said.
“Close enough.” Fallon shrugged. “Lasher was a thief, and he appears to have been at work trying to steal stuff when he got whacked. Workplace accident, like I said.”
“Who used the crowbar on his skull?”
“We think there was a woman with him. Her name was Rachel Stewart and she had some talent. From the looks of it, Rachel got really pissed off.”
“You’re going with a falling-out-among-thieves scenario?”
“It fits,” Fallon said. “In any event, it happened more than twenty years ago. No one gives a damn now.”
“And it would be a little awkward to turn the case over to the authorities,” Zack agreed dryly, “given the hot psi down here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“See?” Zack widened his hands. “This is how the Joneses accumulate secrets.”
“Another thing we’re good at, like acquiring enemies.”
Raine and Isabella turned away from the skeleton and walked back across the small space.
“You say you’re planning to dump the remains off the Point?” Raine asked.
“That’s the plan,” Fallon said.
“Use your own judgment,” Raine said. “But I think you should know that I can hear the echoes of the voices of the people who were here that night.”
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