Amaryllis

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Don’t you see? One thing leads to another. The more I wondered why a properly trained prism would get involved in unethical activities, the more I began to ask other questions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as, what if Professor Landreth knew about the prism’s unethical behavior? What if someone didn’t want him to know?”

  “Five hells,” Lucas muttered. “I think I see where this is going.”

  “And then I got that phone call implying that there was a mystery connected to Professor Landreth. Lucas, if there is even the slightest possibility that his death was not an accident, I’m going to insist upon a full investigation.”

  “Fine. Go to the police and tell them that some anonymous caller told you that a syn-sex stripper may have information about Landreth. Let the cops take it from there.”

  “The case is closed as far as the police are concerned. You know as well as I do that they’re hardly likely to reopen an accident investigation just because I got an anonymous phone call.”

  The light was poor on the side street, but Lucas had no difficulty seeing the determination in Amaryllis’s face. It alarmed him as nothing else had done in a long, long time. “Amaryllis, listen to me, this is not a good idea.”

  “I just want to talk to Vivien to see if she really knows anything, that’s all. You don’t have to stick around if you’d rather not get involved.”

  “You’re not listening, Miss Lark. I’d rather you didn’t get involved.”

  “I thought you would have some empathy for my feelings.”

  “Because I know what it feels like to want answers? Amaryllis, bear in mind that I didn’t particularly like the ones I got.”

  Her soft mouth firmed in a small but significant gesture that Lucas was beginning to recognize. Amaryllis had dug in her heels.

  “I’m committed to this,” she said austerely. “Look, I told you that I was coming down here on business tonight. If you would prefer to spend the evening somewhere else—”

  “Anywhere else.”

  “Then feel free to get back in your car and go home.”

  “Do you really think I’m going to leave you all by yourself down here?”

  Something in his voice must have gotten through to her because Amaryllis’s expression turned wary. “Probably not.”

  “Probably not is right.” Lucas released her lapels, seized her arm, and started toward the bright lights that marked the strip. “Let’s go.”

  She quickened her pace to keep up with him. “I appreciate this, Lucas. I didn’t want to come down here alone, but I hope you don’t feel that I used you. You did volunteer.”

  “Yeah, sure. There’s just one thing, Amaryllis.”

  “Yes?”

  “When this is over, you owe me a real date. I intend to collect.”

  When the club door opened, the sensual, driving rhythms of heavy ice rock spilled over Amaryllis in a wave. Drunken laughter and the din of voices pitched above the level of the music created a wall of noise. Flashes of arcing light zipped back and forth through the shadows creating just enough illumination to reveal the club’s customers seated at small, round tables.

  Amaryllis came to a halt just inside the door and gazed around in dismay. “We’ll never find a place to sit.”

  “What?” Lucas asked.

  She cupped a hand to her mouth. “I said, we’ll never find a table.”

  “We should be so lucky. Come on, unfortunately I think I see one over there near the wall.”

  Amaryllis slanted him a sidelong glance as he guided her through the darkened club. Lucas was not in a good mood. It had been a mistake to bring him with her, she thought. On the other hand, she was very glad he was here.

  A waiter materialized out of the darkness the moment Amaryllis sat down.

  “What’ll it be?” he asked in a bored voice. “Two-drink minimum.”

  Amaryllis looked up at the young man who was standing impatiently in front of her. He was very handsome, very blond, and for an instant she feared that he was very naked. Then she noticed the tiny, tautly stretched leather thong that barely covered the critical regions of his anatomy. Actually, it was difficult not to notice the garment. It was at roughly eye level.

  In an effort to conceal her shock, she hastily averted her eyes and gazed fixedly at Lucas. “Wine.” The word came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat. “I’ll have a glass of wine, please.”

  “Green, white, or blue?” The waiter demanded.

  “Green, please,” she said quickly, opting for the weakest of the three.

  The waiter glanced at Lucas. “And you, sir?”

  “What kind of beer do you have on tap?”

  “Jungle Fever, Twin Moons, and Five Hells.”

  “Five Hells.”

  “Got it. Be right back.”

  Amaryllis could not resist another glance at the waiter as he wheeled and disappeared into the crowd. She was curious, in spite of herself, to see where he stashed the small notepad he used to jot down drink orders. There did not appear to be any pockets in the leather thong that she could see.

  Lucas leaned across the table. “Not quite what you expected?”

  “I didn’t know what to expect.” Blushing furiously, Amaryllis jerked her attention away from the waiter’s muscular flanks. “I’ve got to figure out a way to talk to this Vivien person.”

  Lucas shrugged. “Ask our server when he gets back.”

  “Good idea.”

  A drumroll silenced the music and the crowd. On stage the arcing jelly-lights began to pulse in rapidly shifting patterns between floor and ceiling. A murmur of anticipation rose from the onlookers.

  A man dressed in formal evening wear stepped out from behind the heavy blue and gold curtains. He had a microphone in his hand.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” The announcer paused to make certain he had the full attention of the crowd. “Welcome to SynCity, where your most erotic dreams come true. Tonight’s performance is about to begin. For those of you who have never experienced synergistically augmented sexual entertainment, allow me to present the two people who will thrill you tonight. York and Yolanda.”

  The crowd roared its approval as the outer layer of the curtain rose. A man and a woman stood revealed in the flashing lights. Both wore skintight garments fashioned of a glittering, silvery material. Their hair had been dyed a matching shade of silver white. Long, silver gloves covered their hands and arms.

  The music swelled as York and Yolanda bowed to the audience. It took the announcer several minutes to regain the attention of the crowd. When he had it, he gave a leering smile and winked broadly.

  “York is a class-eight talent, ladies and gentlemen. He is a syn-sex generator. One of those rare individuals gifted with the ability to pick up strong sexual sensations, heighten those sensations, and project them toward those of you who are lucky enough to be sitting in our audience tonight. Yolanda is the powerful prism who will assist him. Let’s hear it again for York and Yolanda.”

  The crowd broke into eager applause. Shouts of encouragement went up around the room. Amaryllis frowned at Lucas.

  “There is no such thing as a … a syn-sex generator,” she hissed across the table. “And even if there were, he couldn’t possibly project the sensations of sexual activity to a room full of people.”

  Lucas glanced around. “Tell that to this crowd. The first rule of good theater is that the audience wants to believe. And this crowd definitely wants to believe.”

  The announcer raised his hand for silence and got it. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare to enjoy a truly unique sexual experience. You are about to discover new levels of erotic stimulation. I give you Vivien of the Veils.”

  The inner curtain rose. A woman appeared in the spotlight. She was shrouded from neck to toe in flowing purple. Her head was bowed. Purple hair cascaded down her back to her waist. Massive purple crystals sparkled on her wrists and decorated the gold circlet that bound her hair.

  Am
aryllis stared. “Do you think that’s the Vivien we came to meet?”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised. Probably not a lot of Viviens around here. At least not a lot who wear veils.”

  The music fell into a low, throbbing beat. York and Yolanda took up positions at the edge of the stage. They clasped hands and closed their eyes as if in intense concentration.

  The thonged waiter returned just as Vivien lifted her head and began a series of sultry, sinuous movements. Amaryllis picked up her glass and sipped cautiously at the weak green wine. She watched, first in amazement and then with increasing embarrassment, as the dancer’s veils shimmered and swirled. Glimpses of Vivien’s buttocks and breasts created a ripple of excitement in the audience.

  “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the museum reception,” Lucas murmured.

  Amaryllis was outraged. “That’s not true. My dress was perfectly decent.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  The men in the crowd hooted and applauded as the first of Vivien’s veils fell away. The women in the audience cheered a moment later when a man emerged from the shadows and strode onto the stage. He wore a pair of thigh-high leather boots and a thong that was even smaller than the waiter’s.

  The male dancer reached out to snatch one of Vivien’s veils. It came free, baring the dancer’s breasts, which were supported by a purple harness that emphasized purple rouged nipples. Amaryllis decided that she and Vivien did not shop at the same semiannual underwear and foundation sales.

  Vivien circled her partner in a series of unmistakably erotic movements. The man responded with strong pelvic thrusts, which Amaryllis knew could not have been good for his lower back.

  The music quickly grew more intense. The beat became relentless. At the edge of the stage, York and Yolanda were bathed in a sheen of sweat.

  The male dancer lowered himself onto a purple velvet rug. Vivien, now almost completely nude, straddled his hips.

  Embarrassed, Amaryllis turned her attention to the audience. The heavy breathing in the immediate vicinity was quite audible. A few people began to pant and moan. A shrieking cry of ecstasy emanated from a dark corner of the room. A man’s husky groan sounded from a neighboring table.

  On stage, York and Yolanda strained mightily as Vivien and her companion ground away at each other.

  “I don’t believe this for one minute.” Amaryllis glowered at Lucas. “It’s all an act.”

  Lucas smiled. “Want to prove that York and Yolanda aren’t doing a damn thing except sweating up there on the stage?”

  Amaryllis understood immediately. “You want to link? Here? Now?”

  “I’m a detector, remember? If York is using any talent, I’ll pick it up.”

  Amaryllis’s cheeks burned at the memory of the sensual sensations that had flooded through her the last time she and Lucas had linked.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She almost winced at the prim tone in her voice. “I’m supposed to be here on business.”

  Lucas grinned. “You’re scared.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re a professional, remember? You can handle it.”

  He was goading her. Amaryllis knew it but she couldn’t seem to rise above it.

  “All right,” she muttered. “But just for a moment.”

  Lucas’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. He reached across the table and took her hand.

  The link happened quickly. A few seconds of seeking, the brief sensation of vulnerability, and then Amaryllis went to work. The prism took shape on the psychic plane.

  “You know, professionally speaking, Miss Lark, you’re good,” Lucas drawled softly. “Very good.”

  Talent pulsed through the prism.

  The noise of the music and the crowd faded. To her dismay, Amaryllis became acutely aware of the warmth in her lower body. She had been doing a reasonably good job of suppressing her reaction to Lucas all evening, but something about the link loosened those inner controls. His fingers tightened around hers.

  “I’m not picking up anything from York,” Lucas whispered. “The guy’s a complete fake.”

  “I knew it.” Amaryllis hastily broke the link. The prism winked out of existence.

  A woman’s shriek sliced through the dark room. A man gave a muffled groan. The couple sitting at the neighboring table began to kiss passionately.

  “Want to leave?” Lucas asked gently.

  “I have to talk to Vivien.”

  “We can wait outside until the performance is over and then go to her dressing room.”

  Amaryllis felt absurdly grateful for the suggestion. “Excellent idea.” She leaped to her feet.

  Lucas put down his unfinished beer, stood, threw some money down, and took her hand. He forged a path through the maze of tiny tables. The cries and moans of people who appeared to be in the throes of sexual climax rose and fell.

  “I can’t believe that all these people have actually convinced themselves that they’re being sexually stimulated by York and Yolanda.” Amaryllis said. “This is nothing more than self-induced mass hysteria.”

  “I guess it works for them,” Lucas said.

  Chapter

  7

  “Hold it.” Amaryllis held up an imperious hand as Lucas reached for his wallet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Lucas glanced at the expectant expression on the face of the massive man who blocked the stage door entrance. The guard looked as if he had once been severely overmuscled. He was now seriously overweight. He created a formidable barrier.

  Lucas assessed the situation and looked at Amaryllis’s disapproving frown. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to bribe him to let us in so that you can meet Vivien of the Veils, That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

  “We shouldn’t have to give this person a bribe just to get in the door. It’s not right.”

  The heavyset guard eyed Amaryllis with kindly indulgence. “You must be new in town.”

  She took a step toward him. “I am not new in town. And even if I were, I’d still know that bribery is wrong.”

  The big man looked at Lucas. “No offense, but I’d suggest you get yourself another lady friend. Don’t think you two have much in common.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Lucas shoved three bills into the guard’s massive fist. “Can we go inside now? We’re in a hurry.”

  “Be my guest. Viv’s door is the third one on the left.” The guard heaved his bulk off a stool and indicated the entrance with a surprisingly gracious wave of his broad hand.

  Amaryllis favored the big man with one last reproving frown as she went past. “You should be ashamed of yourself, you know.”

  “Oh, I am, I am.” The guard beamed.

  Lucas took Amaryllis’s arm before she could continue the lecture. “Let’s go.”

  The corridor inside the entrance was cramped and narrow. Lucas could have easily touched the low ceiling. The throbbing music from the stage created a dull background roar. The walls vibrated.

  The sign on the first door indicated that it was a storage closet. The second door was labeled “Wardrobe.” A large purple star glowed on the third door.

  “Something tells me this is Vivien’s.” Lucas halted in front of the star and knocked twice.

  “Come on in, it ain’t locked,” a woman called out loudly enough to be heard over the music.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas saw Amaryllis’s hand clench around her purse strap. She looked anxious but resolved. Real founder material, he thought as he opened the door to reveal a dingy dressing room decorated entirely in purple.

  Vivien, garbed in a purple dressing gown, was seated in front of the mirror. She paused in the act of wiping off some purple makeup. Her eyes moved over Lucas with businesslike speculation. Without the elaborate makeup, her features were far less exotic than they had appeared on stage. The hard lines around her eyes and mouth bespoke a wealth of streetwise experience. But the smile sh
e gave Lucas was polite, almost indulgent.

  “Sorry. I don’t do unscheduled private acts. You gotta make an appointment.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lucas said.

  Amaryllis stepped out from behind Lucas. “Hello. My name is Amaryllis Lark.”

  Vivien switched her appraising glance to Amaryllis. “New in town? Not a bad stage name. If you’re looking for a job, you’ll have to try somewhere else. Me and York and Yolanda have a long-term contract here.”

  Amaryllis blinked. “A job?” Understanding lit her eyes. She turned pink. “Oh, I see what you mean. No, I’m not looking for work. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “Questions, huh?” Vivien’s gaze sharpened. “You two cops?”

  “No, of course not,” Amaryllis said quickly. “This is a personal matter.”

  “Personal.” Vivien turned back to the mirror and began to smear cream into her purple eye shadow. “That’ll cost you.”

  Lucas reached for his wallet a second time. Ignoring Amaryllis’s obvious disapproval, he dug out a few more bills and handed them to the stripper.

  Vivien made the money disappear into the front of her purple gown. She met Amaryllis’s eyes in the mirror. “Ask away, honey.”

  Amaryllis clasped her hands in front of her. “Well, I suppose what I want to know is, were you acquainted with Professor Jonathan Landreth?”

  “Sure, I knew Jonny.” Vivien expertly massaged more cream into the skin above her eyes. “Funny little guy. Always acted as if his underwear was a couple of sizes too small, but other than that, he was okay. Real reliable. Never missed an appointment.”

  Amaryllis cleared her throat. “You called him Jonny?”

  “Sure. What else?” Vivien sighed. “I was real sorry to hear about his accident last month. Poor old Jonny was definitely wound a little too tight, but he was a perfect gentleman. And he always paid up front.”

  Amaryllis’s brows came together in obvious bewilderment. “What did he pay for?”

  “Paid to watch me dance, naturally. Private performances only. Jonny never wanted to sit out front with the audience. Kind of shy, I guess. He wanted to watch me perform for him alone.” Vivien chuckled. “Said he didn’t need York and Yolanda to get him hot.”