“There’s an excellent reason you think they’re myths. First off, the clan Elders want it that way. And second, because the porthors never show themselves unless summoned. I’m quite sure this young woman did not summon them, because if she had, she wouldn’t be asking everyone she meets what she saw. That leaves us with the very unsettling possibility that they revealed themselves to her without being summoned.”
“So?”
He slammed a fist on Rhys’s desk. “They never reveal themselves to anyone without being summoned. What is it about this girl that would cause them to do that?”
Rhys was at a loss for words. Dad was asking him to accept the existence of these make-believe creatures, and then explain their behavior.
His father leaned into his face. “Find out, Rhys. Get to know her, befriend her, become her lover if that’s what it takes. I don’t care how, just find out who she really is and why she’s really here.”
“Sure, Dad,” he said as his father turned away. “Just as soon as you apologize.”
His father froze, then did a slow turn.
“Apologize for what?”
Rhys rose and faced him. “For talking to me like that. I’m not your errand boy, I’m not your gofer or your troubleshooter or your fixer or your private eye. I’m an analyst and I—”
“Okay, okay,” his father said, hands up, palms out. “I get it. That was harsh of me, and I apologize. But this is a stressful time, so many things coming to a head. I need your help. We need to step out of our comfort zones and think outside the box.”
Rhys wanted to tell him to put a lid on the jargon, but that might sidetrack the apology.
“So I’m asking you,” he continued. “Asking you, Rhys, to put on your game face and zero in on this girl. Learn all about her—for my sake, for your own sake, for the sake of the clan. Can you do that? Will you do that?”
“Well, she’s not my type,” Rhys said, “but if you put it that way, sure. All you had to do was ask.”
“Then we’re on the same wavelength?”
“Locked in.”
Is he losing it? Rhys wondered as his father walked out.
Didn’t hurt to let Dad think he was reluctant to pursue Daley when Rhys was anything but. She intrigued him. He’d never met anyone quite like her. Investigating her was going to be fun—for both of them, he hoped.
He knew the outcome already: Daley was different from the usual Nespodee Springs resident, and different from the tourists who came through to visit the spa, but in the end she’d turn out to be a normal human being, not a pairing, not a Duad.
Nothing special, nothing different, nothing to make her a threat to whatever Dad was seeing in the stars.
4
The rest of the day at Healerina progressed slowly, with desultory traffic, mostly people from the spa wandering through town and stopping in. A few bought some New Age knickknacks, but most just browsed. An occasional local dropped in, mostly out of curiosity.
Daley wandered the shop ceaselessly, like a cruising great white.
(“Your boredom is tangible.”)
I shouldn’t be bored? I feel like a bloody shopkeeper.
(“Well, this is a shop and you are its keeper. What do you expect?”)
I’m supposed to be a healer.
(“And that’s exactly what we did with Estelle. Be patient. You can’t advertise so you’re going to have to depend on word of mouth. It will be slow going at first.”)
Near closing time, Jason Tadhak stopped by as promised and bought a clear palm stone.
“This’ll make a nice paperweight,” he said, then smiled. “Can I expect anything else from it?”
“Like for instance…?”
“Will it heal me?”
Oh, no. Was he sick? Daley sort of liked him. After all, he’d been very generous to her.
“Depends on what’s wrong.”
“Well, nothing, I hope. I’m in good health as far as I know.”
“We could retire to the imprinting room and I could bond you with the stone and—”
He backed up a quick step. “No-no-no. That’s okay.”
“It’s free for my landlord.”
“Thanks but not necessary.”
He slapped a ten-dollar bill down on the counter and hurried out.
What just happened?
(“No idea, but that offer definitely scared him off.”)
What’s he afraid of?
(“Some folks figure what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”)
He’s too smart for that. Doesn’t he seem a little sad to you?
(“Yes. Definitely.”)
I wonder what he’s got to be sad about.
(“Maybe the same thing that’s making him so angry.”)
Angry? I didn’t get that.
(“I can see the rage boiling off him.”)
But—
Rhys Pendry sauntered in. He wore a lightweight burgundy sweater with his hands thrust into the pockets of his gray slacks. He looked like he was just killing time.
“Happy opening day,” he said with a grin.
Daley returned the smile. “Welcome.”
His grin turned to a frown when her hair registered.
She shrugged. “Yeah, I know. It insists on being white there. I have nothing to do with it.”
“Was I staring? I didn’t—”
“It’s okay. Everybody stares at first.”
“Can you blame them? I mean, it’s kind of cool. And I repeat: Happy opening day.”
(“Good recovery.”)
“Another five minutes and you would have missed it.”
“Closing?”
She gestured to the empty shop. “As soon as I usher out this crowd of customers.”
“Well, why don’t you do that and I’ll treat you to an opening-day libation at our swanky local watering hole.”
“Deal.”
(“You like him, don’t you.”)
He’s kinda cute.
(“This is his second trip to town ‘from on high,’ as Mister Tadhak put it, and both times to see you. I’m thinking the feeling is mutual.”)
Daley liked that idea. But to avoid attracting extra attention, she donned her Dodgers cap, then flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and locked the door.
How about another of those time-outs?
(“Are you saying three’s a crowd?”)
Exactly what I’m saying.
(“Fine with me. I’ve got things to do. See you later.”)
Good. She’d find it easier to relax and be natural—and to spin a tale, if need be—without Pard hanging around and commenting on everything.
“Have you tried the Thirsty Cactus yet?” Rhys said as they strolled the hundred or so feet along the boards to the cantina.
“Is that its name? I’ve never seen a sign.”
“Used to be one hanging from the awning, but it fell off and the owner never rehung it. It’s the watering hole for the locals. Those who don’t have jobs in Brawley and El Centro work the solar array, and a lot of them like to stop by for a cold one after work.”
“They’re in from the wind farm too, I imagine.”
He shook his head. “That’s Jason Tadhak’s baby—totally family run. And the Tadhaks … well, people think the Pendrys are dour, but at least we know how to have a good time when we get together. But the Tadhaks live behind a wall and have got to be the most non-fun people on earth.”
This town keeps getting stranger and stranger, she thought.
The shade under the corrugated steel awning carried a chill. Inside, the walls were of the same rough wood planking as the floor and studded with license plates. The old Thirsty Cactus Cantina sign from out front hung over the bar where two pairs of workmen stood at opposite ends. In a corner a Hispanic couple hovered by the jukebox as it played a song in Spanish. They all gave Daley and Rhys the once-over as they entered, then went back to whatever they’d been doing. Except for one. A bearded guy in his forties with overdeveloped
muscles, loads of tats, and a cutaway denim jacket fixed his gaze on Daley and followed her as she and Rhys found a table away from the jukebox. The phrase “undressing her with his eyes” took on a whole new level of meaning.
“I hear this place can get pretty raucous on occasion,” Rhys said. “A couple of guys get overserved and start throwing punches, but nothing serious enough to call the sheriff.”
Daley didn’t remember seeing any evidence of law enforcement about.
“This place has a sheriff?”
Rhys laughed. “No, the county has a sheriff. We’re too small for our own police department so the sheriff’s office sends someone out if there’s trouble, which there almost never is.”
“Hey, folks,” the bartender called from behind the bar. “Just an FYI: We don’t got table service.”
Rhys smiled. “Can you tell I’m not a regular?” He rose and gestured toward the bar. “Come along. You might as well meet a fellow businessman.”
At the bar he introduced Daley as the proprietor of the new shop up the street and the bartender introduced himself as Jake Wasserman—owner, bartender, glass washer. Daley ordered a Coors Light and declined a glass.
“Arrogant Bastard,” Rhys said.
“Pardon me?” Daley huffed in her most offended tone.
Rhys laughed. “Nothing personal. It’s a local ale, brewed just over the mountains in Escondido.”
Daley knew that. They stocked it at the Dew Drop, though she didn’t much care for it.
When they were served, Rhys held up his bottle. “To the success of Healerina.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Hear, hear,” Jake said as he leaned over the bar and joined in by clinking his glass of club soda to their bottles.
“Speaking of hearing,” Jake added after they’d all taken a swig, “I hear you was asking Arturo about some kind of giant lizards you saw out in the desert last night.”
“My, my,” she said, looking from Rhys to Jake. “Word gets around fast.”
Rhys gave her a curious look. “Giant lizards? How giant are we talking about?”
Daley heard the biker guy mutter to his buddy, “Yo, Benny, I gotta giant lizard for her,” which got a laugh from Benny.
Rhys had obviously heard it too because he started to turn. Daley reached out to stop him—she’d heard way worse walking past a construction site—but he was too quick.
“Is that any way to welcome a newcomer to our town, Mister Kendrick?”
The biker looked surprised to hear his name. Close up now he seemed to have a slight native cast to his features. “Do I know you?”
“You know my father.”
A blank look while this penetrated, then a frown. “You’re Mister Pendry’s kid?”
“I am.”
He gave a twisted half-smile. “Yeah, well, sometimes my mouth don’t check with my brain before sayin’ stuff. No hard feelings, okay?”
“None taken,” Daley said with a quick wave.
In truth, the remark hadn’t bothered her. Almost funny in a way.
Rhys motioned her back to the table. When they were seated again he said in a low voice, “That’s Jeff ‘Karma’ Kendrick, ex-biker and foreman at the solar array as well as all-around utility player for my father.”
“‘Karma’?”
“I think he was some sort of enforcer for the Gargoyles. When someone who crossed the gang wound up hurt, they’d simply say, ‘It was Karma.’”
She guessed the Gargoyles were some sort of biker gang. She glanced up and found Karma’s eyes locked on her. Very uncomfortable.
“But tell me about these lizards,” Rhys said.
Damn the lizards. She’d met this guy only two days ago. She didn’t want to scare him off.
“Okay, first off—before you ask—I don’t do drugs. And second, I’m beginning to think it was a trick of the starlight.”
“So how big were they?”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course. But I can’t help being curious. What did they look like? Did they have tails?”
“Just some sort of optical illusion. Why the third degree?”
That came out a little harsher than she’d intended, but she didn’t want to be branded the town crank.
He leaned back and raised his hands, palms out. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that you’re new and have no idea how dull it is around here. I mean nothing happens. So anything, even an optical illusion, is a big deal.”
“You must do something,” she said, desperate to switch the topic off her. “How do you spend your day?”
He went on about helping run the Pendry Fund and managing the payroll and insurance and benefits for the solar workers, and so on. Never failed: Get a man talking about himself and the conversation never flagged.
She liked Rhys. He displayed an odd mix of self-confidence and vulnerability she found appealing. Along the way he mentioned a degree in economics and she could see him trying for a sophisticated air, but sensed that deep down he was something of a rube.
When he turned the conversation to her past, she told the truth about being an orphan but said nothing about her questionably legal activities, opting instead for a tale of years of study with various naturopathic and holistic and homeopathic healers.
She was so glad Pard was on time-out. If he were present he’d be distracting her with a barrage of corrections and comments.
Rhys said, “I’ve got to say, this seems an awfully out-of-the-way location for a shop like yours.”
“But that’s what I want. Isn’t the desert where all the ancient prophets went to find clarity? I’m looking for a way to synthesize everything I’ve learned into something new and unique and wonderful. In a city I’d be distracted by the noise and the crowds. Out here I can think … and dream.”
Oh, she was rolling now. Being raised in a family that treated the truth like Play-Doh, shaping it any way they wished, offered certain advantages. Her kin lied at every turn—not out of necessity but simply on whim, simply because they could. And this tale … she’d have to remember this one: a thing of beauty, a work of art.
Pard would be yammering on and on about the truth if he were here.
Rhys raised his beer—they were on their second now. “To clarity.”
“Clarity.” She quaffed the end of her Coors and slammed the bottle down. “That’s it for me. Time to go home.”
“What are you doing for dinner?”
Yeah, he was interested. And so was Daley. But she sensed downshifting to a lower gear might be best for now.
“I’m fasting tonight,” she said. “And meditating. But I’ll take a rain check if that’s all right?”
Fasting and meditating … She wanted to laugh out loud. Where did she come up with this stuff? Good thing Pard hadn’t heard; he’d never let her forget it.
“A rain check—you’ve got it.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “But tell me: What time do you open tomorrow?”
“Ten A.M. Why?”
“Just wondering if you’d like a tour of the solar array. Morning’s the best time because it can get hot out there, even in winter. After that, I can give you a tour of our Tesla tower.”
Tesla … She realized with a start that somehow she knew a lot about Nikola Tesla. Pard again, she guessed. She sure as hell hadn’t read anything about him herself. At least not while awake.
“Is that the contraption I’ve seen from the road?”
It stood off to the south, backed up against the foothills, the thing that reminded her of a giant skeletal mushroom.
“That’s it.”
“What’s—?”
“I’ll explain it all tomorrow. Date?”
She didn’t want to put him off a second time, and besides, she was interested in that tower.
They arranged to meet outside Healerina at eight. He escorted her back to the shop where she left him to go “meditate.”
5
“What’s up, bro?” Rhys
said as he closed Cadoc’s door behind him and dropped into a chair.
A note had appeared under his bedroom door just as he’d been about to turn in. Talk in my room. Cadoc rarely sought him out between their chess games, so maybe this was important.
A note dropped on the table before him:
You like her?
That could only mean Daley.
“You’re referring to the town’s newest shopkeeper? Yes. Quite a bit. She’s an interesting girl.”
I like her too
Oh?
“And what would you know about her?”
I listen
Rhys’s gut tightened. “You mean when you’re creeping around town? You’re not doing a Peeping Tom thing on her, are you?”
No eyes
Ears only
“Well, good, because peeping is big trouble.” Although Rhys had to admit he wouldn’t mind seeing Daley in an au naturel state.
She talks to herself
That took him aback for a moment; then he realized—
“You probably just heard her on the phone.”
No phone
She’s alone
Speaks to empty room
Rhys felt a sudden chill. He couldn’t say why. He didn’t find it spooky or anything, just …
“You’re not getting into Dad’s Duad fantasy, are you?”
Maybe
“Don’t do this to me, Cad. There’s got to be another explanation.”
Crazy?
“Well, she’s into all that New Age crap. Maybe she’s talking to her spirit guide or something.”
Talked about you last night
“She did?” Okay, this was interesting. “What she say?”
She thinks you’re cute
A warm little glow replaced the chill from before.
“No kidding?”
So maybe she IS crazy
Or bad eyes
He laughed. “Thanks a lot!” A thought struck. “Hey, listen. Don’t mention her talking thing to Dad. This Duad idea really has him going. I’m trying to get him back on the rails. If you say something … I mean, who knows, right?”
Lips sealed
Doesn’t consult me
“I’m seeing her tomorrow, giving her a tour of the solar farm and the tower.”
Not tower
Papa won’t like
“He won’t know. And he’s got nothing to worry about. Daley is just what she says she is. A little flaky, maybe—but good flaky. She means no one any harm.”
Double Threat Page 17
