Running Hot

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Grace turned very suddenly, gripping the back of the seat with one hand, her eyes huge in the shadows.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Do it,” Fallon said. He ended the connection.

  Luther gave Grace a reassuring smile.

  “Relax,” he said. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  FORTY-TWO

  Grace stalked back across the hotel room, arms twisted around her middle. She could not seem to stop shivering. Luther had dropped her off nearly twenty minutes earlier. Surely he was inside Vivien Ryan’s suite by now. He was an ex-cop, she reminded herself. He knew what he was doing. Besides, the second act of The Magic Flute hadn’t even concluded yet. Right now the Queen was probably onstage singing her shattering aria about making her own daughter kill her father.

  There was plenty of time, Grace thought. Ryan would not leave the theater until she had received her awed fans in her dressing room. She was a diva in the truest sense of the word; she needed adulation the same way she needed oxygen. It was all there in her aura.

  Grace reached the far wall, turned and started back across the room. Why couldn’t she get rid of this terrible, creeping unease? All her senses were raw. Only deep breathing and the near-constant pacing were keeping the incipient panic attack at bay. It dawned on her that what she was experiencing was something quite new. She was used to looking out for herself. But now, for the first time since her mother had died, she was terrified because someone else was in danger.

  As close as she had been to Martin Crocker, she had never known this kind of anxiety, not even when she realized he was sliding deeper under the spell of the drug. She and Martin had been friends and business associates. There had been affection between them but never love. In the end all she had felt for Martin was a sense of sadness and regret and betrayal. And then her razor-sharp survival reflexes had taken over, as they always did.

  But with Luther, everything was different. His safety mattered more to her than her own.

  I’m in love.

  The realization brought her to an abrupt halt in front of the desk. She gazed down into the glowing screen.

  I’m in love.

  A strange sensation of release flashed through her. So this was what it was like to fall in love. It wasn’t the passion she had experienced in Luther’s arms. It wasn’t the fact that they understood and accepted each other’s talents and each other’s pasts. What she felt for Luther encompassed all those things but there was something else, a bond that was truly, unmistakably psychic in nature; a connection that hovered just beyond the reach of mere words. Love was as close as she could come to a description but even it wasn’t enough. She knew then that whatever fate might bring, she would carry Luther in her heart for the rest of her life.

  No wonder they wrote operas based on over-the-top emotions like this, she thought, dazed. At the same time, there was an unnerving downside. She was now vulnerable in ways she had never known before.

  It’s not just about me anymore, she thought, and smiled a little.

  “Okay, so I’m in love,” she said to the illuminated screen. “That still doesn’t explain why I’m standing here talking to a computer and having a panic attack.”

  Her phone rang, jarring her so badly she gasped aloud and jumped at least half a foot. Feeling like an absolute idiot, she hurried to her purse and fished out the device. Fallon Jones’s code was displayed on the small screen.

  “Mr. Jones,” she said. “This is Grace.”

  “You okay? You sound breathless.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m waiting for Luther to get back from searching Vivien Ryan’s hotel suite. I’m a little anxious.”

  “Calm down. Luther knows what he’s doing. I’m calling because the agent I sent to check out William Craigmore’s house found a wall safe. One of our cryptos was able to open it. They found some interesting records inside. Craigmore was La Sirène’s father.”

  Shocked, Grace sank down onto the bed. “Are you serious, sir?”

  “Grace, you should know by now that I am always serious. There’s more. Vivien Ryan has a half sister. Her name is Damaris Kemble.”

  “Is she a singer, too?”

  “No. Evidently Damaris got a version of Craigmore’s talent. She’s a Crystal generator.”

  “Do you think she’s involved in any of this?”

  “We’re looking into that angle now.”

  Grace shoved her fingers through her hair, trying to think. “There was no record of Vivien Ryan having a half sister in the genealogy files. I thought you told Luther that Craigmore couldn’t father children.”

  “Turns out that when he was in his early twenties, before he went to work for that no-name government agency, he deposited his sperm at a clinic that was run exclusively for members of the Society.”

  Grace froze the way she had when La Sirène sang the high F.

  “The Burnside Clinic?” she whispered.

  “Right. Place burned to the ground years ago. All the records were destroyed. But I’ve got a hunch that Craigmore may have been responsible for that bit of arson because he had the files on his own offspring tucked away in his safe. Looks like he went in, grabbed the records he wanted and then burned down the clinic.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I told you, the man spent decades working for a clandestine government agency. The business teaches you to be paranoid. He probably wanted to make sure there was no way one of his offspring could blow his cover.”

  “How . . . how many daughters did he have?” Grace whispered. She realized she was holding her breath.

  “Two, Vivien and Damaris.”

  Grace squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing whether to be relieved or dismayed. “You’re sure there were only two?”

  “He was very clear about it in his notes. He was determined to track down all of his progeny and was disappointed to find only the two girls.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re not his daughter, Grace.” Fallon’s voice was disconcertingly gentle. “Think about it. I’m sure you checked out your father’s profile. Your mother put it into the genealogical records when she registered you. It’s very different from Craigmore’s. For starters, his eyes were brown. And he was a crystal generator, not a strat.”

  She felt like the Titanic shortly after it encountered the iceberg.

  “You know that I came from the Burnside Clinic?” she managed.

  “I’m trying to run an investigation agency here. I make it a point to know as much as possible about my agents. The future of the Society and maybe the whole damn world depends on me getting at least some of that kind of stuff right.”

  “But how did you discover that I was a Burnside Clinic baby?”

  “Easy. Once I knew who you were before you became Grace Renquist, there was no problem finding out about the clinic. It was in the file under your first identity.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t seem to process that. Slowly it dawned on her that if he knew about Burnside, he knew everything.

  “Yeah, I know about you and Martin Crocker,” Fallon said, as if he had read her mind, which was supposed to be impossible. “The SOB was running guns or drugs, wasn’t he? Which was it?”

  “Guns,” she said weakly. “But—”

  “You found out about the guns so he tried to kill you and you beat him to the punch. Thought that was how it went down. Good job, by the way.”

  She was vaguely horrified by his casual acceptance of what had happened that day in the Caribbean.

  “I wasn’t on a mission,” she said. “I was just trying to save my own life.”

  “Works for me. But I really don’t have time to reminisce. We’ve got a situation here.” Fallon paused. “I can’t believe I said that. I need to get more sleep. The point is we’ve got the connection between Craigmore and La Sirène.”

  “Craigmore’s other daughter,” Grace said quickly. “Damaris Kemble. What happened to her?”

  “Trust me, we’re
looking for her real hard right now.”

  “Good.” Another shiver flashed through Grace. She pushed aside all thoughts about Craigmore and the Burnside Clinic. Luther was in danger. She was sure of it. “I’ve got to go, Mr. Jones. I need to call Luther right now.”

  “Wait, you don’t want to do that. He’s on a job.”

  “I need to warn him to get out of Ryan’s hotel suite immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She ended the connection and punched in Luther’s code.

  There was no answer.

  FORTY-THREE

  “This is a little inconvenient,” the woman said. She held the laser steady on Luther’s chest. “I had a slightly different plan in mind but since you’ve gone out of your way to come here tonight, I’m sure we can work something out. I hope you enjoyed my sister’s performance. She’s brilliant, isn’t she? Crazy but brilliant.”

  “You’re Ryan’s sister?” Luther was weak and shaky but thus far he had been able to resist the worst of the laser’s effects on his aura. The woman was evidently not as powerful as Craigmore had been.

  “Damaris Kemble,” she said. “Vivien and I are half sisters, sperm donor kids. William Craigmore was our father.”

  Damaris looked relatively composed on the outside but her aura was an unstable inferno. A variety of fierce emotions—rage, despair and fear—pulsed along the entire spectrum interspersed with the dark energy of the drug.

  The laser device she held appeared to be identical to the one Craigmore had used on him in the garage. Thus far Damaris didn’t seem to realize that he was employing his own talent to ward off the worst effects of the beam.

  She had insisted that he drop the cane so he was propped against the corner of the desk. His hands were in the air, which also affected his already lousy balance. But aside from those precautions, Damaris did not seem unduly concerned. No one took aura talents seriously. Given how easily she had surprised him, maybe there was some justification for that lack of respect.

  Damaris had not appeared overly astonished to find him in her sister’s hotel suite. His reaction, on the other hand, aside from the obligatory Oh, shit, was a flash of adrenaline and anticipation. The missing pieces of the puzzle were falling into place at last. Now all he had to do was stay alive long enough to get the whole picture.

  “You’re some sort of Crystal talent, not a singer,” he said.

  “A generator, like my father,” she said proudly. “When he found me he was thrilled to know that he had passed on his talent.”

  “When did he go looking for you?”

  “A few years ago. He told me that he had taken the precaution of depositing sperm at the clinic because he knew there was a strong possibility that he might not survive his work as a spy. He said that, just in case, he wanted to leave a genetic inheritance. Turned out he survived the spook business but the enhancing drugs his handlers gave him had some major side effects. One of them was sterility. For years, he refused to believe it. He married three times before he finally gave up and came looking for me and my sister.”

  Luther looked at her in disbelief. “The government agency he worked for had a version of the founder’s formula?”

  “It operated a lab that was run by a scientist named Hulsey, a descendant of Basil Hulsey. Does that ring any bells?”

  “Sure. Basil Hulsey is a legend within J&J and not in a good way. He created a lot of trouble back in the late eighteen hundreds. Classic mad scientist.”

  “His descendant managed to re-create the old formula for the agency.” Her mouth twisted. “But the good doctor never quite got the bugs out.”

  “No one ever does,” Luther said. “But that never seems to stop folks from trying.”

  “When the agency suddenly shut down the black hole operation, Daddy’s supply of the drug was cut off. He had stockpiled some of the drug but he knew that he was going to die within the month if he didn’t act. His handlers expected him to go insane and take his own life.”

  “Thus neatly cleaning up all traces of the government’s little psychic experiment.”

  “Exactly,” Damaris said bitterly.

  “What happened? How did your father survive?”

  “His handlers gave him one last assignment. They wanted him to get rid of Dr. Hulsey. But by then Daddy had his suspicions about the drug. He and Hulsey had a conversation. Hulsey explained exactly what was going to happen once the last of the drug was used. Daddy agreed to let him live as long as Hulsey continued to brew the drug for him.”

  “Sounds like a win-win for both of them.”

  “The only thing Dr. Hulsey cared about was being able to continue with his experiments. All he wanted and needed was a lab. He and Daddy made a deal.”

  Comprehension struck with the force of an explosion.

  “I’ll be damned. You father wasn’t just a member of Nightshade, he founded it, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.” Pride and rage flashed across Damaris’s face and aura. “For years he hoped that the Council would come to see the true value and potential of the drug. He was convinced that eventually the Society would authorize research on it.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “He had a vision of what the Arcane community could have been. An organization of elite, powerful sensitives capable of controlling governments, corporations and scientific endeavors of all kinds.”

  “But that never happened and it’s not going to happen.”

  “No,” she said wearily. “The only reason my father established the organization you call Nightshade was because he was finally forced to acknowledge that the Council would never permit its scientists to work on the formula, at least not in his lifetime. He was determined to build what the community refused to create. He wanted to leave a lasting legacy. Now he’s dead because of you. Tell me what happened in Hawaii.”

  “No wonder Nightshade got such a head start on J&J. As a trusted member of the Council, Craigmore had access to all of the Society’s secrets from the start.”

  Anguished fury leaped in Damaris’s eyes. “Tell me about Hawaii.”

  He was sweating now. Cold chills alternated with spikes of fever. Nevertheless, he used some of the energy that was holding the effects of the beam at bay to calm Damaris’s aura. She blinked a couple of times and then grew more composed.

  “First tell me why your father wanted Eubanks taken out,” Luther said.

  “Eubanks had become very ambitious and very dangerous. He had developed a new, capsule version of the drug in his lab. He was using that, along with his own enhanced strat talent, to demand a place on the board of directors.”

  “Craigmore didn’t want him on the board?”

  “No. My father didn’t trust him. Eubanks didn’t know who Daddy was, of course. Only the members of the board are aware of the identity of the CEO of the organization. The others at the top thought Eubanks had proven himself worthy. They were getting set to vote him into the highest circle of power.”

  “Your father didn’t want that to happen.”

  “He wanted Eubanks taken out but he wanted it done in a way that could not be traced back to him.”

  She fell silent. He could have sworn that she was shivering.

  “You tried using Sweetwater to remove Eubanks,” he said, coaxing her to start talking again.

  “It was Daddy’s idea to use Sweetwater,” she said, sounding dispirited now. “Worst-case scenario was that the board would suspect J&J. Either way no one would think that the head of Nightshade had anything to do with it. But something went wrong. Sweetwater called off the operation.”

  “So you turned to your sister.”

  “We didn’t have any time to set up something more elaborate. Eubanks had to die on Maui. The board of directors intended to vote on whether or not to give him a seat the following week.”

  “So you decided to keep it in the family. Well, your sister was certainly successful.”

  Damaris tensed.
“She’s had a good deal of experience. Daddy said she’s a natural. He thought all she needed was direction.”

  “A target.”

  “I don’t think Daddy ever really understood Vivien. My sister is nothing if not self-absorbed. Until Eubanks, the only people she had killed were those she thought were standing in her way professionally. But yes, she does seem to have an instinct for the business. Probably a side effect of her talent. After all, what’s the point of having the ability to kill with the power of your voice if you don’t have the inclination to do it once in a while?”

  “No offense, but your logic is a little weak. Anyone can commit murder with a gun. But not everyone has the inclination to do it. Your sister’s talent is freakish but evolutionarily speaking, it was probably designed to be a psychic self-defense mechanism.”

  Damaris’s smile held no humor. “You don’t know my sister very well, do you? In her mind she does use her Siren talent for self-defense. It’s not her fault that the people she finds threatening happen to be rivals, critics and irritating managers.”

  “So why did she agree to do Eubanks? As a favor to Craigmore?”

  “No. She and Daddy never bonded. They were never close. Vivien did it for me. I’m the one person in the world La Sirène cares about, aside from herself, of course.”

  “Hell of a favor, killing someone for you.”

  Damaris shifted uneasily. Her focus weakened. Luther grabbed a deep breath and jacked his senses a little higher.

  “It wasn’t like Eubanks was an innocent victim,” Damaris said, oddly defensive. “Daddy told me that he murdered two wives for their inheritances and another young woman with whom he was having an affair. Evidently she found out about Eubanks’s Nightshade connection.”

  “Did Craigmore know that J&J was watching Eubanks?”

  “No, not until after my sister was seen in that hotel room on Maui. He concluded that Vivien encountering a woman who could even partially resist her singing was too much of a coincidence. He checked the J&J files and discovered that the agency was investigating Eubanks.”