by Jayne Castle
“Melting amber always hits a hunter hard, you know,” Elly explained. “And that was a for-real blue ghost that Cooper de-rezzed tonight. There’s no knowing exactly how that kind of psi drain will affect him. It’s quite possible that, come morning, Cooper won’t even remember having hot sex with me.”
Rose made another vaguely comforting noise.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up with no recollection at all of what happened.” Elly pondered that for a moment. “It would certainly make things simpler if he happened to develop a convenient case of amnesia regarding the events of the past half hour.”
Rose sat up on her hind legs and playfully batted the stalk of the green flower, causing the bloom to bob lightly.
“The thing is, I’m not sure that I want him to forget. I’m certainly not going to be able to forget, and I’m afraid that is going to really, really complicate things.”
Rose blinked her big blue eyes a couple of times and looked concerned in a dust bunny sort of way.
Elly reached out to cup the elegantly shaped, emerald flower. The velvety soft petals felt delightful against her skin. But that wasn’t the only sensation she experienced when she was this close to the blossom. A frisson of unusual energy gently sparked her paranormal senses.
The sensation was not unfamiliar to her. Ever since she was a girl, she had been able to detect a delicate psi buzz from plants of all kinds. In her experience each species had a distinctive energy pattern in the same way that it had other distinctive characteristics such as fragrance and color and petal design.
The problem, of course, was that, as far as anyone knew, the flora of Harmony did not give off any psi energy, at least not in a wavelength that humans could detect with their para-senses or their high-tech gadgets. The fact that she could detect the resonating frequencies of plants made her different and, when it came to parapsych abilities, being different was not generally considered a good thing. The result was that her unusual talent had been kept a deep, dark family secret.
But because of her ability, she knew that there was something very unique and possibly extremely important about the strange green flower on her windowsill. Unfortunately, she knew of no one she could talk to about the matter. If she took the specimen to a botanical research lab and explained what was going on, the scientists and technicians would very likely refer her to a parapsych therapist for counseling.
“Let’s go to bed, Rose.”
Chapter 9
COOPER AWOKE TO A WORLD OF EXOTIC SCENTS AND the sound of footsteps overhead.
He opened his eyes and saw a mass of dried herbs and flowers hanging over him.
Rose sat on his chest, watching him with an expectant air. She wore a different bracelet around her neck this morning. He could see sparkly pink stones here and there in her lintlike fur.
“Hello, gorgeous. Do you have to go outside? Am I supposed to open the door? I’m not familiar with the personal habits of dust bunnies.”
Rose skittered around in small circles and drifted down to the floor. She was either in high spirits or else she had to go outside in a real hurry.
“Okay, okay, give me a minute, here. Been a while since I slept off a ghost burn.”
He sat up slowly, wincing a little, and climbed to his feet. The sight of his face reflected in a small mirror on the wall made him groan.
“I look like the kind of guy you’d expect to meet in a dark alley at midnight,” he said to Rose. “I need a shower.” He rubbed the stubble of his morning beard. “I also need a razor. Let’s go see if my car is still outside in the alley.”
He opened the back door. Fog once again cloaked the Old Quarter, muffling street sounds and turning daylight into twilight.
The Spectrum was still in the alley, right where he had left it.
“Wheels and all,” he said to Rose. “Neighborhood isn’t as bad as Elly thinks it is.”
Rose hovered on the threshold, showing no signs of wanting to go out.
“Don’t ever say I didn’t give you your chance,” Cooper said.
He went down the step, opened the trunk, and removed the small overnight kit that he always carried. The duffel bag containing most of his clothes and travel supplies was in his hotel room where he had left it after checking in yesterday.
He closed the trunk and went back into the shop. Rose waited for him in the doorway. He scooped her up and made for the staircase.
When he reached the landing he followed the low murmur of voices and the tangy scent of freshly sliced oranges to the doorway of a small, cozy kitchen. He suddenly realized he was very hungry.
Elly didn’t notice him immediately because she was leaning into the interior of the refrigerator, searching for something on one of the shelves. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a stretchy red pullover and a pair of sleek-fitting jeans that hugged the curves of her sweetly curved rear.
A hunger that had nothing to do with breakfast ripped through him.
Rose tumbled out of his arms and drifted across the room. She bounced up onto the windowsill and took up a position next to a green quartz vase that held a single flower.
Bertha hunkered over the table near the window, a mug in one beefy hand. It looked as though the bandage on her head had been replaced with a fresh one.
She saw him, gave him a quick once-over, and then nodded.
“You must be Cooper Jones,” she said in her gravelly voice. “You sure look like a guy who melted amber in the past twenty-four hours. Elly, here, tells me I owe you. Thanks for hauling my ass out of the catacombs last night.”
“No problem,” Cooper said. “Not like Elly and I had anything better to do.”
Bertha chuckled and gave him a knowing wink. “Now that’s a bald-faced lie if I ever heard one. Got a hunch you had other plans for the evening. Have to tell you, until this morning, I didn’t know Elly had any serious boyfriends.”
“For heaven’s sake, I never implied that Cooper was a boyfriend.” Elly straightened abruptly and closed the door of the refrigerator with great precision. “I said he was a friend.”
“Right. Got it.” Bertha’s gray brows bounced up and down. She hid a smile behind her mug.
Elly swung around to face Cooper, a ripe orange in her hand.
“Good morning,” he said.
She gave him the same bright, confident smile that she had used on him last night.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Like I need a shower and a shave.” He indicated his overnight kit. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Help yourself,” she said. “Bertha and I were just talking about last night. She can’t recall much.”
Bertha heaved a sigh. “Got a vague memory of driving my sled toward a new sector where I’ve been doing some excavating in the past few weeks. I remember feeling that something was wrong. You never ignore that sensation when you’re underground.”
“No,” Cooper agreed.
“But damned if I can recall what happened next.”
“You have no memory of the ghost that zapped you?” Cooper asked.
“Nope.” Bertha shook her head. “Elly tells me it was a big one, though. I’ve always heard that in the case of a major ghost burn you almost never remember exactly what happened.”
“In your case, you also managed to hit your head,” Elly added. “Between the blow and the burn, I doubt if you’ll ever remember exactly what happened last night.”
“Probably not,” Bertha agreed. “Sure glad you two came along when you did.”
“It was a good thing that you gave Elly the frequency of both your sled and your personal amber.” Cooper propped one shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms. “She probably told you that the sled’s amber-rez locator got fried by the ghost.”
Bertha nodded. “Yep. Gonna be expensive to get it replaced, too. That sled is old. Parts are hard to get.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to take you to a doctor this morning?” E
lly asked with a concerned frown.
“Hell, no,” Bertha said fervently. “I’ll be okay. Takes a lot more than a big, bad ghost to fry this old tangler. This special tea of yours is making me feel better by the minute. Like Cooper, here, mostly I need a bath.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to use my shower?” Elly asked.
“Thanks, but I’d rather go back to my own place to get cleaned up.” Bertha looked down at her rumpled shirt and trousers. “I want to put on some fresh clothes.” She scowled. “Damn, these overalls were brand-new. Now look at ’em. Little bloodstains all over the place.”
“Scalp wounds tend to bleed a lot,” Elly said.
“Probably have to throw them out. Real shame, too. Had all these pockets organized just the way I like ’em.” She patted one of the pockets in question. “Huh.”
“What?” Elly asked.
“There’s something crunchy in this pocket. I don’t recall putting anything in there.” Bertha undid the flap and reached inside. “Well, I’ll be. Don’t remember picking this up.”
Cooper watched her put a handful of plant residue on the table. “Looks like a bunch of dried weeds.”
“Now, where in green blazes did I find that stuff?” Bertha shook her head, baffled. “And why did I save it?”
Elly put down the orange she had been about to slice. Cooper saw that her attention was riveted on the crumbly plant material.
She walked to the table and picked up a pinch of the dried leaves. She studied them for a long, considering moment.
“I’ll have to check my collection of herbals to be certain, but I think these are dried psi-bright leaves.”
“Never heard of psi-bright,” Bertha said.
“It’s a wild herb that is native to the tropical zones,” Elly said. “It was discovered about a hundred years ago by botanists on the Second Tropical Expedition. It has some unusual pharmacological properties. For a while researchers thought it might prove useful in the treatment of certain types of parapsych disorders. But in the end the research was abandoned because it was extremely unpredictable as a drug.”
She stopped talking and looked at Cooper.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“According to the newspapers, the new drug on the streets, the one they call enchantment dust, or chant, is derived from psi-bright,” she said slowly. “In fact, there was another overdose reported in the papers this morning.”
She picked up the newspaper on the kitchen table and handed it to him without another word.
Cooper removed a black case from his pocket, opened it, and unfolded his glasses.
He studied the paper’s masthead and saw that he was looking at a copy of the Cadence Star. The story of the overdose was front-page news.
WOMAN FOUND DEAD
IN OLD QUARTER
The body of Bonnie May Stevens was discovered in her Old Quarter apartment at approximately two A.M. this morning. Her roommate, who declined to give her name, reported the death. Police records indicate that traces of a white powder were found near the deceased. A spokesman for the department said that an autopsy and an analysis of the powder would be done as soon as possible to determine the cause of death.
The roommate suggested to journalists that Stevens had a long history of drug use and prostitution. She added that Stevens appeared to have been badly beaten, perhaps by one of her clients, shortly before her death. “She was roughed up real bad,” the roommate said. “I think somebody killed her.”
Detective Grayson DeWitt, the head of the new Drug Task Force, will be in charge of the investigation into Stevens’s death.
“We’ve taken a few of the biggest dealers off the streets in recent weeks,” DeWitt told reporters. “But we’re not going to stop until we nail the drug lord who is manufacturing and distributing the chant.”
Anyone with information pertaining to the death of Stevens is urged to contact the Drug Task Force unit of the Cadence Police Department immediately.
A picture accompanied the article. It showed a lean, square-jawed man in his early thirties standing on the steps of the Cadence Police Department building. He looked so resolute and photogenic in a flashy, hand-tailored silver gray, pin-striped suit that Cooper assumed he was an anchor for one of the local television stations.
The caption informed him that the man in the picture was Detective Grayson De Witt.
He lowered the paper, took off his glasses, and looked at Bertha. “You’re sure you can’t remember where you got this?”
Bertha shook her head. “Sorry. It’s all a blank. I’ll tell you one thing, though. Nothing I hate more than drug dealers.”
“I think we’re going to have to go with the theory that you discovered that psi-bright around the time you got fried by the ghost,” Cooper said.
Elly watched him very intently. “You think Bertha stumbled into a drug ring, don’t you? And someone tried to kill her.”
“I think it’s a very real possibility, yes,” Cooper said.
Bertha’s expression tightened in alarm. “If I take those herbs to the cops, they’ll want to know where I found them. I can’t tell them because I don’t know. They might not even believe me without concrete proof. No one trusts ruin rats. That Detective DeWitt has made a lot of high-profile arrests lately. What if he decides to throw me in jail for the possession of psi-bright?”
“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid,” Cooper said quietly. “Whoever tried to silence you the first time will probably try again if he discovers that you made it back out of the catacombs.”
“Ghost-shit.” Bertha slumped in her chair. “What in green hell am I going to do?”
Alarmed by the change in the mood of the room, Rose tumbled off the windowsill and bounced onto the table. She nuzzled Bertha’s big hand in a comforting manner.
“Don’t worry, Bertha,” Elly said. “It’s going to be okay.”
Bertha raised her head. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re in good hands,” Elly said calmly. “Cooper, here, will take care of everything.”
Bertha straightened slowly. She turned her shrewd, seen-it-all eyes toward Cooper. “And just who are you, Cooper Jones, that you can take care of everything?”
“I hadn’t planned on telling you, but under the circumstances, I think you should know,” he said. “I’m the head of the Aurora Springs Guild. And I’d take it as a favor if you kept that information to yourself.”
“Well, damn,” Bertha said, brightening. “You mean this is Guild business?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooper said.
“Then there’s some hope at the end of this damn tunnel, after all. What happens next?”
“I’m going to make a call,” Cooper said.
Chapter 10
WITHIN TEN MINUTES A DARK COASTER WITH HEAVILY tinted windows pulled into the alley behind St. Clair’s Herbal Emporium.
Cooper made another phone call to check the IDs of the two hunters inside and then bundled Bertha into the backseat.
“You’ll be okay at the Guild safe house, Bertha,” he said. “I’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got this thing under control.”
She nodded brusquely. “I appreciate this, Mr. Boone.”
“Trust me, you’re doing the Guild a favor by cooperating,” he said.
“Yeah?” Bertha smiled slightly. “They say the Guild never forgets a favor.”
“That’s true. I don’t want you making any phone calls, but if you remember anything that might be useful, let one of these gentlemen know. They can get the message to me.”
“Sure, but I wouldn’t be too hopeful, if I were you.” Bertha heaved a sigh. “I’m not likely to ever remember what happened in the few minutes before the burn.”
“You never know.” Cooper stepped back and motioned to the driver. “Take good care of her,” he said to the man. “Ms. Newell is a friend of the Guild.”
“Yes, sir, we’ll make sure she doesn’t come to any harm.” The man behind
the wheel inclined his head. “By the way, Mr. Wyatt said to tell you welcome to Cadence.”
“Thanks.”
He waited until the big car had turned the corner at the end of the alley and vanished into the fog. Then he went back upstairs to Elly’s small apartment and stopped in the kitchen doorway.
“Bertha’s off to the safe house,” he said. “She’ll be fine.”
“That’s a relief.” Elly paused in the act of squeezing an orange. “It’s obvious she stumbled into something very nasty last night.”
“I think so. By the way, I didn’t see any other vehicles parked in the alley. Where’s your car?”
“In a private garage at the end of this block. Those of us who have shops and apartments on Ruin Lane rent space there.”
“I see. Think there’s any room for the Spectrum?”
“No. There’s a waiting list.”
“Guess I’ll just keep hanging ghosts on the license plate, in that case.”
She searched his face. “You must be half starved. Hurry up and shower. I’ll have breakfast waiting when you get out.”
He nodded, started to turn, and then hesitated.
“Everything okay with you?” he asked, feeling his way.
“Certainly,” she said, very brisk and matter-of-fact. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Well,” he said, “neither one of us is a teenager, anymore. Car sex can be strenuous for adults.”
Her cheeks turned a hot shade of pink. She stopped squeezing the orange and faced him with both hands on her hips.
“I think you’d better take that shower,” she said. “Right now.”
“You thought I wouldn’t remember, didn’t you?” He studied her flushed cheeks. “No, you hoped I wouldn’t remember.”
She cleared her throat, picked up another orange, and got very busy with it. “What occurred in your car last night was an aberration. A complete anomaly. An abnormal reaction to a highly unusual and extremely stressful situation. I think it would be best if we both pretend it didn’t happen, don’t you?”
