After Glow gh-3

by Jayne Castle

  "What was Burgis like?"

  "To me he was sort of freakish, scary, even. But Andrea seemed to be fascinated by him."

  "What made you think that Burgis was weird?"

  There was a short pause on the other end before Karen said hesitantly, "First, will you tell me why you're interested in him?"

  "Yes, of course. A former professor of his died from a drug overdose recently. I found a copy of a newspaper story about Burgis's disappearance in the professor's apartment. He had called me shortly before he died and left a message saying that he wanted to speak to me about an urgent matter. But I got there too late. I'm trying to put it all together, if you see what I mean."

  "You think that maybe this urgent matter the professor wanted to discuss was related to the old clipping about Burgis?"

  "I think it's a distinct possibility, yes."

  "What was the name of this professor who OD'd?" Karen asked.

  "Dr. Lawrence Maltby."

  "Maltby. I remember him. He was with the Department of Para-archaeology at Old Freq. I took a couple of classes from him. Troy Burgis was in one of them. So was Andrea. That's how she and Burgis met, in fact. They started studying together. The next thing I knew, she was in his band and staying out all night with him. Evidently Burgis's idea of a hot date was to go down into the catacombs to have sex."

  "Was Burgis a hunter? Did he like to de-rez a ghost or two before making love with his girlfriend?"

  "No." Karen sounded surprised. "Burgis wasn't a ghost-hunter. He was a tangler. A very, very good one, according to Andrea, although he hadn't had any technical training. But, then, Andrea idolized him. She would have believed anything he said."

  "What was Andrea like?"

  Karen sighed. "Well, for starters she was incredibly beautiful. Sort of ethereal in a way. When she walked into a room, everyone turned to look at her. I remember feeling sorry for her, though, because she had been badly abused as a child and was completely estranged from her family. She was all alone in the world."

  "Do you think she really loved Burgis?"

  "Absolutely devoted to him. But I am equally positive that he did not love her. Burgis was obsessed with only two things. One of them was pulse-rock music. He went so far as to rent a studio so that his band could record a half dozen tapes, but they never caught the attention of any of the big music companies."

  "What was his other obsession?"

  "Vincent Lee Vance."

  "Vance?" Lydia was so startled that she dropped the pen she had been using to make notes. It rolled off the desk and bounced on the floor. "The rebel leader?"

  "I told you, Burgis was weird. When she first started dating him, Andrea spoke about him fairly freely. She said that Burgis was fascinated with Vance and the Era of Discord. He dreamed of finding Vance's first secret headquarters. If you recall your history lessons, it was supposedly located in the catacombs under Old Frequency."

  "Right." Lydia leaned down and picked up the pen. "They think that he established two secret underground bunkers during the Era of Discord. The second site is thought to be lost somewhere in the tunnels around here."

  According to the old legends, Vance and his lover-tangler, Helen Chandler, had fled to the second headquarters to commit suicide after the defeat at the Last Battle of Old Cadence. A lot of people had searched for the sites of both of Vance's headquarters in the past hundred years but neither had ever been found.

  "Andrea told me that Burgis was determined to discover the first site," Karen said. "He spent a lot of time underground, untrapping tunnels in the unmapped sectors around Old Frequency."

  "Going down into the catacombs alone night after night without proper equipment or a trained team would have been foolhardy. Even if Burgis was good enough to handle the traps, what did he do about the ghosts? He would have encountered any number of them in the unmapped sectors."

  "Burgis usually took a couple of his friends with him, two guys who were also in the band. They were both strong dissonance-energy para-rezes although I don't think either of them joined the Guild to get formal training."

  Lydia sat up very straight on the edge of her chair. "Jason Clark and Norman Fairbanks, by any chance?"

  "How did you know their names?"

  "According to the newspaper article, they were with him the day he disappeared."

  "That's right, they were," Karen said slowly.

  "What about your roommate, Andrea? Any chance you can put me in touch with her?"

  There was a short, brittle silence.

  "She's dead, Miss Smith."

  "What?"

  "She died in a boating accident a couple of months after Burgis vanished. At the time some of us believed that she had killed herself because of what happened to Burgis. As I said, she was devoted to him."

  Lydia exhaled and sank back in her chair. "How sad."

  "Yes," Karen's voice sharpened. "But, as it turned out, not a unique occurrence."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Andrea wasn't the only one who had a fatal accident after Burgis disappeared. In the next six months Norman Fairbanks and Jason Clark died, too. One suffered a terrible fall in the course of a hiking trip in the mountains and the other was killed in a fire."

  Lydia swallowed. "Every member of Burgis's old band is dead? Are you serious?"

  "Very serious. What's more, none of the bodies was ever found." Karen paused a beat. "Not that anyone looked very hard."

  "What about the families? Didn't they demand an investigation?"

  "There were no families to be concerned. You see, Burgis, Andrea, Jason Clark, and Norman Fairbanks all had one thing in common. None of them had any close relatives. Each was alone in the world."

  "This is getting stranger by the minute."

  "Yes." Karen's voice was flat and grim. "And that, Miss Smith, is the reason I called when the alumni secretary contacted me and said that you were asking questions about Troy Burgis. I thought you should know that people who got close to Burgis fifteen years ago tended to disappear."

  "What do you think happened to Burgis and the members of his band, Karen?"

  "I don't know and I don't want to find out. But if there is a mystery connected with those disappearances I can tell you one thing for certain. It had something to do with whatever it was Burgis found down there in the catacombs."

  Lydia frowned. "Hang on here. Are you saying you think Burgis and his friends have been living underground for the past fifteen years? That's impossible. They would have to eat. They would need sunlight. No one could tolerate living in the catacombs full time for years on end."

  "Maybe it would drive most normal people crazy, Miss Smith. But what I'm trying to tell you is that Troy Burgis was not normal. What's more, he had the ability to attract other lost-soul types, people who were searching for something or someone to believe in, people like Andrea and Jason Clark and Norman Fairbanks. Those three would have followed him anywhere."

  Lydia studied her notes. "Looks like he didn't bother to make friends with every lost soul he came across, just a few who were useful to him. He obviously handpicked them: A beautiful woman to keep him company and two loyal hunters to act as bodyguards down in the catacombs."

  "Exactly. Troy Burgis was one scary guy back in college. If he's still alive, he will be even more dangerous now."

  Chapter 17

  The Riverside Grill was located, astonishingly, on the banks of the river. It was a known hangout for the city's powerbrokers, politicians, celebrities, and those who wanted to be seen dining in the company of such folk.

  Jack Brodie was waiting for them. He lounged against a wall in the entryway trying to look cool. But his khaki-and-leather attire and the big chunk of amber in his belt buckle didn't blend into the elegant ambience of the Riverside Grill. Lydia could see that he was nervous.

  He brightened with unabashed relief when he caught sight of Lydia and Melanie coming through the door. Detaching himself from the wall, he hurried toward them.


  "I think there's some kinda mistake," he said in a low voice. He cast a quick glance back toward the maitre d's station where an imperious-looking individual directed the seating. "That guy says we don't have a reservation."

  "That's not true." Melanie stiffened with indignation.

  "I called first thing this morning and was told that there was no problem getting a table for three."

  "What name did you use?" Lydia asked.

  "Yours, of course. Well, Emmett's, I guess, if you want to get technical. You think I could get us in here? I told them that Mrs. Emmett London and two friends would be arriving at twelve-fifteen sharp."

  "I'll go talk to the maitre d'," Lydia said.

  She went to the podium and tried a friendly smile. The maitre d' did not return the smile.

  "I'm Mrs. London. I believe you have a reservation for me and my guests?"

  The maitre d' frowned. "You must be mistaken, madam. The reservation I have is for Mrs. Emmett London, the wife of the new head of the Cadence Guild."

  "That would be me."

  The maitre d' looked down his long nose. "Are you claiming to be the Mrs. London?"

  "Yes." Lydia put a little steel into her smile.

  The maitre d' raised his brows and smirked at Melanie and Jack standing behind her. "And these are your luncheon guests?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head, evidently amused. "I've had some brassy people try to talk their way into this restaurant but you, madam, take the grand prize for nerve. The real Mrs. London is the wife of one of the most powerful men in the city. I doubt very much that she would be dressed in a cheap little suit that was obviously bought on sale in the basement of a discount department store. Furthermore, I think it is safe to say that the real Mrs. London would not be lunching with a woman who dresses like a hooker and a hunter who is obviously from the very lowest ranks of the Guild."

  "That does it." Lydia reached across the podium and grabbed the maitre d' by his discreetly striped tie. "Say whatever you want about my clothes, but you will apologize to my two guests right now or else I will pick up the phone and call my husband and have him tell you to apologize. Understood?"

  Stunned outrage and then the first hints of uncertainty flashed across the maitre d's face. "Uh—"

  "Do you really want to annoy the new Guild boss?" Lydia asked in a very low voice. "If so, I'll be happy to dial his number so that you can explain just why you won't seat me and my guests."

  A woman in a severe blue suit rushed toward them from a narrow hallway.

  "What is going on here, Barclay?" The woman stopped short, appalled at the sight of Lydia holding the maitre d' hostage by his tie. "Mrs. London."

  Barclay's eyes widened. "This isn't the real Mrs. London." But he was no longer sure of himself. "It can't be."

  "Of course this is the real Mrs. London, Barclay," the woman snapped. She gave Lydia an apologetic smile. "I recognize her. She was on the front cover of the Tattler yesterday."

  "I'm glad somebody around here has the sense to read the tabloids." Lydia released Barclay's tie. "Who are you?" she said to the woman in the blue suit.

  "I'm the assistant manager, Julia Sanders. I'm so sorry if there's been a misunderstanding."

  "Barclay, here, is the only one who doesn't seem to understand the situation," Lydia said. "My friends and I have a reservation for lunch. We'd like a table for three, please."

  "Certainly." Julia shot a quelling glance at Barclay. "I'll handle this."

  "Yes, Miss Sanders," Barclay said weakly. He readjusted his tie with trembling fingers.

  "With a view of the river," Lydia added.

  "Naturally."

  "And I also want an apology from Barclay."

  "Of course."

  "The steak's not bad," Jack announced midway through lunch. "Not much to it, though. My mom usually cooks up about three times as much when I go home for dinner. And look at these itty-bitty veggies. Never seen anything like 'em. Wonder how they get them to grow that small?"

  "The more expensive the restaurant, the smaller the portions," Melanie said with a wise air. "How do you think all these rich folks stay so slim? It's not like any of them actually work for a living."

  "Huh." Jack put the last of the steak into his mouth and chewed reflectively. "Hadn't thought about that."

  "I can't wait to see the dessert tray," Melanie confided. She looked at Lydia. "Hey, you're not eating your fish. What's the matter? Is it bad? If it is, you're supposed to send it back in a fancy place like this."

  "No, it's fine." Lydia jerked herself out of her reverie and forced a smile. "I'm just not very hungry today, that's all."

  Melanie chuckled. "Too much excitement lately, what with getting married yesterday and the big Restoration Ball coming up tonight."

  "Speaking of excitement," Jack said around a mouthful of miniature vegetables. "Word down at the Guild Hall is that there might be a little at headquarters this afternoon."

  "Excitement?" Lydia stopped pushing her expensive entree around her plate and frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

  "You must have heard about that big ghost that someone sent after Mr. London last night?"

  "I was there. I'm married to Mr. London, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah, right. Well, some of the guys down at the hall say that was probably someone testing the boss in order to get a feel for just how good he is, y'know?"

  Lydia got a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach and knew she couldn't blame it on the fish. "What do you mean?"

  "Remember I told you that there was talk about a formal challenge? Well, word is that Foster Dorning may be planning to issue one this afternoon."

  "A Council challenge?" Aware that her voice was rising, Lydia glanced hurriedly around and then leaned across the table. "You told me that no one could challenge a married Guild chief. Something about Guild wife rights."

  Jack looked perplexed by her reaction. "Yeah, well, the way it works, see, is that the boss's wife has to demand her rights in front of the full Council. Didn't I explain that part?"

  "No, you did not." Lydia tossed her napkin aside and leaped to her feet. "I think that meeting is scheduled for two o'clock. I've got to hurry."

  "Hey, what's the rush?" Jack asked. "Melanie wants to see the dessert tray."

  But startled comprehension had appeared in Melanie's face. She, too, was on her feet. "I'm going to skip dessert. Come on, Lydia, I'll drive you in my car. It's raining, you'll never get a cab."

  Jack looked completely bewildered now. "Where are you two going?"

  "To demand my Guild wife rights," Lydia snapped, struggling to keep her voice to a whisper.

  "I get it, you're worried about Mr. London." Jack gave her a reassuring grin. "Don't sweat it, ma'am. Got a feeling he can take care of himself."

  Lydia did not stop to argue. "Let's go, Mel."

  Heads turned when they dashed across the restaurant toward the front door. Lydia ignored the attention. When she passed Barclay's station she paused briefly. Barclay cringed back.

  "Be sure my other guest gets dessert," she snapped. "Send the bill to Guild Headquarters. Twenty percent for the waiters. Don't bother adding anything extra for yourself, Barclay. I'll check."

  Outside she jumped into the passenger seat of Melanie's small Float. Melanie scrambled behind the wheel, rezzed the engine, and shot out of the restaurant parking lot.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. "I think it's probably safe to say that the management of the Riverside Grill will definitely recognize you the next time."

  "I can't believe it," Lydia stated.

  "The impression we made back there?"

  "No, the way I screwed up with this Guild wife rights thing. Why didn't Jack tell me that just getting married wasn't enough? If only he'd explained sooner how it works."

  Melanie whipped the little vehicle around a corner and then shot Lydia a strange glance. "That's why you told the media that you and Emmett were going to get married, isn't it
? You did it to protect him from a Council challenge."

  "He's got enough problems. He only took the job because Wyatt asked him to do it. It's supposed to be a temporary arrangement."

  "Calm down. Emmett's one heck of a para-rez. You've seen him work. Jack's right, he can probably handle anything anyone on the Council can throw at him."

  "After my Lost Weekend experience, I don't trust hunters. Two of them once set me up and then lied through their teeth about it."

  "Admittedly you had a very negative experience with some members of the local Guild. I can understand why it left you with a poor impression. But we're talking about the Guild Council, here, not just a couple of low-ranking hunters. These guys are at the very top of the organization."

  "The thing is, Mel, what if there's something big going on at the top of the Guild? What if a couple of the Council members are working together to stage a takeover? Maybe they're trying to destabilize the power structure. That would explain the attempt on Wyatt and the ghost attack last night."

  "You're talking about some sort of conspiracy here?"

  "It wouldn't surprise me. Emmett won't listen to me, but I can't get past the idea that this is old-fashioned Guild politics in action and that means there's a very good chance that someone on the Council is involved."

  "You don't think maybe you're getting downright paranoid?"

  "When it comes to the Cadence Guild, a little paranoia is a healthy thing."

  Melanie whipped the Float around another corner and came to a sliding halt at the sight of the barricades that blocked the street. A marching band filled the intersection. Flags waved and music blared. People clogged the sidewalks, cheering.

  "Damn," Lydia said. "I forgot that the Restoration Day parade always takes a route that goes straight past the Guild headquarters. I'll get out here. I can make better time on foot."

  She opened the passenger side door of the Float and extricated herself from it. "Thanks, Mel. See you back at Shrimp's."