RS01 The Lost Night

by Jayne Castle

  “None of the above. It’s not very exciting, just three chunks of murky gray crystal that my family brought with them from the Old World when they came through the Curtain.”

  “They brought three rocks all the way from Earth?” She was floored. “Good grief, those stones must have had some value to warrant space on one of the colonial ships.”

  “There’s no record of the stones having any monetary value, but according to what little we know about them, they may have had some paranormal properties. My great-grandfather considered them to be extremely dangerous but he did not want to get rid of them altogether by dropping them into a deep ocean trench. His theory was that someday they might prove to be very valuable. But he said that modern technology wasn’t sufficiently advanced to control the energy in the stones, let alone find a profitable way to use them.”

  “So he hid them here on Rainshadow and left his descendants with instructions to protect them.”

  “That’s pretty much the whole story,” Harry said. “You said you know where they’re hidden.”

  “Harry One left an old psi-code map in the family archives. I was able to use it to locate the cave where Harry and Nick hid the stones. It’s just a short distance inside the energy fence, not deep in the heart of the Preserve. My great-grandfather told me that he and North were afraid that if they went in too far they wouldn’t be able to find their way back out.”

  Darwina finished her lasagna, picked up Amberella by the doll’s long legs, and hopped down from the window ledge. She tumbled across the wooden floor and vanished into the living room.

  Rachel looked at Harry. “I’m impressed. Most people can’t even get through the energy fence that surrounds the Preserve. I knew Slade could track people who got lost inside and I assumed you could, too, or you wouldn’t have come here to investigate whatever is going on in there. But here on the island everyone claims that there is no way to create a useable map of the terrain inside the fence because the energy is too disorienting.”

  “I’ve got a variation of my great-grandfather’s talent, which is what it takes to read his psi-coded map. It’s a matter of some complicated psychic genetics.” Harry looked back at the counter with a hopeful expression. “Any chance of another slice of lasagna? It’s the best I’ve had in a long time.”

  “It’s my mother’s recipe.” Rachel got up and went to the counter to cut another piece. “You know, some of the really old maps of the island show the boundary of the psi-fence with everything inside marked ‘Here There Be Monsters.’ ”

  “The Foundation has an excellent collection of those old maps. There have always been plenty of myths and legends about the island because of the heavy paranormal radiation inside the fence. The energy in the Preserve can induce visions and hallucinations. But over the years we’ve sent several search-and-rescue teams in to pull out the occasional drunken yachtsman or doped-up thrill-seeker who managed to get through the barrier. There have been no reliable or confirmed sightings of monsters or ghosts. Believe me, the Foundation would be the first to know.”

  But monsters were showing up in her dreams lately, Rachel thought. And she was certain that the nightmares were linked to her missing twelve hours—the time she had been lost inside the Preserve. She was not about to mention that to Harry, though. He would think she was crazy. There were enough people on the island who believed she was psychically fragile due to her fugue experience. She did not want Harry to come to the same conclusion.

  She carried the lasagna to the table. “But no one has ever ventured too deeply into the Preserve, right?”

  “That’s true,” Harry said. “The working theory at the Foundation has always been that strong talents can go in for short distances but no one, not even the most powerful sensitives, can go into the heart of the island and make their way back out.”

  She sighed. “You know, don’t you?”

  “About your missing twelve hours inside the Preserve? Yes. Slade told me.”

  She made a face. “Well, it’s not like it’s a secret. Everyone on the island knows I slipped into some sort of fugue state one evening, went into the Preserve, and walked out at dawn the next morning. It’s embarrassing, to tell you the truth. After all my Academy training and meditation exercises I should have had more control. Knowing that something like that can happen is … deeply unsettling.”

  “I understand. But the paranormal currents inside the Preserve have always been very strong, and lately the psi temperature has been rising. That’s more than enough to explain your amnesia.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself. But getting back to those three stones that Harry One hid in the cave. What did you do with them?”

  “I left them there.” He shrugged. “I saw no reason to move them at the time. I told you, according to my great-grandfather they’re dangerous.”

  “In what way?”

  “He didn’t know exactly and neither do I. They’ve been in the family ever since the Late Nineteenth Century, Old World Date, but a lot of the Sebastian family records and archival materials relating to our ancestors back on Earth were lost in an explosion and fire that occurred during Colonial times here on Harmony. So, given that I didn’t know what I was dealing with, it seemed best to leave them where they were.”

  “Sounds like a smart decision.”

  “Except it wasn’t,” Harry said. He finished the last of the lasagna and set the fork down very deliberately. “The first thing I did when I arrived on the island a couple of days ago was go into the Preserve to check on the stones.”

  “And?”

  “And they’re gone,” Harry said quietly.

  “You mean you couldn’t find the cave this time?”

  “I found the cave. But the crystals are gone.”

  “You think they were stolen?”

  “I know they were stolen,” Harry said. “What’s more, I think they’re at the core of the problem in the Preserve. Whatever is happening inside the fence involves some very high energy, and the one thing I do know about those rocks is that they are capable of channeling a lot of power. What we don’t know is how to unleash or control the latent energy in the stones.”

  She took a breath and let it out cautiously. “I understand your logic.”

  “I have to find the rocks and I’m going to need your help to do it.”

  “My help?” She stared at him. “What in the world can I do to assist your investigation?”

  “I want you to read some auras.”

  “Whose auras? And why should I read them?”

  “I think one or more of the local residents is involved in this thing.”

  “What?” She flattened her palms on the table and pushed herself to her feet. “You want me to rat out my friends and neighbors? Forget it.”

  Harry looked at her very steadily. “Whoever took the stones is in way over his or her head. Something dangerous is happening out there in the Preserve, something that needs to be stopped.”

  “Even if you’re right, what makes you think that one of the islanders is responsible? We’ve got regular, scheduled ferry service. That means day-trippers on the weekends. We’ve got B& Bs for tourists who want to spend more time. During the summer months we get the yacht crowd. And then there are those weeklong motivational seminars offered by the Reflections Institute out at the old lake lodge.”

  “You’re saying that I need to widen my pool of suspects?” Harry asked politely.

  “Absolutely. There are a lot of strangers coming and going on Rainshadow these days.”

  He appeared to give that some thought. “It’s possible that a visitor is responsible for whatever is happening out there.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “The problem is that a tourist who drops in on the weekends doesn’t fit my profile.”

  “What profile?” she asked. “You can’t possibly have one yet. You’ve barely even started your investigation.”

  “No, but I’m actually pretty good at this kind of stuf
f.”

  “Okay, okay.” She dropped back into her chair. “Tell me about this profile of yours.”

  “I think it’s a good bet that whoever stirred up that energy in the Preserve has some long-standing connection to the island.”

  “A good bet? That doesn’t sound like a real forensic profile.”

  Harry ignored the interruption. “It’s a matter of opportunity. It would take time to find the stones, time to move them, time to do whatever the suspect did that is now causing problems. A day-tripper who was coming and going routinely into the Preserve would have been noticed by now.”

  She did not want to admit it, but he had a point.

  “Maybe,” she allowed.

  “In addition, the suspect obviously has to be a powerful talent. Most people can’t even get through the fence, let alone navigate the terrain once inside. That’s where you come in, Rachel.”

  “You want me to identify all of the folks on Rain-shadow who happen to possess a lot of talent?” she asked. “That would be an invasion of privacy, not to mention a good way to lose business and maybe even get myself killed. In case you hadn’t heard, folks on this island like their privacy. It’s one of the reasons they come here in the first place.”

  “I’ll try to make this as simple as I can. Whatever is going on out there in the Preserve must be stopped or I will have no choice but to order a full evacuation of the island.”

  She stared at him, shocked. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I can. And I will if I think it’s necessary.”

  “But Rainshadow is home to the sort of people who don’t do very well elsewhere. This is a special place.”

  “Trust me, I understand.”

  “Even if you do order an evacuation, I can tell you right now that a lot of the locals would ignore it,” she said.

  “In that case, I think there is a high probability that something very, very bad might happen to them.”

  “Do you have any idea what that something might be?”

  “No,” Harry said. “But this island is a powerful geothermal nexus, so I think a major paranormal explosion would be high on the list of probable outcomes.”

  She sat quietly, not speaking for a time.

  “I see,” she said finally.

  “My goal is to save the island and the community of Shadow Bay. I’m not interested in old secrets and gossip. I’m just trying to identify a list of suspects.”

  “What will you do once you have your list?”

  “I will ask questions,” Harry said. “Slade will be working with me. You know him. He’ll make sure that everyone’s rights are protected.”

  That much was true, she thought. Slade was a dedicated lawman to the bone. He would keep an eye on Harry, assuming anyone could keep an eye on Harry Sebastian. There was a reason why those with Harry’s brand of psychic ability were called shadow-auras. No one knew much about them.

  “Look on the bright side,” Harry said. “Working with me is the best way to keep tabs on my investigation and make sure I don’t go down the wrong road with any of your neighbors.”

  She was trapped.

  “Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” she asked.

  “What kind of thing?”

  “Piss people off?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have answered the door tonight.”

  She got to her feet again, cleared the table, and carried the dishes to the sink. Behind her Harry’s chair scraped a little on the floor. A sudden jolt of suspicion made her turn around.

  He was on his feet, watching her warily. “What?”

  “Some men have some serious misconceptions about women from the Community,” she said.

  “You mentioned that earlier.”

  “Just to clarify, you will be spending the night on the sofa or the living room floor, your choice.”

  He nodded once. “Believe it or not, I had figured that much out for myself.”

  She sighed and turned back to the sink. “Not that the facts will get in the way of the gossip.”

  “What gossip?”

  “By seven o’clock tomorrow morning half the town will know that you spent the night here. The rest will find out at ten when they go to the post office to pick up their mail.”

  “So?”

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “So everyone will assume the worst.”

  “Right. The worst. I don’t suppose it will help if I say I’m sorry for putting you into this situation?”

  “No,” she said. “It won’t help a bit.”

  Chapter 3

  The ethereal chime and clash of her charm bracelet brought him out of a light sleep. The fact that he could hear the gentle sound so clearly made him realize that somewhere in the past hour or so the storm had burned itself out.

  He watched Rachel descend the stairs. All of his senses stirred, just as they had yesterday when he had walked into Shadow Bay Books with Slade. One look into those brilliant amber eyes and everything else that was important in his life dropped to second place on his list of priorities. In that first moment of meeting her he had known that even if he never saw her again he would not forget her.

  His night vision was excellent. In the dim glow of the low-burning fire he could make her out quite clearly. She wore a pale, ankle-length robe over her nightgown and pair of fluffy slippers. Her flame-red hair was loose and mussed from sleep and tumbled around her shoulders.

  Even from across the room he was intensely aware of the strong energy that shivered in the atmosphere around her. It aroused him and heated his blood, made him want to reach for her and drag her down onto the sofa with him.

  She moved with an elegant, feminine grace and confidence that spoke of dance or martial-arts training. He had heard that both were taught from childhood on within the HE community.

  Darwina, Amberella clutched tightly in one paw, fluttered down the steps at Rachel’s feet.

  He lay unmoving on the sofa. Rachel was already more than a little pissed off at him. The last thing he wanted to do was startle or alarm her. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she turned toward the kitchen. The route took her past the sofa. She glanced his way but she did not pause.

  “I know you’re awake,” she said in a normal tone of voice. “I’m just going to let Darwina out.”

  She kept going into the unlit kitchen. He pushed aside the blanket and sat up on the edge of the sofa. The back porch door opened.

  “You and Amberella stay out of trouble, now,” Rachel said softly. “I do not want to get a call from Officer Willis telling me to come bail you out of jail.”

  There was an answering chortle and then the door closed. A moment later Harry heard water run in the sink. A cupboard door opened.

  He got up from the sofa and raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears. He padded barefoot across the cold floor. He had removed his pullover but he still had on the black T-shirt and trousers so he figured he was reasonably decent. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. Another night-light illuminated the scene. Rachel was lounging against the sink sipping a glass of water. There were dark shadows in her eyes.

  “Bad dreams?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She made a face. “Darwina sensed my agitation. She woke me. But once she knew I was awake, she decided to go check out the after-hours clubs with Amberella.”

  “After-hours clubs?”

  “Or wherever dust bunnies go at this time of the night.” Rachel glanced toward the windows. “Looks like the storm is over.”

  He followed her gaze and saw fog infused with cold moonlight pooling in the clearing around the cottage.

  “For now,” he said. “But there’s more heavy weather on the way.”

  “You think it’s another sign of trouble in the Preserve, don’t you?”

  “There’s so much energy stirring inside the fence now that it’s having a serious impact on the local microclimate.”

  “You�
�re not the only one here who is saying that. There really is something big going on out there in the Preserve, isn’t there?”

  “Yes.” He folded his arms across his chest and watched her drink the last of the water. “Was there a storm the night you did your fugue-walk?”

  “I don’t think so. There was a lot of fog when I left the bookstore but I could see well enough to ride my bike back here to the cottage. My shoes and clothes were damp when I walked out of the Preserve the next morning but it seemed like the normal sort of dampness that you’d pick up walking through the woods and across rough terrain at night.”

  He studied her for a long time. “What do you remember?”

  For a moment he thought she was not going to answer the question. But after a while she started to talk.

  “Very little,” she said. “I spent most of the day at the bookshop, conducting an inventory, dusting, just puttering around. I was still trying to decide whether or not I wanted to move to Rainshadow and take over the business as my aunts suggested or put the store and the cottage on the market. I locked up around five o’clock and started back here on my bicycle. Somewhere on the road everything went blank. Or maybe I should say mostly blank.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Lately I’ve been getting more and more wispy little fragments of memories. At least I think they may be real memories. But it’s like catching a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. When you turn to look, it vanishes. I’ve tried going back to the place where I later found my bicycle to see if the location stirs up any clear recollections.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  “Sometimes I think I get an impression of a car. I feel as if I should know the driver, that if I just looked harder, I would recognize him.”

  “Him?”

  She hesitated. “I think so but I can’t be positive.” She put the empty glass down very gently. “Could be recovered memories or false memories or simply hallucinations. But the dreams have definitely been getting worse.”

  “What do you see in your dreams?”

  She looked at him, her eyes burning a little hotter in the shadows of the kitchen. “I see monsters.”