by Jayne Castle
Lucas edged back a few steps. He switched his gaze to Dancer's feet in order to avoid the entrancing movements of the knife. He groped for and found the metal lid of the garbage can.
Lucas swept the can lid around in a wide arc just as Dancer leaped. The knife blade clashed dissonantly against the makeshift metal shield.
Dancer hissed and tried to scramble back out of reach. Lucas gave him no chance to recover his balance. He went in low and fast, using the lid as both armor and weapon.
"Bastard. I'm gonna kill you, Trent." Dancer tried and failed to sidestep the garbage can lid. It caught him on the shoulder with enough force to cause him to stumble.
Lucas discarded the lid and seized Dancer's knife arm. He twisted hard. Something cracked.
Dancer screamed in pain. The knife clattered to the pavement. Lucas slammed a fist into Dancer's jaw. The knife dancer crumpled.
"Lucas," Amaryllis called. "Behind you."
A roar of rage made Lucas spin around. He saw Rand bearing down on him. The irrational glitter in the man's eyes was visible even in the weak light. Rand's face was contorted into a grotesque mask. He had another knife in his fist. Must have grabbed it from his boot, Lucas thought.
Lucas braced himself, but at that moment Amaryllis took a step forward, away from the brick wall. She raised a large object that she had apparently retrieved from the garbage can. It looked like a small wooden packing crate.
She waited until Rand's maddened charge had carried him one step past where she stood. She raised the packing crate on high and then brought it down hard against the back of Rand's skull.
Rand lost his footing and sprawled forward. His face made forceful contact with the sidewalk. He twitched but did not move.
Lucas glanced at Rand, aware of the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He remembered the sensation all too well. He looked at Amaryllis and grinned. "We make a good team."
Amaryllis ignored him. Her gaze was riveted at a point just beyond Lucas's shoulder. "Lucas."
Lucas heard them. He turned his head to glance briefly at the three figures who were sauntering cautiously out of the shadows of a doorway. The noise of the skirmish had drawn would-be opportunists in the same way that the struggles of a wounded animal drew hopeful scavengers.
Lucas grabbed Amaryllis's hand. "Time to leave."
"Definitely."
She ran with him toward the car, which Lucas judged to be closer than the safety of the main strip.
He risked another glance over his shoulder as they pounded down the street. The new arrivals were still milling about, apparently trying to decide upon a course of action. He hoped that they would opt to go through Rand's and Dancer's pockets rather than try to run down the escaping prey. A tough decision, but someone had to make it.
He spotted the two men lounging against the fender of the Icer when he and Amaryllis were still half a block away.
"Five hells." This whole thing was starting to look a little too organized for his peace of mind. The tactics were not unlike the ones the pirates had used in the islands. He wondered how many of the riffraff had escaped after the main force had been routed.
"This way." He yanked Amaryllis around the corner of a building.
"There they go." One of the men leaning against the Icer straightened. "Shit, they're getting away. After 'em."
Lucas drew Amaryllis past several darkened doorways. She was breathing quickly, but she was keeping up with him. They bred them for endurance in the country, he reflected. He would have been dragging a city-born lady along the sidewalk by now.
He spotted the deep darkness of a nearby alley. He hesitated briefly, but when he heard the sound of pounding footsteps closing in swiftly from behind, he knew he had to evaluate the limited options. He wasn't president of a major corporation for nothing. He knew how to make executive decisions.
He pulled Amaryllis into the alley. It took approximately three seconds for him to realize that there was no opening at the far end. By then it was too late. The footfalls of their pursuers were too close.
Then again, Jackson had always told him that he wasn't executive material.
"We're trapped," Amaryllis breathed.
Lucas pressed her back against the nearest brick wall. "I hope you're as good as you keep telling me you are."
"What are you talking about?"
"Link." Lucas grabbed her hand. He needed all the power he could get.
"What good will that do? I hate to be a wet blanket, but your ability to detect other talents, impressive as it is, isn't going to be of much use here, Lucas."
"Don't move, don't say a word, don't even breathe if you can help it. Just give me a clear prism so that I can focus."
Amaryllis did not hesitate. A few seconds of blind seeking, a slight sense of disorientation, and then a crystal-clear prism formed out on the psychic plane.
He sent the raw energy of his talent through it and watched with a sense of satisfaction as it separated itself into colored beams. He chose the darkest band.
And then he went to work crafting a solid brick wall across the entrance of the alley.
He heard Amaryllis draw in her breath when she saw what he was doing. He knew she must have been shocked, but her concentration did not waver.
The wall materialized out of the dark night. It matched the walls of the buildings on either side.
The running footsteps were very close now.
Lucas was torn between the necessity to work quickly and the equally urgent need to work carefully. The danger was that he could easily overwhelm Amaryllis's ability to focus if he used too much of his talent. She was full spectrum, but he was off the chart.
He was already pushing her harder than he had ever pushed a prism. But she did not waver. He used a little more talent. He knew he was going beyond the range of a class ten now.
The focus stayed steady.
Lucas took a chance and eased more power through the prism. The illusion of a brick wall became increasingly solid. It blocked the entire entrance of the alley. Lucas could no longer see the street, which meant that their pursuers could not see the alley.
The nature of an illusion was such that even a good one could not completely block out direct light. The effect was that, viewed from the alley side, the wall glowed because of the light from the street lamps. But since there was no light from the alley to pass through the illusion, the wall would appear solid when seen from the sidewalk.
At least, Lucas hoped that it appeared solid.
The other potential problem with the effect was that the "wall" had no substance. If someone tried to lean against it, he would tumble straight through and find himself in the alley with Lucas and Amaryllis.
Lucas felt sweat trickle down his back. At any second he might overpower Amaryllis. If that happened, things were going to get nasty. But even in that dire moment, a part of him took a surging pleasure in being able to use the full range of his talent for an extended period of time. The experience was intense and incredibly satisfying. Lucas reveled in it.
Footsteps came to a halt on the other side of the illusory brick wall.
"Where the hell did they go?" a man growled.
"Must have ducked into a doorway or somethin'."
"They gotta be around here somewhere. I saw 'em turn down this street."
Lucas realized that some of the bricks at the top of his wall were partially transparent.
Amaryllis gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She said nothing, but he sensed that she was trying to tell him that she was all right. He remembered what she had said when they had linked the night of the reception. I won't break.
Lucas eased a smidgen more talent through the prism, just enough to solidify the upper layer of bricks.
"These doors are all locked or boarded up," someone said on the other side of the illusion. "So are the windows. They didn't have time to pick any locks or bust any glass. Where are they?"
"Looks like they got away," a second voice declared in di
sgust. "I told you we shouldn't have tried to work with knife-happy Dancer and his pal. Guy's never been the same since the Western Islands Action."
"Not like we had a lotta choice. Wasn't time to hire reliable talent. The client's pissed off. Somethin' to do with gettin' even because Trent threw him outa the city. He wanted the Iceman taken out at the first opportunity. This was it."
"Yeah, well I guess your client's gonna have to stay out of the city a while longer. Dancer and Rand really screwed this one up. Come on, let's get outa here before someone calls the cops."
Lucas listened to the receding footsteps. He held the brick wall illusion in place until he was certain that the men were gone. When he was satisfied that he and Amaryllis were alone on the street, he cut the flow of energy.
The wall vanished. The empty sidewalk and street in front of the alley reappeared.
He heard Amaryllis exhale slowly and deeply. She did not say a word. The glorious satisfaction that he had experienced a moment ago vanished along with the illusion of the wall. Reality returned with a thud.
Now she knows, Lucas thought. A cold chill settled in his gut. Amaryllis was the first person to learn the truth about him since Dora had died.
Psychic vampire.
"Let's go," Lucas said wearily. "We need to find a cop. A real one."
Dancer and Rand were still lying on the street where Lucas and Amaryllis had left them. Their pockets were empty and they were not in a cheerful mood. They were more than willing to blame their companions who had been assigned to wait near the Icer.
"We'll pick the rest of them up soon," one of the officers assured Lucas. "We know most of these guys. Any idea of why they targeted you tonight?"
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck. "I think a guy named Beech can answer that question."
"Is that a fact?" The officer gave Lucas a speculative look. "You must've pissed him off."
"I sometimes have that effect on people."
Amaryllis remained silent during the drive back to her little house. Lucas couldn't tell if she was angry, shocked, or horrified. He felt the cold feeling grow inside him.
This was the end. Well, he had known from the start that this would not be a long-term relationship.
A bleak desperation seized him when he found himself walking Amaryllis to her front door. He tried to tell himself that the feeling of impending loss was crazy. After all, it was not as though he and Amaryllis had ever had much of a future. A short-term affair was the most he could have expected. Perhaps even that prospect had been as much of an illusion as the brick wall that he had built tonight.
"I'm sorry." He stood on the step and massaged the back of his neck as Amaryllis deactivated the door lock. "I should have told you, but I've never told anyone except Icy Claxby and my wife, Dora."
Amaryllis stepped into the hall and turned to face him. "Who's Icy Claxby?"
Lucas stopped rubbing his neck. He was not going to get rid of the tension that easily. He braced one hand against the doorjamb. "Icy raised me after my parents were killed. He was an untrained prism. He recognized what I was. Warned me not to tell anyone. Said people would call me a vampire."
"Psychic vampire."
He closed his eyes briefly and steeled himself against the pain. "Yeah."
"But you were tested." She searched his face. "You're certified as a class nine."
"I didn't take the test until I knew I could control the talent."
"You've got more than one talent. You're not just a detector. You're also an illusionist."
"Yes."
"It's extremely rare to have two types of psychic power." She sounded curiously detached, as if she were giving an academic talk on the subject.
"Amaryllis, I realize that this has come as a shock."
"Yes, it has."
"I know that professional prisms are always careful not to work with strong talents who might burn them out. And God knows I've heard all the urban legends about off-the-scale talents. But you worked with me tonight. Nothing happened to you. I didn't take over your mind or anything."
"No, you didn't."
"Which proves that the myths are garbage. Nothing more than horror stories designed to give people a few cheap thrills."
"Is that right?"
"Of course it is." Why was he struggling against the inevitable, Lucas wondered. There was no point trying to convince her to ignore what had happened. He was wasting his time. "Besides, we're not likely to get into a situation like that again. I don't see why we need to let it get in the way of a relationship."
She contemplated him for a moment. Her eyes were wide and deep in the glow of the door lamp. "I've always known that I was a strong prism."
"For which we can both be grateful," Lucas muttered.
"But I've never thought of myself as a freak."
He frowned. "You're no freak. What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't you see, Lucas? I was able to hold the focus for you tonight. You must have been operating at what would be the equivalent of a class eleven or maybe even a twelve."
"Look, I know how you must have felt, but—"
"If you're some kind of psychic vampire, what does that make me?"
He stared at her. "What did you say?"
"My power is as strong as your own," she said very quietly. "Technically speaking, when it comes to psychic energy, power is power, regardless of whether one is a talent or a prism."
Wispy remnants of the deep satisfaction Lucas had experienced during the link drifted through him. "I hadn't thought about it in quite those terms."
Amaryllis walked back out onto the front step, stood on tiptoe, and put her arms around his neck. "It seems to me that you and I have a few more things in common than we originally thought." She brushed her mouth lightly against his. "You don't know what a relief it is to realize that I'm not the only one around with more psychic energy than the lab techs can measure."
Lucas wondered if he had stepped into the center of one of his own illusions. In the next instant he concluded that this was no time to question the nature of reality. He was a pragmatic man by nature, not a philosopher.
He crushed Amaryllis against his chest, lifted her off her feet, and carried her back through the front door.
Chapter 8
Amaryllis heard the front door slam shut and realized that Lucas had kicked it closed. He did not bother to hunt for the small panel on the wall to switch on the lights. Instead, he carried her through the moonlight and shadows into the living room.
The urgency in him threatened to steal her breath. His undisguised sexual desire was as potent as the power of his talent. It swirled around her as if it were a cloak, enveloping her completely. Amaryllis felt the heated rush of passion flowing through her, driving out the tension and fear that had gripped her during the encounter with the street thugs.
With wholly uncharacteristic recklessness, she cast aside her questions and her common sense. The future could take care of itself. The only thing that mattered was this moment and the possibilities inherent in it. She had waited so long for the man of her dreams.
"Lucas." She tightened her arms around his neck.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I couldn't leave now for all the jelly-ice in the Western Islands."
He lowered her onto the couch and sprawled heavily on top of her. His mouth closed over hers as he pulled the remaining pins from her hair. He inhaled deeply.
"It reminds me of the jungle flowers," he said.
She felt his strong hands on the buttons of her blouse. His fingers trembled as he opened the garment. He broke off the kiss to gaze down at her breasts. "So beautiful." He touched one nipple wonderingly and then bent his head to take it into his mouth.
Another wave of excitement flashed through Amaryllis. She lifted herself against Lucas and felt the hard, thickened evidence of his desire. She struggled with his clothing until she got his shirt undone, and then she touched him with shy eagerness. He groaned.
She stroke
d him more daringly, relishing the taut contours of his chest. When her fingers brushed against his rib cage she felt a long, unnatural furrow of toughened skin.
"You were hurt," she whispered.
"Accident." He dismissed the incident with a drugging kiss. "Long time ago. You want me, don't you? You really want me. I can feel it."
"I've never wanted anything more in my life," Amaryllis said simply.
It was true. A joyous abandon swamped her senses. She was powerful, more so than she had dreamed. She had discovered the truth about herself with a man who could share that power with her. The knowledge was dazzling.
A lifetime of self-restraint went up in smoke. Amaryllis felt wild and eager and free. She hovered on the brink of great discovery, and she could scarcely contain herself. Questions awaited answers.
Lucas rained kisses on her bare shoulders and nibbled at her ear. There was a desperate, straining impatience in his every touch.
He reached down to seize a fistful of her skirt and haul it up to her waist. The feel of his calloused hand on her thigh was so intensely intimate that she cried out with pleasure.
"Are you all right?" He lifted his head to search her face.
"Yes, yes, of course, I'm all right." She shoved her fingers into his hair and dragged his mouth back down to hers.
He gave a soft, husky laugh that dissolved into another aching groan. She heard something tear and realized it was the crotch of her panties.
"Damn," Lucas muttered. "I didn't mean to do that."
"Don't worry about it. There are a lot more where those came from. I buy them by the dozen on sale." She raised one knee and pressed it urgently against his muscled thigh.
Lucas cupped her gently and buried his face in the curve of her throat. "Remind me to buy the next dozen for you."
He lifted himself away from her, just far enough to allow him to unbuckle his belt. He got his trousers unfastened and then he eased himself back down between her legs.
He stroked her, his hand vibrating with his own urgency. Amaryllis trembled. She was intensely aware of her own dampness, and she knew that Lucas was breathing in the scent of her body. She was grateful for the shadows.
