Still, she had never seen an aura quite like North Chastain’s.
She eased the SUV to the curb and brought it to a halt. It was almost ten o’clock and the streets in the old warehouse district were mostly empty of traffic. Over the last several hours they had exhausted the rumor mill. No luck.
She pretended to adjust the big rearview mirror while she heightened her senses so that she could study the reflection of North’s aura. There was plenty of power in it but there was something very disturbing going on as well. She already knew he was suffering from sleep deprivation, a factor that played havoc with even the strongest auras. But there was another, more alarming instability in the currents. It was obvious he was fighting the dissonance waves, but sooner or later he was going to lose the battle.
Not my problem, she reminded herself. I’m just the go-between.
She contemplated the boarded-up brick building looming in the shadows. A construction fence surrounded the three-story structure. Signs announced that the location would soon feature a new mixed-use office tower, but there was no indication the developer had begun the demolition phase.
“According to Matt’s message there’s an opening in the fence,” she said. “He’ll meet us inside the building.”
North studied the darkened structure through the windshield. “Out of curiosity, how often do you do late-night meetings like this?”
“Most of my work is done at night. This isn’t late. It’s only just ten.”
“Does it strike you that you’re in a high-risk business?”
“You’re a badass Foundation cleaner,” she said. “Talk about high risk. Ready to do this?”
“Ready.” North reached inside his jacket and took out a gun.
Startled, Sierra turned quickly in the seat. “Hey, hey, you won’t be needing that. Matt is a colleague. I trust him.”
“Good to know.”
But North did not holster the gun. He opened his door and got out. With a small sigh, Sierra opened her own door, jumped down to the pavement and joined him on the curb.
They found the place where the wire fence had been cut and slipped cautiously into the construction site. There was enough light from the streetlamps to guide them to what had once been a service door at the side of the building.
“None of my business,” Sierra said, “but don’t you find those dark glasses a bit of a nuisance at night?”
“You have no idea.”
The grim emotion in the words sent a chill across Sierra’s senses. Note to self: don’t mention the sunglasses again. They were clearly not a fashion statement.
Matt Harper had said that the sheet of plywood covering the old doorway opening was loose. He was right.
“I’ll go first,” North said.
“I’ll take the lead here,” Sierra said. “Matt will get nervous if he sees you with a gun.”
“You told him you would have company.”
“I didn’t tell him the company would be armed. At least let me alert him that we’re here and that you’re going in first.”
“All right.”
North eased the plywood aside. Sierra peered around the edge of the opening and saw a faint light emanating from a doorway in the middle of a long hall. It looked like the glow of a flashlight or a camp lantern.
“Matt?” she called. “It’s Sierra. I’ve got the man from the Foundation with me. He’s got a gun but it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”
There was no response.
North edged her aside.
“Stay here,” he ordered in a tone that indicated he expected to be obeyed.
The problem with clients was that they often got the idea that they were the ones in charge.
He moved past her into the dark hallway. She watched him glide down the corridor. He stopped just before he reached the illuminated doorway.
“Harper?” he said quietly.
Again there was no response. Sierra watched North disappear into the room.
He reappeared a moment later. “There’s a man down in here. Alive but unconscious. I assume it’s Harper but you’re the only one who can identify him.”
“Matt.” Sierra rushed forward.
North stepped aside when she arrived at the illuminated doorway. She looked around at what had once been a studio apartment and saw Matt sprawled on the floor. The flashlight he had evidently brought with him had fallen next to his outflung hand. The beam was aimed at the doorway.
She crouched beside him, stripped off her gloves, braced herself and put her fingertips to the side of his throat. She got a small jolt but she also found a reassuring beat.
“His pulse is strong,” she said. “There’s no sign of physical injury but he’s definitely unconscious. I’ll call nine-one-one.”
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out her phone.
“Looks like whoever attacked him is long gone,” North said from the doorway. He glanced back at Harper. An eerie stillness came over him. “I think he was trying to run.”
Sierra was about to make the call to the emergency operator. “What?”
“Judging by the way he’s lying on the floor and the position of the flashlight, it looks like he was trying to get out of here in a hurry.”
“He was probably trying to get away from whoever attacked him,” Sierra said.
“Yes.” North left the doorway and crossed the room to pick up the flashlight. “There’s some weird energy in here. Feel it?”
“Yes,” she said. She looked around. “It has the vibe of an artifact. But I don’t see anything.”
North switched off the flashlight. With the space plunged into total darkness, Sierra became aware of a faint glow seeping out between the cracks of a cupboard door. The eerie ultraviolet radiance was clearly paranormal in nature.
“It’s in there,” she said quietly, and put her gloves back on.
North crossed the space and opened the cupboard door. A small, square, steel container about the size of a jewelry box sat on the top shelf. The lid was open. The strange light originated from the interior.
North reached up for the device.
“No,” Sierra said. “Let me handle it. I’m the expert, remember?”
She went to the cupboard, stood on tiptoe and stretched to pick up the artifact.
The instant her gloved fingers closed around it, she knew she had made a mistake.
She leaped back and spun around. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“Yeah, I got that impression.”
“We can’t leave Matt,” Sierra said.
“I’ll handle him. Here, take the flashlight.”
He tossed it to her, holstered his gun, slung Matt over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and followed her toward the doorway.
Behind them paranormal light sparked and then blazed from the box, flooding the old apartment in a senses-dazzling glare.
Halfway to the door an icy tsunami of energy swept over Sierra. The shock to her senses threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t breathe. She could no longer move. A terrifying darkness closed in on her. She realized she was about to pass out. Frantically she struggled to rally her talent.
North was beside her now. He ripped off his sunglasses. He had Matt draped over his shoulders but he reached out with one hand to grab Sierra’s arm. Another kind of shock zapped through her, a fortifying rush of heat and power.
Suddenly she could breathe again. The waves of dazzling light crashing through the small space receded. Not because of anything she was doing to hold back the tide, she realized. Some other force was at work.
North. She realized he was using his own aura to shield Matt and her from the violent energy released by whatever was inside the steel box.
“Let’s go,” North said.
He hauled her toward the
doorway. They made it out into the hall. There was now a solid wall between them and the exploding waves of light. It absorbed a significant amount of the energy. Sierra recovered her senses.
“I’m okay,” she said.
North released her arm. In the seconds it took for him to slap on his glasses she caught a glimpse of his eyes. She could not make out the color but she had no trouble perceiving the heat of paranormal energy. Whatever else he might be, North was a very strong talent.
Together they raced down the corridor and out through the service door. When they reached the jagged tear in the construction fence, Sierra pulled aside the raw wire edges so that North could get through with Matt.
She followed and then stopped and turned to survey the boarded-up building.
“I think the energy is fading,” she said.
North lowered Matt to the sidewalk and looked at the apartment house.
“You’re right,” he said.
There was some paranormal light emanating from between the cracks in the plywood-covered windows but the glow was rapidly weakening. Within a minute or two it was no longer visible.
“What in the world just happened?” Sierra whispered.
“I think we encountered the first working example of a paranormal weapon,” North said. “Some sort of grenade that exploded with currents of dark light.”
“Energy from the dark end of the spectrum? But you were able to control it, at least long enough for us to get clear of the explosion zone.”
“I used to have a talent for manipulating that kind of energy.” North rubbed his temples. “Luckily I still have a little left.”
“A little? Looked like a lot to me.”
“Not for long. Never mind. There’s another reason I was able to handle that light grenade.”
“What?”
“I recognized the paranormal signature,” North said. “Pretty sure my grandfather built it.”
“Your grandfather?”
“Long story. No time for it now. Stay here with Harper. Call nine-one-one.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back inside that building. I need to get that light grenade.”
“Are you crazy?” Sierra said. “You just said you think it’s some kind of explosive device.”
“It is but it’s no longer active, at least not right now. If I’m right, it will have to be recharged before it can be activated again.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The light in that box was coming from the dark end of the spectrum,” North said. “I told you, that’s my area of expertise.”
“Yes, but you can’t be an expert on paranormal weapons. You just said that box is the first working version of one that you’ve come across.”
“The weapon is unique,” North admitted. “But I was able to resonate with it. I can handle it. Look, I know you’ve got a lot of questions. I can answer some of them, but now is not a good time. We need that box.”
Sierra groaned. Unstable clients. Hazard of the business.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Go get the box.”
CHAPTER 12
It was clear Sierra had made an executive decision to trust him, at least for now. Probably because she didn’t have much choice, North thought. That was not a particularly inspiring realization, but it was nothing if not logical.
“If I don’t come out with the box in five minutes, call Victor Arganbright immediately,” North said. “He’s got a couple of agents on the ground here in Seattle. They’ll take charge.”
“Go for it,” she said. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“On my way.”
“And, North? Be careful.”
“My middle name.”
“Liar.”
He ignored the observation, took out his flashlight and went back through the fence. He loped to the entrance of the building, eased aside the sheet of plywood and went along the corridor. The paranormal light from the box was no longer detectable with his crystal-clouded vision. Once again he took the chance of removing his glasses for a quick glance. The hot currents of exploding energy were definitely gone.
A ghostly image coalesced at the edges of his vision. Hastily he put on the glasses.
He went to the doorway of the little studio and stopped. There was a lot of residual heat in the room—paranormal energy hung around for a long time—but it was weak and diffuse, nothing he couldn’t handle.
The metal box was still on the cupboard shelf, its lid open, but there was no perceptible energy coming from inside. North studied the container for a moment. It was just a metal box. No buttons or switches. No wires. No timer.
He reached up with both hands and took down the artifact. There was a murky, colorless crystal inside. It was about the size of his fist. It was uncut and unpolished. Nothing special to look at. But there was energy locked inside—a lot of it.
It sang to his senses.
What the hell did you build, Griffin Chastain?
He lowered the lid and latched it. Now the energy was almost undetectable. Only someone with a lot of talent would sense it.
He did a quick circuit of the apartment, checking to see if he had overlooked anything that might tell him who had set the light grenade. There was nothing to find. Maybe Matt Harper would be able to provide some useful information.
North went back down the hall and slipped through the rip in the chain-link fence.
Harper was on his feet, leaning against the fender of Sierra’s SUV. He looked exhausted and dazed.
“Did he wake up on his own?” North asked.
“Yes,” Sierra said. “As far as I can tell he wasn’t injured, but something rendered him unconscious for a while. He can’t remember exactly what happened, though.”
“I’ll be fine,” Matt growled. He glanced at the box North was holding. “Bad burn from that artifact, I guess.”
“You touched it?” North asked.
“I—” Matt stopped, looking confused. He shook his head. “I don’t remember touching it. But I’m sure I saw it.”
“What happened here tonight?” North said.
“Beats me.” Matt scrubbed his face with one hand. “I remember parking the car around the corner and going through the fence. I went inside to wait for you two. Everything after that is just—gone. It’s like I went to sleep or something. The next thing I knew I was waking up out here.”
“You don’t remember seeing anyone after you left your car?” North asked.
“No,” Matt said. He frowned. “At least I don’t think so.”
North said, “Where were you before you got into your car to drive here?”
Matt brightened a little, evidently relieved to be able to pull up some clear memories. “I had a couple of beers and a hamburger at a club in Pioneer Square. It’s a place where some of the other go-betweens hang out.”
“The Vault,” Sierra said.
Matt nodded. “Right. I talked to a guy there for a while but that’s it.”
“Most of the customers are regulars,” Sierra said. “Did you chat with someone you know?”
Matt hesitated and then shook his head. “No, I didn’t know him.”
“Someone in our business?” Sierra asked.
“Not a go-between like us,” Matt said. “Figured him for a new dealer or a collector at first but then I wondered if he was just a Puppet. You know how it is. Occasionally some of them find their way to the Vault.”
“Did you tell him you were meeting us tonight?” North asked.
Matt was deeply offended. “Hell, no. I knew you wanted to keep a low profile. I would never discuss business with a stranger, especially one who was a possible Puppet. But—”
“What?” Sierra asked gently.
Matt’s face twisted in concentration. “Shit. I can’t remember
exactly what I said.”
Sierra took a breath. “I might be able to help you recover your memories.”
“Yeah?” Matt looked dubious but a little hopeful. “Like with hypnosis or something?”
“Just the opposite,” Sierra said. “I think someone hypnotized you. I want to try to pull you out of the trance so that you can get access to all of your memories. You’ll be fully aware of what I’m doing. You can stop me at any point if you’re uncomfortable with the process.”
North looked at Sierra but he did not ask any questions. They needed answers and she seemed to think she could get some. That was all that mattered.
“Okay, I guess,” Matt said.
Sierra stripped off one leather glove, reached inside her jacket and pulled out a small black locket. When she flipped it open the streetlamp glinted on a reflective surface. A mirror, North thought, or a crystal polished to mirror-brightness. He was intrigued. The paranormal physics of mirrors and crystals that worked like mirrors were still very much a mystery as far as the experts were concerned.
Sierra cupped the locket in one hand and aimed it at Matt. North felt energy shiver in the atmosphere. He knew she had just heightened her talent.
“Matt, you talked to someone at the Vault tonight who was not a regular,” she said calmly. “Do you know his name?”
Matt blinked a couple of times. Then his expression cleared. “No. Never saw him before. Like I said, I figured him for a collector or a Puppet. Real intense.”
“What did he say to you?” Sierra continued.
“He told me he’d heard I had handled the Pitchford auction delivery. He asked me if anyone had contacted me about it. I didn’t let on I’d heard from you, of course. At least, I didn’t intend to tell him. But I think . . . I think I said something about our meeting tonight. Damn it. I don’t know why I talked about it. You know me, I’m careful when it comes to that kind of thing. Hell, I’m sorry, Sierra. I must have been drunk.”
All the Colors of Night Page 8
