by Jayne Castle
Green energy pulsed in front of the intruder, filling the room with the strange light that was the hallmark of a dangerously intricate ghost.
"Oh, shit. No one said anything about this." The hunter whirled and fled down the short hallway.
He collided with the small table there, staggered, righted himself, and dashed into the foyer. He was clearly in the grip of panic. He did not even bother trying to neutralize Emmett's ghost.
The problem with ghosts was that although they could be maneuvered, it was impossible to make them move quickly. The hunter could easily outrun the UDEM Emmett had summoned.
In the meantime, it was blocking Emmett's path. He zapped the energy pattern. The ghost winked out, enabling him to plunge through the doorway and out into the hall.
Ahead of him the intruder pounded toward the stairwell. Emmett gave chase.
"Let him go, Emmett," Lydia called. "I saw the knife in his hand."
It was not the knife that worried him, Emmett thought. It was the fact that the intruder was already at the stairwell, about to disappear down it.
A robust middle-aged woman built like a monument to the colonial settlers hauled herself out of the stairwell just as the hunter reached it. A T-shirt emblazoned with the message dissonance happens in sequined letters heralded her ample bosom. In the weak light of the dimly lit hallway, Emmett saw the other man's start of panicky surprise. And then the unmistakable hesitation.
It hadn't taken the hunter long to realize that he had just been handed a potential hostage, Emmett thought.
"Get down," Emmett shouted to the woman. "Hit the deck. Now!"
To his great relief, the newcomer assessed the situation with commendable speed and came to the correct conclusion. There was an audible thud as she dropped to the floor like a block of marble.
The ghost-hunter started to reach down for a fistful of the woman's jacket, belatedly realized he could not possibly haul her to her feet, and abandoned the hostage idea.
He whirled and leaped into the stairwell. The echo of his boots rang loudly as he plummeted downward.
Emmett had to vault the prone woman to reach the opening.
"What the hell's going on here?" She sat up warily. "Who are you?"
"Later." Emmett gripped the railing to control his swift descent.
The sound of the hunter's footfalls was already receding into the distance. He would never catch him now, and he dared not risk another ghost. There was no telling who else might enter the stairwell from one of the other floors. A brush with a UDEM would not endear him to the neighbors. And then there were the awkward legalities to be considered.
He was on the second landing when he heard his quarry slam through the broken security door.
I'm going to lose him, Emmett thought.
The intruder was fast. He moved with the speed and agility of a young, athletic male. But he had not yet learned to marshal and control his psychic energies. He had freaked at the sight of the large ghost that Emmett had conjured. He obviously lacked the kind of practical experience that came only with extensive work in the field. Which put him in his late teens.
About the same age as Quinn.
Emmett glanced over the railing in time to see the masked figure dash out into the parking lot. When he reached the ground floor he heard the whine of a highly revved mag-rez engine and knew that he had lost whatever small chance he'd had. A long, six-inch-wide band of bright light appeared suddenly in the darkness, the distinctive glowing tube that marked the front grill of a Coaster.
The vehicle's passenger door slammed shut. The Coaster glided forward between the rows of parked cars, heading straight for Emmett.
He threw himself into the dark space between an ancient Lyre and a small Float. The Coaster howled as it went past, a hungry beast that had been denied its intended prey.
It did not turn back. Emmett stood between the Lyre and the Float and watched the car roar out of the small lot and into the street. A few seconds later it disappeared around the corner.
He was still standing there, thinking, when Lydia, followed by Zane, dashed out of the stairwell to join him.
"My God!" Lydia stared at the empty street. Then she swung around to face him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." Emmett drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm okay."
It was not as though he could have kept it a secret for much longer, anyway, he thought. Lydia was smart. Sooner or later she would have figured out that he was a ghost-hunter.
Chapter 10
"NO NEED TO let it get you down." Olinda Hoyt clapped Emmett on the shoulder. "Hell, even if you'd caught him, he'd have been out on bail by morning."
Emmett managed, barely, not to stagger beneath the blow. Olinda was no dainty pigeon. Years of wielding commercial-weight pots and pans and waiting on customers in her cafe had endowed her with a respectable layer of muscle.
The sequined dissonance happens T-shirt Emmett had glimpsed earlier when she had emerged from the stairwell glowed even more brightly in the lights of the living room. Tight jeans cinched with a glittering rhinestone-studded belt sheathed her full-figured thighs. She wore a pair of running shoes decorated with neon-pink shoelaces. Her long gray hair was tied back in a ponytail.
Definitely not a woman who would go unnoticed in a crowd, Emmett thought.
He nodded absently in response to her observation. "Yeah, probably."
"Man, that was one amazing ghost you threw at him, Mr. London," Zane observed for what must have been the hundredth time. "You shoulda seen it, Aunt Olinda. It was huge. It filled the whole doorway—and we're not even inside the Dead City."
"Sorry I missed it." Olinda winked broadly. "But don't worry, Zane, my boy, one of these days you'll be summoning ghosts that size yerself."
"Made the other guy's ghost look like nothing," Zane crowed.
Emmett saw Lydia's jaw tighten as she set a cup of tea down in front of Zane, but she made no comment on the battle of the ghosts.
"You're sure you're all right?" she asked Zane again. "That man didn't hurt you?"
"Heck, no. I'm fine." Zane ignored the tea. He could not seem to take his eyes off Emmett.
Emmett stifled a groan at the unabashed hero worship in Zane's gaze. Lydia was not going to like this turn of events.
"Let's go through this from the beginning," he said quietly. "Tell me exactly what happened, Zane."
"Sure. Like I said, I'd finished my homework and was just getting ready to go downstairs. I opened the door and there was this guy in the hall. All I could see was his eyes, on accounta the mask. Fuzz didn't like him one bit. He started growling right off."
Emmett crouched down in front of him. "What did he say? Did he ask for Lydia by name? Do you think he knew who lived here or was he just looking for an empty apartment to burglarize?"
"I dunno. At first he seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Guess he'd figured there was no one home. But before I could ask him what he wanted, he summoned the ghost. I tried—" Zane stopped suddenly. "But I couldn't do anything, y'know?"
"It's okay, Zane." Emmett put his hand on the thin shoulder. "A man's got to work with what he's got. You don't have the strength or training yet to neutralize a ghost. So you did something more important. You kept your head. You didn't panic. And you probably saved Fuzz's life."
Zane looked up quickly. "Fuzz wanted to attack him, but I knew that if I let him go, the guy would fry him with that ghost. And I was pretty sure a UDEM that big would kill something as small as Fuzz."
"Emmett's right." Lydia stroked Fuzz's ratty gray fur. "You saved Fuzz. If you hadn't been here, I'm sure he would have gone for the burglar, and that would have been the end of him."
Zane looked at the dust-bunny perched on Lydia's knee. "The sucker used the ghost to pin me and Fuzz in the corner. Then he started tearing the place apart. I figured he was looking for stuff he could sell, y'know? But he didn't pay any attention to your rez-screen."
"Not surprising," Lydia
remarked. "It's at least eight years old. I got it at a rummage sale a few months ago. I can see why a burglar would pass it up."
Olinda snorted. "I told you I could get you a deal on a nice new model not more than a few months old at most."
"And I told you I'll pass," Lydia said. "I prefer to purchase appliances that did not fall off the back of a truck. That way I've got a shot at the warranty."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just don't see why you gotta deprive yerself of some of life's little pleasures just because you don't like the notion of not knowing exactly where they came from, is all."
Emmett silenced them both with a look and turned back to Zane. "You don't have any idea what the burglar might have been looking for? He didn't say anything at all while he was tossing the place?"
"Not really." Zane bit his lip, thinking hard. "He swore a lot. He was kinda nervous, y'know? I guess that guy in the Coaster was waiting for him to hurry up and finish."
"I think you're right." Emmett glanced at Olinda. "You didn't see anything?"
"No." She shook her head. "First I knew somethin' was wrong was when I closed up the cafe and hiked up those damned stairs to see why Zane here hadn't come back down. Thought maybe he'd gone to sleep in front of the rez-screen. At the top of the stairs I saw the guy with the knife and heard you yell to get down. That's all I know about the situation."
"All right." Emmett got to his feet. "There's no point going over this again tonight. We all need some sleep."
"You gonna call the cops?" Olinda asked in a very neutral tone of voice.
Emmett turned toward Lydia. "We can call them, but I doubt that it will do any good. No one was hurt and nothing was stolen. They probably won't even bother to send out an officer to take a report."
"Huh. Not to this neighborhood, that's for sure," Olinda muttered. "Now, if this apartment complex was up on Ruin View Hill, they'd have someone out quicker 'n a man can say he's gotta take a leak."
"Thank you for that insightful observation," Lydia said. "Let's not forget that we do have a clue or two. He used a ghost in the course of an attempted burglary. We know he was a hunter."
"And a young one," Emmett added absently. "With a very limited amount of training."
"You're certain?"
"Reasonably certain." Emmett went to stand at the sliding window that opened onto the balcony. "But those two facts leave us with a very large group of suspects. The cops will be too busy to bother with this, but we've got another option."
There was a short, stark silence behind him.
"Are you suggesting that we take this to the Guild?" Lydia asked eventually.
"It's local Guild business when a hunter uses his talents to commit crimes," Emmett reminded her.
"What makes you think we'll get the time of day from those thugs?" she demanded. "No offense, Emmett, but for all we know, the Guild itself is involved in this."
"No way, Lydia." Zane's voice was hot with feeling. "The Guild polices its own. Everyone knows that. Ever since the Era of Discord, the hunters have taken care of any member who went renegade."
"Yes, of course," Lydia said dryly. "How could I forget my history so easily? We all know the Guild deals with its own internal problems. I can't imagine what got into me to even suggest that it wouldn't fall all over itself to help outsiders prove one of its members was a knife-wielding burglar who likes to terrorize people with ghosts."
Emmett ignored the sarcasm in her voice. "I'll talk to the head of the Cadence Guild tomorrow."
"Mercer Wyatt?" She stared at him in disbelief. "You think you can just walk up to his front door and ask to speak to him? You're crazy. And you're also from out of town. That means that even though you're a hunter, you're not a member of the local Guild. What makes you think Wyatt will see you?"
"Professional courtesy."
She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
He shrugged. "You can come with me if you like."
She looked slightly stunned. But she recovered swiftly. "Sorry. I've got a funeral to attend."
Olinda looked blank. "Anyone I know?"
"Chester Brady."
"Oh, yeah, right. Chester." Olinda shook her head. "Reckon you were the closest thing he had to a friend. Not that that's saying much about Chester's circle of acquaintances."
"I'll go with you," Emmett said. "My meeting with Wyatt isn't until seven o'clock in the evening."
Lydia frowned. "You've already got an appointment with him? At night?"
"I've been invited to dinner," Emmett said.
They all stared at him this time. The only one whose eyes were not opened unnaturally wide was Fuzz.
"Holy shit!" Zane mouthed in awe. "You've been invited to dinner with Mercer Wyatt?"
"I'll be damned," Olinda breathed.
"Exactly," Lydia said. "Better take a very long spoon."
She was in the tomb chamber again. Ancient though it was, it glowed faintly with the mysterious ambient green light emitted by the quartz walls. She knew the eerie luminescence was dangerous because it masked the energy of the illusion traps and the ghosts the Old Ones had set to guard their underground maze.
She could see the dark opening to the antechamber. She went toward it, just as she always did in this dream; and then she sensed the presence behind her, just as she always did. She started to turn, glimpsed the shifting of shadows, felt the cold chill…
She woke with a start, shivering. For a moment she could not think where she was. The disorientation was stronger this time. The chilly sensation was new, though.
Another cold draft swept across the bed. Then came the muted sound of the sliding glass door closing out in the living room. Belatedly she recalled that she and Fuzz were not alone in the apartment tonight. The knowledge that Emmett was here was as disconcerting as the dream. Maybe more so. She sat up slowly, aware that the whisper of cold night air and the sound of the door indicated that Emmett had gone out onto the balcony.
She glanced at the clock. Three a.m. They had gone to bed at one. She had been adamant about restoring order to her apartment before retiring. No one had argued. No one had suggested that the task could wait until morning. Instead, they had all pitched in to help her clean up the mess the intruder had left in his wake. It was as if everyone understood that it would have been impossible for her to sleep in the midst of the chaos. It had taken nearly two hours to get things back into their proper drawers and cupboards.
Three o'clock in the morning was a weird time to go outside for a breath of fresh air. She wondered if her new roommate had any other odd habits.
"Fuzz?"
At the foot of the bed Fuzz yawned and opened his daylight eyes. They gleamed colorlessly in the moonlight.
"Okay, okay, go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."
She pushed aside the covers and got out of bed. She started toward the door without thinking and then paused to grab her robe. Sharing the small living space with Emmett required a few modifications in her own habits, she thought. She could only hope he didn't get in the way too much.
She slid her feet into a pair of slippers, belted the robe, and padded out into the front room. The curtains were open. Moonlight spilled across the sofa, revealing that the makeshift bed was empty.
She looked out at the balcony and saw Emmett. He had pulled on his jeans, but that was all. He leaned negligently against the railing, gazing out at her sliver-size view of the green Wall. In the light of the moon his shoulders looked very broad.
She hesitated, struggling briefly against the impulse to take a closer look at his back. What the heck? she thought. This was her apartment, her balcony. If he was going to wander around half naked, he had to expect that she would notice.
She hadn't been getting out a lot lately, after all.
She walked closer to the glass door and peered through the window at sleek lines of moon-sculpted masculine muscle. A man's back, at least this particular man's back, said a lot about him, she decided. There was power, both psychic and physical,
in him. And a riveting sensuality.
There was also grace. An easy, unconscious grace, the kind that came from full control, the internal kind. Something about the way he held himself—even now, when he was simply lounging against a rail-spoke volumes about that inner control. She searched her brain for the right description.
"Centered." That was as good a word as any. This was a man who knew his own resources, made his own decisions, his own judgments of others. He had not accepted the experts' verdict on her para-psychological health, as Ryan and her other former colleagues had done. He had not bought the usual assumptions about people who had survived forty-eight hours alone in the catacombs. He didn't think she was too delicate to do her job.
Okay, so Emmett was a ghost-hunter, and a strong one at that. No one was perfect.
She opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony.
He did not turn around. "Everything okay?"
She had the uneasy feeling that he had known she was there, watching him through the window, all along.
"Not quite." She joined him at the rail. "I don't think I ever got around to thanking you for what you did for Zane and Fuzz this evening."
"If it makes you feel any better, I doubt that the intruder intended to hurt either of them. He just wanted them out of the way while he went through your place."
"Maybe. But I don't think he would have hesitated to singe them if they had gotten in his path."
Emmett did not deny that. He lifted one shoulder, the movement of muscle and bone fluid in the moonlight.
Take deep breaths, she instructed herself. Lots of deep breaths.
Silence fell. Lydia focused on the dark silhouettes of the nearby buildings. She wondered why Emmett did not seem to feel the chill in the night air.
"You want to know why I didn't tell you, don't you?" he asked eventually.
She knew what he meant. "Why you didn't tell me that you're a dissonance-energy para-rez? I know why. I made my opinions about ghost-hunters fairly obvious right from the start. I don't blame you for keeping quiet about your talent. It was a perfectly reasonable decision for you to make under the circumstances."
