Sparkling thrills chased down her spine. Deliciously hot currents swirled. Liquid warmth pooled deep inside her. Somewhere out on the paranormal plane, energy flashed. Her psychic intuition did the happy dance.
Applause and cheering broke out, shattering the crystalline aura of intimacy into a million fragments. Reality came crashing back.
Dazed, Sierra opened her eyes. She was still pressed tightly against Fontana, but he was no longer kissing her.
“You can let him go now, Sierra,” Phil called loudly. “I’ve got plenty of good shots.”
Laughter splashed through the registrar’s office.
She was stunned to discover that her arms had somehow wound themselves around Fontana’s neck. She was holding on to him as though she were lost in the catacombs and he was her amber compass, as if she dared not let him go for fear of being lost forever.
Mortified, she released him and took a hasty step back, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady herself on her broken pump.
Immediately the hunters moved in on Fontana to shake his hand.
“Congratulations, sir,” Simon said. “You’re getting a real gutsy lady here. Good choice for a Guild boss’s wife.”
“And she can cook,” Jeff added helpfully. “Wait until you try her chocolate chip cookies.”
Fontana winked at Sierra. “I’ll look forward to the experience.”
He seemed more relaxed now that the business had been concluded. Fontana was not what anyone would call a jubilant bridegroom, Sierra thought, but he was definitely less grim. She groped for the right word and finally found it. He looked satisfied, the way a chess player would be after making an important move in a complicated strategy. In spite of the stress and the disorientation produced by the sizzling kiss, her intuition took note.
Coaxing her into this fake marriage had been important to him, perhaps even more important than she had realized. It was enough to make her wonder if maybe he had not told her everything concerning his plan for them to work as a team. The possibility that he considered her a useful pawn, not an equal partner, was disturbing. It was also infuriating.
Kay led the small group out of the registrar’s office and down the stairs.
“Listen up, everyone,” she announced when they reached the lobby “You’re all invited back to the offices of the Curtain. It’s not every day someone on the staff gets married. We’re going to party. We’ve got cheap bubbly. We’ve got cheap food. We’ve got balloons.”
“Are you inviting us, too?” Simon asked, angling his chin at Mitch, Jeff, and Andy.
“Of course,” Kay said. She spread her arms wide. “You’re all invited. Can’t let a member of the Curtain get married without a major celebration.”
Sierra glanced at Fontana, waiting for him to make some excuse to avoid the party. What would it be? she wondered. Got to get back to the office. Got a late meeting. Got a dinner engagement with the mayor. Got a date with the woman I’m sleeping with.
For some reason that last possibility robbed the moment of all amusement.
Fontana’s mouth curved faintly, as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.
“Sounds like a great idea,” he said, his eyes on Sierra. “A man ought to celebrate his own wedding.”
Chapter 7
A LONG TIME LATER, SIERRA SAW FONTANA CHECK HIS watch. She had glanced at the clock on the wall a couple of minutes ago and knew that it was going on nine o’clock. Unfortunately, the Curtain’s version of a blowout wedding reception was in full swing and showed no signs of abating. In fact, it had taken on a life of its own after Classifieds had sent out for more beer and Marketing ordered in a second round of pizza.
Sierra was sitting behind her desk, elbows propped on the surface, her chin resting on her hands. Fontana lounged against the side, arms folded. He had asked her to dance earlier, but she had demurred on the twin grounds of the broken heel and incipient bruises. He had not pressed her.
The newsroom was draped in paper streamers and balloons. The trash cans beside each desk were crammed with empty bottles of cheap Spectrum Sparkling Wine, used paper plates, and napkins. The remains of a large, square cake sat on Kay’s desk. The letters HAP from the originally inscribed Happy Birthday George were still visible. Kay had explained earlier that due to the extremely short notice, there had been no wedding cakes available at the bakery.
The rez-rock music blasting from the sound system had been cranked up to the point of pain. Desks had been pushed back to make room for the dancers. The lyrics of a current hit song blared forth.
Gonna take my lady underground tonight
We’re gonna get rezzed on some hot ghost light
Her four friends from the Green Gate were all happily drunk. Andy was dancing with Liz, the curvy blonde who was Runtley’s assistant. Ray Takashima and Kay were talking quietly in the corner. They both appeared completely absorbed in each other. Mitch and Jeff were regaling Phil Trager and the gang from Subscription Services with tales of their old glory days working ghost light down in the catacombs. Matt was finishing off the last bottle of Green Ruin beer. He had long ago abandoned the use of a paper cup.
“Probably not every woman’s dream of a wedding reception,” Fontana said, studying the scene.
“It was very nice of my friends to throw a party for us,” she said, immediately defensive.
Fontana nodded, surprising her. “Yes, it was.”
Elvis chose that moment to float past at eye level. Rezzed up on the coffee and cake that he had been sucking down all evening, he was clearly enjoying himself.
“Got a feeling I’m going to be investing heavily in balloons from now on,” Sierra said.
“Looks like the bunny was born to fly,” Fontana agreed.
Shortly after the second round of cheap wine, Mitch and Phil had hit upon the bright idea of getting Elvis airborne. The plan had involved a light cardboard tray designed to carry paper coffee cups and several of the helium-filled balloons that Kay had brought in to help decorate the newsroom.
The contraption had proved airworthy. Elvis had hopped into the makeshift basket, chortling in delight. With his small weight the miniature airship levitated gently to a height of about six feet off the floor. Delighted with the view from his new vantage point, he had spent most of the evening floating regally among the revelers.
Elvis chortled. Fontana obligingly sent him sailing off in a new direction. Elvis was practically beside himself with glee.
“Something tells me no one is going to miss the bride and groom if we leave,” Fontana said.
“I think you’re right.” Sierra got to her feet. “It’s been a long day. To tell you the truth, I’m surprised you hung around as long as you did tonight. It was very nice of you.”
His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed faintly in response to her polite thanks.
“It’s my wedding, too, remember?” he said.
She felt the heat rise in her face. “Well, yes, but since it’s not a real wedding, I guess I just assumed you’d leave earlier. This can’t be a Guild boss’s idea of a good time.”
“Shows how much you know about my private life.” He straightened from the desk. “I’ll get your coat.”
“I’ll get Elvis.”
Elvis allowed himself to be plucked from the balloon’s basket and tucked under her arm. When she turned, she saw Fontana waiting at the door with her coat. She thought they might make it out into the hall without anyone noticing, but luck ran out. A shout went up just as Fontana’s hand curved around the doorknob.
“They’re leaving,” Matt announced in a loud voice. “Anyone got rice?”
“No rice,” Simon said, “but no worries. We hunters use a different kind of send-off on occasions like this. Isn’t that right, guys?”
“Damn right,” Jeff declared, the words a little slurred. “This is a Guild wedding. Tradition must be followed.”
Andy came to a halt on the dance floor, the blonde cuddled in one arm. “Wouldn’t be
right if we didn’t follow hunter tradition.”
Alarm galvanized Sierra. Hunters were very big on tradition, and a lot of those old traditions—dueling, came to mind—were appallingly macho and lamentably archaic. Any hunter tradition dealing with wedding nights could not be good.
“No, that’s okay,” she said hastily. She raised her free hand in a warding-off gesture. “This is just an MC.”
She could have sworn she saw Fontana’s jaw twitch.
Jeff leered. “Nobody ever said MCs weren’t real weddings.” He turned to the crowd. “What do you say, folks? Did the wedding look real to you?”
There was a roar of agreement from the crowd.
“That settles it,” Simon announced. “It was a real wedding, all legal and everything. That means we gotta follow tradition. Stand aside, Sierra.”
“Why?” she asked, deeply suspicious.
“Just do what the man says,” Fontana advised.
Gently he pushed her away from him. She gave ground grudgingly. He took a couple of paces back, putting even more distance between them.
She felt a faint buzz of energy first. A few seconds later there was enough psi swirling in the room to give her goose bumps. Elvis wriggled in the crook of her arm and made excited little sounds.
Four hot balls of ghost fire swirled into existence, each about a foot across. The audience gasped. A low murmur went through the crowd.
“Set fire to my newsroom, and I’ll sue the Guild,” Runtley warned.
Andy chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ve got things under control here. This is a test for Fontana.”
Deftly manipulated by Jeff, Simon, Andy, and Mitch, the ghosts lined up in a row between Fontana and Sierra.
A fifth ball of energy flared and took its place directly in front of Sierra. Involuntarily, she took another quick step back. She was no expert, but it was obvious that the new ghost was hotter and more tightly wound than the others.
“I’m the best man,” Ray said. “Wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help with the send-off.”
“Oh, damn,” Sierra said.
Fontana leaned one shoulder against the wall, folded his arms, and contemplated the ghosts as though they were novel inventions he’d never seen before in his life.
“This is for you, Sierra,” Jeff explained earnestly. “The boss is going to show that he’s worthy of you.”
“The only way he gets you is if he gets through our ghosts first,” Simon said.
Kay giggled. There was a lot more muffled laughter in the room, mostly from the women.
This was not about proving anything to the bride, Sierra thought. It was about generating a lot of ghost heat. It was common knowledge in certain quarters—hair salons and ladies’ restrooms, for instance—that hunters got sexually aroused after working ghost light. It had something to do with the testosterone-heavy, bio-psi hormones that flooded their systems when they used their talents.
The rumors about their sexual prowess when they were in the midst of a post-ghost burn were not unfounded, according to women who had dated Guild men. There was a reason why the taverns and bars that catered to hunters in the Quarter were also popular with college women on spring break and bachelorette parties.
There was an old hunter saying—one of many—to the effect that it took a ghost to kill a ghost. The hunters expected Fontana to destroy their ghosts by rezzing one of his own and using it to neutralize the flaring balls of green fire that stood between him and Sierra.
“No offense,” Sierra said, striving to project firm authority, “but you’ve all had a little too much to drink tonight. I really don’t think any of you should be working ghost light in a confined space.”
They ignored her, watching Fontana for his reaction.
“What do you say, boss?” Andy asked. “Is Sierra worth working your way through five ghosts?”
Fontana looked at her over the tops of the ghosts that bobbed between them.
“Oh, yes,” he said, nerve-shatteringly serious. “She’s worth it.”
The controlled heat in his eyes was hotter than the UDEMs in front of her. She went still, aware of his desire on both the normal and the paranormal plane. She had sensed some of this masculine energy earlier today in his office, but now it was as if he had just lowered a barrier and let her see the full strength of it.
Once again the hair was stirring on the nape of her neck, but her reaction had nothing to do with the flashing, sparking ghosts that separated them. She was responding to Fontana with every fiber of her being. Heat spilled into her veins. She knew then that, whatever his reasons for the marriage, one thing was clear: her short-term husband wanted her.
Heaven help her, she wanted him, too. That was probably not a good thing. At the very least, it was a very dangerous thing.
Fontana did not move, did not even unfold his arms. He watched her with that dark, unnerving intensity that sent thrill after thrill through her.
More energy swirled in the room; not green ghost light this time; something else, something she had never seen before. She heard several startled gasps and murmurs around her.
A churning river of dark, pulsing shadows appeared. A few inches across and a yard long, it flowed and undulated in a curious wave pattern.
Elvis quivered with excitement. He was still fully fluffed, but his second set of eyes winked open. They glowed like warm amber.
Simon, Jeff, Andy, and Mitch were dumbfounded. Everyone else, with the exception of Ray, who was smiling, seemed speechless.
“I’ll be damned,” Simon breathed. “That’s dark light. The rumors are true.”
“Jeez,” Jeff whispered. “No wonder he was able to take down Jenner in that duel.”
“What the hell is dark light?” Runtley demanded, pushing through the staring onlookers. “Some kind of secret alien technology?”
“No,” Ray said calmly. “It’s dissonance energy like ghost light. But it comes from the dark end of the spectrum. Very few hunters can pull it.”
The river of night flowed around one of the four ghosts, forming a whirlpool. The green ghost was sucked into the spinning darkness and disappeared.
One by one the balls of glaring ghost light were drawn into the whirlpool and extinguished. When the last one disappeared, the dark waves of psi evaporated.
Fontana walked straight to Sierra and swept her up in his arms. Elvis bounded up onto his shoulder.
“We’ll be leaving now,” Fontana said to the crowd.
The four hunters from the Green Gate sent up a rousing cheer. Everyone else joined in. Someone opened the door.
Fontana carried Sierra out into the hall. The door closed behind them.
Sierra managed to find her voice. “You can put me down now.”
“You’re not very heavy.” He went toward the elevator.
“No, wait,” she said. “I don’t like elevators. Please.”
He set her on her feet. They started down the stairs.
She gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s with that dark light thing? Another mysterious Guild secret?”
Fontana put one hand on her arm to help her keep her balance.
“Let’s just say that the Guilds have traditionally preferred to play down the fact that some hunters can work energy from different points on the spectrum.”
“Right,” she said, excitement humming through her. “A red-hot Guild secret. I knew it. You do realize that it will probably show up in the Curtain tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He sounded far too unconcerned.
She shot him another searching look. “But?”
He smiled slowly. “But it will be in the Curtain. Who, besides your readers, will believe it? None of the mainstream media will take it seriously.”
She sighed. “You have a point. Runtley will probably give it a headline like ‘Guild Discovers Secret Alien Technology.’ ”
Fontana’s smile widened. “I’m counting on it.”
They reached the lobby. Fontana pushed open
the glass doors and allowed her to move past him into the damp, foggy night.
“There’s a reason the Guilds keep their secrets,” he said. “Unusual talents of any kind tend to make people nervous.”
She could not argue with that statement.
“I realize that,” she admitted.
“When the exotic talents in question belong to hunters, the fear factor is multiplied several times over,” he said.
“Okay, I get that. The Guilds have enough public relations problems as it is. I can see why the organizations prefer not to advertise a lot of unusual para-rez talents.”
“I’ll let you in on another little secret. The Guild researchers have reluctantly concluded that alien psi can theoretically be pulled from any point along the spectrum of paranormal energy.”
She stopped beside her car and dug out her key. “Why reluctantly?”
He opened the door for her. “Turns out that each band of psi light has its own distinctive properties. But no one has been able to chart the full range of the spectrum, let alone the various properties of all the individual bands.”
“And some are bound to be very dangerous. Is that it?”
“All psi energy is power.”
“And all power is potentially dangerous.”
His brows rose. “Or useful, depending on your point of view. At this point, there are a lot of unknowns. Until we have more answers, the Guilds intend to keep their secrets.”
She slipped into the front seat of the Float. He handed Elvis to her and closed the door. She lowered the window, uncertain what came next. How did you say a casual good night to the man you just married?
“Well, good night,” she said politely.
“I’ll follow you back to your apartment,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Sure it is. You’ll want to pack a suitcase.”
She stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re spending the night at my house. I assume you’ll need a few things.”
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