by Jayne Castle
Drake was condemned to wear the special mirrored sunglasses that were the mark of her vengeance. Every day when he faced a new dawn he was forced to remember her. For Drake, it was always night.
“I told you that you would never forget me,” she said.
A lot of high-rez talents who suffered a catastrophic loss of their para-senses plunged into deep depression. Suicide was not uncommon. So were hallucinogenic drugs. She had anticipated that Drake would self-destruct after she destroyed much of his talent. She had looked forward to watching him spiral down into a bottomless pit of despair.
Instead, he had become the man the business world called the Magician—the brilliant strategist that Sebastian, Inc. relied on to close the deal. The man who was slated to take over the family empire.
Bastard, she thought.
How he had successfully piloted a boat through the bizarre currents around the island and navigated the nightmarish fog was anyone’s guess. The only explanation was sheer luck. But not even luck could explain how Drake and Alice North had survived the night out in the open on the beach, rescued Karen Rosser, and hiked around the coastline all the way to Shadow Bay.
It was as if the universe was conspiring against her.
Nothing had gone right. The only good news was that Drake was trapped in Shadow Bay and cut off from the outside world just like everyone else in the small town.
“Just like I am.” She managed a grim smile. “We’re star-crossed lovers, you and I, Drake. If Rainshadow blows, we will die together. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”
If things went that far south, she would make certain that—come hell or nightmare fog—Drake Sebastian knew that she was the one responsible for his death and the death of everyone else on the island.
But she was far from ready to give up. In some ways, just knowing that Drake was on Rainshadow was energizing. She would find a way out of this situation. Afterward she would destroy the bastard.
No half measures next time.
Chapter 21
DRAKE FELT ALICE SLIDE OUT FROM UNDER HIS ARM AND get to her feet. Energy shivered in the air. He knew that she had jacked up her senses a little.
“Hang on, I’ll light the lantern for you,” he said.
“It’s okay. I’ve got some paranormal night vision thanks to my talent.”
He put on his glasses and hit the lantern button, anyway. A soft glow illuminated the room.
“Thanks,” Alice said.
She disappeared into the bathroom. He heard water run in the sink. The toilet flushed. Alice reappeared wearing a towel wrapped around her body.
He folded one arm behind his head and admired the view of Alice lit with paranormal energy. The towel was not an oversized luxury spa bath sheet. It was a cheap little towel and it did not cover much. That was a good thing, he thought. He immediately got hard.
She scrambled back under the covers. In the process she lost her grip on the front of the towel. It slipped off altogether. When she finally got the sheet pulled up to her chin, she glared at him.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she warned.
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Okay, I may be smiling,” he conceded.
“Hah. I knew it.” She was quiet for a moment. “I hope Houdini is all right.”
“He’ll be fine.” Drake shoved aside the covers, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and got to his feet. “You’re pretty shy for someone who spent the past year on the stage.”
“I don’t go on stage naked.” She fluffed up her thin pillow. “And for your information, I’ve got a right to be shy at this particular moment. I barely know you and here I am in bed with you.”
He was surprised by the flash of irritation that zapped through him.
“Here you are married to me,” he corrected.
“That, too. Boy, this has turned into one strange road trip. My life is starting to remind me of that children’s story Alice in Amberland. You know, the one where the heroine falls down a dust bunny hole and winds up in a sort of alternate universe where everything is weird.”
“You think this situation, you and me here together, is weird? Looks pretty damn straightforward and normal to me. We’re married. We had excellent sex. At least it was excellent from my standpoint.”
To his surprise and further irritation, she gave that some close thought.
“Yes, it was,” she finally agreed, sounding somewhat astonished. “That’s the first time I’ve had an orgasm without the assistance of a small personal appliance.”
“Yeah?”
“You know, you’re right,” she said.
“I am?”
“I’m overreacting. A man and a woman are thrown together in stressful circumstances. They are attracted to each other and they wind up in bed together. It happens.”
“Right,” he growled. “It happens. But you left out the part about the man and the woman getting married.”
He stalked into the bathroom.
When he came back out, he settled down on his side of the bed, very aware of the distance between himself and Alice. He turned off the lantern and took off his glasses.
“Don’t,” he said.
She turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to blame what happened between us on stress.”
There was a small silence.
“I would think that a facts-on-the-ground guy would want explanations for everything,” she said after a moment.
“Some things don’t need explaining.”
“Okay.”
“Some facts are just facts,” he said.
“Right.”
“You said it yourself, the sex was pretty fantastic. That’s a simple, straightforward fact. It doesn’t need any further analysis.”
She put her fingertip on his chest and drew an invisible line straight down to his serious erection. She encircled him with her fingers.
“No more analysis,” she promised.
She started to kiss him, her wet, warm mouth following the path that she had traced with her fingertip.
“Alice,” he whispered. He reached down and tangled his fingers through her hair. “Alice.”
Chapter 22
THE SCRATCHING AT THE DOOR AND A SOFT, MUFFLED chortle brought Drake out of a dream that involved an endless hallway lined with doors. Each time he opened a door he was blinded by a blazing sun. Somewhere in the hall, Zara Tucker laughed.
“Houdini,” Alice mumbled into the pillow. “About time he got home.”
“I’ll let him in,” Drake said.
“Thanks.”
Dawn was approaching. Drake groped for his sunglasses and got them on before he opened his eyes.
He climbed out of bed and opened the door. A single amber lantern glowed at one end of the hall near the stairs. Houdini bustled into the room, chortling a cheerful greeting. He hopped up onto the bed.
“Hey there, pal.” Alice stirred and reached out to pat him. “I was getting worried.”
Houdini submitted briefly to a few pats and then stretched out on his back at the foot of the bed, all six paws in the air. He closed his baby blue eyes.
Drake took off his glasses and went back to the bed. He stood there for a moment, studying the sleeping Houdini.
“What are you thinking?” Alice asked.
Drake got back under the covers and folded his arms behind his head. “I’m thinking that you don’t know where Houdini goes when he disappears, but he always knows how to find you.”
“So?”
“The same is true of Zara Tucker. We don’t know where she’s hiding, but she knows where Shadow Bay is located. If she can move about inside the Preserve, she can probably get here, or more likely send someone here, assuming she’s still got that one security guard left.”
Alice sat up, alarmed. “Why would she do that?”
“One thing I know about Zara: she hates me. She also knows I’m
the one person on the island who might be able to help her retrieve those two Keys. When she finds out I’m in Shadow Bay, she’ll make a move. She won’t be able to help herself.”
“How will she find out you’re here? From the sound of things, she’s as cut off as we are.”
“According to Karen Rosser, Zara always seems to know what is going on here in town. She’s probably using the flutes to navigate the Preserve.”
“Wouldn’t someone in Shadow Bay notice if a gorgeous mad scientist showed up on occasion?”
He thought about Zara’s uncanny ability to charm the male species. “Not if she’s using some man in town as her spy.”
Alice regarded him with a somber expression. “If you’re right, her spy could be any man in Shadow Bay. Officer Willis, the cook in the tavern tonight, one of the men we saw in the restaurant. And then there are the folks staying at the B-and-Bs.”
“True. But we aren’t without our own resources. Harry says Rachel has a talent for aura reading. And Charlotte’s a high-level talent. Her intuition is probably way above average. Both of them are well acquainted with the locals. They’d know if someone was acting out of character. We’ve also got Fletcher Kane and Jasper Gilbert. They’re former hunters, according to Harry. He trusts them. And they know the locals, too.”
“Yes, but they are men. According to you, they’d be vulnerable to Zara’s charm.”
Drake smiled. “I think they’re safe. From what I’ve witnessed, Zara’s talent for seduction is based on opposite-sex attraction. Kane and Gilbert are married.”
Understanding brightened Alice’s expression. “You think the fact that they’re gay makes them immune to her?”
“Yes. Trust me, I’ve had good reason to delve into Zara Tucker’s background. I found no record of her using women or gay men for her purposes.”
“So your plan is to alert Charlotte, Rachel, Fletcher, and Jasper to the possibility that there’s a spy here in our midst and ask them to vet every hetero male left in town.”
“Not much of a plan, is it?”
“Actually, it sounds brilliant.” Alice hugged her knees. “We’ve got the perfect locked-room mystery setup, except that our locked room is a small town. Same principle, though. All the suspects are gathered together in one convenient place. What’s more, we’ve got a motive. Our spy is the victim of a calculated seduction. He thinks he’s in love, or at least in lust. The task now is to start working through the list of straight men in town to see which one is acting like a man who is bewitched.”
“Don’t forget the ticking-clock angle,” Drake said. “That always adds to the drama. If there’s one thing we know for sure, Rainshadow is a bomb waiting to explode.”
Chapter 23
“DRAKE SEBASTIAN MARRIED HER.” OUTRAGE SHIVERED in Ethel Whitcomb’s refined, private-school voice. “I can’t believe it. The woman is a witch, I tell you. Alice North is nothing but a cheap little gold digger with nothing to recommend her. No family, no social connections, not a dime to her name. She’s not even beautiful. Just an ordinary-looking woman who one wouldn’t glance at twice on the street. How does she manage to attract the attention of men like my son and Drake Sebastian?”
“You said the marriage is only an MC, according to the investigator.” Aldwin Hampstead struggled to keep his tone calm and soothing. It wasn’t easy. He was seething inside with something akin to panic. But his task now was to keep Ethel under control. “We both know that a Marriage of Convenience is nothing more than an affair that’s been given a sham of respectability. It won’t last long.”
He had to be careful, he reminded himself. Judging by the last message he had received from Rainshadow, the situation on the island was shaping up to be a disaster. He knew now that would be the best possible outcome for him. He wanted nothing more than to cut his losses.
It had all seemed so brilliant at the start. Zara Tucker had dazzled him with the promise of riches and power beyond his wildest imaginings. But in the past few days the scales had fallen from his eyes. He had awakened that morning with the sure and certain knowledge that he had been a fool. The best thing that could happen would be for the whole damn island to explode in flames and take the bitch with it.
But the immediate crisis was Ethel Whitcomb. She was obsessed with the death of her son, but obsession did not equate with stupidity. He must not forget that, not for an instant. Everything depended on Ethel. She was the matriarch of the Whitcomb family. She controlled a fortune, and now that things were falling apart on Rainshadow, he needed access to the money more than ever.
They were sitting in the living room of Ethel’s home in an exclusive gated community on Emerald Sunset Drive. The front windows had a panoramic view of the Old Quarter of Resonance City. The ethereal green towers of the Alien ruins were clearly visible, sparkling in the sunlight. But the interior of the Whitcomb mansion was shrouded in gloom.
When he had arrived a short time ago, he had been shown into Ethel’s study. The room was decorated in an elegantly neutral mix of off-white and cream with discreet touches of rich, dark amber for counterpoint. The space had been designed to showcase a few pieces from Ethel’s rare collection of Old World antiquities and First Generation art.
Ethel was a formidable woman, straight-shouldered, tall, arrogant, and regal. She wore her graying hair in a refined chignon. Her black silk trousers and pale blue silk blouse had been hand-tailored. She’d had a little work done on her patrician face, very good work. She could afford a fortune in jewels but she always kept her jewelry to a tasteful minimum. Today that amounted to a pair of gold and amber studs in her ears and a gold necklace.
She had been widowed for several years but she still wore her wedding band. Ethel had never remarried. Aldwin was quite sure that was because she enjoyed having full control of the Whitcomb money. And she handled it brilliantly. In the years since her husband’s death, she had become something of a legend in the business world. While Whitcomb Industries could not match the Sebastian, Inc. empire in size, scope, and power, it was certainly a force to be reckoned with here in Resonance City.
Aldwin had been a little unnerved at first by Ethel’s obsession with the murder of her son. It was not as if she didn’t have four other offspring, he thought. The Whitcombs were a prolific family. In any event, it was a known fact that Fulton Whitcomb had been the Whitcomb family screwup. That was, of course, what had made it so easy to manipulate him. Fulton’s obsession in life had been to prove to himself and his mother that he could be a smashing success.
Ethel’s fixation on Fulton’s death and her unwavering conviction that he had been murdered in spite of the lack of evidence struck Aldwin as over the top. But then, he did not really get the whole heavy-duty family-bond thing. Hell, his own mother probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d gone missing. She had spent most of her time lost in an alcohol-and-drug-induced haze until the crap had finally killed her.
Family, he thought. Gotta love ’em. It was that attitude, of course, that had helped cement the bond between Zara Tucker and himself at the start of their association. They both saw family ties as sentimental weaknesses to be exploited. They had done exactly that, first with Fulton and then with Alice North.
It was not that he did not have his own passions, Aldwin thought. He was only human, after all. But those passions were centered on one objective—making a place for himself in the rarefied social circles in which Ethel and her family moved. He had a right to enter that world. His father had come from that world—a realm where money and connections could buy a reckless young man out of any problem, including those that resulted from a one-night stand with a cheap, drug-addicted whore.
No doubt about it, his unknown father was his true, if unwitting, inspiration, Aldwin thought. He wanted nothing more than to follow in the footsteps of dear old dad. His talent had already brought him a long way. He had started out as a low-rent drug dealer from the Old Quarter slums and today he was the curator of the most exclusive private museum
in the city.
But he had allowed himself to get suckered into the doomed project on Rainshadow, and now he was engaged in some serious damage control. He could not afford to lose Ethel Whitcomb’s patronage, not now that his own fantasy of a brilliant future was about to crash and burn.
He had to maintain his connection with Ethel, and that meant he had to nurture her obsession with avenging her son’s death. Ethel had vowed to make Alice North’s life a living hell and she had spent a great deal of money to do that.
Ethel was the ultimate stalker, Aldwin thought—a head full of obsessive revenge fantasies and all the money in the world to make those fantasies come true.
He suppressed a sigh. Just because you were rich, connected, and powerful didn’t mean you weren’t a whacko.
“When I discovered that Fulton was in an MC contract with Alice North, I told myself it wasn’t important,” Ethel said. She rose from her chair and went to stand at the window. “He certainly was not the first man of his class to use an MC to placate a mistress. When I confronted him, he assured me that it was just a short-term fling. He said she had insisted on the arrangement and he saw no harm in it. The MC was supposed to be a trinket, like a nice piece of jewelry, to satisfy her. But she wanted more.”
“I understand,” Aldwin said. Surreptitiously he checked his watch. He had heard the story many times.
Ethel clenched one hand into a fist. “Alice North wanted a full Covenant Marriage. As if a Whitcomb would marry a woman of her sort. When she realized that she was not going to become Fulton’s CM wife, she murdered him. Why couldn’t the police see that she killed him?”
