by Jayne Castle
“Yeah, Whittaker was pretty pissed,” Cooper said, looking thoughtful.
“And the rest, as they say, is history. In the six months following the establishment of the Aurora Springs Guild, a fortune in alien artifacts was stolen from excavation teams working in the sectors that the Aurora Springs hunters were responsible for protecting. The raids were all daring and brilliantly executed. The raider was never caught, but everyone knew it was Watson Whittaker. Then, one day, he did what all great legends do, he vanished into the realm of myth.”
Cooper reached into the box and helped himself to a crouton. “Over the years, the official version of the legend has lost a few details in the telling.”
She frowned. “You’re not supposed to eat those straight out of the box. You sprinkle them on the salad.”
“Yeah?” He fed one to Rose, who was drifting around the floor at his feet. “Thought maybe they were an hors d’oeuvre or something.”
“Forget the croutons,” she said. “You know, sometimes I forget that you really do have a background in history and archival research. Tell me what’s missing from the official version of the Watson Whittaker story.”
He scooped up the sliced tomatoes and arranged them in neat rows on top of the lettuce. “Among other things, there was a woman involved.”
“Really?” She got some cheese out of the refrigerator. “I never heard that.”
“Probably because the lady ended up marrying your ever-so-great-grandfather, John Sander St. Clair.”
“What?” Dumbfounded, she straightened abruptly, packet of cheese in her hand. “Watson Whittaker and St. Clair were rivals for my multi-great-grandmother’s hand?”
“Yes. When Whittaker realized he wasn’t going to be given control of the Aurora Springs Guild, he tried to convince your ancestor to run off with him. She declined and married St. Clair, instead.” He took the cheese from her. “That was when Whittaker went rogue and became a blue freak.”
She whistled softly. “Watson Whittaker could work blue ghost energy?”
“Yes.”
“That certainly explains a few things, like how he managed to save Aurora Springs pretty much all on his own during the Era of Discord.”
Cooper unwrapped the cheese. “Right. The Guild knew that if the truth about the blue ghost light got out, it would make folks nervous. So they hushed up the facts.”
“That wouldn’t have been hard to do, seeing as how it was primarily Guild historians who wrote the official accounts concerning the Era of Discord.”
“You know what they say, history is written by the winners.”
“This is fascinating.” She watched him study the hunk of cheese he had uncovered. “You’ve done some serious research on Wild Watson Whittaker, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” He crunched another crouton and dropped one into Rose’s waiting paws. “You might say I had a personal interest in him.”
She nodded. “Because he had a rare parapsych talent like yours. Makes sense. So what actually happened to Whittaker? Did he die alone somewhere underground, or did he live to enjoy his ill-gotten gains?”
“He changed his name, built a new identity for himself in one of the big cities, got married, and started a family.”
“Sounds a trifle boring after all his adventures in Aurora Springs.”
“Even guys like Watson Whittaker have to settle down sometime.” He examined the cheese closely. “Now what?”
“Cut off a chunk and crumble it,” she said absently, her thoughts on what he had just told her. “What about the fortune in artifacts that Watson Whittaker stole? What happened to the relics?”
“Let’s just say that Watson Whittaker showed more business acumen than the members of the Aurora Springs Guild credited him with having.”
“Aha. He invested well?”
“Very well. Unfortunately, few of his descendents displayed the same gifts for finances. Over the years, Whittaker’s offspring managed to fritter away the empire that he built.” He dropped a piece of cheese to Rose. “But, hey, easy come, easy go.”
“What about Whittaker’s descendents? What happened to them?”
“A few became hunters, but for the most part they were fairly standard para-rez talents. The majority of his offspring showed no dissonance-energy para-rez talents at all. They chose other careers.”
“Were there any more who could work blue ghost light?”
“Eventually there was one.” Cooper crumbled cheese into the bowl. “But he didn’t come along for quite a while.”
“Did he turn out to be notorious like Watson Whittaker?”
“Depends on your point of view.” Cooper crumbled cheese onto the salad. “He recently became the boss of the Aurora Springs Guild.”
She had been so wrapped up in the story that it took a second or two before she got it.
“You?” She dropped her arms in shock. “Watson Whittaker was your direct ancestor?”
“Yeah.” He studied the bottles of oil and vinegar. “What do I do with these?”
She stared at him, openmouthed, and then she felt the ironic humor of the situation strike her full force.
“Oh, my,” she said. “Oh, my goodness.”
She was suddenly laughing so hard, she had to grab the edge of the counter to steady herself. “This is priceless. The funniest thing I’ve heard in ages.”
“I live to amuse. Part of the Guild boss job description.”
She reeled against the kitchen counter, slapping a palm across her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the giggles. “If only the Council members back home knew about this.” She flapped a hand. “Wait. Do any of them know? Or is this still a deep, dark family secret?”
He watched her with an unreadable expression. “It’s still a deep, dark family secret.”
“Not anymore. Now I know it. Oh, wow. This is so cool. I know your deepest, darkest family secret. I know that you are the descendent of the most notorious man in Aurora Springs history. I have you in my power, Cooper Boone.”
“The way I figure it, you’re going to be family one of these days, so it’s okay for you to know the secret.”
That stopped her laughter as effectively as if he had suddenly pumped all of the oxygen out of the air.
“You figured what?” she sputtered.
“You heard me.”
She put up both hands, palms out. “Oh, no you don’t. There has been no change in the status of our relationship regarding marriage.”
“That hurts. We’ve been living under the same roof for a couple of days. We’ve dined together, we’ve danced together, and we’ve had some great sex.”
“Once. We had great sex one time. That’s all.”
“Whatever. My point here is, can you blame me for thinking we were making progress?”
“Having sex one time is not progress.”
“What do you call it?” he asked.
“Sex,” she yelped.
“What about the fact that I’ve just told you my deepest, darkest family secret? As far as I’m concerned, that’s the kind of secret only a wife should know.”
“Relax, Guild Boss. You have my word of honor that I won’t tell a soul about your connection to Watson Whittaker.” She winked. “Frankly, though, I doubt if the story would do you any real damage if it did get out. Might even give you a major boost in the popularity ratings back home. People love legends.”
“I’m not really into popularity ratings,” he said in a musing tone. “But I do take secrets seriously. The way I look at it, if you don’t marry me, you’ve got only one other option.”
“Oh, yeah?” She gave him a challenging smile. “What would that be?”
“You’d better run like hell.”
She blinked. “You’re teasing me.”
“I’m a Guild boss, remember? I have no sense of humor.”
Chapter 27
HE HAD BEEN TEASING HER, SHE ASSURED HERSELF SEVERAL hours later when they went out into the alley. The problem with h
andling Cooper was that he was so good at concealing his reactions and emotions, it was almost impossible to read him.
“Stay close,” Cooper said. He was definitely all business now as he glided forward into the heavily shadowed alley. “I don’t want to use the flashlight unless it’s absolutely necessary. Keep an eye on Rose. She’s our trouble indicator.”
“I’ll watch for the teeth,” Elly promised.
Perched on her shoulder, Rose appeared eager for the adventure. She did not seem the least bit tense or alarmed.
The fog was not as heavy as it had been that afternoon, but it was still thick enough to hamper visibility. The lights over the rear doors of the shops glowed weakly in the mist.
Cooper chose a path that kept them out of the small circles of illumination that surrounded each door. When they arrived at the end of the alley, Elly saw that the street was deserted. The fog here was infused with the subtle green light created by the Dead City Wall a few blocks away.
It seemed to Elly that the service lane that ran behind the row of shops in the next block was darker than the one they had just traversed. It took her a few seconds to understand why.
“There are no lights over the back door of Griggs’s shop,” she said in a low voice. “Must have burned out.”
“Maybe,” was all Cooper said.
He gave Rose another look. Evidently satisfied that their trouble indicator was still untroubled, he led the way into the shadows of the second alley.
They arrived at the back door of the floral shop without incident. Rose muttered irritably when Cooper took out a pair of thin gloves, pulled them on, and tried the knob.
“I told you, she never liked Griggs,” Elly explained softly.
“The lady has excellent taste.” Cooper paused. “Door’s open.”
“Probably because there was no one around to lock up after they took the body away,” Elly said.
“Maybe,” Cooper repeated.
She was getting the impression that he said maybe in that particular tone of voice whenever he had some serious doubts about the exact answer to a question.
“It was open when I found Griggs this afternoon,” she added.
He said nothing this time, just motioned her to stand to the side. She obeyed. Cooper eased the door inward.
The heavy scent of wilting flowers wafted out. Plant psi whispered across her senses.
Rose snorted softly in disgust, but she didn’t show any teeth.
Cooper flicked on the flashlight and moved through the doorway. Elly followed.
“Looks like someone got here before us,” Cooper said quietly.
Elly stopped abruptly, shocked by the scene of chaos. Buckets of flowers and greenery had been overturned, spilling water and decorative foliage across the workbenches. An assortment of vases, decorative pots, and small planters had been yanked off the shelves and carelessly smashed on the floor.
“This place was very neat and tidy when I found the body,” Elly said. “Do you think maybe some opportunistic thieves saw Griggs’s remains being carried out earlier and decided to see if there was anything worth stealing?”
“Maybe.” Cooper took another look at an unconcerned Rose and then walked through the mess, careful not to step in the wet spots. “But I think whoever did this was searching for something in particular.” He speared the light around the room. “Wonder if he found it.”
“It’s going to be hard to tell, because we don’t know what he was looking for.”
Cooper methodically checked the drawers in the workbenches. Most had been emptied. Elly dug her own small light out of her pocket and aimed it into the nearest drawer. A handful of ready-made ribbon bows, thin wires, and an assortment of other small, fanciful items designed to decorate floral arrangements lay inside.
Rose chattered excitedly and scampered down her arm.
Cooper frowned. “What’s up with her?”
Elly watched Rose hop into the drawer and start sorting through the bows and small ornaments. “I’m not sure, but I think she may be shopping for a new addition to her jewelry collection.”
“Figures,” he said, sounding resigned. “Other Guild bosses have loyal minions to guard their backs. I get a dust bunny who’s into glitz.”
He went to a door and opened it carefully. Elly looked past him and saw the shadowed front room of the shop. The shades had been pulled tightly closed, keeping out the streetlights, but in the glow of the flashlight she could see that room, too, had been thoroughly ransacked.
“Let’s take a look upstairs before we check out the basement,” Cooper said.
Elly reached into the drawer for Rose. “Let’s go. The boss is giving orders again. He’s in charge tonight.”
Rose squeaked once in protest, but she allowed herself to be picked up. Elly put her back on her shoulder.
They went up the stairs. At the top of the landing Elly saw a small, one-bedroom apartment almost identical to her own.
The kitchen and living area had been torn apart. Cooper prowled through the space, saying nothing.
When they went into the bedroom, Elly was surprised to see three leather-bound volumes on the floor where the intruder had dumped them.
Cooper picked up one of the books and leafed through it with the aid of the flashlight. “This is old. I mean, really old. It’s a private journal written before the Era of Discord.”
Elly examined one of the other tomes. “So is this one. Doesn’t look like the sort of light reading I’d have expected Griggs to use to put himself to sleep at night.”
“No.”
She scooped up another volume. The leather binding was burnished and smooth in her hands. She opened it carefully and aimed the narrow beam of the flashlight at the title page.
A thrill of disbelief flashed through her.
“Good grief,” she managed.
“What?”
“Medicinal Herbs and Flowers of Harmony by Dr. Mary Tyler Jordan,” she read aloud. She could hear the shock and wonderment vibrating in her own voice. “This is amazing.”
“It’s an herbal?”
“Not just any herbal.” She looked up from the title page. “Unless this is a forgery, and I can’t see why anyone would go to the trouble of creating one, this is Jordan’s record of her personal observations and experiments.”
“Who was Mary Tyler Jordan?”
“An eccentric botanist. She died about fifty years ago and was consigned to the dust heap of history in her own time. Her work was never recognized as legitimate. Her peers considered her an outsider, a real crackpot.”
“Eccentric being a polite term for crazy?”
“Not in my opinion. Jordan devoted her life to studying the therapeutic uses of herbs and plants. I use several of her old tisane recipes. In my opinion, she was a genius. But the mainstream medical community dismissed her work because she was not able to do the kind of controlled studies that scientific researchers demand.”
“Why no controlled studies if she was so good?”
“Because she was dismissed as a quack and couldn’t get funding from the government or any reputable research firm.” Elly looked at the herbal in her hands. “That’s how it works, you know.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
“And there’s no getting around the fact that she contributed to her own downfall when she declared that she had discovered what came to be known in the field as Jordan’s Jungle.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Jordan wrote that she had discovered a vast underground jungle in the catacombs,” she explained.
“No wonder everyone wrote her off as eccentric. In the whole history of catacomb exploration no one has ever discovered any signs of plant or animal life growing in the tunnels.”
“True,” Elly said. “The assumption is that Jordan may have experimented on herself with some of her own psychoactive herbal concoctions and experienced a few major hallucinations. In any event, her work was ignored and later forgotten except, o
f course, by Jordan’s Jungle fanatics.”
“Those would be folks who believe that the jungle exists?”
“Right. They are a small but sturdy lot of diehards who have been known to spend years searching for the jungle.” Elly hefted the heavy volume, unable to believe that she was holding it in her hand. “Do you realize how rare this book is? There are only three known copies still in existence, and all of them are in the libraries of private collectors who have refused to allow access to them.”
“You tried?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve always been interested in Jordan because of her early work with medicinal herbs. After I started coming across obscure references to this herbal, I couldn’t rest until I tracked down every extant copy of her book. I contacted each of the three collectors and asked for permission to examine their copies. They all turned me down flat.”
“Did they give any reason?”
She smiled wryly. “They’re all book collectors. They didn’t need reasons. In fairness, two of the three are elderly and quite reclusive. I think they were simply afraid to allow strangers inside their homes, let alone into their private libraries.”
“What about the third?”
She cleared her throat. “Dr. Frances Higginbottom informed me that she only allowed those with what she termed ‘proper academic qualifications’ access to her private library.”
“You’ve got plenty of academic qualifications.”
“Not in Dr. Higginbottom’s view. She went on to make it clear that she didn’t think anyone from a Guild family could possibly have the right degrees or a suitably serious, scholarly mind.”
“A trifle biased against the Guild, huh?”
“As we all know, the Guilds do have some image issues. And, to be honest, although I’ve got a couple of degrees, the highest post I held at Aurora Springs College was that of a lowly instructor. In addition, I can’t claim any significant publications. I really didn’t have the proper academic qualifications to be allowed into her library.”
“Three extant copies,” Cooper repeated thoughtfully. “So, we ask ourselves, how did a third-rate florist like Stuart Griggs come by an extremely rare, presumably expensive herbal and a couple of highly collectible pre–Era of Discord journals?”