She reached up and touched his hard jaw. "When I'm with you, I feel as if I've found something I've been looking for a very long time."
His eyes burned. He lowered his head and kissed her, slowly at first, letting the hunger grow between them. The heady psi of the Sedona night closed around them, enhancing sensation across the spectrum. Isabella opened her senses to savor the invisible fire.
"Excuse me if I'm interrupting anything."
The voice, iced with rage and pain, came out of the darkness behind Isabella. Jolted, she gasped, took a step back out of Fallon's arms and turned quickly, nearly toppling in her stiletto-heeled shoes. Fallon caught her easily, steadying her.
They both looked at Jenny Austin, who stood in the shadows. Searing fog flared around her.
"Hello, Jenny," Fallon said quietly.
Jenny walked closer. Her hands were clenched in small fists at her sides. Dressed in black and bathed in moonlight she looked like the doomed heroine of an opera that was destined to end in tragedy. She seemed oblivious to Isabella's presence.
"I can't believe you had the gall to show up here tonight, Fallon," Jenny said. Her voice was tight as though she was struggling to breathe or to restrain tears. "How could you do this to my family?"
"I'm sorry," Fallon said. "But we both know it was inevitable that sooner or later we would come face-to-face at some Arcane event. The Society is a small world at the top."
"And your family controls that world," Jenny said bitterly.
Fallon did not react.
Jenny abruptly turned to Isabella.
"You must be the new office manager everyone is talking about. The one who thinks Fallon is some kind of modern Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, as a matter of fact, in addition to managing the office, I'm an investigator in the firm," Isabella said.
"The way I hear it, you're providing some additional services on the side," Jenny said coldly.
At that, Fallon stirred. Ominous energy shivered in the atmosphere. "That's enough, Jenny. Isabella has nothing to do with you and me."
"Does she know why we broke up?" Jenny whispered. "Does she know that you killed my brother?"
Isabella studied the fog that threatened to consume Jenny. "I know what really happened the night your brother died," she said gently. "I can also see that the secrets you are keeping are slowly but surely destroying you. You know the old saying, the truth will set you free."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Jenny said. "Fallon Jones killed my brother."
"You were the one who exposed Fallon to the magic-lantern lights that night, weren't you?" Isabella said gently. "Tucker didn't use his talent to slip into your condo to set up the lantern. You did it so that Fallon would be disoriented when your brother came to murder him."
Fallon was suddenly very still. But his reaction was nothing compared with Jenny's. She looked stricken.
"You're crazy," Jenny whispered.
"I'm sure Fallon knows the truth. He has probably known it all along."
"That's not true." Jenny's voice rose. She turned to Fallon. "Make her stop talking."
"That's not so easy to do," Fallon said.
Isabella took a step toward Jenny and stopped. "Don't mean to scare you, but I really don't think you're going to be able to keep the secret much longer. I've seen this kind of hot fog before. If you were a sociopath, it wouldn't be a problem. They feed on the flames. But you are a decent person and you once cared about Fallon so you feel the heat, don't you? You know what it's doing to you."
"Shut up," Jenny pleaded. "Just shut up. Please."
Isabella said nothing. Fallon did not move.
Jenny started to cry. Everything about her seemed to crumple beneath the crushing weight of the secrets she had been holding.
Isabella went to her and put her arms around her. Jenny resisted for a few seconds and then the last of the dam gave way. Jenny sobbed against Isabella's shoulder.
After a while Fallon offered a pristine square of white linen. Isabella smiled a little. How many modern men carried a crisp white handkerchief on the off chance that they might need to produce it for a distraught woman, she wondered. Then, again, the small gesture suited Fallon. In many ways he was a man from another era, some mythical time and place where honor and chivalry were important concepts.
"I believed him." Jenny took the handkerchief and blotted her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Fallon. But he was my brother. I had to believe him."
"I know," Fallon said. "He was my friend and my partner. I wanted to believe him, too."
Jenny sighed. "You probably know everything. You're Fallon Jones. You always have the answers."
"Not always," Fallon said.
"In this case I'm sure you do." Jenny looked at him. "You're right, I did expose you to the magic-lantern lights that night. I hid the device in a floor lamp. I was subjected to the radiation as well, but it didn't hit me as hard as it hit you because your talent is so powerful. I . . . I knew it would be like that."
"Tucker told you that I was the one who was running the club and selling the light in the insider rooms," Fallon said. It was a statement of fact, not a question.
"Yes." Jenny sniffed. "It's all my fault. I'm responsible for everything that happened because I'm the one who created those damn lanterns in the first place."
"Why?" Fallon asked.
"It was an experiment," Jenny said. She sounded dull and lifeless now. "So many psychoactive pharmaceuticals don't work well on those who possess a high level of talent. I was trying to come up with a naturopathic approach to treating problems like depression and anxiety and PTSD in strong para-sensitives. There is a lot of work being done with light to elevate moods in normal people. I thought there might be a way to use light from the paranormal end of the spectrum on those with talent to achieve similar positive effects."
"I understand," Fallon said.
"I was working from the records of one of my ancestors, a spectrum energy-talent who lived back in the nineteen thirties. I came up with a device that combined various kinds of amber and quartz that are naturally para-luminescent and para-phosphorescent."
"Oh, boy," Isabella muttered. "Geek talk. I think my eyes are starting to glaze over."
Jenny ignored her. She continued talking earnestly to Fallon. "On their own, the rocks don't have much effect, but when arranged in certain ways and activated by the right kind of mirrors, well, you know what happened. The effects ranged from euphoria to hallucinations and disorientation. All short-term but highly unpredictable."
"I admit this isn't my field," Isabella said. "But the theory behind your research sounds very intriguing."
"It is," Jenny said. "And I still think there is a lot of potential in it. But as soon as I ran some tests on my own version of what Tucker called my magic lantern, I realized that although it was a mood enhancer in very small doses, the side effects could be devastating. I could not come up with a safe way to use it in a naturopathic manner."
"But by then Tucker had learned about your experiments and concluded that it might make an attraction at his club," Fallon said.
"I swear, I didn't know that he was the secret owner of the Arcane Club," Jenny whispered.
"I didn't know it, either, until the end," Fallon said.
Jenny sniffed into the handkerchief. "It doesn't matter now, but I want you to know that I didn't construct the magic lanterns for him. He used my notes and made them himself. They aren't that hard to build if you have the right quartz and amber and an obsidian mirror."
"I never believed that you were involved in the club lanterns," Fallon said.
Jenny gave him a wan smile. "The thing is, I believed him when he told me that you were the real owner of the club and that you were dealing some kind of terrible psychic drug. After he . . . died I had to go on believing that what he had told me was the truth. The alternative was just too awful."
Isabella touched Jenny's shoulder. "You've accepted your brother's guilt
, haven't you? That's no longer the source of your pain. It's your sense of responsibility that is driving you into despair."
"It was all my fault." Jenny sighed. "If I hadn't run the experiments with those damn rocks and if I hadn't demonstrated the results to Tucker--"
"If it hadn't been the magic-lantern technology, it would have been something else that got Tucker into trouble," Fallon said. "He liked living on the edge. As time went by, the adrenaline rush of proving that he was smarter and faster than everyone else became his personal drug of choice."
"Yes," Jenny said. "I think you're right. His need to take risks was an addiction. Everyone in the family knew that. My poor mother worried constantly that he would get himself killed on one of his J&J assignments."
"Proving that he could outmaneuver Jones & Jones was the ultimate challenge," Fallon said.
Jenny dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. "Even knowing Tucker as well as I did, I still let him convince me that you were the bad guy. Can you ever forgive me?"
"I never blamed you," Fallon said. "You had to make a choice between believing your brother or a man you did not know very well. Hell, if I'd been in your shoes, I would have made the same choice."
Jenny looked at him with unconcealed desperation. "Do you really think so?"
"Family is something we Joneses understand," Fallon said.
Jenny crushed the handkerchief in her hand and closed her eyes. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, Fallon."
Isabella hugged her again. "Now you need to forgive yourself, Jenny. That's the only way to make the fog go away."
Jenny opened her eyes, bewildered. "Fog? What are you talking about?"
Isabella smiled and released her. "Never mind. Just a figure of speech."
Jenny turned back to Fallon. "You were right."
"About what?" he asked.
"A moment ago you said that I'd been forced to choose between believing my brother or a man I did not know very well. That's the truth. I didn't know you very well, Fallon."
"No," he agreed.
"Even if things had been different, I don't think that would have changed," Jenny said.
"Probably not."
"There's something else I need to tell you about that night. Even if there had been no Arcane Club and no magic lanterns and things had not ended the way they did, I was going to give you back your ring."
"I know," Fallon said.
She shook her head, rueful now. "Of course you do. You're Fallon Jones, the brilliant chaos theory-talent. You can see the pattern before anyone else."
"Not always," he said. "But you were right, Jenny. It would never have worked between us."
She gave him another misty smile. "We both made the same mistake when we got engaged. We thought we could rely on logic and reason when it came to choosing a mate."
"Obviously a false assumption," Fallon said.
Jenny turned back to Isabella. "Fallon may not have done a very good job when he tried to find a wife, but I think he did very well, indeed, when he hired an assistant."
She turned and walked back toward the lights of the ballroom. Isabella jacked up her other vision. The terrible fog was already diminishing. With luck, Jenny would allow herself to heal.
Fallon came to stand beside Isabella. They waited until Jenny had disappeared into the crowd.
"You knew she was going to give you back your ring that night?" Isabella asked.
"Doesn't take a lot of talent to know when you're about to get dumped. Even I could see it coming."
"And if she hadn't ended things first?"
"I would have had to do it," he said. "You heard her. Jenny felt as if she never really knew me. That problem went both ways."
"Everyone has secrets. Everyone has a private place. I don't think it's ever possible to know anyone completely. I don't think we would want to know someone that well even if it were possible. Part of what makes other people interesting is that there is always some mystery beneath the surface."
"The kind of knowing I'm talking about goes deeper than secrets," Fallon said.
She thought about that. "I see what you mean."
"Do you?" He shook his head. "Then you're way ahead of me because I sure as hell couldn't define it."
"But you'll recognize that kind of knowing if you ever find it?"
"Yes," he said. "So? What does it mean?"
"To want to know someone in a way that goes deeper than just learning a person's secrets? It means you're a hopeless romantic, Fallon Jones."
There was a heartbeat of stunned silence. And then Fallon began to laugh. The sound started out as a hoarse, harsh, little-used chuckle. But it quickly gathered depth and volume. In a moment, Fallon was roaring with laughter. The sound reverberated across the terrace, spilling out into the night.
Isabella sensed a presence behind her. When she turned around she saw Zack and Raine silhouetted in the entrance of the ballroom. As she watched, a number of other Joneses, including Fallon's parents, gathered to watch the spectacle on the terrace. The expressions on their faces ran a short gamut from stunned to fascinated.
She poked Fallon in the ribs. "We've got an audience," she whispered.
His laughter faded. He turned to look at the crowd in the doorway.
"Good joke?" Zack asked.
"Best one I've heard in a long time," Fallon said.
24
The auction started at ten. Fallon stood with Isabella at the back of the room. A hush fell over the crowd. The auctioneer picked up his gavel.
Fallon took Isabella's arm.
"We can leave now," he said, keeping his voice low.
She glanced at him, surprised. "Don't you want to see who bids on those weird artifacts in the display cases?"
"No. I've had about as much socializing as I can handle for one evening. I've done what Zack asked, helped him provide a show of force. He can handle the Society's politics from here on in. That's what he gets paid to do."
Her eyes narrowed a little in suspicion, but she allowed him to steer her out of the ballroom and into the hallway.
"You're up to something," she whispered. "I can tell."
"You know us small-town folks. Early to bed and early to rise."
"Ha. What's going on, Jones?"
"We're leaving first thing in the morning."
"Define first thing," she shot back.
"After breakfast."
"Okay, that's not so bad. You're anxious to get back to Scargill Cove?"
"We have a lot of work waiting for us." The we surprised him, coming out of his mouth as it did. For so long he had thought of the agency as his sole responsibility. But lately he had begun to think of Isabella as something more than an assistant or even an investigator. He was starting to treat her like a partner. That was probably not wise.
"Yes," she said, looking satisfied at the prospect. "J&J never sleeps."
"There's another reason for getting an early start."
She gave him an expectant look.
He drew her through the lobby toward the elevators. "We're going to make a stop on the way back to the Cove."
"Where?"
"Cactus Springs."
She halted abruptly, forcing him to halt, too. Her eyes widened. "That's where my grandmother lives. Lived."
"I've done all the investigation I can do online. Now I need to take a look at the scene of the crime. Isn't that the kind of thing Sherlock Holmes would do?"
"But you don't believe that there was a crime."
"I told you, I'm reserving my opinion until I have all the facts."
She gave that some thought. "Grandma warned me not to go to her place if something happened to her because she was afraid they might be watching, waiting for me to show up. But I suppose there's no reason you and I can't go there together. As long as you're with me, it should be safe. Grandma is the one who told me to find you if I couldn't hide from them. She said they would not want to involve Arcane."
"They being Julian Garrett's
people?"
"Right." She wrinkled her nose. "I know you don't believe my theory of the case."
"Your conspiracy theory of the case," he corrected. "Thus far I haven't found anything to indicate that Garrett or anyone else was involved in any way with your grandmother's death, assuming she is dead."
"It's okay." She gave him a glowing smile. "You don't have to explain. You're still investigating. That's all that matters. Sooner or later you'll find the proof."
They started up the stairs to the second floor.
"You do understand that we may be trying to prove a negative here," he cautioned. "There is no way to do that. Which is, of course, how conspiracy theories work in the first place and why they manage to stay alive."
"You never know, we might find a solid clue in Cactus Springs."
"Don't get your hopes up," he said.
"I'm pretty sure that Sherlock Holmes never said that to a client."
"You're my assistant, not a client."
They reached the landing and went down the hall to Isabella's room. He took out the card key and opened the door for her. She stepped into the room on the impossibly high heels and turned to face him.
"We didn't really need to go to the expense of booking two rooms," she said. "Evidently everyone back there in the ballroom knows that we're personally involved."
"How the hell did they find out?" Outrage crackled through him. "Zack or Raine must have said something, although how they knew is an interesting question. I'll have a talk with Zack in the morning."
"No, no, no," she said hastily. "Zack and Raine didn't gossip about us. It's just something about our energy. Even nonsensitives can often tell when two people are involved in a physical relationship. The energy of that sort of attraction is very strong."
Annoyed, he gripped the door frame and checked the hallway to see if anyone was watching. Then he turned back to her. "Damn it, I won't let anyone embarrass you."
"Trust me, I'm not in the least embarrassed."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely," she said. "What about you? Do you mind people knowing that we're sleeping together?"
He gave the question a couple of beats, trying to sort out his reactions. Deep down he liked the fact that everyone knew that Isabella was his, at least for now. He wanted other men to know that she was not available. And since when had he developed a possessive streak?