by Jayne Castle
“Close enough,” he said. He glanced at her. “You said it wasn’t fun?”
“Getting up close and personal with another person’s dreamscape is always a bit nerve-racking.” She shuddered. “Nightmares are the worst, of course.”
He thought about it. “Yeah, I can understand that. Guess nature intended some things to be private.”
“There’s the privacy issue, not to mention intimacy issues. But most people are only too happy to tell you about their dreams, detail by boring detail. I don’t think that’s the real reason why touching a dreamer is so unsettling for someone with my kind of talent.”
“What is the reason?”
“Dream energy comes from the deepest end of the spectrum,” she said. “It is not meant to combine with the currents from the waking end. When I touched you, I was awake.”
“And sensing my dream energy. I can see how that would set up some serious resonance issues.”
“My talent allows me to handle the experience but, like I said, I find it very disturbing.”
His curiosity was piqued now. “What about when you’re asleep?”
“Oh, that’s just impossible,” she said.
“Hold on, don’t tell me you don’t sleep at all. Everyone sleeps.”
“Of course, I sleep. Alone.”
It took him a beat to understand the implications. When he did, he went cold.
“Always?” he asked.
“Always. I can’t sleep in the same room with someone who is dreaming, let alone in the same bed. I hate hotels because the beds are always soaked in other people’s dream energy. The only way I can sleep in a bed that isn’t my own is by wrapping myself in a silk sleeping sack. For some reason silk acts as a barrier of sorts.”
“Not to get too personal here, but doesn’t that make for a few complications in your private life?”
“I don’t have any problems getting a date, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, not exactly.”
“You’d be amazed by the number of men who think I’m the perfect woman. I’m always gone by morning.”
“Huh.”
“But it turns out that while men may not always be anxious to commit, they get offended when they realize that I’m not about to commit, either. I’ve never understood it, but they seem to take it personally.”
“No kidding,” he said. He wondered why he was getting irritated all over again.
“My mother tells me it has something to do with their rejection issues. But from my family’s point of view, the real downside is knowing that I’ll probably never marry. Joneses always marry. If I don’t marry, I know I’ll let down the family. If I do marry, I’ll make myself and my husband, poor man, utterly miserable.”
“Separate bedrooms?” he offered and then wondered why he was trying to find a solution in the first place. It was her problem, not his. He had enough problems of his own.
“Even if I found someone who would go along with that arrangement—and, believe me, men who think they’d be okay with it aren’t as common as one would expect—it wouldn’t work. After a while, I’d get resentful. Even though the situation would be my fault, I’d start blaming my husband.”
“Why the hell is that?”
“Some part of me would conclude that if he was really the right man for me, I’d be able to sleep with him.” She paused. “I’m getting mad right now just thinking about it.”
“Sounds like you’ve tested your theory.”
“Once, shortly after college, I experimented with a Marriage of Convenience. Lasted about five minutes. He got mad when he realized I wasn’t going to change. Took the separate bedrooms as proof that I was having an affair. I got angry because he didn’t trust me. That’s when I realized I was starting to resent him because I couldn’t sleep with him. Things went downhill from there.”
“Complicated.”
“Tell me about it. My family is still embarrassed whenever the subject comes up. The Joneses don’t do MCs.” She frowned. “And just how did we get off on the subject of my private life? Tell me more about the maze.”
He forced himself to focus. It proved surprisingly difficult. For some idiotic reason he wanted to argue about her sleep issues.
“Initially the mirror maze appeared to be just another weird alien ruin,” he said. “But there is some kind of energy emanating from the mirrors and bouncing back and forth off the various surfaces.”
“Like sunlight on a real mirror?”
“Yes, except that the energy in that quartz comes from the paranormal spectrum. It’s not visually blinding the way sun on a mirror is, but it dazzles the para-senses, and that disturbs the normal senses as well. Going into the maze is a very disorienting experience.”
“I believe it.”
“The standard rez-amber locators don’t work inside the ruin, but I discovered that I could navigate with full-spectrum. Two weeks ago I took a small lab team into the maze. We had to turn back because the energy levels were just too much for most of the team. But the para-archaeologist fell behind. She got lost.”
“Vickie?”
“Yes. I knew I couldn’t risk the whole crew by going back to search for her. So I got the others out.”
“And then you went in after her on your own.”
“I found her in a small chamber. She was in psychic shock. Awake but nonresponsive. I got her out of the maze, but she never woke up.”
“She died?”
“No. She’s still in a kind of waking coma in a parapsych ward at a private hospital.”
Marlowe studied him with her knowing eyes. “She’s not just a member of your team. Who is she?
“Her name is Vickie Winters. She’s my kid sister.”
“Dear heaven. Of course, you blame yourself for taking her into the maze.”
“Should have known better than to let her talk me into it. But she was right. We needed her talent and expertise to figure out what is going on in that maze. And it wasn’t like I had a lot of choice in para-archaeologists.”
“Why do you say that? There are dozens of them at the university in Frequency alone, not to mention on the staff at the city museum.”
“I needed one I knew I could trust,” he said.
Marlowe nodded. “You went with Vickie because she is family.”
“Right.”
“Why hasn’t any of this been in the press?” Marlowe wrinkled her nose. “Forget it. Why do I even bother to ask? Just another Guild secret.”
“Bureau secret,” he corrected. “I haven’t even told the members of my own Council about what’s going on.”
“Understandable. According to the press, the first thing you did when you took over was fire four members of the Council that you inherited from your predecessor.”
“They took early retirement,” he said evenly. “With full benefits.”
She looked amused. “You mean, you persuaded them to take early retirement. I won’t ask how you talked them into it. Given that you haven’t yet replaced them, that leaves you with only five remaining Councilmen. I doubt that you trust them any more than you did the four you kicked off the Council.”
“That is very insightful of you.”
“Why didn’t you make them take early retirement, too?”
“You know the old saying: keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. At least until you can prove that they’re trying to kill you.”
“Think it’s someone on the Council who is after you?”
“Two someones. Drake and O’Conner.”
“Hmm. Before the Chamber pulled its surprise move and put you in charge of the Frequency Guild, rumor had it that Douglas Drake was slated to get the top job.”
“That was certainly Drake’s plan. Hubert O’Conner was backing his play. The two of them go way back.”
“If you know those two are gunning for you, why don’t you force them into early retirement?” she asked.
“Because I think they’re involved in something
more serious.”
Her eyes widened. “More serious than trying to murder you?”
“Yeah, and I’d like to find out what they’re up to before I get rid of them.”
“Does every Guild boss lead such an interesting life?”
“Mine may be a little more interesting than some at the moment.”
“I’ll say. Back to the mirror maze. You said you discovered it? Do you do archaeological work for the Bureau?”
“No. My expertise is in other areas. I sort of stumbled into the maze.”
“Really?” she looked intrigued. “By accident, you mean?”
“Maybe stumbled isn’t quite the right word. I was in the middle of a Bureau investigation that took me deep into the jungle. Drug lab. While I was winding up the case, I sensed the maze energy and went looking for it. Found it several miles away in another sector.”
She was watching him very closely now. “Any idea why you might have sensed it?”
“Probably because the energy being generated in that maze is from the ultradark end of the spectrum.”
“Dreamlight. Hmm. Your talent emanates from that zone.”
“I’ve got an affinity for that kind of psi, yes. So do you.”
“True,” she agreed. “But even those of us with a lot of talent can’t sense it beyond a radius of fifteen or twenty feet at most. You said you found the maze about a month ago?”
“Yes.”
“Right around the time you started suffering the nightmares and hallucinations?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“And this was at some considerable distance?”
He exhaled slowly. “Like I said, it was miles away in an uncharted sector. That region of the jungle isn’t even on the map. Where are you going with this?”
“I can’t help but wonder if whatever is happening to you made you more sensitive to the energy in those mirrors.”
“That possibility crossed my mind,” he admitted. “As I was saying, I reported my findings to Elliott Fortner, my boss at the Bureau. He notified the Chamber. In the end, it was decided to put the operation under my command. I’ve locked down the entire project. There’s a research team on site working around the clock trying to find out what is happening inside those ruins.”
“Why are you so concerned?”
“Because I sensed some instability deep in the maze.”
“What’s the Burning Lamp got to do with this?”
“Not all of the old family records concerning the lamp got lost during the Era of Discord. I’ve got John Cabot Winters’s journal. He did a lot of research on the lamp. Based on what he concluded and what I experienced within that ruin, I think I might be able to use the lamp to stop whatever is happening in those mirrors.”
“If you think the maze is dangerous, just make sure everyone is kept away from it,” she said. “Anyone foolish enough to go inside will do so at his or her own risk. It won’t be the first time the Guilds have declared certain ruins and sectors of the jungle off-limits for safety reasons.”
“I’m not worried about losing a few thrill seekers and indie prospectors, Marlowe. It’s the fact that the energy in those mirrors is slowly but surely starting to warp that has me concerned. The resonating pattern is becoming increasingly unstable. The trouble has probably been going on for decades, centuries maybe, but I think the deterioration is accelerating.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? An explosion?”
“Maybe. Or maybe the maze will just shut down. Either way, I think it’s going to be a problem.”
“Why?”
“My gut tells me that if that maze goes, it will take the entire underworld—rain forest and catacombs included—with it.”
She stopped very suddenly, turning to face him. “What are you saying?”
He stopped, too. “Ever since we discovered the underworld, we’ve been trying to figure out what powers it.”
“Good grief.” She waved a hand to indicate the vast stretch of catacombs around them. “You think that maze is the source of the energy that keeps this place going?”
“Yes. What’s more, if those mirrors blow, it may take out a lot more than just the underworld. That maze is probably the source of the energy in green quartz aboveground, as well.”
“Do you think the Dead Cities and other ruins will just suddenly go dark?”
“That would be the best-case scenario. But this is alien energy we’re talking about. Who knows what will happen if the power grid shuts down in an unstable manner? If the energy in the surface ruins suddenly becomes uncontrolled or erratic, there might be massive explosions aboveground as well.”
“Frequency and the other big cities like Cadence and Resonance are all built around ruins. So are a lot of the smaller, outlying towns and communities. If all of the quartz explodes, the Old Quarters would probably be destroyed.”
“Maybe. There are a lot of ifs in this situation. At this juncture, there’s too damn much we just don’t know. But my intuition tells me it could be very, very bad.”
She took a deep breath. “That settles it. This isn’t just a Guild problem. You need Arcane’s help. You need me.”
“Yes,” he said. “I believe I do. I think we’ve got some time. Like I said, the destabilization process has probably been going on for years. I don’t want to tell Fortner and the Chamber that the underworld and the Old Quarters in all of the cities will have to be evacuated until I know for certain that there isn’t any alternative.”
“I understand why you’ve kept a lid on this situation. If the media picks up on this, there would be instant panic. You definitely need Arcane. The Society has been studying the paranormal for centuries. For starters, we should get an Arcane lab team down to the maze to assist your people immediately. Meanwhile, you and I have to find that lamp.”
“The problem with working openly with you and Arcane is that it’s bound to start rumors.”
She thought about that for a few seconds. “We shouldn’t have any trouble keeping a joint research project quiet. Arcane and the Bureau have both had a lot of experience with that sort of highly classified work. But you’re right; the media will certainly notice if you and I spend a lot of time together aboveground searching for the lamp. You’re a Guild boss. The media loves gossip about high-ranking ghost hunters. We need a cover.”
“Got any ideas?”
“I’m the head of J&J. Of course I’ve got an idea. By the way, I want to meet your sister as soon as possible. Preferably at night.”
Chapter 7
SHORTLY BEFORE NOON, WITH GIBSON UNDER ONE arm, Marlowe opened the glass-paned front door of Jones & Jones and walked into the office.
Rick Pratt was at his desk. He fixed her with an accusing look and held up a copy of the Frequency Beacon.
“You’re having an affair with the new Guild boss, and you didn’t tell me, your faithful office manager?” Rick said. “I’m crushed, I tell you. Devastated.”
She had hired Rick immediately after taking over the office. He had been the first and only applicant for the job, but one look at his dreamprints had told her he would be perfect. Not only was he intelligent, he had a high level of intuitive talent and a flair for organization.
He was about thirty, red haired and blue eyed. He wore a pair of gold-framed spectacles and bought his designer jeans and shirts at the trendiest shops in the Quarter. An amber and gold stud gleamed in his earlobe. There was an expensive engagement ring on his hand. He and his fiancé, Daniel Fields, a professor at the university, had been formally matched by an Arcane matchmaker. They were in the midst of planning a Covenant Marriage.
Uncle Zeke had been running J&J for years without an assistant, claiming there was no need for one due to the lack of business. It was certainly true that clients were not exactly standing in line out front, but Marlowe had big plans. She intended to make J&J the premier psychic investigation agency in Frequency, once again the first choice for members of the Society who needed the serv
ices of a PI.
“Let me see that paper,” she said.
She put Gibson down on the desk and picked up the newspaper. The photo on the front page of the Beacon showed Adam and her standing on the side of the mountain road at two thirty in the morning. Gibson was perched on Adam’s shoulder. The scene was illuminated by the headlights of the pickup that had stopped for them. It had been raining when they had emerged from the catacombs. All three of them were soaked.
The banner headline read, “Guild Boss and Mistress Caught by Storm.” Beneath it was another line: “Rain Dampens Secret Rendezvous.”
Gibson crossed the desk to the large ceramic cookie jar and looked hopeful. After replacing three broken lids, Rick had devised a wire closure that thus far had withstood Gibson’s attempts to get at the contents of the jar on his own. Marlowe knew that Gibson had not given up, but until he figured out how to undo the wire lock, he was forced to wait for Rick to open the treasure chest for him. Rick had given Marlowe a similar device to lock the cookie jar on her kitchen counter.
“Here you go, little biker dude,” Rick said. He unfastened the wire lock and lifted the lid. “You probably need a couple of energy bars. Looks like you had a hard night up there in those mountains.”
Gibson chortled agreement and hopped up onto the rim of the jar. He surveyed the mound of High-Rez Energy Bars inside. The bars were identical as far as Marlowe could tell, but Gibson always dithered a bit before making his selection. When he found the perfect bar, he tumbled back down to the desk and began to unwrap it.
Marlowe tossed the Beacon aside. “The rain ruined my new leather jacket.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Rick demanded. “You’re the head of J&J, charged with the noble responsibility of investigating crime. You’re having a secret affair with the boss of the most corrupt Guild in the four city-states, and all you’re concerned about is your new leather jacket?”
“I suspected the guy who picked us up had taken a couple of shots with his cell phone.” Marlowe peeled off her old leather jacket. “He recognized Adam, of course. I didn’t realize he would manage to sell the shots to the Beacon. Enterprising soul. Wonder how much he got for that picture.”