Siren's Call (A Rainshadow Novel) (25 page)

The hallucination struck while he waited for Ella to return to the ballroom. Having seen the bride and groom on their way, the bridal party was trickling back.

The skaters skimmed across the ice, whirling faster and faster in what looked to be random patterns. They were all dressed in formal black and white. Each carried a silver tray
 . . .

“Damn.” Rafe shook his head, trying to clear his vision.

As usual, his first instinct was to suppress the hallucination. But the waking dream was screaming to get his attention.

Ella appeared on the ice. Her mag-rez skates flashed ominously. She was dressed as a bride, not a bridesmaid, and she spoke to him in the language of dreams. “Stop fighting your talent. You’re now a spectacularly good lucid dreamer. Get over it.”

It seemed vitally important that he follow her out onto the ice. But she was gliding away from him now. As he watched, the skating waiters formed a circle around her, shielding her from view.

But one of the waiters was missing. There was an empty spot in the circle . . .

He turned to study the waiters who were working the long bar. Earlier, one of them had gone past him carrying a tray of full champagne flutes decorated with ribbons. The bride and her attendants had soon disappeared down the same corridor.

The waiter had never returned.

Neither had Ella.

Rafe sliced through the crowd, drawing startled looks.

The door of the bridesmaids’ room was locked from the inside. He lashed out at it with the heel of his shoe a couple of times. Wood splintered. The door flew open.

There was no sign of Ella but he found her amber jewelry in the trash can. Her dainty, strappy sandals with the tuned amber embedded in the heels were under a sofa.

He started across the carpeted room, heading toward a side door that stood wide. A small, shiny metallic object glinted on the floor beneath the long makeup table.

He started to crouch to pick up the lipstick but he stopped when he saw the wobbly drawing on the polished stone countertop.

Someone had used the lipstick to make a small, somewhat smeared sketch. It looked like a doodle.

Rafe’s talent spiked again. His phone pinged just as he
started to put it all together. He glanced down and read the text message on the screen.

She’s safe as long as you cooperate. Instructions will follow.

He took another look at the lipstick drawing. This time he deliberately opened his lucid dream talent. His new psychic ability flashed through all the possibilities and settled on the most likely interpretation of the little drawing.

“Got the message, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

She opened her eyes to the familiar green-quartz glow of the catacombs. The arched ceiling overhead was inscribed with the graceful symbols and designs that the Aliens had used to decorate many of their structures. The experts had made little headway in deciphering the strange writing. Some had concluded that the inscriptions were merely decorative, not a written language.

Instinctively she closed her right hand into a small fist, feeling for her amber ring. The first thing she noticed was that her hands were bound in front of her.

The second thing she discovered was that her ring was gone. If they had taken it, they had stripped her of all her amber. Rafe would never find her. Even if he got the message she had tried to leave with her lipstick, which was not very likely, he would have no way of tracking her now. She was on her own.

Tentatively, she tried to raise her talent. There was nothing at first. She tried harder and thought that maybe—just maybe—she heard a little Alien music shiver in the atmosphere. But the quartz harmonies locked in the walls were very faint.

“Sorry about the drug,” Bob said. “I didn’t have much choice. You’re a strong talent. I was pretty sure we couldn’t get you out of that wedding party unless we put you under all the way.”

She realized that she was lying on the floor. The quartz was not cold—it was never cold down in the tunnels—but it was hard. She sat up cautiously, curling her legs mermaid style. The skirts of her purple and pink bridesmaid dress foamed around her.

Absently, she noticed that both of her shoes were missing. Just like Amberella after the ball, she thought. But her prince didn’t need a shoe to find her; he needed a signal from her tuned amber. Her amber was gone.

All she could do now was try to buy time and hope that her talent awakened before Bob gave her another dose of the drug.

He lounged on a stool near the vaulted doorway, a flamer resting on his thigh. He was not the only one guarding her. The waiter who had given her the drugged champagne stood at the entrance of the chamber, watching the hallway outside.

Ella fixed her attention on Bob. He was clearly the most dangerous of the two men.

“Did you bring any doughnuts?” she asked. “I could really use a doughnut about now.”

Bob whistled, amused. “You’re one tough lady, aren’t you? But, then, I figured that out right away after you solved the dino problem in Wonderland and then took down that monster inside the Preserve. You’re not just a standard-issue music talent, are you? Figure you for a genuine Siren. Scary.”

“You’re Vortex, aren’t you?” Ella asked. “Also scary.”

“I’m Vortex and so is my associate, Hodson, here.”

Hodson did not acknowledge the introduction.

Bob studied Ella with a considering look.

“I see you know something about Vortex,” he said. “That means Coppersmith is aware of it, too.”

“Arcane and the FBPI are also investigating Vortex,” Ella said. “Oh, yes, and the Guilds. Rafe has kept them all informed. No stuffing that genie back into the bottle.”

“The board of directors won’t be thrilled to find out that this particular operation has drawn so much attention, but that’s not my problem. The people at the top will find a way to stay hidden in the shadows. Arcane, the FBPI, and the Guilds will never find them.”

“Vortex is involved in the illegal Alien-tech business, isn’t it?”

“You think Coppersmith isn’t conducting research on some very exotic Alien tech as we speak? Give me a break. You can’t be that naïve.”

“Coppersmith takes contracts with the government. It works with law enforcement.”

Bob snorted. “Here’s a bulletin for you, Ella. So does Vortex—under a different corporate logo, of course. There’s a very thin line between legal and illegal when it comes to Alien-tech research. At times that line is damn
near invisible. It disappears completely when there’s a lot of money and power involved.”

“What do you want with me?”

“You are our last hope for saving the Ghost City operation. We’ve had a hard time getting Mr. Raphael Coppersmith’s attention. We’re betting you can do it for us.”

“You certainly got his attention after two botched kidnapping attempts.”

“Well, we didn’t bungle this one, did we?” Bob said.

“Because you went after me, not Rafe. You can forget the Ghost City project. It’s going nowhere.”

Bob raised his brows. “I see Coppersmith told you something about what happened to him three months ago.”

“I know that the venture was a disaster. Rafe almost died.”

“Did he tell you that someone went missing? A man named Roger Jay.”

“The rogue tech Rafe tried to rescue? The one who caused the explosion in the ruins?”

“Jay was working for Vortex,” Bob said. “He made it out alive, barely. He was badly burned and hallucinating like crazy. He didn’t survive long. But before he died he said he’d seen Coppersmith vanish into a pool of crystal.”

“Jeez. Coppersmith Security really needs to get its act together. Sounds like they’ve hired a bunch of Vortex spies.”

“Don’t blame Coppersmith Security,” Bob said. “They’re good. But Vortex is better. Everyone in the high-tech-quartz business has been searching for those ruins for decades—ever since the first miner stumbled out of the catacombs with wild stories about a hidden city of ice and fog. When
word leaked that Coppersmith Mining was going to lead an expedition to search for it, Vortex managed to embed an operative on the team. That man was Jay.”

“That’s called corporate espionage.”

Bob smiled. “I believe it is.”

“What made Vortex think that Rafe’s team would find the Ghost City when all the other expeditions had failed?”

“You don’t know much about the mining business, do you?”

“No.”

“It’s a small world at the top, and inside that small world, everyone knows that no one is better than Rafe Coppersmith when it comes to locating hot crystal and quartz deposits.”

“But he got burned,” Ella said. “He lost his talent. He has no clear memories of the venture.”

“My employers don’t believe that. They think Coppersmith put out the psi-burn story to convince competitors that the search for the Ghost City was a failure.”

“Your employers are either crazy or unbelievably stupid because they’re taking a huge risk for nothing.”

“No, Miss Morgan, they are very, very smart and quite ruthless.” Bob’s eyes heated with something that looked a lot like lust. “And they pay very, very well for successful outcomes. I intend to deliver one tonight. When this is over I will get a lot of money, a new identity, and a new position inside Vortex. Eventually, I’m going to be sitting on the board.”

Unwholesome excitement shivered in the atmosphere around Bob. He was serious, she thought, deadly serious.

“You’re the one who shot that poor DND guy, Kenneth Maitland, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t waste too much pity on Maitland if I were you. He was looking to score. He found out about me, you see. That’s the information he planned to sell to Rafe Coppersmith.”

“How did Maitland discover that you were working for Vortex? Are you saying that DND and Vortex are connected after all?”

“Why would Vortex want to get involved with an unsophisticated scam operation like DND? But like Vortex, DND wanted to embed one of their people inside the Coppersmith jobsite on Rainshadow. Wonderland promises to be worth several fortunes, after all. At the time I was inserted into the project, Vortex had abandoned the Ghost City operation because we figured Rafe Coppersmith really was a total burnout.”

“Imagine your surprise when you found out that his father had sent him to troubleshoot the Wonderland project.”

“As soon as I saw him I knew he wasn’t a burnout. No question but that he’s still a hot talent. Not sure what kind of talent, but he’s obviously sane and powerful. The fact that he had survived in good shape meant that the original Ghost City project might still be viable. I was in charge because I was the man on site.”

“It was your big chance to prove to your bosses that you were destined for management, is that it?”

“Pretty much,” Bob said. “We went back to Plan A. But by then Maitland had found me. He was DND’s fund-raiser
for a while but he was good with the tech stuff. He hacked into the personnel files of all the Coppersmith employees on Rainshadow in order to figure out how to get Angela Price a place on the team.”

“In the process he stumbled over something in your file that raised a red flag?”

“You got it,” Bob said “It was probably an accident. But he got curious. Followed the leads straight to one of the Vortex shell corporations. Luckily, when he got that far he hit a couple of tripwires that I had out on the reznet. He left his own prints and I followed him back to DND.”

“That’s how you discovered his relationship to Angela Price.”

“That worried me for a while. Thought I might have to arrange an accident for her. But Maitland kept the info about me to himself. I don’t think he trusted Angela completely. He knew that she was a true believer in the DND movement. He was smart enough to realize that, in the end, she might choose the movement, not him. He was right.”

“How can you be sure that he didn’t tell anyone else about you?”

“Because Coppersmith Security hasn’t tried to throw me off the jobsite.” Bob shrugged. “Besides, why would he tell anyone? There’s no logic in that. He planned to use the information to finance his early retirement. The only person he might have confided in was Angela. But I was there at the boathouse that night. I heard their argument. He never once mentioned my name.”

A faint, muted flicker of awareness touched Ella’s senses. Hope rushed through her. Maybe her talent was
rising. But in the next moment something small and fast scuttled past the doorway. Ella caught a glimpse of four bright eyes and then Lorelei was gone.

“Shit.”
Hodson jerked abruptly, straightened away from the quartz wall, and rezzed the flamer. A bolt of fire lanced the atmosphere in the corridor. He fired another blast from the flamer, aiming toward the floor.

Bob was on his feet, flamer pointed at the doorway. “What the hell?”

“A rat,” Hodson muttered. “Startled me. Those things are creepy.”

“There are no rats down here.” Bob glanced over his shoulder at Ella. His eyes narrowed. “Must have been a dust bunny.”

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Hodson said. “That thing was fast.”

Bob shook his head, looking grim. “I don’t like this. If her damn dust bunny found her—”

“The dust bunny isn’t exactly a big problem,” Hodson said, disgusted. “It just startled me, that’s all. If it comes back, I’ll zap it.”

“You don’t understand and I don’t have time to explain,” Bob said. “We’re moving.” He reached into his pocket and took out a syringe. “On your feet, Ella.”

Panic arced through her. If Lorelei tried to attack the men by herself, she was doomed. Given her small size and the close quarters, a blast of fire from the weapon could easily prove lethal.

But Lorelei
had
found her. That meant there was hope that Rafe might eventually find her, too.

Pretending to stumble awkwardly to her feet, Ella focused what little energy she could summon on trying to send a message.
Find Rafe
.

The experts claimed that there was no such thing as telepathy, but there was some kind of bond between Lorelei and herself. And Lorelei was a natural-born predator. All predators had instincts for strategy. Surely such a small creature would realize she needed backup in a situation like this.

Hope, even the weak sort, was powerful stuff. Another little pulse of energy whispered through Ella. She was pretty sure that the music in the walls was getting louder.
Just keep buying time,
she thought.

She was on her feet now. Bob reached out to grab her arm and hold her still while he readied the syringe. Realizing his intent, she stepped back. He lunged toward her.

There was another scuttling movement in the doorway.

“It’s back,” Hodson growled. “I’ll get it this time.”

He rezzed the flamer and moved out into the hallway to get a clear shot.

Ella heard a sharp, very short yelp. Not Lorelei, she thought.

“What the hell?” Bob glanced toward the doorway. “Hodson?”

Ella decided she might not get a better chance. She still couldn’t pull any killer music but she had options.

She lashed out at the side of Bob’s leg with one bare foot and managed a direct hit on his kneecap. He grunted, released her, and staggered backward. The syringe dropped to the floor.

“Bitch,”
he shouted.

He lunged toward her again but she was running for the door. She braced for a flamer burn on the back. She could probably survive a single shot, she thought. The flamers were designed to take down bad guys, not incinerate them. All she had to do was get out into the hall. Once she was free she could get lost in the tunnels. Lorelei would find her.

She nearly collided head-on with Rafe. He materialized in the doorway, a flamer in his hand.