Canyons Of Night (2 page)

“Yeah, the whole family has been Arcane for generations.” She made a face. “Mostly high-end talents. I’m the underachiever in the clan. I’m just a rainbow-reader.”

“What’s that?”

“I see aura rainbows. Totally useless, trust me.” She tried to focus on Slade as he reached down to pick up her glasses. “They’re probably smashed, huh?”

“The frames are a little bent and the lenses are scratched up.”

“Figures.” She took the glasses from him and put them on.

The twisted frames sat askew on her nose. The scratched lenses made it difficult to see Slade’s face clearly. She knew exactly what he looked like, though, because she had seen him often in town and down at the marina where he worked. He was nineteen but there was something about his sharply etched features and unreadable gray-blue eyes that made him seem so much older and infinitely more experienced. Other boys his age were still boys. Slade was a man.

She and Rachel had speculated endlessly about where he had come from and, more important, whether he had a girlfriend. If he was dating anyone they were very sure that she was not a local girl. In a town as small as Shadow Bay everyone would know if the stranger who worked at the marina was seeing an island girl.

He had shown up in the Bay at the start of the tourist season that summer, looking for work. Ben Murphy at the marina had given him a job. Slade rented a room above a dockside shop by the week. He was polite and hardworking but he kept to himself. Occasionally he caught the Friday afternoon ferry and disappeared for the weekend. It was assumed that he went to a larger town on one of the other nearby islands—Thursday Harbor, maybe, or maybe he went all the way to Frequency City. No one knew for sure. But he was always back at work at the marina on Monday morning.

“Luckily I’ve got a backup pair of glasses at my aunt’s house,” Charlotte said.

She was immediately mortified. She felt like an idiot talking about her glasses to the man who currently featured so vividly in her fantasies. Not that Slade knew about his role in her dreams. She was pretty sure that to him she was just the weird girl who worked for her crazy old aunt in the antiques shop.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” Slade asked.

“What do you think I’m doing out here? I wanted to see the Preserve. My aunt talks about it sometimes but she won’t take me inside.”

“For good reason. It’s beautiful in places but it’s dangerous in some parts. Easy to get lost inside. The Foundation that controls the Preserve put up those notrespassing signs and the fence for a reason.”

“You were inside just a few minutes ago. I saw you come out through the trees.”

“I’m a hunter, remember? I can see where I’m going.”

“Oh, yeah, the night-vision thing.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your breathing sounds funny.”

“Actually, I’m getting over a panic attack. I’m doing a breathing exercise. This is so embarrassing.”

“Panic attack, huh? Well, you had good reason to have one tonight. Getting assaulted by three jerks on a lonely road would be enough to scare the daylights out of anyone.”

“The attacks are linked to my stupid talent. I started getting them when I came into my para-senses two years ago. At first everyone assumed that I was just reacting to the stress of high school. But finally my mom sent me to a para-shrink who said it appeared to be a side effect of my new senses.”

Great. Now she was babbling about her personal problems.

“That’s gotta be tough,” Slade said.

“Tell me about it. If I run hot for any length of time, I start shaking and it gets hard to breathe. I was really jacked a few minutes ago so I’m paying for it now. I’ll be okay in a couple of minutes, honest.”

“You should go home now,” Slade said. “I’ll walk with you and make sure those guys don’t come back.”

“They won’t return,” she said, very certain. She finally managed to take a deep breath. Her jangled senses and her nerves were finally calming. “I don’t want to go home yet. I came all the way out here to see the Preserve.”

“Does your aunt know where you are?”

“No. Aunt Beatrix took the ferry to Frequency City today to check out some antiques at an estate sale. She won’t return until tomorrow.”

Slade looked toward the dark woods. He seemed to hesitate and then he shrugged. “I’ll take you inside but just for a few minutes.”

Delight snapped through her.

“Will you? That would be wonderful. Thanks.”

He started walking back along the road toward the woods. She switched on the flashlight and hurried to catch up with him.

“I heard someone at the grocery store say that you’re going to leave Rainshadow for good tomorrow,” she said tentatively. “Is it true?”

“That’s the plan. I’ve been accepted at the academy of the
FBPI
.”

“You’re joining the Federal Bureau of Psi Investigation? Wow. That is so high-rez. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m packed. I’ll catch the morning ferry.”

She tried to think of what to say next. Nothing brilliant came to mind.

“Do you think those three guys will try to have you arrested?” she asked.

“No.”

“How can you be sure? They might remember you from the marina.”

“Even if they do, those three aren’t going to go to the local cops. If they did they’d have to explain why they stopped you on the road.”

“Oh, right.” Her spirits lightened at that realization. “And I’d tell everyone how they attacked me. Chief Halstead knows me and he’s known Aunt Beatrix forever. He would believe me long before he took the word of a bunch of off-islanders.”

“Yes,” Slade said. “He would.”

She was surprised to hear the respect in Slade’s voice. She glanced at his profile.

“I saw the two of you talking together a lot this summer,” she ventured.

“Halstead is the one who suggested I apply to the academy. He even wrote a recommendation.”

THAT
EVENING
SLADE
GAVE
HER
A
BRIEF
GLIMPSE
OF
THE
paranormal wonderland that was the Preserve by night. And then he walked her home, saw her inside the cottage on the bluff, and waited until she locked the door. She listened to his footsteps going down the front porch steps; listened until he was gone and the only sound was that of the wind sighing in the trees.

The following morning she went down to the ferry dock. Slade didn’t see her at first. He lounged against the railing, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was alone. There were a handful of other passengers waiting for the ferry but no one was there to see him off to his new life in the Federal Bureau of Psi Investigation.

She approached him cautiously, not certain how he would react. She knew that as far as he was concerned she was just a kid he had helped out of a jam and then humored with a short trip into the forbidden territory of the Preserve.

“Slade?” She stopped a short distance away.

He had been watching the ferry pull into the dock. At the sound of her voice he turned his head and saw her. He smiled.

“I see you found your backup glasses,” he said.

“Yes.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her second pair of frames was even nerdier than the new pair that had gotten busted last night. “I came to say good-bye.”

“Yeah?”

“And to tell you to be careful, okay?” she added very earnestly. “The
FBPI
goes after some very dangerous people. Serial killers and drug traffickers.”

“I’ve heard that.” His eyes glittered with amusement. “I’ll be careful.”

She was feeling more awkward by the second. At this rate she would have a panic attack without even raising her dumb talent.

She held out the small box she had brought with her. “I also wanted to give you this. Sort of a thank-you gift for what you did for me last night.”

He eyed the box as if not sure what to make of it. It dawned on her that a man who didn’t have a family of his own probably didn’t get many gifts. He reached out and took the box.

“Thanks,” he said. “What is it?”

“Nothing important,” she assured him. “Just an old pocketknife.”

He got the lid off the oblong box and took out the narrow black crystal object inside. He studied it with interest. “How does it work? I don’t see the blade.”

She smiled. “Well, that’s the unusual thing about that knife. It was made by a master craftsman named Vegas Takashima. He died about forty years ago. He was Arcane and he made each knife by hand so his pieces are infused with a lot of his creative psi. Whatever he did made the blades almost indestructible. You’ll eventually figure out how it works and when you do, you’ll see it’s still good. It will last for decades, maybe another century or two.”

“Thank you.”

She hesitated. “I tuned it for you.”

Slade raised his brows. “You can tune objects that are hot?”

She shrugged. “Provided there’s enough energy in them. It’s a rainbow-reader thing.”

“What does tuning a para-antique do?”

“Nothing very useful,” she admitted. “But people seem to like it when I find the right object and manipulate the frequencies to resonate harmoniously with their auras. Just a trick.”

He hefted the Takashima knife on his palm and smiled slowly. “It does feel good.” He closed his fingers around the black crystal knife. “Like it belongs to me.”

“That’s how the tuning thing works,” she said earnestly. “It’s not a real spectacular talent but my family feels I may have a career selling art and antiques.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“No.” She brightened. “I want to get a degree in para-archaeology and work for one of the Arcane museums. Or maybe go underground with some of the academic and research people who explore the alien ruins.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Not as exciting as the
FBPI
but I’d really like to do it.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

He slipped the knife into the pocket of his jacket. The ferry was docked now. The three other people who had been waiting for it started down the ramp. Slade hitched the duffel bag higher on his shoulder.

“Time to go,” he said.

“Good-bye. Thanks for last night. And remember to be careful, okay?”

“Sure.”

He leaned forward slightly and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Before she could decide how to handle the situation, he was walking away from her, boarding the ferry.

She stood on the dock until the ferry sailed out of the harbor and out of sight. Just before it disappeared she waved. She thought she saw Slade lift a hand in farewell but she couldn’t be sure. Her backup glasses were fitted with an old prescription and her distance vision was blurry. Or maybe the problem was the tears in her eyes.

She made a promise to herself that morning. When she went home to Frequency City at the end of the month she was going to get a trendy new haircut and a pair of contact lenses. Common sense told her that she was highly unlikely to ever meet Slade Attridge again. But just in case she did get lucky, she was going to do her best to make certain that, whatever else happened, he didn’t kiss her as if she were his kid sister.

Rainshadow Island, fifteen years later . . .

CHARLOTTE
FOLDED
HER
ARMS
ON
THE
GLASS-TOPPED
sales counter and watched the two feral beasts come through the door of Looking Glass Antiques. One was definitely human, definitely male, and definitely dangerous. The second was a scruffy-looking ball of gray fluff with two bright blue eyes, six small paws, and an attitude. The dust bunny rode on Slade Attridge’s shoulder and Charlotte was quite sure that in his own miniature way he could be just as dangerous as his human companion. They were both born to hunt, she thought.

“Welcome to Looking Glass Antiques, Chief Attridge,” Charlotte said. “You might want to keep an eye on Rex. I have a strict you-break-it-you-buy-it policy.”

Slade stopped just inside the doorway. He quartered the shop’s cluttered front room with a swift, assessing glance, cold, mag-steel eyes faintly narrowed. Rex sleeked out a little, revealing a ragged ear that appeared to have been badly mangled in a fight at some point in the past. His second set of eyes, the ones he used for night hunts, popped open. At least he wasn’t showing any teeth, Charlotte thought. They said that with dust bunnies, by the time you saw the teeth it was too late. The bunnies were cute when they were fluffed up but under all that fur lay the ruthless heart of a small predator.

“This shop is even hotter than it was fifteen years ago when your aunt ran it,” Slade said.

Charlotte was amused. “You remember, hmm?”

Slade looked straight at her. “Oh, yeah.”

Small thrills flashed across Charlotte’s senses.
I had it bad for him fifteen years ago and this time around it’s going to be a million times worse.

Her fantasies about Slade had been dormant for so long that she had been convinced that she had outgrown them. But when he had walked off the morning ferry five days ago to take over the position of police chief on Rainshadow Island, she’d had a shocking revelation. The Arcane matchmakers had given up on her, labeled her unmatchable and blamed it on the nature of her talent. But one look at Slade and she knew why she had never been content with any of the other men she had met. Some part of her had always insisted on comparing her dates to the man of her dreams. It was not fair, it was not wise, but that was how it had been. And now Dream Man was here, standing right in front of her.

She was saved from having to come up with a snappy response by Rex. The dust bunny chortled and bounded down from Slade’s shoulder. Charlotte watched uneasily as he fluttered through the cluttered space and vanished behind a pile of vintage purses and handbags.

Slade surveyed the room. “Coming in here was always a bit like walking into a mild lightning storm but the sensation has gotten stronger. There’s more energy now.”

“Most people aren’t aware of all the psi in this shop,” she said. “At least not on a conscious level. But strong sensitives usually pick up on it. The reason it feels hotter now is because my aunt acquired a lot more stock during the last fifteen years before she died. In addition, I brought most of the objects from my store in Frequency City with me a few weeks ago when I closed my business there and moved to the island.”