Illusion Town (16 page)

Grady Barnett heard the text message ping on his phone just as he was preparing to leave his office for the day. Excitement mingled with relief. It was about time Hannah returned his call.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Anticipation evaporated in a heartbeat. Not Hannah.

The text message was short:

The subject is back in town. Still married. Any progress on our project?

Grady stared at the screen for a long time trying to think of yet another diplomatic way to say
no progress
. He had left a dozen voice mails and text messages for Hannah but there had been no response. He had assumed that
meant she was still on the Coppersmith job—he refused to believe she had actually gone on a real honeymoon with Elias Coppersmith.

It was obvious that Coppersmith had offered her the Marriage of Convenience as a way of giving the affair a semirespectable face. When people from Coppersmith's world got married for real they married their own kind—wealthy spouses who descended from equally wealthy, powerful,
respectable
families. They did not contract lifelong alliances with an orphan whose mother had been an Illusion City showgirl. But men like Coppersmith were notorious for using MCs as a way of seducing a potential bed partner.

He must have needed Hannah's talent very badly to go through the trouble of a Marriage of Convenience. The real surprise was that Hannah had fallen for the offer of a tacky MC, Grady thought. He had done enough research on her to know that, while she'd had a few discreet, short-lived relationships, she had never gone in for MCs. He'd suspected that, deep down, even knowing that a real marriage was not in the cards for a woman with her para-psych profile, she had secretly hoped that the man of her dreams would someday show up.

The truth was that any man who was willing to get involved in an affair with an off-the-charts dream walker would have to be pretty damn weird himself. The thought of a sexual relationship between two such freaky psychics would strike most people as bizarre. But he had to admit that, as a scientist, he was fascinated.

It would make for a terrific case study, the kind of paper
that would attract a lot of attention in the right circles. That attention would translate into funding for more research. If Coppersmith and Hannah really were sleeping together, he would give a great deal to get them into the lab, hook them up to the monitors, and see what happened to their auras when they slept in the same bed and dreamed.

In addition to enhancing his status in the para-psych world, he could market the results of the tests to corporations and businesses that were insatiably hungry for data on potential new customers. The elite matchmaking agencies, including Arcane's, would pay big bucks for a deep analysis of the dreamlight patterns of exotic talents. People with powerful or extremely rare paranormal abilities were notoriously difficult to match. His data would allow the matchmaking firms to tweak their algorithms so that they could expand their pool of clients.

And then there were all the pharmaceutical companies that were forever trying to develop drugs for sleep and dream disorders. Those problems had always plagued the human race, and now that the descendants of the colonists were rapidly developing their latent psychic senses, the ancient sleep and dream issues were growing more complex—and, therefore, potentially more profitable.

He slumped back against his desk. He'd had a few dreams of his own when he started working with Hannah—dreams that involved appearing on talk shows and giving speeches at conventions of dreamlight researchers. Dreams of making a hell of a lot of money.

Those dreams had all walked out the door with Hannah the day she discovered him in the supply closet with
Kelsey. Nevertheless, he'd been certain he could find a way to lure Hannah back into the lab. When every attempt had failed he'd begun to think that all was lost.

Then he had received the text message giving him one last chance. All he had to do was persuade Hannah to do what she did best—find lost and missing artifacts.

Be careful what you wish for, he thought.

He focused his attention on the text message for a long time and finally tapped out a reply.

Will arrange meeting with subject immediately.

The response came back instantly.

You assured me there would be no problem securing the subject's cooperation. If that is not possible, say so. I will make arrangements elsewhere.

Fuck that, Grady thought. He straightened his shoulders and tapped out a message.

Meeting with subject today.

“Don't get me wrong,” Hannah said. She dropped her pack and sleeping bag just inside the door of Visions and surveyed the ransacked interior. “It's always nice to get away for a while. Nothing like a little vacation to refresh a person, I always say. But when you get home it's back to real life.”

And in her case that meant returning to a vandalized shop and apartment.

Elias slipped his pack off his shoulders and set it down next to Hannah's. He gave the chaos a grim-faced survey. “Looks like the magic fairy housekeepers didn't show up while we were out of town. Hard to get good help these days.”

“You can say that again.”

Virgil chortled and wriggled free from Hannah's grasp. He vaulted down to the floor and immediately
began touring the wreckage with his Arizona Snow doll. He soon disappeared behind a jumble of green-quartz urns and bowls.

“I'll help you clean up,” Elias said.

“Thanks,” she said, “but this is my problem. I know you've got your hands full dealing with the fallout from the arrest.”

“Coppersmith Security is working with the FBPI and the Guild to close the case. I'm no longer involved. They've got a car plate and a decent photo of the fourth man from the Lost Ruin Stop-and-Go. My contact says they've ID'd the guy as a career criminal. Just a matter of time before they pick him up. So, I'm free to help tidy up.”

She smiled. “Hard to envision you as a housekeeper but I'm not going to turn down your offer. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. Besides, Coppersmith owes you big-time.”

She wasn't sure where to go with that remark. It had the effect of putting their relationship firmly back on a contractual footing. Just business.

The hike out of the jungle to the nearest Guild-controlled gate had taken over three hours. Trekking through the Rainforest was hard work. They had both been worn out from the experience in the Ghost City. Neither of them had enough spare energy to carry on a serious conversation. It had been a case of putting one foot in front of the other until they reached the gate into the tunnels.

Once inside the catacombs it had not taken long to get to the surface but Elias had spent the next couple of hours immersed in the details of coordinating the manhunt. An
FBPI team led by the Guild had immediately gone down into the jungle to salvage what they could of the physical evidence at the pirates' portal.

Elias headed toward the stairs. “Let's start with your apartment.”

Virgil appeared from behind the heap of urns. He had a crystal-beaded bracelet in one paw. He bustled through the clutter, hopped up onto the sales counter, and carefully deposited the bracelet in the glass bowl. He chortled at Hannah and vaulted back down to resume his search for his scattered treasures.

She smiled. “Got to give dust bunnies points for positive thinking. Nothing gets them down for long. Find dead bodies, chase a killer through some spooky ruins, nearly get psi-fried by a paranormal tsunami, hike out of the jungle, and come home to a burgled apartment. No sweat.”

Elias paused on the stairs. “What's he doing?”

“Playing hide-and-seek. He's searching for his personal collection of sparkly things.”

Elias watched Virgil hop up onto the counter with another small glittering object.

“Life is simple for a dust bunny,” he said. “It's a priorities thing, I guess. What didn't kill you in the past isn't worth obsessing about and there's not much point trying to anticipate what might try to kill you in the future.”

Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Because whatever it is, it will probably come from the one direction you least expect it to come from.”

“Exactly. And there endeth the philosophy lesson for
today,” Elias said. He started toward the stairs that led to her private rooms.

She paused at the foot of the stairs, one hand gripping the newel-post. “You must be exhausted.”

He didn't stop, just kept climbing. “We're both exhausted. That's why we need to prioritize. We'll straighten out your personal space and then we'll send out for a pizza. Then we'll open a couple of beers or a bottle of wine or whatever you've got in the cupboard.”

“Wine,” she said. “White wine.” She cleared her throat. “Very inexpensive white wine, I'm afraid.”

“I'm not feeling real picky at the moment.”

He reached the landing and disappeared down the hall.

She started to follow him up the stairs but paused when her phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and glanced at the all-too-familiar number. Grady Barnett. Again.

Upon returning to the surface she had discovered a string of voice mails and text messages from him. She had dutifully sampled a few just to make sure he didn't have anything new to tell her but they had all struck the same theme.

“. . . It's very important that I speak to you as soon as possible . . .”

“. . . Can't discuss this over the phone. Need to see you . . .”

“. . . Where are you? Call me as soon as you get this message. This is business, damn it . . .”

She was about to end the call without answering but curiosity got the better of her. Business was business.

She took the call.

“What is it, Grady? Make it fast. I am currently prioritizing my life and you are not at the top of my to-do list.”

“It's about time you answered. Where have you been?”

“On my honeymoon, remember?”

“Bullshit. You went on a job for Coppersmith, didn't you?”

“That's none of your business, Grady. Look, if you don't have anything really interesting to tell me, I'm going to end this call.”

“All right, all right. Calm down. Yes, I do have something of interest for you. This is of serious interest to both of us.”

“Doubtful. What do you want from me, Grady? I am not going back into your lab so that you can hook me up to your machines again. That's not negotiable. By the way, I do plan to drop by your office to pick up my file.”

“I keep telling you it's incomplete. As a professional I don't feel right about releasing it.”

Something about his quick answer pinged her intuition.

“You made a lot of hard copy notes,” she said. “You were always jotting stuff down in your notebook. I saw you.”

“Those are my confidential medical notes.”

“They're
my
confidential notes. I paid for them. I want them.”

“All right,” he said smoothly. “You can pick them up whenever it's convenient. But in exchange, the least you can do is listen to what I have to say. This isn't about research. I'm offering you a job.”

She gripped the banister and watched Virgil recover another one of his scattered treasures, an amber earring.

“What's the job?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her suspicion.

“Nothing out of your usual line,” he said quickly.

Maybe too quickly.

“You're trying to reassure me,” she said. “That is not a good sign.”

“I'm serious. This is about locating a lost artifact. Hey, you're the Finder, right? Look, I really cannot talk about this on the phone. I'm representing a serious collector. You know what they're like. Paranoid.”

“Since when are you in the antiquities business?”

“He approached me because he found out that you were one of my patients.”

“I wasn't a patient of yours. I paid for a para-psych analysis for genealogical purposes—not because I wanted you to play doctor. And how did this collector find out that I hired you?”

“It's not exactly a secret.”

“Yes, it was a secret. I sure as heck didn't blab it all over the DZ. So who did?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the connection. Then Grady heaved a weary sigh.

“Kelsey is acquainted with this individual. She happened to mention that I am currently working with a patient who has a very high-end talent for dreamlight. She told him that this particular patient is very, very good at finding lost antiquities.”

“Wow. The lovely Kelsey has no respect for confidentiality, either, is that what you're telling me?”

“I assure you, she did not divulge your identity.”

“I am, of course, thrilled to know she's got a few ethics.”

“Look, this collector is willing to pay well for your services.” Grady sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth now. “He contacted me because he had no luck with any of the regular antiquities dealers. He's desperate.”

“And you immediately thought of me.”

“I'm acting as a go-between because I know you are very cautious when it comes to taking new clients,” Grady said. “My professional intuition tells me this guy isn't dangerous but he is definitely eccentric. I thought you would be more comfortable if I brokered the deal, so to speak.”

“Okay, now I get it. Just how much is this collector going to pay you for acting as a go-between?”

“Look, I'll admit this is a big deal for me. The collector has offered to fund some new state-of-the-art equipment for my lab if I can persuade you to help him locate this particular antiquity.”

“So you get some new lab equipment? What do I get?”

“Name your price,” Grady said. “I'll contact him and give him the number. If he agrees to pay it we'll both come out of this with a whole new retirement plan.”

She thought about that while she listened to the muffled sounds of Elias moving around inside her apartment. It was oddly pleasant to have him here, in her home, trashed though it was. The situation wouldn't last forever but for now it was very nice.

However, business was business. With the Coppersmith job concluded, she had to consider the future.

“I'll think about it and get back to you, Grady,” she said.

She started to end the call but he started talking very fast.

“Look, I'll level with you, this guy gave me forty-eight hours to find a dreamlight talent who could do this job. If I don't come through for him he's going to go elsewhere.”

“You mean if you can't deliver me within forty-eight hours you lose your lab equipment.”

On the other end of the connection Grady exhaled heavily. “Yeah, that's pretty much the bottom line here. Just tell me the flat-out truth. Are you interested in this three-way partnership or not?”

“Like I said, I'll think about it and get back to you. I promise to give you my decision within forty-eight hours. Bye, Grady. Got to go.”

“Go where? I thought you just got back.”

“We're home and very tired.”

“You and Coppersmith—?”

“Still married. Can you believe it? At the rate we're going we'll be celebrating our one-week anniversary before you know it.”

“And the sleeping arrangements?” Grady asked cautiously.

“Are none of your damn business.”

“I was only inquiring in a professional capacity.” Grady sounded hurt.

“You want me to tell you what you can do with your so-called professional capacity?”

“Hannah, please. I'm trying to do both of us a favor—”

“Good-bye, Grady.”

She ended the call and went up the stairs. She could tell that Elias was in her bedroom. No man had ever been inside that room. It was odd to realize that Elias was in there right now. He probably expected to sleep in her bed.

It was awkward being tied up in a marriage. Sure, it was only an MC, but it was still a marriage. Somehow the very fact that it was a tacky Marriage of Convenience only seemed to make the situation more troubling. Not that she wanted a Covenant Marriage, of course. She barely knew Elias, after all. It wasn't like they moved in the same social circles. In the Dark Zone you only had two social circles. One consisted of the people you trusted. The other was composed of the people you didn't trust.

But Elias now belonged in the first group, the very small crowd of people she trusted.

She reminded herself that he would probably want to terminate the MC as quickly as possible. There was really only one reason why it had come into existence in the first place. He had wanted to protect her with the power of his family's name. The marriage was a complete fiction, nothing more than a cover story. It had served its purpose.

At the top of the stairs she went down the short hall to the bedroom. Elias had already stripped the bed. He greeted her with a bundle of burglar-contaminated sheets in his arms.

“Not my business,” he said, “but it sounded like you were chatting with that dreamlight researcher.”

“Yeah, that was Grady.” She sighed. “At least I now know why he's been so insistent about trying to get my attention. Turns out his assistant told a collector about my talent and the work I do. The collector knows I only work through referral so he's asked Grady to broker a contract.”

“Does this collector know your identity?”

“No, I don't think so. He probably would have tried to contact me directly if he knew how to find me. I'm a small player in the paranormal antiquities world.”