Obsidian Prey (11 page)

“We sure as hell know one person who could have closed that entrance, don’t we? And she had a motive. Revenge. Where was Lyra Dore when the chamber locked up?”

“I don’t know,” Cruz admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. She didn’t sabotage the ruin.”

“Maybe she figured out how to set some kind of time-delayed trap before she turned over control of the chamber,” Jake mused.

“No,” Cruz said. “Lyra is pissed at AI, but she would never have put lives at risk for the sake of a little vengeance.”

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“You know why I’m sure.”

Jake exhaled heavily. “Face it, you were wrong about her. She’s not the right woman for you.”

“Yes,” Cruz said quietly, “she is.”

“Damn it, if she were the right woman, you wouldn’t be in this situation. She’s playing you.”

“Things got complicated three months ago. My fault. She doesn’t trust me now. I need to change that.”

“What you need to do is your job. Find out what she’s hiding from us.”

Jake ended the connection.

Cruz looked at the dead phone in his hand. “Hate to tell you this, Big Jake, but I’ve got other priorities.”

“FORGIVE ME FOR SPEAKING OF PERSONAL MATTERS, Lyra.” Master Quinn smiled his gentle smile. “I cannot help but notice that you seem increasingly uncentered lately. I sense that something is making it difficult for you to find the harmonic balance within.”

The last of the meditation students was leaving the studio. Lyra finished rolling up her mat and stuffed it into her gym bag.

“I know I haven’t been a great student,” she said. “I can’t seem to concentrate properly. Things have been somewhat hectic lately.”

Quinn nodded somberly. “I saw the morning papers. The head of Amber Inc. Security asked you to assist in a rescue mission at the ruin that you discovered a few months ago. I’m surprised you agreed to help.”

“Not like I had much choice.” She crouched to zip up the bag. “There were several people trapped inside. Amber Inc. didn’t have anyone else available who could de-rez the entrance.”

“I understand. It was a generous and charitable action on your part. But I suspect that now that AI knows that you are the only one they can call on to work that amethyst amber, they will request more and more assistance from you.”

“They can ask, but my answer will be no.”

“I hope for your sake that you will find the strength to refuse.”

The concern in his quiet voice startled her. She rose slowly to her feet.

“Why do you say that?”

He did not respond immediately. Instead, he watched her for a long moment. She wondered uneasily what he saw.

“I hesitate to say anything more,” he said finally. “It is not my place. My job is to provide guidance to you as you seek balance and harmony in your life. But you are my student, and I have a responsibility toward you. I feel I must warn you.”

A chill swept through her not unlike the sensation she got when one of the nightmares struck. She gripped the handle of the gym bag tightly.

“If you intend to warn me not to get any more involved with Amber Inc., don’t worry,” she said. “I realize that would be asking for trouble.”

“It is not just your renewed association with Cruz Sweetwater and his family firm that makes me uneasy.” Quinn walked to the high windows on one wall of the studio. He clasped his hands behind his back and contemplated the view of the Dead City wall. “It is the escalating energy of disharmony I perceive in your aura that worries me. Once again I apologize for intruding, but are you feeling well, Lyra?”

She was afraid to breathe. If Quinn could sense that something was happening to her, something that affected her mind and her perception of reality, maybe she had an even bigger problem than she thought. But damned if she would admit it to anyone, including Quinn. At least, not yet. There was still a possibility that she was just suffering from stress.
Also an excellent possibility that I’m in complete denial,
she thought.

But she could not get past the fact that, except for those harrowing moments when the nightmares enveloped her, she felt normal. Well, as normal as she ever had. Of course, crazy people usually thought they were normal, too.
Take Grandpa, for instance,
she thought sadly.

Arthur Dore had spent his last years obsessed with finding various and assorted legendary lost amber claims. He had spent all of his money on phony treasure maps and fake journals purporting to contain the secret locations of fabled mines of rare and exotic amber. In the end he had died penniless. She had been the only one at his bedside. She’d had to dig into her own small savings account to pay for the funeral.

Her grandfather had been a gruff, disappointed, unhappy man, but in his own way, he had loved her. And he had taught her a few things, one of which was the importance of keeping her secrets.

“I’m all right, Master Quinn,” she said politely. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m in excellent health. Really.”

“I was not referring to your physical health.” Quinn did not take his eyes off the emerald towers. “It is the state of your psychic well-being that worries me. I can see that you do not wish to discuss it, and that is most certainly your prerogative. But I sense that whatever is going on within you is linked to your talent. The harmonic imbalance in your aura this morning is worse than usual.”

“Please don’t worry about me, sir.”

“Have you considered the possibility that working that amethyst amber last night might have exacerbated the problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she said briskly. “I’m just a little tired and stressed out. Got home late. Didn’t get enough sleep. Didn’t have time for breakfast. What with one thing and another, I probably am out of whack this morning, harmonically speaking. Nothing another cup of strong coffee can’t fix.”

He turned back to her, his expression serene, as always. He smiled his wise smile again. “You owe me no explanations or apologies. I have said enough. You are entitled to your privacy. I will merely add that if you ever decide that you need some guidance of a more private nature than what I can offer in a group class, I hope you will feel that you can come to me.”

The hair lifted on the nape of her neck.

“Uh, thank you,” she said.

Good grief. Was Master Quinn suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? Was he coming on to her?

No, of course not. It was just her imagination. He was a Harmonic Meditation guru, for goodness’ sake.

That was the problem with having once been burned by a Sweetwater. You started seeing every man as a potential fire hazard.

Clutching the gym bag, she hurried out the door and down the stairs.

AN HOUR LATER , DRESSED FOR WORK, VINCENT PERCHED on her shoulder, Lyra kicked the back door of the Halifax Gallery three times with the toe of her black business pump. Knocking was out of the question, because it took both hands to hold on to the package she was carrying.

Nancy opened the door immediately and leaned out to look both ways, checking to see that the alley was empty. Satisfied, she smiled at the sight of Lyra clutching the blanket-wrapped object.

“Oh, good,” she said. “It’s a big one this time.”

“You told me you wanted them larger.”

“Size matters to my clients.”

“Give me a hand,” Lyra said. “This thing is heavy.”

“Right. I’ll take this end.” Nancy moved out onto the bottom step and grasped one side of the package. “Ugh. You’re right, it weighs a ton. I can’t believe you carried it six blocks.”

“Through back alleys, no less.”

“Why didn’t you just put it into your car and drive it over here?”

“You know I’m trying to walk more these days.”

“Yes, but this is ridiculous.” Nancy angled the package through the door. “By the way, I assume you know you’re on the front page of both the
Herald
and the
Current
today? Also on the morning rez-screen news?”

“Just like old times. At least Vincent looked adorable.”

They got the package inside the back room. Vincent hopped down from Lyra’s shoulder and scurried to the top of the small refrigerator, where Nancy kept a plate of cookies for him.

“So that was the real reason Cruz Sweetwater showed up at the reception last night?” Nancy studied Lyra closely. “He needed you to rescue that team?”

“Yes, but he claimed that was just unfortunate timing. He said he was planning to call me, anyway, because he wants another chance.” Lyra winced. “What are the odds?”

“I knew it.” Nancy lit up with excitement. “I told you he’d be back one of these days. You said yourself that from his point of view he was just doing his job three months ago. You have to admit you were in danger. Those antiquities gangs are utterly ruthless. If one of them had found out about that ruin, you would have been jungle plant food by now.”

“Thanks for that visual.”

“I gotta tell you, I was scared to death that whole time you were trying to move those relics on the underground market. It was sort of a relief when your first client turned out to be an undercover agent from Amber Inc. Security. So where do things stand now?”

“He asked me out to dinner tonight.”

“You said yes, I hope?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Lyra said.

“Oh, that’s real decisive. Don’t be an idiot. Where’s the harm in a dinner date? If nothing else, you’ll get a free meal out of the deal, and it will probably be a very, very expensive meal. It’s not much in the way of pay-back, but it’s better than nothing.”

“There is that. But it turns out the AI lab still hasn’t been able to locate anyone who can rez amethyst amber.”

Nancy’s enthusiasm faded. “In other words, you think Cruz Sweetwater may have ulterior motives for asking you out to dinner?”

“I’d say that’s a distinct possibility, yes.”

“Damn.” Nancy wrinkled her nose. “And here I was thinking that we were going to be looking at a happy ending after all.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

They lowered the package onto the wooden surface of a wide workbench.

“I still say you should have dinner with the guy,” Nancy said. “Give him a chance. At the very least, being seen with him will be good for your career.”

“Hmm. Hadn’t considered that angle.”

“Are you kidding?” Nancy grinned. “You’re already famous again this morning, thanks to Cruz. Didn’t you read any of the stories in the papers?” She nodded toward the copy of the
Herald
lying on a nearby table. “They called you a private antiquities consultant who caters to an exclusive clientele.”

“I noticed. Twelve weeks ago I was just a shady amber tuner, as far as the press was concerned.”

“You’ve been upgraded,” Nancy said. “Of course, they also implied that the reason you dropped the lawsuit was because you’re having a secret affair with Sweetwater.”

“Those rumors will only get worse if I go out to dinner with him.”

“So what? Beats sitting at home every night the way you’ve been doing.”

“Maybe.”

Lyra undid the ties that secured the wrappings and pulled the old blanket aside. Nancy studied the painting, hands on her hips. She smiled slowly.

“What do you think?” Lyra asked.

“I think it’s another Chimera original, and it will sell in a minute. Mr. Anonymous will snatch it up instantly, just like he did the others, if I give him the opportunity. But you know, I’m starting to think it might be time to go for an auction.”

“I’m not so sure,” Lyra said. “An auction will attract the press.”

“There are already rumors about the mysterious Chimera circulating in the art world. It’s great PR.”

“Yes, but too much attention could ruin us. You told me that critic at the
Herald
has been pestering you recently for details on the new artist in your gallery. What if he decides to do some investigating?”