Obsidian Prey (17 page)

THE SMELL OF COFFEE, TOAST, AND SCRAMBLED EGGS greeted her when she emerged from the shower. The knowledge that Cruz did not believe that she was crazy was such an overwhelming relief she actually felt a little giddy.

She dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt out of the closet, she dressed quickly and went out into the main room, barefoot.

Vincent was at his favorite observation post on top of the refrigerator, supervising. The red beret was tilted at a rakish angle. He had a piece of toast slathered with peanut butter in one paw. There was more peanut butter on his fur. He chortled a greeting and bounced a little when he saw her.

She winced at the sight of the peanut butter. “Looks like I’m going to be doing a little hand laundry after breakfast. Do you know how hard it is to get peanut butter out of dust bunny fur? It’s almost as bad as paint.”

“Sorry, didn’t think about that problem,” Cruz said. He scraped eggs onto the two plates he had set on the counter. “I’ll run him under the faucet when I do the dishes.”

“He loves that. I’ll warn you right now you’re going to have water all over the floor before you’re finished.”

Cruz set the pan down and added several slices of toast to the plates. “Maybe I’ll stick him in the shower, instead.”

“That works.”

He put a plate down in front of her. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Your schedule.”

She sat down at the counter. “What about it?”

“Given events last night, you’re going to have to put your usual routine on hold until I find out who is trying to set you up,” he said. He sat down beside her.

“You mean close my shop? I can’t do that. I’ve got a business to run. It isn’t Amber Inc., but it pays the bills. Barely. Besides, today I have a real VIP client. The biggest one I’ve had since, well, since I thought you were a real client.”

“Don’t worry about the financial side of things. AI will take care of any lost income.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, but this isn’t about lost income. This is about trying to get the antiquities consulting side of my business off the ground. I absolutely cannot cancel on this new client. This is my chance at the big time.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe, Lyra.”

“I understand. But let’s think this thing through. Whoever is behind this doesn’t want me dead or disappeared. It would ruin his plan to frame me, right? Last night, those two men were after you, not me. One of them shouted something about not hurting the woman. It was you they were trying to kill. You’re the one who needs protection.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I noticed that last night.”

“I’ve got work to do,” Cruz said. “I can’t stay with you at all times.”

“Of course you can’t,” she said encouragingly. “And it’s not necessary. Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

“If you’re going to be stubborn about this, I’ll assign someone to keep an eye on you.”

She exhaled, resigned. “I knew you would be difficult. What am I supposed to do with a bodyguard? It will look strange to my clients.”

“Call him your assistant.” He ate some eggs. “About your afternoon appointment.”

She slanted him a wary glance. “What about it?”

“You said the client was important. Anyone I know?”

This was going to be awkward. “I’m sure you’ve met him,” she said coolly. “You and Wilson Revere both grew up in the amber business.”

A dangerous stillness came over Cruz. “Wilson Revere as in the head of RezStone?”

“Uh-huh.” She ate some eggs in an attempt to pretend that she did not sense the new, dangerous tension simmering in his aura. “He contacted me yesterday. He was looking for someone to evaluate a piece of amethyst amber that he plans to bid on at an auction at the Fairstead Gallery today. He hired me to attend the auction with him.”

“You do realize that Revere’s company is AI’s biggest competitor.”

“Of course.” She kept her tone even. “Common knowledge.”

“Given that fact and the timing, it has probably occurred to you that he may have heard some rumors about the missing relic and wants to know what the hell is going on. He plans to pump you for information.”

“That did occur to me,” she admitted. “It is also possible that he really does need me to help him evaluate a specimen of amethyst. As you may have heard recently, there aren’t a lot of tuners around who can work purple amber. The Fairstead Gallery is known for the quality of its raw amber specimens, and I’ve heard Wilson is an extremely passionate collector.”

“Wilson?” Cruz repeated in ominous tones.

“He insisted I use his first name. He’s very casual, very laid-back for such a wealthy, powerful man.”

“Wilson Revere would do anything to take down Amber Inc.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she said lightly. “But I’m not particularly interested in the corporate infighting between the two major amber monopolies. I’m just trying to fire up my career as a consultant. Besides, it’s probably your fault that he called me.”

“
My
fault?”

“You’re the one who had the Amber Inc. PR department identify me to the media as an antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele.”

“Pay attention, Lyra. You can’t trust Revere any farther than you can walk in the catacombs or the jungle without good amber. He’s using you.”

“He sure is,” she agreed. “He’s using me to assess a chunk of amethyst for his collection.”

“I know this guy. Believe me when I tell you that he has an agenda.”

“No offense, Cruz, but you’re starting to sound just the teensiest bit paranoid.”

“You know the old saying: even paranoids have enemies.”

“What is with RezStone and AI, anyway? I know you’re business competitors, but the executives of most rival firms are usually capable of a modicum of civilized behavior. At least in public.”

Cruz smiled his hit man smile. “We’re polite in public. But we Sweetwaters have a saying: never turn your back on anyone from RezStone.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a tough outfit,” Cruz said. “You don’t get into the top echelons unless you’re willing to cross a few lines. The Revere family has had a reputation for being ruthless for the past fifty years. People who stand in the company’s path have a habit of disappearing.”

It took her a few seconds to get her mouth closed. “Are you seriously telling me that RezStone actually kills off people who get in its way?”

“Like I said, there are rumors.”

She smiled. “Possibly propagated by Amber Inc.?”

He ignored that. “Revere doesn’t hesitate to dabble in Guild politics, either. At the moment, it’s no secret that he has a keen interest in getting one of his pals on the Frequency council elected as the new boss of the local Guild.”

“Gosh. And the Sweetwaters have no interest whatsoever in making sure that the new Guild boss is a good friend of Amber Inc.?”

“Your cynical side is showing again. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to get involved with Wilson Revere.”

She lowered her fork and twisted on the stool to face him. “Cruz, there’s something you need to understand here. I already am involved with Wilson Revere.”

She knew at once she had chosen her words badly. Cruz made no overt move, but his eyes went obsidian dark and hard. Green fire sparked in the depths. She felt energy pulse in the atmosphere. The hair lifted on the nape of her neck.

“Professionally speaking,” she tacked on hurriedly.

Cruz nodded once, relaxing fractionally. “That’s far enough.”

It infuriated her that she felt the need to explain her relationship with Wilson Revere. She could not let Cruz Sweetwater ride roughshod over her life again. This time they would do things on her terms or not at all.

“Furthermore,” she said, trying to sound cool and confident; a woman who lived by her own rules, “I intend to remain professionally involved with Wilson Revere as long as he is willing to hire me to consult for him.”

“Damn it, Lyra—”

“Give me a little credit here. I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m doing. Revere may have come to me originally to see if he could use me against you. But he and I are doing business together today, and I am going to do my best to impress him with my knowledge and affinity for amber. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I need the business. I went broke trying to sue Amber Inc. Consulting for Wilson Revere is going to go a long way toward getting me back on my feet.”

“You should have taken the compensation AI offered you for the ruin, and you know it.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Cruz demanded.

“Because it would have meant acknowledging that AI had a right to do what it did. I won’t do that. Not ever.”

“You are one stubborn woman, Lyra.”

“I’m a Dore. We do stubborn.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Who told you?”

“My grandfather.”

VINCENT WAS SWIPING BROAD, EMPHATIC STROKES OF bright, cheerful magenta onto a canvas when Gloria Ray walked into the little shop. At the sight of her he abandoned his rez-brush and bounced up onto the counter to greet her.

“Hello, handsome,” Gloria said. She leaned over the counter to give the canvas an admiring glance. “Nice picture. Red is my favorite color.”

Vincent chortled hopefully and batted at the shiny bits of bling that decorated Gloria’s handbag.

“Don’t worry,” Gloria said. “I didn’t forget you. I never forget a good-looking guy.”

She took a small white sack out of the designer handbag, removed a cookie, and gave it to Vincent. He thanked her in his dust bunny fashion and fell to munching with polite greed.

Gloria smiled radiantly at the young man lounging on the end of the counter.

“You’re new,” she purred. “And you’re cute. Want a cookie?”

There was nothing personal about the purring or the smile. Gloria always purred and glowed when she was speaking to a member of the male gender. Lyra was pretty sure it was some kind of psychic talent. Men certainly responded.

“Temporary help,” Lyra said briskly. “Been a little busy lately. This is Jeff. Jeff, this is Miss Ray. She’s one of my best customers.”

“Hello, Jeff,” Gloria said in her sultry tones.

Jeff reddened. “How do you do, Miss Ray.”

He
was
cute, Lyra thought, tall and lean and endowed with the predatory grace that seemed to be a hallmark of the men on Cruz’s family tree. He was also young, no more than twenty-two or twenty-three. He reminded her of the younger brother she’d never had.

“Do you have a talent for tuning?” Gloria asked Jeff, looking him up and down in a blatantly appraising manner.

Jeff turned a darker shade of red. “No, ma’am. Miss Dore hired me to take care of paperwork and the packing and shipping of the mail-order stuff.”

Gloria smiled. “I’m glad to see she has such excellent taste in employees.”

Jeff might have been a tough, highly trained bodyguard, but no one had prepared him for Gloria Ray. He looked as if he wanted to sink down through the floor of the shop into the tunnels below.

Lyra took pity on him.

“What can I do for you, Gloria?” she said.

Gloria studied Lyra with a knowing expression. “I have a new piece that I want tuned. By the way, I saw your picture in the papers. You were with Cruz Sweetwater. Is that good news or bad news, honey?”

“It wasn’t news at all,” Lyra said firmly. “It was business.”

“Of course it was.” Gloria smiled, her heavily made-up eyes gleaming with cool speculation. A lot of people—including, no doubt, her current lover, a powerful member of the Frequency Guild Council—took her at face value. They assumed that she was nothing more than the fluff-brained, big-bosomed, big-haired blonde bimbo she appeared to be.

The bosom and the hair might be seriously enhanced, but Lyra had dealt with Gloria often enough to know that her IQ was a lot higher than most people gave her credit for, certainly higher than that of her Councilman lover. She was also a woman of talent, although she went to great lengths to pretend otherwise.

There was a saying among professional amber tuners: “Only your tuner knows for sure.” Tuned amber—like a finely tuned musical instrument—did not remain clear indefinitely. Over time and with use it gradually blurred and lost its focusing power. It eventually required retuning to restore maximum efficiency. Generally speaking, a properly tuned stone lasted the average user for several months, sometimes as long as a year.

But those who generated a lot of energy burned through their amber much more rapidly. Gloria was a frequent customer of Lyra’s, bringing one or more pieces of tuned amber in for retuning every few weeks. That meant that she was a lot stronger than most people were aware.

As was common with a lot of above-average talents, Gloria preferred to keep her personal paranormal assets confidential. Like all smart, professional tuners, Lyra was always discreet about such matters. There was no quicker way to lose a client than to gossip about his or her psychic range. Those who generated the least wattage were always trying to make it appear that they were stronger. At the other end of the spectrum, the strong ones usually wanted to conceal their true power levels as well as the exact nature of their talents.