Obsidian Prey (33 page)

They were in the main sales room of the Halifax Gallery. She and Nancy were rushing through the last-minute preparations for the auction, setting out the hors d’oeuvres and napkins. Vincent was on the counter eating some of the cookies that had been intended for the attendees.

Cruz and Jeff lounged against the counter on either side of Vincent. They had recovered Quinn’s body and hauled it back to the surface, where they had quietly summoned the forces of Amber Inc. Security to make things go away. Quinn’s death would be attributed to a stroke, according to Cruz. Lyra did not doubt him.

“It all started with that damn amethyst ruin,” she grumbled. She arranged neat rows of champagne flutes on the buffet table. “I swear, everything went wrong after I found it. The Dore luck struck again.”

There was a stark silence behind her. She turned and realized they were all looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

Cruz cleared his throat. “Well, you and I met because of the ruin, and I like to think that wasn’t all bad luck.”

She glowered. “You know what I mean. If I hadn’t discovered that ruin, I would never have ended up in Quinn’s Harmonic Meditation class. He wouldn’t have started stalking me and sending those purple orchids.”

Nancy fanned out some napkins. “You have to admit, the flowers were beautiful. Very pricey, those amethyst orchids.”

Lyra shuddered. “I never want to see another purple orchid as long as I live.”

“The problem was that we had two things happening at the same time,” Cruz said. “The theft of the artifact and Quinn trying to make Lyra think she was going mad so that she would turn to him as her savior.”

“But she never went that route,” Nancy said. “She was too strong-willed. I’m the one with the weak mind. I can’t believe that bastard put me into a trance and questioned me about the artifacts without me even knowing it. I still can’t remember the incident.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jeff said. “I pulled the Society’s ancestry records on Quinn. He comes from a long line of powerful and very unstable psychic hypnotists and illusions talents. The only reason Lyra was able to resist his attempt to put her into a deep trance was because her affinity for amethyst gave her some limited immunity to his talent. But even she couldn’t escape the hallucinations he induced.”

“Neither could I,” Cruz added. “So don’t blame yourself.”

Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Well, I guess that does make me feel a little better. I mean, if even a Sweetwater had a few problems fending off Quinn, I can accept the fact that I allowed myself to get hypnotized and spilled my best friend’s secrets.” She looked at Lyra. “Good thing you never gave me the coordinates of that chamber where you stashed the pyramids. I’d have blabbed those, too.”

“Wouldn’t have made any difference.” Lyra stepped back to admire the array of glassware. “One way or another, he needed me to tune the stones.”

Cruz looked at her. “What do you think happened there at the end?”

“I think that I was right all along,” she said, straightening a plate of canapés. “The pyramid stones were some sort of psychic art form, just as the other objects that came out of the ruin are, but on a grander, more powerful scale.”

Nancy picked up a tray of tea sandwiches. “A whole symphony orchestra for the psi senses instead of a single violin?”

“Exactly,” Lyra replied. “The tremendous power of the pyramid stones may have been no big deal to the aliens. The equivalent of going to a rock concert, maybe. They were clearly more adapted to the psychic side of their natures than we are to ours. But for a human, the performance was literally overwhelming.”

“Why the explosion of psi energy there at the end?” Cruz asked. “Why didn’t the currents from the pyramid simply zap Quinn’s senses? Instead, all three pyramids were destroyed.”

She looked at him across the row of champagne bottles. “He wanted my special service. He insisted that the pyramid stones be tuned to his personal wavelengths. I gave him what he wanted. But he could not channel so much energy. No human could. The wavelengths rebounded back into the stones and overloaded them.”

Cruz smiled slowly, a feral smile that said more than words ever could. “You set a trap, and he fell into it.”

She swallowed hard. “I tried to warn him that the stones were dangerous, but he refused to believe me.”

Jeff frowned. “But how did you know what would happen when you tuned the pyramids for him?”

“I couldn’t be absolutely certain of the outcome,” she admitted. She looked down at the plate of canapés she had put on the table. “I’d never actually tuned one of the pyramids before. But I’d experimented a little with them, and I had a sense of how the currents in the stones would react if they were channeled into a human mind.”

“Well, that does solve the problem of what to do with the three pyramid stones,” Cruz said. “They’re just so much pretty amethyst now. Good for nothing more than making jewelry.”

“But there may be others,” Lyra said. “Quinn kept talking about his grandmother’s journal. Evidently she believed there might be a number of pyramids.”

“We’ll deal with that problem if and when it arises,” Cruz said. “Right now you and Nancy have an auction to run.”

Jeff looked at the three paintings hanging on the wall. “Those are the pictures that you’re putting on the block tonight?”

“That’s right,” Nancy said. “They’re by a very hot new artist named Chimera. I’m expecting all three to go for top dollar.”

“Huh,” Jeff said. “If you ask me, Vincent can paint as good as that Chimera guy.”

Cruz studied the paintings. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Lyra exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Nancy. Some things were a little too complicated to explain in a short period of time, especially to a couple of men who were in the security business. In addition, there was no way to know quite how Cruz and Jeff would view the facts of the situation, given the strict Sweetwater code.

She put on a breezy smile.

“That only goes to show how much you two know about modern art,” she said. “It’s all in the eye of the beholder, remember?”

“A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLAR S.” LYRA TUCKED VINCENT under one arm and drew her key out of her small black clutch. “I still can’t believe it. A hundred grand for those three pictures, thanks to Mr. Anonymous. That dear, sweet man. I can’t believe the way he kept upping the bid on the phone.”

Cruz took the key from her to unlock her door. “Nothing like auction fever setting in to drive up the price.”

“I know, but one hundred thousand hot smackaroos,” she said, unable to contain her glee. “Nancy didn’t think she’d get anywhere near that much for the pictures. Do you realize what this means?”

Nancy had been giddy after the auction. Jeff had invited her to a nearby tavern for a celebratory drink. She had not needed a second invitation.

“There’s a standard split at art auctions,” Cruz said. “A certain percentage goes to the seller, in this case, the artist. The gallery takes a hefty commission.”

“Right, the artist.” Lyra kissed Vincent’s furry little head and plopped him on her shoulder. “He gets his cut, of course.”
As many cookies as he wants for the rest of his life,
she thought. She moved briskly through the doorway. “But Nancy and I are splitting the commission, since I’m the one who introduced the artist to her. My share will be more than enough to pay off that dumb-ass lawyer. I’ll even have enough left over to get my car fixed, pay off my debts, and buy some new furniture.”

Cruz followed her through the doorway. “Let the good times roll.”

He sounded amused. She rezzed a light and turned to look at him. He had worn formal black for the auction, once again the well-dressed assassin. His presence had been quickly noted by the other attendees.

“It was very kind of you to make that first bid,” Lyra said. “It gave the whole event a lot of cachet. Once the others knew a Sweetwater was interested, they couldn’t wait to start bidding.”

“Glad I could get things rolling.” He shrugged out of his black jacket and dropped it over the back of the reading chair the way he always did. Making himself at home. “Is there any of my Amber Dew left?” he asked, unknotting his tie.

A frisson of intimacy flickered across her senses. Once again they were acting like any other intimate couple after an evening out, although this particular evening out had begun with getting kidnapped by a crazy guru.

Given all the excitement, she should have anticipated that Cruz would insist on sticking around for the main event, the auction. His presence had made both Nancy and her nervous at first, in spite of the beneficial effect on the bidding. But after a while it became clear that he did not recognize the three paintings as Vincent’s work. That was modern art for you, she thought happily. No one could tell the difference between a picture done by a human artist and one done by a dust bunny.

“I think of it as
my
Amber Dew, but the answer is yes,” she said lightly. She set Vincent on the counter, opened the lid of the quartz jar, and took out a cookie. She gave the treat to Vincent and then headed for the bedroom to slip off her heels. “I wonder who he is,” she said through the opaque screens.

A cupboard door opened in the kitchen. Glasses clinked.

“Who?” Cruz asked.

“The anonymous bidder.” She walked out of the bedroom barefoot. “The one who got the three paintings.”

Cruz came around the counter and handed one of the glasses to her. “Obviously someone who has expensive taste in modern art.”

She raised her glass. “Here’s to Mr. Anonymous. May he continue to collect modern art for decades to come.”

Cruz touched his glass to hers. “To Chimera.”

She managed, just barely, to avoid glancing at Vincent.

“To Chimera,” she said smoothly. She raised the glass to her lips.

“And to us,” Cruz added before she could take a sip.

She hesitated, searching for any and all possible traps. But, really, where was the harm in acknowledging their affair?

“Okay,” she said.

“Nothing like a little enthusiasm in a woman,” Cruz said.

She smiled. “To us.”

They each took a sip. Cruz touched her lips with one finger.

“You are one of the gutsiest people I’ve ever met,” he said gently. “Why are you so afraid of what’s between us?”

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “Oops. Almost forgot. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do ever since we got out of the tunnels this afternoon.”

She put the glass of Amber Dew on the counter, crossed the room to the coffee table, and picked up the vase of purple orchids.

“What are you going to do with those?” Cruz asked.

“Dump them in the garbage.” She went into the kitchen and used the foot pedal to raise the lid of the trash can. She crammed the orchids inside and let the lid slam closed. “So much for modern romance.”

“Quinn really called you his chosen bride?”

“Oh, yeah. Said we were destined to rule together with the power of the pyramids, or something quaint along those lines.” She picked up her glass and went back across the room to the sofa. She sat down and propped her bare feet on the coffee table. “But you came back and ruined everything. Don’t you dare laugh.”

“Believe me, I’m not laughing. Got a hunch the bastard was going to kill you after you tuned the stones for him, though. I could feel his intent when I saw him with you in the chamber.”

“Sadly, it turned out that I wasn’t quite what he wanted in the way of a bride.”

Cruz crossed the room and sank down beside her. “You’re everything I want.”

A shiver went through her.

“Cruz—”

“You are afraid to give us a second chance. Admit it.”

She drank some of the liqueur. “The Dore luck, you know. Just can’t depend on it.”

His jaw tightened. “The Sweetwater luck doesn’t seem to be working real well at the moment, either.”

She stopped smiling. “Did you really think it would be that easy, Cruz?”

“No, I knew there would be a price to pay. I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t been prepared to pay it.” He contemplated the liquid in his glass. “Which reminds me, I think the time has come to tell you a little more about my family.”

She chuckled. “Okay, now you’re starting to make me really nervous.”

He did not say anything. Instead, he removed his shoes and put his feet up on the table beside hers.

She looked down and noticed the bottom edge of the leather knife sheath showing just below the cuff of his trousers. Her mouth went dry.

“And exactly why do you feel it necessary to have this conversation?” she asked.

“I’m serious about us. You and me. I’m hoping for a future together. That means you have a right to know everything.”

“Is this some more of the dark family secret thing?” she asked warily.