The Hot Zone (A Rainshadow Novel Book 3) (5 page)

There was another round of respectful
“Yes, sir.”

Cyrus turned his back on the crowd and walked across the room to where Sedona waited. He handed Lyle to her. Lyle chuffed contently a few times and settled down on her shoulder.

“May I please have the key to my cottage now?” Cyrus said.

Knox came out from behind the bar and made his way to where Sedona and Cyrus stood. “Give the man his room key, Sedona,” he said. He beamed at Cyrus and offered his hand. “Welcome to Rainshadow, Mr. Jones. Name’s Knox. I’m the owner of this here establishment. Proud to have you and your men amongst our clientele.”

“Thanks,” Cyrus said, shaking his hand. “Call me Cyrus.”

“You bet. We don’t stand on formality here on the island.” Knox peered at Sedona over the rims of his glasses. “Tell you what, why don’t you show Cyrus to Graveyard Cottage while I close down the bar? I can handle things here. Time you went home, anyway.”

“I’m sure Mr. Jones can find the cottage by himself,” Sedona said. “He’s a Guild boss, after all. I’ll just aim him in the right direction.”

Cyrus raised his brows but he did not say anything.

“Nah, it’s a little hard to find,” Knox said. He smiled broadly at Cyrus. “On account of it’s sort of hidden in the trees. We don’t use it much, but we got it cleaned up when we realized that there would be a lot of hunters descending on Rainshadow. Didn’t know Sedona had held it until it was the last available room, though. Tell you what, why don’t I have her shift a couple of the hunters around so that we can get you into one of the nicer cottages?”

Cyrus looked at Sedona. “That won’t be necessary. Graveyard Cottage sounds like it will guarantee me some privacy.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem with privacy out there at the cemetery,” Knox said. He looked at Sedona. “Get the man his key, honey. It’s a long, hard trip here to Rainshadow. Expect Mr. Jones wants to get some sleep tonight.”

“Right,” Sedona said.

Grimly aware that she was flushing an unbecoming shade of pink, she crossed the lobby. Rounding the counter, she snagged the last key off the hook on the board, and bent down to retrieve two flashlights from under the computer. She straightened and tossed one of the flashlights in Cyrus’s general direction. He caught it as easily as he had snagged Lyle out of midair a short time earlier.

Cyrus examined the flashlight with interest. “I’m going to need one of these to find my way home at night?”

She did not like the casual manner in which he used the word
home
. It made it sound like he would be hanging around for a while. Which was certainly true, she reminded herself. Like it or not, there was now an official Guild presence on the island and it wasn’t going to go away. But with luck, Cyrus would soon find himself permanent housing.

“There aren’t any streetlights out by the cemetery,” Knox explained. “Actually, we’ve only got a couple on the island. One is over at the police station and the other is down at the marina.”

“I won’t need your flashlight,” Cyrus said. He put the one Sedona had given him on the counter and unclipped the one on his belt. “I’ve got my own.”

Knox chuckled. “That’s a Guild man for you. Always prepared.”

Cyrus gave Sedona a thoughtful look. “So, no streetlights and a view of the graveyard. Sounds perfect for me.”

“Oh, yeah.” She managed another sparkling smile. “I’m sure you’ll find Graveyard Cottage a delightful, luxurious retreat from the stress of your daily routine.”

Cyrus aimed the flashlight at the weathered sign over the stone gates that guarded the graveyard.
SHADOW BAY CEMETERY
. An old-fashioned wrought-iron fence surrounded an assortment of weed-studded, overgrown grave markers.

One of the gravesites was fenced off with what looked like a mag-steel cage. It was deep inside the cemetery grounds, but he could have sworn he felt a whisper of Alien psi leaking out of it.

“Is that Graveyard Cottage?” Cyrus asked. “Am I going to be sleeping in an open grave?”

“I did try to warn you that the accommodations were a little rough,” Sedona said.

Amused by her excruciatingly polite tone, he jacked up his senses a little. For a couple of heartbeats he allowed himself to indulge in the dangerous, reckless, intensely sexual thrill he got just from being so close to her.

He had been damned curious to meet her but he had not anticipated the hot vibe of sensual awareness that had ripped through him the moment he entered the lobby of Knox’s Resort & Tavern. The rush was much more powerful now that she was standing within arm’s reach.

Probably just the raw heat of attraction, he warned himself, jacked up by the fact that she was a strong talent of some kind. Add the factors of night, a nearly full moon, and the edgy vibes that emanated from the very heart of the island, and you got a mix that was highly combustible—at least on his end of the connection. All he had detected from Sedona thus far was a cool, wary watchfulness, however.

It was her possible para-psych profile that he had been warned about, but now that he was close to her he could not summon up any serious degree of caution. Just the opposite, he thought. He wanted to take risks with Sedona Snow.

There was a photo of her in the file that he had read before leaving for Rainshadow. The picture had failed utterly to capture the mysterious aura and the possibly dangerous allure of the woman, Cyrus thought. She wore her shoulder-length near-black hair in a severely elegant knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were the color of molten amber, hinting at the talent beneath the surface. Her delicate features were etched by intelligence, a fierce independence, and bone-deep determination—not cookie-cutter, fashion-runway beauty. This was a woman who came to a man on her own terms—if she came to him at all.

The dust bunny on her shoulder somehow went with the total package, he thought. He was walking through the night with a very interesting little witch and her familiar. A man was entitled to a few fantasies. It was Halloween Week after all.

“Relax, Mr. Jones, no need to sleep in a grave,” Sedona said. “You’ll have a real bed. Your cottage is over there in the woods.”

He glanced back through the cemetery gates. “I assume that steel cage is protecting the entrance to the Underworld?”

“Yep, that’s the gravesite of an early resident of the island, William Bainbridge. At least, everyone assumed it was his grave until a couple of months ago when it turned out that it was actually a hole-in-the-wall entrance to the catacombs. The Rainshadow Foundation installed a new, high-tech psi-and-steel fence to keep people from trying to go below.”

“Has it worked?” Cyrus asked.

“About as well as any fence works. You know how it is. There are always thrill-seekers, treasure-hunters, and kids who can’t resist a
Keep Out
sign. The theory that there may be genuine monsters wandering around down in the catacombs has proven to be a more effective deterrent than the cage.”

“I saw the photos of the two half-eaten carcasses.”

“The research team from the Foundation has concluded that something new has been added to the ecological mix inside the Preserve,” she said. “But they haven’t been able to figure out what’s going on. The only viable explanation so far is that the recent violent storms here on Rainshadow opened up another entrance into the Underworld somewhere deep inside the fence. The creatures certainly haven’t been using Bainbridge’s grave. Someone would have noticed, trust me.”

“But there have been no reliable sightings of live monsters according to the file.”

“No,” Sedona said. “The researchers have a theory about that, too. They think that the creatures can emerge only at night when the psi levels are highest inside the Preserve. The experts don’t think that the monsters can handle daylight, not even inside the psi-fence. They were obviously evolved to live in a heavy-psi environment. Everyone seems fairly certain that the creatures can’t come out of the Preserve, either.”

“It’s always dangerous to make assumptions when it comes to things that go bump in the night in the Underworld.”

“Tell me about it,” Sedona said.

Each word was etched in ice, Cyrus noted. Interesting.

“As I understand it, all the researchers have to go on so far are two half-gnawed carcasses,” he said.

“Right. The Foundation people managed to retrieve them. They’d both been pretty well mangled, first by whatever killed them and then by the critters that live inside the Preserve.”

“And everyone is sure that there were never any sightings before the recent storm activity here on Rainshadow?”

“Well, that is a matter of opinion,” Sedona said. “The thing is, people have been seeing things inside the Preserve ever since the first explorers landed on the island. For years people who manage to crash through the fence have stumbled back out—if they got back out at all—in a dazed, disoriented condition. Some of them have sworn they saw monsters, but most people think the survivors were hallucinating wildly.”

She led the way around the far side of the cemetery fence and stopped in front of a weathered, single-story cabin. Moonlight glinted on the obsidian-dark windows.

“Quaint,” Cyrus said.

“We like to think so,” Sedona said. She went up the front steps and crossed the small porch to the door. “Welcome to Graveyard Cottage, your new home away from home.”

He followed her up the steps. “I’m guessing there’s no room service.”

“No, but breakfast is included.” She used the key to rez the lock and then pushed open the door. “It’s served in the tavern from five thirty until seven thirty in the mornings. Judging by the amount of food your hunters have been consuming, I would suggest that you show up early if you want to eat.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime.”

She stepped through the doorway and rezzed a wall switch. Lyle chortled. He bounced down off her shoulder and scuttled around the place, exploring. Cyrus dropped his duffel on the scarred hardwood floor and examined his surroundings.

A couple of lamps glowed, revealing a spare, rustic space furnished with an ancient sofa, a rather battered table, and a couple of rickety-looking chairs. There was a well-worn area rug in front of the fireplace and faded curtains on the windows. All of the pieces looked as if they had been picked up at a low-rent yard sale. There was also a small kitchenette. Through a darkened doorway he could make out a tiny bedroom.

Sedona watched him. “Like I said, they’ve got a very nice two-room suite at the Bay View Inn. Great view of the marina.”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t give up easily.

“This will do nicely,” he said. “Lots of rustic charm.”

“Yeah, right. Well, if you change your mind, let me know. There’s a supply of firewood in a shed out back. Here’s your key.”

Her fingers brushed against his when she handed him the key. He had already braced himself for what he anticipated would be a few sparks of pure energy. He was not disappointed. Small flashes of lightning crackled across his senses. Everything inside him tightened.

He could tell from the way Sedona flinched and took a sharp little breath that she had been caught off guard by the zing of awareness. Her eyes widened but in the next heartbeat she got herself back under control.

She stepped quickly back out of range, doing her best to make the retreat look like a normal action. But he knew better. She was not as oblivious to the currents that resonated between them as she wanted him to believe. Knowing that was enough to satisfy him—for now.

“Come on, Lyle, time to go,” Sedona said. She scooped Lyle up off the floor and plopped him on her shoulder. She summoned up another cool smile. “See you in the morning, Mr. Jones.”

“Call me Cyrus,” he said.

“Whatever.” She headed for the door.

“Hold on, I’ll walk you to your place,” he said.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. I’ve got my flashlight.”

“It’s night, the fog is rolling in, and I’m told that here there be monsters.”

Her jaw tightened. “I thought I made it clear, they haven’t escaped the Preserve.”

“Yet. I’ll walk you to your place.” He kept it polite but nonnegotiable.

She watched him with a speculative expression, lips pursing a bit. “And just what, exactly, will you do if we are attacked by a monster?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “But I will try to come up with something helpful.”

“Is that your usual approach to problems?” For the first time she sounded genuinely amused.

“It’s kept me alive in the Underworld until now,” he said.

“Can’t argue with that.” She turned and went out onto the porch. “Okay, suit yourself, but as it happens, my place isn’t far from here.”

“Someone waiting for you?” he asked.

“Nope. I live alone, except for Lyle, of course.”

She reached up to touch the dust bunny. Cyrus allowed himself to breathe again.

He followed her outside, dimming the lights as he went through the door. Sedona had already rezzed her flashlight. He got his own going and then kicked up his senses again, not focusing on Sedona this time, but on the night around them.

Rainshadow was an intriguing place, he decided. There was an ambient energy in the atmosphere. The fog coming in off the bay was getting heavier but it was normal fog, not the strange paranormal-infused mist that he had read about in the Foundation reports. The near-disaster that had come close to destroying Rainshadow a couple of months back had been averted. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief—until the monsters started emerging from the catacombs.

“Where, exactly, is your place?” he asked.

“Not far,” Sedona said. “Number Twelve, Cemetery View Cottage. It’s the second hardest-to-rent room at the resort, which is the reason I got it.”

“My cottage being the hardest to rent, I assume.”

“Uh-huh.”

He considered the heavy darkness around them. “Please don’t tell me that you walk home alone every night.”

“I don’t usually work nights. Knox handles that shift most of the time. He lives in the cottage nearest to the lobby and the tavern. But I’ve been helping him out in the evenings this week because we’re so busy.”

“I’m surprised the Foundation hasn’t evacuated the island.”

“That’s not a realistic option,” Sedona said. “The residents of Rainshadow tend to be a tad stubborn. Unless those critters start coming out of the Preserve and strolling down Main Street, I doubt that any of the locals could be convinced to leave. By the way, for future reference, I’m pretty sure there’s a rifle or a mag-rez pistol in just about every house on the island.”

“Just about?”

“I don’t have one. But I’ve got Lyle, here.”

Lyle chortled contentedly on her shoulder.

“And you have your talent,” Cyrus said quietly. “Think either will work against the monsters?”

There was a short, highly charged beat of silence.

Sedona halted and turned to face him, the beam of her light aimed at his feet. He pointed his flashlight downward as well. The light was reflected around them in the swirling fog.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Sedona said. “I thought you probably did.”

“I do my homework,” he said. “I know you’re a gatekeeper and that you used to do regular contract work for the Guilds. I also know that you disappeared for nearly a month awhile back. When you reappeared you did not apply for any more work with the Guilds. You moved here, instead. According to the file, you were probably badly burned on your last job.”

“And now you’re worried that I might be a problem, aren’t you? Who knows? Maybe you’re right. You want to know what really happened to me awhile back? Let me give you the short version. Kirk Morgan, the boss of the Gold Creek Guild, made it look as if I had been lost on that last job. The truth is, I was kidnapped and sent to a secret Underworld clinic that is probably run by Morgan’s Guild. I was held against my will and kept in a waking dreamstate while a mad scientist shot me full of drugs. I escaped with Lyle’s help. When I got home, I discovered that my MC husband had divorced me and that absolutely no one had bothered to search for me. I figured I had nothing left to lose, so I decided to start over again here on Rainshadow.” She paused. “And there you have it—absolute proof that I am a psi-burned, delusional gatekeeper who is living in a paranoid fantasy world.”

He contemplated that briefly. “Sounds like your life has been interesting lately.”

“Don’t pretend that the Guild file you read didn’t indicate that I’m in all probability a whacko.”

“Yeah, that’s what it says in the official file,” he agreed. “But I also read another file, one that was given to me by a private investigation agency, Jones and Jones. Ever heard of it?”

The question stopped her cold. Then she grew thoughtful. “No. Are you telling me that you had me investigated by a non-Guild security agency?”

“I like to be thorough.”

“Is that a way of saying that you didn’t trust the official file?”

“I never trust the official file,” he said.

“Very wise of you. We’re talking about the Guilds and the Chamber, after all.”

“I’m getting the message that you don’t have any fond memories of your time with the Guilds.”

“You know that old saying, that a Guild boss never leaves anyone behind?”

“What about it?”

“I am living proof that is a flat-out lie.” She took a breath. “Kirk Morgan follows another motto: When things go south, cut your losses.”

“He left you behind?”

“We were guiding a corporate exploration team through the Rainforest. It was a big contract. The corporation wanted the boss, himself, to take the lead that day. That was Morgan. He screwed up and led us straight into an energy river. You could say it wasn’t entirely his fault. The river shouldn’t have been where it was. The sector had been mapped. But you know how it is down below.”