The Lost Night (9 page)

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re a real suspicious sort of guy, aren’t you?”

“Goes with the job. But you seem to be the suspicious type, too. Is there a reason for that?”

“Look, there’s something we need to get straight here,” she said. “I trust Slade and I know he’s genuinely concerned about whatever is going on inside the Preserve. I realize he would not have called in Foundation security if he didn’t think the situation was serious. For his sake
and the sake of the other people here on the island, I’m willing to help if I can. But as I told you last night, I will not help you dig up old secrets and buried pasts just to satisfy your suspicions.”

“You’ve made it clear that your first loyalty is to your friends and neighbors. I’m good with that.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

She rezzed her senses and inhaled cautiously. The strong, bright energy felt right—a harmonious counterpoint for Harry’s midnight-dark aura. She poured the brew into a cup and put it on the counter in front of him.

“There you go,” she said. “A specially blended harmony tea for a shadow-aura.”

He picked up the cup, examined the golden-hued brew for a few seconds and then inhaled cautiously. “Smells good, like the woods after a rain. Or maybe the ocean.”

She smiled coolly. “That’s an indication that I got the blend right for you.”

He took a cautious sip. His eyes heated a little. He lowered himself onto one of the stools and took another sip.

“I like it,” he said. “I’ve never enjoyed tea in my life but this is good.”

“Technically speaking it’s not tea. It’s an herbal tisane. But that’s just semantics.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. Harry drank his tea in silence as though it were a fine wine or rare scotch, clearly savoring it.

The back door opened, shattering the stillness that had settled over the bookshop. A wall of bookshelves blocked the view of the rear door from the café, but Rachel heard Jilly Finch’s familiar footsteps. Darwina
heard her, too. She chortled enthusiastically and bounced down from the windowsill to greet Jilly.

“Good morning, Rachel,” Jilly sang out from the other side of the book wall. “And good morning to you, too, Darwina. Looks like you both got here ahead of me today. Saw the bicycle out back.”

“Hi, Jilly,” Rachel called. “Everything okay out at your place?”

“Yes. Didn’t lose the power, thank goodness, because I was right in the middle of a terrific scene involving Harry Sebastian and a ghost.”

“The ghost of what?”

“Never mind, it’s complicated. Let’s get to more important stuff. Alice Wilkins called first thing to tell me that the bridge over the creek is out. That’s not all she told me. I hear you had an interesting overnight guest. You are the talk of the town today, boss. Is it true? Did Harry Sebastian actually spend the night at your place? Because if so, I’ve got a gazillion questions for you. All in the name of research for my books, of course.”

Jilly came around the corner of the book wall, Darwina tucked under one arm, and saw Harry at the counter.

“Oh, shit,” she said.

Horrified chagrin widened her eyes. A handsome woman in her mid-forties, Jilly had platinum blond hair cut in a short, spiky style. An array of small studs adorned her ears. Metallic rings decorated with designs taken from Old World mythology graced most of her fingers. Wide metal cuffs with additional ancient motifs circled each wrist. She was dressed
in a flowing, ankle-length caftan.

“Jilly, this is Harry Sebastian,” Rachel said calmly. “Harry, meet Jilly Finch.”

Unruffled, Harry got to his feet and inclined his head politely. “Nice to meet you, Jilly. You must be the author, the one who writes that series about my great-grandfather.”

“That would be me,” Jilly said. “And now that I’ve gotten past my initial mortification, I’ve got to tell you that I would really, really like to interview you about your great-grandfather.”

“Some other time, maybe,” Harry said. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“Sure,” Jilly said quickly. “Anytime that’s convenient with you is good for me. Your perspective as Harry’s great-grandson would be incredibly helpful. It would allow me to add more insight and historical accuracy to my books. I write for the YA crowd, and kids love details.”

“I’ll get back to you.” Harry finished the tisane and put the cup on the counter. “Now if you both will excuse me, I’ve got some research of my own to do. Slade gave me the old police files dealing with incidents connected to the Preserve. I’m going to go through them today and see what turns up.”

“Don’t run off,” Rachel said coolly.

“Got a lot of work ahead,” Harry said. He started toward the door. “But I’ll stop by your place this evening and let you know what I found in the police records, if anything.”

Panic sparkled
through her. She was not going to let him invite himself to her house a second time, she thought. That would mean that she would have to offer him coffee or tea at the very least and that, in turn, could lead to a glass of wine, which could slide all too easily into letting him stay for dinner.
That way lies madness,
she thought. It would be easier to control the situation if she could escape whenever she felt it was necessary.

Jilly must have seen the deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.

“Don’t forget we’ve got that special tea-tasting event with the Reflections seminar crowd at five today, boss,” Jilly said.

“Oh, right,” Rachel said quickly. “Thanks for reminding me.” She gave Harry a bright smile. “I don’t know when it will conclude. Could run late. But at this time of year there is daylight until after nine in the evenings. When I finish with the Reflections event, I’ll drop by the old gatekeeper’s cabin. You can update me then.”

“That works,” Harry said.

Well, that was a little too easy,
Rachel thought.
What’s wrong with this picture
? Maybe he thought he could control things better if he got her on his turf.

“Excuse me,” she said.

Harry was halfway to the door. He paused.

“Yes?” he said.

“You didn’t pay for your tisane. That’ll be ten dollars.”

Jilly blinked, clearly stunned. She started to say something but she took one look at Rachel and closed her mouth.

“Ten dollars
for a cup of tea?” Harry said very neutrally.

Rachel rezzed up another brilliant smile. “Next time ask the price before you give the order.”

He nodded and reached for his wallet. “I’ll remember that advice.”

He put ten dollars on the counter. Said another round of polite good-byes and went out the door.

Jilly looked at Rachel. “Most guys would have been pissed off at having to pay ten bucks for a cup of tea.”

“Something tells me it would take more than being overcharged for a cup of tea to make Harry Sebastian mad.”

“Like what?” Jilly asked, her writer’s curiosity instantly aroused.

“I have no idea,” Rachel said. She contemplated the front door of the shop. “And I don’t think I want to find out.”

“This event has been very successful.” Emerson Eubanks smiled at Rachel
across the counter. “I wasn’t entirely convinced a tea-tasting would fit into my message but I’m glad Nathan talked me into giving it a try. Rest assured I’m a believer now.”

Emerson Eubanks could have been called up by central casting for the role of motivational speaker in a film. He was in his early forties, brown-eyed, attractive, dynamic, and endowed with a disarming, quite brilliant smile. He was pleasant enough, in Rachel’s opinion, but he was one of those high-energy people who made you tired just looking at them. People like Emerson never had problems. They had
challenges
. His message was printed on the Reflections Institute brochures:
Creating Positive Awareness
.

The tea-tasting program had lasted nearly two hours. Rachel could tell that not only was Eubanks pleased, but so
were the attendees. Almost all of them had bought some tea and several had picked up copies of Jilly’s
Tales of Harry Sebastian
books. Jilly was still busy checking out the last in a long line of customers.

“I’m glad it worked out so well,” Rachel said. “I know a new group arrives every week to attend your retreats. Would you like to set up a schedule?”

“Let’s do that,” Emerson said. “But since this was Nathan’s idea, I’ll let the two of you coordinate future tastings.”

Emerson clapped Nathan Grant on the shoulder and went off to join the seminar attendees who were making their way outside onto the street.

Nathan smiled and winked at Rachel. “Thanks for making me look good in front of Eubanks. This job is important to me.”

“Anytime,” Rachel said. She ignored the wink. “I’m glad the event turned out so well.”

“You and me both. Eubanks is all about his message. He insists that every seminar event enhance Positive Awareness. He wasn’t sure a tea-tasting would be a good fit but between the two of us, it looks like we changed his mind.”

Nathan was one of the instructors at the Reflections Institute. She had talked to him on the phone when he had called to discuss the possibility of a tasting, but she had not met him in person until today. Like everyone else on the Reflections staff, he was attractive, well dressed, and upbeat, but Rachel found him to be more laid-back and not nearly so exhausting as Emerson.

It was too bad about
the winking thing. His murky aura was off-putting, as well.

“The seminars run from Saturday through Friday,” Nathan said. “What do you say we settle on Wednesday afternoons for the tastings?”

“That will work out very well,” Rachel said.

“Great. See you on Wednesday.”

Nathan gave her another wink and followed Eubanks and the seminar attendees outside. When the door closed behind him, Jilly turned the Closed sign in the window and flung herself across the counter with great drama.

“Whew, what an afternoon,” she said. Then she straightened, grinning. “But it was worth it. We both made some money today. You sold several pounds of tea and I sold twelve copies of my book.”

“Hooray for us.” Rachel picked up a tray and headed toward the cluttered tables in the café. “Now all we have to do is clean up.”

“Yep, there’s always a dark side to success,” Jilly said. “I’ll wash. You dry. By the way, did I see Nathan Grant wink at you?”

“Twice.”

“He probably thinks it’s charming.”

“Probably.”

Fifteen minutes later rachel picked up the last of the twelve freshly washed cups. The misty dreamscape image flashed out of the darkness of her lost memories, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

The cup slipped from her
fingers and shattered on the floor.

“Are you okay, boss?” Jilly asked.

“Yes.” Rachel stared at the pieces of the broken cup, mentally trying to recover the fleeting scene that had flickered across her awareness when she’d picked up the cup. But it was gone.

“You sure?” Jilly asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“I think I did see one,” Rachel said.

Harry stood on the front porch of the old gatekeeper’s cabin,
his hands wrapped around the railing, and watched Rachel ride out of the fog on her bicycle. She wore the snug-fitting black jeans she’d had on earlier, boots, and a leather jacket. Her hair was clipped back in a frothy little twist.

He wondered about the black jeans and leather. The edgy outfit did not quite fit the profile that he was putting together. He was no expert on the HE lifestyle, but what he had learned suggested that the members of the Community dressed in loose-fitting robes that were the colors of various kinds of amber and crystals. The robes were often adorned with tiny bells sewn into the hems. He had read somewhere that the bells were supposed to encourage good energy.

It was hard to imagine Rachel in a white lab coat at the Chapman
Clinic, and the thought of her doing aura readings to amuse the customers in the Crystal Rainbow tearoom seriously annoyed him. She was a powerful talent who cared about others. She deserved respect. He did not like the idea that she had been treated as a low-rent fortune-teller during her time in Frequency City.