Zinnia (39 page)

“It's okay, Zinnia,” Nick said softly. “Give him the focus. The same way you did for me that night in your apartment.”

“But, Nick, he'll try to take control. What if he succeeds?”

Duncan laughed.

“Just do it, Zinnia,” Nick said very quietly. “Exactly as you did it for me.”

She stared at him helplessly while frantically trying to decipher the hidden message in his words. She had given Nick a strong clear focus that night. It was, he had told her later, the first time he had ever had such a perfect prism.
And he had gotten a little drunk with the pleasure of his own power.
She had a vivid memory of him staggering slightly as he attempted to regain his balance.

She stared at Nick with sudden comprehension. He wanted her to use the focus link to distract Duncan. If she could disorient and dazzle him with a brilliant prism for a few seconds, Nick might be able to take him.

She had to move quickly before Duncan began to suspect a trap. His eyes were already narrowing.

She bowed her head, trying her best to look like a beaten woman. “All right.”

“An excellent decision, my dear.” Duncan sent another slashing probe of noxious psychic energy out onto the metaphysical plane.

Zinnia remembered the truly crazy matrix she had focused for once at the beginning of her career with Psynergy, Inc. She had never forgotten the deeply unpleasant nature of her client's psychic energy. But the colorless throbbing talent that Duncan produced was a thousand times more unwholesome.

She sank her nails into her palms and resisted the urge to draw back her own power. She concentrated desperately on creating the most compelling, most intriguing, most enthralling prism Duncan had ever seen. Last night she had brought Nick back from the edge of chaos with such a promising prism. Perhaps this evening she could push Duncan over that edge.

Duncan leaped for the prism with a wild crushing swath of raw power.

Zinnia screamed as the focus link was forged. Claws of colorless darkness seized the prism, imprisoning her on the metaphysical plane.

“Do what you did to me the first night in the casino, Zinnia.” Nick's voice came out of the night.

She wanted to tell him that she was frozen. She could not move, let alone struggle. But she could not get the words out.

“Damn it, Zinnia, do what you did to me.”

Nick wanted her to twist the focus. She could not fight Duncan now that he controlled the link, but she might be able to shift the focus just enough to distract him, maybe even hurt him.

“Damn, but you're good, Zinnia.” Duncan sounded altogether thrilled with himself. Perhaps even a little drunk. “This is exquisite. I can only imagine how good the sex would be under such circumstances. No wonder you seduced her, Chastain. When we have finished our business with the journal I shall have to give her a try, myself.”

“Don't hold your breath,” Zinnia managed to say aloud.

“Yeah,” Nick echoed very softly. “Don't hold your breath, Luttrell.”

Duncan ignored them both and hurled power savagely through the prism. “Incredible. Absolutely incredible. I'm going to enjoy this even more than I had anticipated. But now I'm afraid that I must get rid of Chastain. I have you so I no longer need him, do I?”

She knew that it was crunch time. Duncan was preparing to shoot Nick. She had to do something and she had to do it now.

She threw every ounce of psychic energy she possessed into twisting the power of the focus. For an instant she feared that nothing had happened. Then she saw a slight skewing in the energy pattern.

“What's this?” Duncan was enraged. “What are you doing? Stop it.”

Zinnia twisted harder.

“No,” Duncan shouted.

Zinnia opened her eyes. Duncan was swinging around toward her, raising the gun. The madness mingled with the fury in his eyes. She found herself looking down the barrel of the pistol. She was pouring so much power into fracturing the prism that she did not have enough strength left over to scream.

Nick's voice cut through the gathering darkness. “Kill her and you'll never find another prism that can handle your talent, Luttrell. You'll never decode the journal.”

Duncan's mouth opened and closed. Rage and frustration and the effects of his tortured power paralyzed him for a few seconds.

Zinnia saw a dark shadow move soundlessly across the clearing.

It was Nick. He only needed a couple of heartbeats of time.

Duncan shook his head as if to clear it. He started to turn back to the real threat, but it was too late.

Nick smashed into Duncan. The impact sent both men sprawling onto the green moss. The gun flew out of Duncan's hand and landed in the pond with a small splash.

Duncan lost control of his psychic talent as his instinct for physical survival took over. Raw power cascaded aimlessly across the metaphysical plane. Zinnia seized the opportunity to shut down the prism in the blink of an eye.

The thud of fists against flesh made her flinch. Duncan reared up above Nick. She saw a blade gleam in his hand.

“He's got a knife,” she shouted.

“Damn Chastain bastard.” Duncan drove the blade downward toward Nick's throat.

Nick blocked the thrust with his arm. Duncan shouted in mindless rage and raised the knife a second time.

Nick rolled to the side. Thrown off balance, Duncan staggered.

Nick was already on his feet. He drove a fist into Duncan's chest, sending the other man reeling back against the rocks that surrounded the dark pond. Nick closed in quickly. He landed another savage punch.

Duncan groaned and collapsed against the rocks. Nick loomed over him.

The hulking shrubs trembled. A thick green frond unfurled and stretched lovingly toward Nick's leg. Zinnia saw the hidden spines.

“Nick, get away from the pond.”

He leaped back just as the frond struck with the speed of a twin-snake. The spines sank deep into Duncan's leg.

Duncan screamed.

More fronds lashed out, securing Duncan with their spines. He stopped screaming quite suddenly. He jerked. His head fell back. A great shudder went
through the huge plant. The fronds convulsed once, hurling Duncan into the pond.

He landed facedown next to DeForest's body, quivered once, and then went still. The plants seemed to sigh as they reached for the new feast with hungry green tentacles.

'Oh, my God,” Zinnia whispered.

Nick pulled her into his arms, turning her away from the sight of Duncan's body. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She buried her face against his elegant black shirt. “Yes, I'm okay. What about you?”

“I'm fine but this tux will never be the same. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Zinnia raised her head. “How are we going to do that? We're at the heart of the maze. We'll have to wait until someone figures out where we are and how to get us out of here.”

Nick grinned as he released her to scoop up the package that contained his father's journal. “Give me a break, lady. I'm a matrix. I could find my way out of this maze with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back.”

* * * * * * * * * *

I hope you know what you're doing.” Zinnia eyed a little blood-creeper that lurked in the shadows.

“Have faith.” Nick moved confidently down a shadowy green corridor. “And don't touch anything.”

“Believe me, I won't.” Zinnia hastened past a wispy green leaf that seemed to want to play with her hair. “How did you figure out the secret of the maze?”

“I picked up the pattern when I entered.” Nick turned a corner and chose a new avenue as if he held a map. “No great trick to it. After all, it had to be simple enough that a non-matrix like DeForest could find his way in and out easily.”

“That's true, I suppose.” Zinnia scurried past some large blooms with red throats.

“The underlying design is based on the plants. The more innocuous ones are toward the front of the maze. The nastiest are in the center. I recognized most of them.”

“But these are hybrids.”

“Yes, but they were all hybridized from Western Islands jungle plants. I grew up in the islands, remember?
One thing you learn real early is how to recognize the plant life.”

“Oh.” She hugged herself to avoid touching a trailing vine. “I can hardly believe that Duncan was behind everything that happened.”

“I know.” Nick ducked under a web of leaves. “He seemed like such a nice man.”

“Not funny. He did seem like a nice man.” Zinnia frowned. “But it's no wonder he never let on that he was a matrix. One glimpse of his talent and I'd have known the truth. He was as evil as his father must have been.”

Nick looked at her over his shoulder. “Evil?”

“I suppose the syn-psychs would say he was sick or insane, but I can tell you that from what I saw on the metaphysical plane a few minutes ago, Duncan was bad to the bone. The evil infected everything, even his talent.”

“Interesting.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth about the alien tomb?”

“We'll find out once I've had a chance to decode the journal.” Nick paused. “I might need a little help. It could take a while.”

“I doubt it if you'll need the assistance of a prism. Your brand of matrix-talent is probably very similar to your father's. I suspect you think the same way he did. His code will probably seem quite obvious to you.”

Nick threw her another dark glance. “So much for subtlety.”

She was startled to see that his jaw was rigid. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I'll try to make this a little more direct. Will you marry me, Zinnia?”

She came to an abrupt halt midway down the green passage. “Huh?”

Nick stopped. “You heard me.” He turned back to
face her. His face was an enigmatic mask except for the fierce determination that burned in his eyes. “Look, I know you think I'm a risk.”

“Risk?”

“I've got no family, no class, and no taste. But I've got a five-year plan to change all that.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“I can't offer you the assurance of a marriage agency recommendation, but I'm a matrix. That means that once I have a goal, I stick with it.”

She swallowed. “And just what is your goal?”

“I intend to love you for the rest of my life.”

Zinnia fought back tears. “Oh, Nick. Are you certain? Are you sure you're not just feeling grateful because I helped you survive the crazy-fog attack last night?”

“I was in love with you before you saved my sanity,” he said roughly. “I've been in love with you since the first night I met you. Five hells, woman, I've been waiting for you all of my life.”

A great lightness swept through her. She wondered that she didn't float right off the ground.

“Oh,
Nick.”
She threw herself into his arms. “I love you, too.”

He wrapped her close and kissed her the way he did everything else, with full commitment and attention.

Something slithered in the greenery. Nick broke off the kiss.

“Damn.”

Zinnia stepped back. “What's wrong?”

“One of the plants just took a bite out of my jacket.” Nick scowled at a drooping leaf. Then he surveyed the ripped sleeve. “Look at that hole.”

“Don't worry, you can afford a new one.”

He laughed and grabbed her hand. “You're right. I can. Let's go. I want you very badly, but I'm not about to make love to you here. No telling what part of me the next plant will go after.”

Zinnia smothered a grin as she followed him down one last corridor. They turned another corner and she saw the entrance of the maze. A small crowd was gathered on the lawn.

“Looks like we've got an audience.” Nick towed her through the trellised entrance.

Four people turned to stare. Zinnia recognized Feather and Detective Anselm immediately. A third man was busy squeezing into what appeared to be a fireman's protective coveralls. A huge set of pruning shears lay on the ground beside him.

“Boss.” Feather trotted forward. Relief flared in his eyes. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“When I couldn't locate you, I went to Miss Spring's place. Heard DeForest's message. Figured you'd heard it, too.”

“Good thinking, Feather. Thanks.”

Detective Anselm scowled. “What's going on around here? Feather called me up about fifteen minutes ago and told me that if we didn't move we'd have a couple more murders on our hands.”

Before Nick could answer, the fourth man stepped out of the shadows of a large tree. He raised a camera.

“Hot synergy.” Cedric Dexter snapped the photo. “Great shot.”

“Mr. Dexter,” Nick said very softly. “I want to have a word with you.”

Alarmed, Zinnia seized his torn coat sleeve. “Now, Nick, take it easy.”

Nick gave her a beatific smile. “Don't worry. Mr. Dexter and I understand each other perfectly. Isn't that right, Dexter?”

“Uh—” Cedric took a nimble step backward. “Just doing my job, Mr. Chastain.”

“Sure,” Nick said. “And because you did such a professional job at the ball last night, I have a scoop for you.”

Cedric looked distinctly wary. “A scoop?”

“You do have a recorder with you, don't you?”

Cedric brightened and dug a small object out of his pocket. “You bet. I never leave home without it.”

Two days later Nick sat at the black desk in the gilded chamber and signed the last page of a fat legal document. He did not bother to look up when the door opened.

“What is it, Feather?”

“A lot of folks to see you, boss. You want I should have 'em escorted off the premises?”

“Don't bother, they'll only come back later. I may as well get this over with so that I can get on with my life.” Nick finished scrawling his name and put down the pen.