After Dark

Chapter 23

RYAN SPRAWLED ON the sofa in his living room and gulped brandy from the large glass he held in a hand that still shook. "Look, I'd tell you if I knew anything useful. But the truth is, we did everything over the phone until tonight."

Kelso was not the only one still feeling the aftereffects of the ghost-storm in the alley, Emmett thought. There was a price to be paid for using the intensive level of psi energy he had needed to deal with the two young ghost-hunters tonight. And just to make things interesting, he'd been clumsy enough to get caught in the backwash. He'd been here before. He knew what to expect.

Right now he was in the restless stage, his senses still rezzed, the adrenaline not yet flushed from his system. Lydia's friend Melanie had been right about one aspect of hunter physiology, he reflected dourly. In spite of the more immediate issues that logic told him had to be dealt with tonight, he was very horny. It wasn't something he couldn't control, and he knew the sense of urgency would fade soon. Nevertheless, he would have given anything to be alone with Lydia right now.

Not any woman, just Lydia.

Oh, brother. He was in big trouble.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, yearning and need twisting through him. She was not paying any attention. She was too busy zeroing in on the hapless Ryan.

"You mean to tell me that you didn't sign a formal contract with your client, Ryan?" Her voice was laced with supercilious disapproval.

She was gloating, Emmett thought. On the surface she was projecting concern and a perfectly appropriate degree of professional dismay, but underneath she was definitely gloating. Kelso had screwed up badly, and she was not going to let him forget it. Served the bastard right, Emmett thought. But they did have more pressing concerns at the moment.

"The guy sounded legitimate," Ryan said defensively.

"You mean he mentioned worked dreamstone and you got all rezzed-up," Lydia retorted. "Honestly, Ryan, what were you thinking? Dreamstone, of all things."

Ryan slumped deeper into his brandy, momentarily, at least, a beaten man.

Lydia tut-tutted and moved in for the kill. "And everyone assumes that my brains got fried."

Serious gloating, Emmett thought. But she did look sexy as hell.

Damn, this was stupid. Even if he did have her alone in a bedroom, she would probably kick him out. She would assume that his erection was caused by the energy burn.

She would be right, but only partially so. He did want her-badly-but what he was feeling tonight was not the usual short-lived generalized sexual desire that resulted from a major burn. This was a lot stronger, more potent, and it was focused only on her. He didn't want just sex tonight, he wanted sex with Lydia.

He wondered if she could grasp the significance of the distinction. He certainly did. It left him reeling.

He took a deep breath and clamped down on his hormones. In an hour or so, when the last of the burn effects wore off, he would forget all about sex with Lydia or anyone else. The only thing on his mind would be sleep. He would need a bed far more than he would need to get laid. Until then he just had to tough it out and concentrate on the problem of Ryan Kelso.

He studied the spines on the volumes on the bookcase as he listened to Ryan ramble on about the evening's events. He'd seen many of the same titles in Lydia's bookcases, both the one in her apartment and the one in her office. They included Caldwell Frost's infamous Dawn in a Dead City, Arriola's Theory and Practice of Para-archaeology, and several years' worth of the Journal of Para-archaeology. But whereas the books on Lydia's shelves were arranged in a jumbled clutter that gave you the feeling she actually read them, Kelso's library was painfully neat.

Emmett turned slowly to survey the room. The old-fashioned leather furniture, the carved oak desk, and the dark carpet with its intricate, harmonically proportioned design all said, "I Am An Academic Honcho" in capital letters. The place looked as if it was ready to be photographed for a feature on scholarly rooms for Harmonic Architecture Review. What the hell had Lydia ever seen in this jerk?

He made himself concentrate on the problem at hand. Turning away from the bookcase, he looked at Ryan. He was pretty sure that Kelso was telling the truth, or at least as much of it as he knew. Ryan was washed out-still scared and still in shock. He knew he'd had one hell of a close call.

"Someone may have tried to kill you tonight," Emmett said flatly. "At the very least, those two hunters intended to fry you into a short-term coma. Your so-called client lured you to the Green Wall Tavern. Therefore, we have to assume he's the one who wanted you burned."

Ryan scowled into his brandy. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you must know something."

"But I don't," Ryan whispered. "I swear it. All I know is a man calls me on the phone, claims to be a collector, talks like he knows the field, says he's heard a rumor of worked dreamstone and that you're in town looking for it, London. He says you've hired Lydia to help you find it."

"That's it?" Emmett asked.

"That's it. You don't fry a man because of a rumor of dreamstone. Hell, there've been wild stories about the stuff since it was first discovered. Collectors have chased the tales for years."

Emmett began to pace in an effort to work off the last of the adrenaline. "Tell me exactly what your client said this afternoon when you informed him that Lydia would not cooperate with you."

Ryan shrugged weakly. "He said he wanted to discuss some other angles we could take to locate the dreamstone. He told me to meet him at the Tavern at eleven. When I got there the bartender gave me that note telling me that the client wanted to rendezvous in the alley."

"You didn't find that just a little suspicious?" Lydia asked archly.

Ryan winced. "The guy made it clear from the beginning that he wanted to maintain a very low profile. I thought he was just trying to avoid being seen in the bar."

"A meeting in a back alley in the Old Quarter is low profile, all right," Lydia murmured.

Ryan's jaw tensed. "So call me stupid."

"Only if you insist," Lydia said cheerfully.

Emmett groaned. "Entertaining though it may be, we don't have time for the sniping. We need to get Ryan out of town. The last commuter flight to Resonance City leaves in less than an hour."

"What?" Ryan straightened abruptly, his face working. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You are if you know what's good for you." Emmett glanced at his watch. The yellow-gold disk was clouded from the intense burn. He must remember to replace it with fresh, tuned amber as soon as possible. So many details. "You've got five minutes to throw some clothes into a bag. Then we've got to get you to the airport."

"But—"

"Someone will meet you at the gate in Resonance," Emmett said.

Ryan looked truculent. "Who's going to meet me?"

"A couple of hunters from the Resonance Guild."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Ryan slammed his brandy glass down on the table. "No offense, but I'm not real keen on meeting any more ghost-hunters tonight."

Emmett held his attention. "Whoever tried to fry you tonight will probably try again. Maybe real soon. You need bodyguards. Under normal circumstances, I'd call Mercer Wyatt and arrange for protection here in Cadence, but I don't think that's a good idea right now. The local Guild is having some problems."

Lydia sniffed. "You can say that again."

Emmett ignored her. "If you don't get on that plane, Kelso, you're going to have to look over your shoulder every minute until this thing is finished."

"What about Lydia?" Ryan demanded. "If I'm in danger, so is she."

Emmett glanced at Lydia.

"Don't even think about it," she said crisply.

He looked back at Ryan. "I'll take care of Lydia."

"Yeah? And who's going to take care of you? The next time they may use three hunters instead of two. Everyone has his limits."

"I'm in a slightly more advantageous position than you are," Emmett said quietly. "For one thing, I'm a lot harder to fry. For another, if someone does succeed in burning me, he'll have a lot more to worry about than if he burns you."

"What do you mean?" Ryan's chin came up with arrogant disdain. "I'm a full professor at the university. I'm the head of the Department of Para-archaeology, damn it. If anything happened to me, the cops would be all over the case in a minute."

Emmett smiled humorlessly. "Maybe. But if anything happens to me while I'm in Cadence, it isn't only the cops who will be all over this thing. Mercer Wyatt would have to explain the situation to the head of the Resonance Guild. He wouldn't like that."

Lydia gave him a sharp, searching look, but she said nothing.

Ryan blinked in a befuddled fashion. Then comprehension settled in his eyes. "I see. This is a Guild matter."

"Yes."

"That does complicate things, doesn't it?" Ryan got to his feet with weary resignation. "I'd better pack." Shoulders slumped, he turned and walked out into the hall.

Lydia waited until he had disappeared. Then she switched her gaze back to Emmett. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Just got to replace some amber, that's all."

"Replace it?" she said, concern echoing in her voice. "You melted amber?"

He shrugged. "Happens sometimes."

"Not to most people," she said brusquely. "My God, Emmett, if you used so much energy that you actually de-rezzed your amber, you must be half dead on your feet."

"I'll be okay. For a while, at any rate. Long enough to get Kelso to the airport." He rubbed the back of his neck. "When we get back to your place, though, I'm going to need some sleep."

"I can imagine," she said, then lowered her voice. "What did you find in that young hunter's wallet? Anything useful?"

"He wasn't carrying any ID."

"Oh, damn. I was hoping we'd be able to trace him."

"He was probably ordered to make certain he didn't carry anything that could be traced," Emmett said. "But he was a young man. Not well trained and probably not accustomed to thinking things through. He made one small mistake."

"What was that?"

"He'd removed his ID from his wallet, all right, but he forget his gym locker key. I left it where it was. With luck he won't realize that someone looked at it."

Lydia's eyes lit up with eagerness. "What gym does he use?"

"The key was stamped 'Transverse Wave Youth Shelter. "

An hour later Lydia parked the Slider in the apartment complex lot, de-rezzed the key, and looked at Emmett with growing concern.

He was sprawled in the passenger seat, head against the padded headrest. He kept telling her he was okay, but she no longer believed him.

As soon as they had put Ryan on board the last flight to Resonance City, Emmett had made a phone call to arrange for someone to meet the plane on the other end. He had talked to the person he reached for a few more minutes and then he had hung up. Standing outside the privacy booth, she was unable to hear the details of the conversation.

By the time he rejoined her, she was too concerned about him to ask any questions. She knew that he was in bad shape. When she took his arm on the way out of the terminal, he did not protest. Halfway back to the car, he started to lean heavily on her. She asked him for the Slider's keys so she could drive them home. He didn't argue.

"Emmett?" She put her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "Wake up. We're here."

He stirred but seemed disoriented. "Need some sleep."

She wondered if she ought to call someone for advice on how to handle post-meltdown syndrome. The truth was, she could not think of anyone who might know what to do. Melting amber was a very rare event, primarily because so few people possessed enough psi talent to do it. And those who were capable of it probably did not talk too much about the aftermath, especially if they were macho hunters who didn't like admitting to weakness of any kind.

Melting amber was just an expression. The stuff didn't actually melt under too much psi energy, but it did get "fogged." It lost the fine-tuned quality that made it able to focus accurately.

Lydia reached out, caught Emmett's face between her hands, and forced him to look at her. "Listen to me. Do you need a doctor?"

He shook his head once. She got the impression he was annoyed, maybe even disgusted.

"Need sleep." His voice had thickened.

His hand moved. She realized he was groping for the door handle.

"Hang on." She opened her own door and jumped out of the car. "I'll come around to your side and help you."

By the time she reached him, Emmett had managed to get his door open, but the bleak, barely-hanging-in-there look on his face told her that he did not think he could haul himself out of the front seat.

"I'll just sleep it off here," he said weakly.

"You want to spend the night in your car? In this part of town? Don't be ridiculous. It's not safe."

"Can't make it up the damn stairs."

"Wait here," Lydia said. "I'll get Zane and Olinda. We'll get you up the stairs."

Emmett did not protest. He was evidently beyond making the effort. Lydia hurried to the stairwell and took the steps two at a time to the third floor. She was breathless by the time she reached 3A.

Zane opened the door on the second knock. He was dressed in his pajamas. Behind him, the front room of the apartment was lit by the glow of the rez-screen.

Lydia said the first words that came into her head. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I was in bed. I sleep in the living room, remember?"

This was no time to point out that it was far too late for him to be watching the rez-screen. "I need some help, Zane."

His face scrunched in alarm. "What's wrong? Is it Fuzz? Another ghost?"

"No, it's Emmett. He got into a brawl with some other ghost-hunters tonight. He melted amber and now he's exhausted. I need to get him up the stairs. Is Olinda home?"

"He melted amber?" Zane's eyes widened. "Holy shit!"

Olinda loomed in the hallway. Her robust figure was sheathed in an aging chenille robe. "Must be one hell of a hunter. Where is he?"

"Downstairs in the car." Lydia stepped back. "Can you give me a hand?"

"You bet. Can't wait to see this." Zane dashed through the doorway and pelted wildly toward the stairs.

Olinda followed more sedately. She closed the door behind her and joined Lydia in the hall. "I've heard these guys who can melt amber have to crash for a few hours afterward."

Lydia went swiftly back toward the stairwell. "He keeps saying he needs to sleep."

"Doesn't sound like he'll be much fun for a while." Olinda winked. "Maybe you shoulda picked one who wasn't quite as strong as London. I hear that the aftereffects of a normal-range amber burn are kinda interesting in ghost-hunters."