Amaryllis

Chapter 13

Lucas awoke very suddenly right after midnight, the dream still vivid in his mind. In the nightmarish images he had been running through the wild, thick jungles of the Western Islands, searching desperately for Amaryllis. She was lost somewhere in the impenetrable foliage. He had to find her.

He opened his eyes and gazed into the dark shadows of Amaryllis's bedroom. Adrenaline still pounded through his veins. He was damp with perspiration.

He reached for Amaryllis, found her, cradled her close against him. Even now, wide awake as he was, a part of him was still afraid that she would disappear, just as she had in his dream.

Amaryllis stirred in his arms.

"Lucas? Is something wrong?"

"Hobart Batt, my counselor at Synergistic Connections, called today. He gave me an appointment for the personal interview. Two days from now. At four in the afternoon."

"What a coincidence." Amaryllis sat up slowly and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her eyes were dark and mysterious in the moonlight. "I got a call from my counselor, too. Mrs. Reeton made my interview appointment for Friday also. Clementine said I could take the afternoon off from work."

It was all happening too fast, Lucas thought. In the beginning he had signed on with Synergistic Connections because the company had a reputation for efficiency as well as for working with high-class talents. But the matchmaking firm was proving to be too efficient for his taste.

"It will take the agency a while to find some suitable candidates for us," Lucas said. "Everyone knows class-nine talents and full-spectrum prisms are difficult to match."

"It might take weeks or even months," Amaryllis said on a hopeful note.

But eventually the agencies would find a man for her, Lucas thought. He had another painful vision of Amaryllis's future. In this one she lay in bed, waiting for the faceless stranger who was her husband. It was worse than any nightmare.

"Lucas?"

Desperation gripped him. He was cold. Ice cold. He needed Amaryllis's warmth or he would surely freeze to death.

Lucas reached for her, pulling her down beside him, easing her onto her back. Wordlessly she raised her arms to enfold him. He sprawled on top of her with rough urgency. He sought her mouth, found it, claimed it.

His hand went to her soft breast. He felt the nipple tighten at his touch. She gripped his shoulders as though she would never let him go. Her legs parted for him, wrapped around his waist.

He moved his hand lower and splayed his fingers across her belly. The tensed muscles beneath the silken skin signaled her readiness, as did the warm dampness between her legs. He drove himself slowly into her, hungry for the welcoming heat.

She was tight and hot and slick. She seemed as desperate for him as he was for her. The response should have banished the ghosts of his dream, but it did not. It only served to make them all the more vivid.

He was going to lose her.

In a last, despairing effort to drive the visions from his head, Lucas silently groped for the mind link. She was waiting for him there on the psychic plane.

There was a flicker of vertigo and then he saw the prism. It was a strong, brilliant crystal construct created from Amaryllis's psychic energy. Lucas poured energy through it in a torrent. He made no effort to focus the bands of light. Instead, he allowed them to dance and shimmer in endless, rippling waves.

The ebb and flow of energy pulsed with the rhythm of the lovemaking, building swiftly in intensity. Lucas could feel Amaryllis in every part of himself, mind and body. For this moment in time they knew each other in every sense of the word.

The startling intimacy of the link meshed with the physical intimacy of their passionate embrace. The combined power of both psychic and sensual energy succeeded at last in driving out the icy chill that had invaded Lucas's bones.

But even as he gave himself over to his shuddering climax, Lucas knew the joy was very temporary.

The jungle waited.

"Lucas?"

"Yeah?" Lucas roused himself just enough to tighten his grasp on Amaryllis.

"I've been thinking about what happened at the Sheffield reception tonight." Amaryllis propped herself up on one elbow. "We haven't talked much about it."

"What's to discuss? Sheffield's a very strong talent, and he's got the ability to project charm and charisma. He's chosen a career path well suited to his psychic skills. His high school counselor would be proud of him."

"Lucas, this is not a joke."

He exhaled heavily. "You still don't have any proof that he or Unique Prisms is operating illegally."

"Sheffield wasn't just radiating charisma tonight, he actually tried to manipulate us with it."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there's no law against that."

"Because the issue has never arisen," Amaryllis retorted. "It's supposed to be impossible to use psychic energy the way Sheffield used it tonight." She frowned. "Although Professor Landreth was always reminding us that there was still a lot we did not yet understand about the whole phenomenon. He said psychic powers were evolving so quickly in humans that there was no way to predict what directions the trend would take."

"Amaryllis--"

"Professor Landreth said that the volatile evolutionary situation is just one more reason why the Code of Focus Ethics is important. The code is the only way to govern the effect of psychic powers in society."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that rationalization before."

"It's a justification, not a rationalization," Amaryllis said. "And I'll tell you something else, the prism who worked with Sheffield tonight must have known that what she was doing was wrong."

"True. But don't be too hard on her. Sheffield burned her out within a minute or two once he started pushing her limits. You see? Nature took care of the problem. You don't need to put Sheffield or Osterley in jail to deal with the situation. Furthermore, they're both smart enough to know that."

"It's hard to believe."

"What is?"

"That Sheffield burned out a full-spectrum prism trying to get through the wall of energy you created. How did you do it?"

"You want the truth?"

Her eyes widened. "Yes, of course."

"I haven't got the foggiest idea how I did it," Lucas said. "It was an experiment."

"What do you mean? You deliberately created some kind of barrier by scrambling the talent you put through the prism. I felt it. Saw it happen on the psychic plane. It was very effective."

"I guess you could say that it was all done with mirrors."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm an illusion-talent, remember?"

"So?"

"In the old days illusionists worked a lot with mirrors," Lucas said. "Tonight I created a psychic mirror in an attempt to reflect Sheffield's own energy straight back at him."

"What a concept." Amaryllis was genuinely awed. "Sheffield went down under a concentrated dose of his own charm. Talk about having an inflated opinion of himself."

"I think he sensed what was happening." Lucas folded his arms behind his head. "That's why he tried to rev up his own output to break through my mirror. But he lost his prism when he went too far."

Amaryllis frowned. "You've never done anything like that before?"

"Never." He took a handful of her long hair and made a fist in it. He savored the silken feel of the stuff against his skin. "But, then, I've never encountered a psychic attack of that nature."

"Psychic attack. What a scary thought." A shudder went through Amaryllis. "That's something else that's supposed to be impossible, except in psychic vampire romance novels."

"You know what they say about truth being stranger than fiction. But I'm not so sure it's as impossible as you assume. A very strong hypno-talent might be able to pull off something similar to what Sheffield did tonight."

"Whatever it was, Sheffield's talent is not a form of hypnosis," Amaryllis said with great certainty. "I've worked with hypno-talents. Trust me, I recognize the effects when I see them in action. Remember when you insisted that Miranda Locking must have been under the influence of a strong hypno-talent?"

"Don't remind me."

"I told you then that even the most powerful talent couldn't get her to act against her will or against her own strongly rooted principles."

"So?"

"Neither you nor I is a strong Sheffield supporter, yet tonight both of us responded to the effects of Sheffield's charisma. We had to actively resist him in order to keep him from overwhelming us with his wonderfulness. Psychic hypnosis just doesn't work like that."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Furthermore, in the hands of a good hypno- talent, the subject either goes under completely or he doesn't go under at all. When it's successfully handled, the subject doesn't recall anything about the experience. You and I, on the other hand, were fully aware of everything that was happening."

"Probably because we were prepared for it."

"That was part of the reason, but it doesn't change the fact that Sheffield's power is different from ordinary psychic hypnosis. His talent is more in the nature of a blunt weapon. It's scary when you think about it."

"We fought back," Lucas reminded her.

"Only because you're such a strong talent and because we understood what was going on. I suspect that most people who get a full dose of the Sheffield charm are oblivious to the fact that they're being manipulated."

"They start out liking the guy, and by the time he's finished with them, they think he's terrific."

"Something like that."

From out of nowhere an uneasy thought crept into Lucas's awareness. It squatted insectlike in the corner of his mind. "I wonder why he pushed me so hard tonight."

"Good question. He must have realized very quickly that you were a talent and that you knew what he was doing because you deliberately erected a barrier to his focus." Amaryllis drummed her fingers on Lucas's chest. "One would think that under the circumstances he would have backed off fast. He's not stupid. Instead he turned the whole thing into a battle."

"Maybe he was just curious."

"About your power?"

"He's probably never encountered anyone as strong as he is."

"If Professor Landreth knew that Gifford was supplying prisms for a man of Sheffield's nature and strong talent, he would have been horrified."

Lucas groaned. "We're back to Osterley again. I was afraid of that. Amaryllis, I don't like this any better than you do, but I think it's time you got out of the prism detective business."

"I have to do something."

"No, you don't. What would you tell the cops? That Sheffield tried to overwhelm you with charm? They'd laugh themselves silly. Tonight we witnessed something that a court of law would consider impossible but not illegal"

"But if Sheffield is focusing with intent to defraud--"

"You'd have to prove it. Hell, Sheffield didn't even get around to asking me for a campaign donation. All he did was try to convince me that he would make a heck of a governor."

Amaryllis straightened her elegant spine in a gracefully resolute movement. "I still think there's a possibility that Professor Landreth's death may be connected to all this."

"It's not your job to clean up city-state politics. How many times do I have to tell you that, technically speaking, there is no crime involved here?"

"The missing file."

Lucas did not like the new note in her voice. "What about it?"

"If only I could figure out how to go about locating that missing file that Irene Dunley mentioned. There must be a clue in it."

Lucas sat up fast. "Oh, no, you don't." He closed his hands around her upper arms. "This has gone far enough. Listen to me, Amaryllis, you are not to pursue this investigation any further."

She regarded him with wide, troubled eyes. "I have to do what I feel is right."

"Even if it's stupid?"

"There is nothing stupid about trying to determine the truth," she said with frosty hauteur. "I'll understand, naturally, if you'd rather not be involved. After all, you've got your position as one of the foremost business leaders in this city-state to consider. You wouldn't want to jeopardize your reputation and standing in the community."

"That's enough," Lucas said through his teeth. "If you're going to insult me, do it fair and square. Don't try to manipulate me with your self-righteous founders' values blather."

"Then stop calling me stupid just because I feel I have to find out what happened to Professor Landreth," she said fiercely. "I'll bet you would do the same if you were in my shoes."

"You just don't know when to back off, do you? Use some common sense. There is no crime here, just a little dirty city-state politics. Business as usual. Stay out of it."

"I can't do that," she said with passionate intensity. "I feel a responsibility to get to the bottom of this situation. There are questions that must be answered."

"Responsibility, hell. You're just being stubborn."

"It's no different than the way you felt when you rescued Dillon Rye from the clutches of that dreadful casino owner. We both know that you don't owe the Ryes anything, but you had to help Dillon anyway, didn't you?"

"That was different."

"No, it was not. Professor Landreth was my friend and my mentor. He taught me everything I know about my craft. I owe it to his memory to find out if his death was an accident."

"It was an accident." Lucas forced himself to release his grip on her shoulders. "Can't you get that through your head? The only person who had even half a reason to want him removed from the scene is Gifford Osterley and you told me yourself that Osterley isn't the kind to commit murder."

"He isn't. At least, I don't think he is. But what about Sheffield?"

"Any politico who wants the governor's chair as badly as Sheffield does might be willing to kill for it, I'll grant you that much. But there was no need to murder anyone in this case. Landreth was not a threat to Sheffield."

"He could have exposed Sheffield's connection to Unique Prisms."

"How many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing illegal going on between Sheffield and Unique Prisms."

"There is a question of ethics," Amaryllis insisted.

"I can't see Sheffield risking a murder charge simply to avoid an investigation into his use of some very discreet prisms. Any such inquiry would be bound to find him innocent."

"Some of the prisms might be willing to testify against him."

"Then he would be far more likely to murder a few of them, wouldn't he? Come on, Amaryllis, think about it. Sheffield isn't killing prisms for the same reason that he didn't kill Landreth. He's got no reason to commit murder. You saw him in action tonight. He's headed straight for the governor's office."

"This whole situation feels wrong, Lucas."

"Damn. I can't believe I'm arguing with you about something so obvious." Lucas flexed his hands. "I suppose this is one of the reasons why the conventional wisdom holds that full-spectrum prisms and strong talents don't make good marriage partners. They'd likely spend all their time quarreling with each other."

The second the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to recall them, but it was too late.

There was a very long silence before Amaryllis answered.

"Yes," she said. "It would be a pretty miserable existence, wouldn't it? Thank heavens for the marriage agencies and all of their tests and interviews."

Lucas felt as if he had just fallen into a bottomless well of jelly-ice. The cold was endless. "Yeah. Right. Lucky us."

"Mr. Trent, you have a visitor."

Lucas glared morosely at the intercom. "Who is it, Maddie?"

"Mr. Calvin Rye."

Just what he needed, Lucas thought. As if things weren't bad enough today. He was still feeling bruised and battered from the midnight quarrel with Amaryllis. Now Dillon's father wanted to see him. "Send him in, please."

Maddie ushered Calvin into the inner office and then quietly closed the door behind him.

Lucas rose. The old habits of politeness died hard. "Have a seat. Rye. What brings you here today?"

"I think you can guess the answer to that." Calvin settled into a chair with statesmanlike composure. The outward assurance was belied by the expression in his eyes. "Dillon told me everything."

"Everything?"

"About his losses at that damned casino. About the way you came to his rescue and covered his debts. The whole sordid tale."

"I see." Lucas sat down, unable to think of anything else to say. "I had a feeling he might do that."

Calvin's mouth thinned with disgust. "Yes, I'm sure you did."

"Rye, what is this all about?"

"I'll be blunt. What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you."

Calvin narrowed his eyes. "We both know you didn't rush to Dillon's aid out of the kindness of your heart. You took advantage of the situation for your own purposes. I would like to know what those purposes are."

"I don't want anything from you. Rye." Lucas was aware of a great weight of weariness descending on him. Absently, he rubbed the back of his neck. He wished he could lose himself in an illusion of the hidden grotto in the islands. But he would need a capable prism for that sort of talent project, he reminded himself. A full-spectrum prism. Hell, he needed Amaryllis.

"There is something you should know," Calvin said quietly. "Shortly after the conclusion of the Western Islands Action, a reporter came to see me at my office."

Lucas stopped massaging his neck. He folded both hands on his desk. "Nelson Buriton?"

"Yes." Calvin's mouth twisted. "Buriton said he had some information about Jackson's death. He wanted to discuss the matter."

"I hope you threw him out the door."

Calvin's gaze was unblinking. "I did. Eventually. But I made the mistake of listening to what he had to say first. It was . . . upsetting."

"Forget Buriton. I dealt with him in the islands. The man is an opportunist. He'll say or do anything to get a story."

Calvin got to his feet and went to the window. He stood there looking down at the street below. "He certainly told me a pack of outrageous and insulting falsehoods."

"I'm not surprised."

"He claimed that during the period in which he covered the Western Islands Action he heard talk of an affair that had supposedly gone on between Jackson and your wife, Dora."

"You should know better than to listen to a reporter's lies, Rye. Buriton was just trying to goad you. He hoped you'd become emotional and blurt out some tantalizing tidbit he could have used on the ten o'clock news."

Calvin's shoulders stiffened. "He also informed me that he had heard rumors that Jackson actively conspired with the pirates. He said that there was a strong possibility that my son had betrayed you not just with Dora but in a business sense as well. Buriton said Jackson may have sold you out in exchange for the promise of becoming the sole owner of Lodestar Exploration."

"I'm glad you didn't give any credence to Buriton's lies."

Calvin fell quiet again for a long moment. Then he turned slowly to face Lucas. "I didn't believe a word of what he had to say, of course."

"Of course not."

"But I have always wondered if he approached you with the same disgusting gossip."

"He did. But I reminded him that I was the one who found Jackson's body. And I was the one who searched the records and files of the pirates' leader after it was all over. I know the truth."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose you do."

"Nelson Buriton hasn't bothered you again since that one visit, has he?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. When he came to see me, I warned him that if he attempted to go public with his lies, he would answer to me. It all happened three years ago, Calvin. I know Buriton's kind. There's no profit for him now in resurrecting ancient gossip. He'd only lose ratings if he went on the air with unfounded, three-year-old rumors."

Calvin watched Lucas intently. "It occurred to me at the time that the only person who had the clout to refute Buriton's accusations was you."

"You're right. As the president of Lodestar and the one in charge of the defense of the islands, my account of events is unassailable. Buriton could do nothing without my cooperation."

"And you refused to give it to him?"

"Why would I bother to help him put together a story filled with lies and innuendoes?" Lucas leaned back in his chair and braced his hands on the arms. "There was certainly nothing in it for me. Lodestar didn't need that kind of publicity."

"You're telling me that you forced Buriton to drop the story because you feared it would be bad for business?"

Lucas smiled humorlessly. "You know me as well as anyone. Rye. Can you think of any other reason why I would have bothered to kill Buriton's story?"

A deep flush suffused Calvin's patrician cheekbones. He held Lucas's gaze for a long moment, but eventually his eyes slid away. He began to pace the office. "You have acknowledged that your actions are grounded in reasons of expediency. Can you blame me for wondering why you chose to rescue Dillon the other night?"

"No. But you'll have to take my word for it that I had no ulterior motive. If Dillon had not chosen to tell you the truth about his situation, you would never have heard it from me. I promised him that I wouldn't discuss the subject with anyone. Whatever else you may think of me. I'm a man of my word."

Calvin paused to study a photograph of Port LeConner that hung on one wall. "Dillon tells me that he wants to go to work for Lodestar."

"I know."

"His mother is opposed to the idea."

"I'm not surprised."

"She blames Lodestar for Jackson's death."

"You mean she blames me."

Calvin did not respond. He stared at the photo.

"She can't protect Dillon forever," Lucas said quietly. "He's twenty-three years old. You and I both know he needs a chance to become a man. He can't do that if you and Beatrice keep him tied to home and hearth. I realize you don't want him to work for me, but there are worse alternatives."

"You refer to that damned huckster who's trying to get him to invest in a fire crystal exploration project?"

"Yes. One way or another, Dillon will seek his own path. He's got spirit and ambition, and he hungers for adventure. Don't kill those qualities, Calvin. He'll resent you for the rest of his life if you try."

"I don't need your advice on how to rear my son."

Lucas said nothing.

Calvin put his hand on the knob. "I owe you sixty-five thousand dollars."

"No. You don't owe me a damn thing. I won't accept your check. Dillon owes me the sixty-five grand. Someday he'll repay it."

"It's a huge debt for a boy his age."

"If he's as ambitious as I think he is, he can pay it off in three years working for Lodestar."

Calvin's jaw tightened. "I tried to make him take money from me to pay you off. He refused."

"That and the fact that he confessed the truth about the debt should tell you something important about him."

Calvin drew himself up. "And just what would that be?"

"That you've done a fine job raising him," Lucas said softly. "It's time to show him that you have some faith in him. Let him become the man he wants to be."

"My wife is terrified that he'll come to the same end that his brother did. We don't need another dead hero in the family."

"There are no more pirates in the Western Islands," Lucas pointed out dryly. "And I can assure you that, as president of Lodestar, I've taken measures to protect the islands and the people who work there."

Calvin's hand clenched around the knob. "I wish I could be certain that you didn't believe anything Nelson Buriton had to say about Jackson."

Lucas met Calvin's eyes across the width of the office. "I know the truth about Jackson."

"So you say. Still, I can't help but wonder if you've got your hooks into Dillon in order to exact revenge for what you may think happened in the islands three years ago."

"I'll be honest with you. Rye. Even if I believed all of Buriton's innuendoes and lies concerning Jackson, I wouldn't take my revenge out on Dillon."

Calvin searched his face. "Why not?"

"Dillon is not Jackson. I don't believe in the old adage about making the family pay for the sins of the children."

"How do I know that?"

Lucas smiled bleakly. "I guess you'll just have to have a little faith in an old friend of the family."

Shortly before five, Amaryllis left the offices of her last client for the day, a gem-talent who had needed her services in order to ascertain the quality of the stones in a recent shipment.

A long, white limousine with ink-dark windows waited at the curb. She glanced at it curiously as she turned to walk toward the bus stop.

The rear door of the big car opened. Gifford stepped out of the limo. He was dressed in his trademark silver gray suit and red bow tie. He gave Amaryllis a wry, diffident smile.

"You're certainly traveling in style these days, Gifford." Amaryllis came to a halt on the sidewalk.

"Amaryllis, I have to talk to you."

"I'm on my way back to the office."

"I'll give you a lift." Gifford took a step closer. "Please. This won't take long."

"I'd rather walk."

"Wait." Gifford put out a hand to catch hold of her arm. "I've got a problem. A big one. I need your help."

She saw the desperate, beseeching urgency in his eyes and knew intuitively that it was genuine. "What's wrong?"

"I'll explain everything in the car. Amaryllis, if I ever meant anything at all to you, please say you'll at least listen to me."

"I don't have much time." Amaryllis reluctantly allowed herself to be drawn toward the sleek limo. "If you promise this won't take long--"

"It won't. I swear it."

She didn't see the other occupant of the car until she got into the rear seat. By then it was too late.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Lark," Madison Sheffield said. "I can't tell you how much Osterley and I appreciate your willingness to help the cause."