Obsidian Prey

Chapter 7

CRUZ CAME AWAKE WITH A JOLT OF ENERGY THAT HAD become all too familiar in recent weeks. His senses slammed into full throttle, leaving him feeling unpleasantly overstimulated; a hunter ready to go for the throat but no target in view.

The sudden blasts of urgency had become more frequent, occurring unpredictably. They were accompanied by fragments of images that he could not make out clearly. He got only a vague impression of towering canyons formed by strangely warped structures and buildings. Along with the glimpses of the nightmarish cityscape came a sense that Lyra was in danger. But the shards of the vision always disappeared as inexplicably as they had come.

The first couple of times he'd had the experience, he'd sent his young cousin Jeff, an agent from AI Security, to check up, very discreetly, on Lyra. He knew she would be furious if she thought he had spied on her during the past three months. But he'd had to be sure that she was all right. Jeff had reported that she was fine and going about her usual routine. He had found no evidence that she was in any danger. She was not even dating. She had appeared fully preoccupied with her work as a tuner and her lawsuit against Amber Inc.

Cruz had taken a few crumbs of comfort from the knowledge that she wasn't seeing another man.

After a few more of the disturbing episodes, he had, for a time, questioned his own psychic mental health. He'd done some research. He and his two brothers were the latest in a long line of unusual talents. For generations, those abilities had brought the family considerable wealth.

But the inheritance had a very dark side. The family talents were strong, but his very pragmatic ancestors had concluded that there was only one truly profitable application for those unique abilities. The result was that for several hundred years his ancestors had made their livings in ways that did not always look good in the light of day. There was no getting around the fact that the family tree was populated with a lot of professional assassins, hit men, contract killers, and mercenaries.

True, Sweetwaters had always taken pride in taking contracts from what they believed to be the right side. They considered themselves the good guys. But when you hunted and killed for money, what did that make you? And what did it do to the individual psyches of the members of a family that had engaged in such a business for a few hundred years, ever since the late 1880s, Old Earth time?

But those days were over, he reminded himself. Mostly. Fifty years ago his grandfather had put an end to what had been the family business for generations. Big Jake Sweetwater had set the clan on a new course. More or less.

Of course, some things never changed.

In the end, however, he had concluded that the disturbing dreams were simply a result of the psychic bond he shared with Lyra. The hunter in him was prowling his unconscious mind, frustrated because he had not been able to claim his mate.

Soon, he thought. Not much longer.

The phone rezzed. He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked at the number on the tiny screen. Speak of the devil. A call from his grandfather was never a great way to start a day. He picked up the phone.

"Good morning, sir."

"Did you have to use Lyra Dore to get that team out last night?" Jake Sweetwater growled.

The lack of a "Good morning" or "Did I wake you?" was classic Big Jake Sweetwater style. He had little patience for the routine pleasantries unless it suited him to use them for some reason of his own. On those occasions when he did resort to politeness or diplomacy, smart people headed for the door. Affability was a sure indication that Jake was up to no good. The only person who could exercise some measure of control over him was his wife, Madeline.

"No one we've got on staff could de-rez that chamber entrance," Cruz said patiently.

"Yeah, the papers made that damn clear. The press is having a field day with this. For the past three months Lyra Dore has tried to make the company look bad in the media. She portrayed AI as a big, bad specter-cat that likes to gobble up innocent little independent prospectors for lunch. Now she shows us up as complete idiots because we had to call her in to open the ruin."

"That is one possible interpretation."

"It's sure as hell the interpretation that's all over the news. And what's this about the two of you being involved in a romantic relationship? Where did the reporters get that idea?"

"You know the press," Cruz said. "Always looking for an angle."

"How much did you pay Lyra Dore for de-rezzing the chamber, anyway?"

"We haven't discussed the matter of her fee yet. There wasn't time last night. She agreed to help as soon as I told her that there were five people trapped inside the chamber. After that, things got busy."

"Hah. She's a Dore. She'll find some way to turn this to her advantage. Probably hold us up for a fortune, and we'll have to pay, because if we don't, AI will look like the evil corporate empire she wants everyone to believe it is."

"I'll let you know the price tag. By the way, there's something you might want to consider here, sir."

"What's that?" Jake demanded.

"We still need her expertise in the lab. Nothing has changed since last night. Webber hasn't been able to find anyone else who can tune amethyst, let alone rez those relics."

"Damn." Jake was silent for a moment. "Well, hell, maybe those stones are just pretty little alien sculptures after all, like Lyra Dore claimed."

"Got a hunch that the ones that we found in the ruin may be nothing more than attractive works of art," Cruz agreed.

There was a short silence while Jake digested that. "You think she held out on us? Stashed some of the stones?"

"What would you have done if you had been in her situation with a big company moving in to take over your discovery?"

Jake snorted. "Hell, I'd have picked out some of the most important pieces and tucked them away someplace safe where I was sure no one would ever find them. Then I'd bide my time until the heat died down and move them on the underground collectors' market."

"That same thought crossed my mind, too."

"Green hell. Should have figured she'd try something like that. She's a Dore. Chip of amber straight off the old block. If she'd had a lick of common sense, she would have taken the cash we offered. That's what any reasonable person would have done."

"I don't think Lyra was feeling reasonable three months ago when we moved in on the ruin."

"What caused the chamber entrance to close?" Jake asked.

"We don't know. Lyra said it was probably some stray currents from a nearby psi river or storm. The only other possibility, according to her, is that someone deliberately closed the entrance by working silver, diamond, or amethyst amber."

"You said there was no indication of any rivers or storms in the area."

"Right."

"Well, we know we don't have anyone on staff who can work amethyst. If we did, you wouldn't have had to pull in Lyra Dore." Jake paused. "Anyone on that team who could work silver or diamond?"

"No. After I got back to the surface I checked the parapsych profiles of everyone involved last night. I looked at the files of the two Guild men, as well. None of them could rez any of those three varieties of rock. And even if it did turn out that one of them had kept his or her talent a secret, there's no obvious motive for trying to murder five people."

"We sure as hell know one person who could have closed that entrance, don't we? And she had a motive. Revenge. Where was Lyra Dore when the chamber locked up?"

"I don't know," Cruz admitted. "But it doesn't matter. She didn't sabotage the ruin."

"Maybe she figured out how to set some kind of time-delayed trap before she turned over control of the chamber," Jake mused.

"No," Cruz said. "Lyra is pissed at AI, but she would never have put lives at risk for the sake of a little vengeance."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"You know why I'm sure."

Jake exhaled heavily. "Face it, you were wrong about her. She's not the right woman for you."

"Yes," Cruz said quietly, "she is."

"Damn it, if she were the right woman, you wouldn't be in this situation. She's playing you."

"Things got complicated three months ago. My fault. She doesn't trust me now. I need to change that."

"What you need to do is your job. Find out what she's hiding from us."

Jake ended the connection.

Cruz looked at the dead phone in his hand. "Hate to tell you this, Big Jake, but I've got other priorities."