Silver Master

Chapter 27

Her screams woke him. He jerked upright in bed, searching for the source of the danger. He saw Janet in a patch of moonlight. She was on her feet, backing away from the bed with a horrified expression. She held out both hands as though warding off a demon.

“What is it?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“You.” She choked on another scream. “I know you told me what it would be like, but I never realized…never expected to wake up in the middle of the night and…I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with it.”

She whirled and ran from the bedroom, her nightgown flapping wildly at her heels.

He looked down and saw that at some point he had kicked off the covers during the night. The upper half of his leg from knee to hip was missing.

HE OPENED HIS EYES AND LET THE REMNANTS OF THE dream fade away. Through the sliding glass door he could see the faint green glow of the Dead City night giving way to a cloudy dawn. For a few seconds he was disoriented. Wrong bed, wrong apartment, wrong view.

Then the memories slammed through him. He’d pulled silver light, enough to go invisible for several minutes. His heart accelerated abruptly. The fight-or-flight response kicked in, dumping adrenaline and a bunch of other biochemicals into his bloodstream. The last time this had happened he’d ended up in a waking coma at the Glenfield Institute.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and surged to his feet, intent only on escape.

Max rumbled softly somewhere nearby. Davis stopped cold at the familiar sound and turned around. He saw Max at the foot of the bed, nestled into the plump quilt. Only his blue eyes were open and he was still fully fluffed: concerned, but not in battle mode.

It finally dawned on him that the room did not smell like the psych ward. Instead of the sterile, antiseptic odor he associated with that antechamber of hell, there was another scent.

He picked up the pillow and breathed deeply. Everything inside him stirred into full awareness. He knew the fragrance. He would remember it for the rest of his life. His heart rate slowed. He wasn’t trapped in the Glenfield Institute; he was in Celinda’s bedroom.

He recalled how she had wrapped herself around him, her body heat driving out the icy, postburn fever.

“How you doin’, boss?” Trig asked from the doorway. He had a cup of coffee in one big hand.

Davis realized that the only thing he had on was his briefs. “I’m okay. A little foggy about what happened, though.”

“You pulled your invisible man trick when you took on Landry’s men. As near as Celinda can figure, you disappeared for about five minutes. Plus you de-rezzed a lot of ghosts.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What day is it? How long was I out?”

“You weren’t out. Not the way you were last time. The fight with those goons Landry sent after you happened last night. You’ve been asleep for a few hours, that’s all. Normal postburn crash this time.”

“That’s not possible.”

Trig sipped his coffee and lowered the mug. “You’re sitting there, aren’t you? You look fine to me. Course, you need a shave and a shower, but aside from that—”

“What happened?”

“Celinda took care of your little coma issue last night.”

Davis went very still, remembering the feel of her heat and the sense of calm that had come over him.

“How?” he asked.

“She thinks it was a combination of her talent and the relic.”

“Explain.”

“She told me that she was able to resonate with the relic and restore your psi-wave patterns to normal. She thinks the artifact may be some kind of alien medical device designed to treat psi-related trauma.”

“Huh.”

“But there’s another possibility,” Trig said.

“What?”

“Better brace yourself, boss. Celinda is convinced that in the wrong hands the device might be very dangerous.”

A grim sense of impending trouble came over him. “Let me guess. She doesn’t think Mercer Wyatt and the Guild are the right hands, does she?”

“Nope. She wants the device to go to a medical research lab where it can be studied.”

“Oh, shit,” he said very softly.

“Yeah.” Trig sounded sympathetic.

“If the device really is that valuable or that dangerous, Wyatt is not going to agree to let go of it. Where is it now?”

“Araminta’s cookie jar. Celinda told me she figures that’s the last place any of Wyatt’s Guild thugs would think to look for it.”

“Thugs?”

“I believe that was the term she used,” Trig said.

“Swell. The most potentially significant alien artifact ever discovered is hidden in a dust bunny’s cookie jar.”

“Not like it’s unprotected,” Trig said quickly. “Got a feeling that anyone who tries to swipe it out of that cookie jar will have to deal with one really pissed-off dust bunny.”

Davis contemplated his badly tangled case. “Got any other cheery news for me?”

“Couple of things. First, I called Wyatt last night and told him that Benson Landry was after the relic. I also briefed him on what happened out there in the desert at the old ruin site.”

“What did he say?”

“Pretty much what you’d expect a guy in his position to say. He told me not to worry about Landry anymore. He’ll take care of him.”

“One less thing to worry about. Did you tell him the relic had turned up again?”

Trig exhaled heavily. “No. I thought I’d let you handle that. As far as Wyatt’s concerned, the relic is still missing.”

“Something to look forward to. Anything else?”

“Picked up a couple of fairly solid rumors about a guy who may have been the hunter you met up with in the lane the other night. He’s a former Guild man named Brinker who turned ruin rat a few years ago. Evidently he’s capable of generating a dopp ghost.”

“Got anything else on him?”

“He managed to eke out a living for a while working the underside of the antiquities business. But a couple of years ago he ran into an illusion trap. The experience left him with a bad case of parapsych trauma. The Guild took care of his medical expenses, but he never fully recovered. According to my information, he’s living in a flophouse in the Old Quarter.”

“Got an address for him?”

“Sure do,” Trig said.

“Sounds like I need to have a conversation with this Brinker.”

“One thing doesn’t add up, though,” Trig warned.

“What’s that?”

“Like I said, according to my information, Brinker is a real burnout case. Can’t even hold a job. Frankly, he doesn’t sound like the type who could get it together enough to engineer a complicated search for a stolen relic.”

Davis thought about that. “I see what you mean.”

Trig checked his watch. “It’s four thirty. Want me to stick around any longer?”

“No. I can handle things now. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Right.” Trig started to turn away. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Where’s Celinda?”

“Sound asleep on the sofa. Finally.”

Davis frowned. “What do you mean, finally?”

“She had a hard time getting to sleep. Didn’t stop tossing and turning until about three AM. No big surprise, given what she went through.”

“She was amazing,” Davis said.

“Yeah, I got that impression.” Trig paused. “And to think you didn’t believe any woman could handle the invisibility thing.”

“I said Celinda’s amazing.” He made his tone go neutral. “Doesn’t mean that she wants to have a long-term relationship with a Guild man who does a carnival act.”

“Don’t be so negative, boss. Keep in mind that she knows your big secret, and she didn’t freak out.”

“I repeat, it doesn’t mean she wants to get involved with me.”

“Looks like the two of you are already involved, if you ask me. By the way, I stopped by your place on the way over here last night and picked up some fresh clothes for you.” Trig nodded toward a small overnight case on the floor. “Wasn’t sure what you had left from the wedding trip.”

“Thanks.”

Trig went down the hall. A moment later the front door opened and closed very quietly.

Davis got to his feet and then stopped, unable to decide what to do next. He couldn’t get the image of Celinda asleep on the sofa in the other room out of his mind. The urge to go down the hall and look at her was almost overwhelming.

But now she knew he was a circus freak.

“Probably a bad idea,” he said to Max.

Max yawned and stretched contentedly. Then he flipped over on his back, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

“How come your love life is so much simpler than mine?” Davis asked.

There was no response.

After a while it occurred to Davis that he probably needed a shower.