After Dark

Chapter 10

"NO NEED TO let it get you down." Olinda Hoyt clapped Emmett on the shoulder. "Hell, even if you'd caught him, he'd have been out on bail by morning."

Emmett managed, barely, not to stagger beneath the blow. Olinda was no dainty pigeon. Years of wielding commercial-weight pots and pans and waiting on customers in her cafe had endowed her with a respectable layer of muscle.

The sequined dissonance happens T-shirt Emmett had glimpsed earlier when she had emerged from the stairwell glowed even more brightly in the lights of the living room. Tight jeans cinched with a glittering rhinestone-studded belt sheathed her full-figured thighs. She wore a pair of running shoes decorated with neon-pink shoelaces. Her long gray hair was tied back in a ponytail.

Definitely not a woman who would go unnoticed in a crowd, Emmett thought.

He nodded absently in response to her observation. "Yeah, probably."

"Man, that was one amazing ghost you threw at him, Mr. London," Zane observed for what must have been the hundredth time. "You shoulda seen it, Aunt Olinda. It was huge. It filled the whole doorway—and we're not even inside the Dead City."

"Sorry I missed it." Olinda winked broadly. "But don't worry, Zane, my boy, one of these days you'll be summoning ghosts that size yerself."

"Made the other guy's ghost look like nothing," Zane crowed.

Emmett saw Lydia's jaw tighten as she set a cup of tea down in front of Zane, but she made no comment on the battle of the ghosts.

"You're sure you're all right?" she asked Zane again. "That man didn't hurt you?"

"Heck, no. I'm fine." Zane ignored the tea. He could not seem to take his eyes off Emmett.

Emmett stifled a groan at the unabashed hero worship in Zane's gaze. Lydia was not going to like this turn of events.

"Let's go through this from the beginning," he said quietly. "Tell me exactly what happened, Zane."

"Sure. Like I said, I'd finished my homework and was just getting ready to go downstairs. I opened the door and there was this guy in the hall. All I could see was his eyes, on accounta the mask. Fuzz didn't like him one bit. He started growling right off."

Emmett crouched down in front of him. "What did he say? Did he ask for Lydia by name? Do you think he knew who lived here or was he just looking for an empty apartment to burglarize?"

"I dunno. At first he seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Guess he'd figured there was no one home. But before I could ask him what he wanted, he summoned the ghost. I tried—" Zane stopped suddenly. "But I couldn't do anything, y'know?"

"It's okay, Zane." Emmett put his hand on the thin shoulder. "A man's got to work with what he's got. You don't have the strength or training yet to neutralize a ghost. So you did something more important. You kept your head. You didn't panic. And you probably saved Fuzz's life."

Zane looked up quickly. "Fuzz wanted to attack him, but I knew that if I let him go, the guy would fry him with that ghost. And I was pretty sure a UDEM that big would kill something as small as Fuzz."

"Emmett's right." Lydia stroked Fuzz's ratty gray fur. "You saved Fuzz. If you hadn't been here, I'm sure he would have gone for the burglar, and that would have been the end of him."

Zane looked at the dust-bunny perched on Lydia's knee. "The sucker used the ghost to pin me and Fuzz in the corner. Then he started tearing the place apart. I figured he was looking for stuff he could sell, y'know? But he didn't pay any attention to your rez-screen."

"Not surprising," Lydia remarked. "It's at least eight years old. I got it at a rummage sale a few months ago. I can see why a burglar would pass it up."

Olinda snorted. "I told you I could get you a deal on a nice new model not more than a few months old at most."

"And I told you I'll pass," Lydia said. "I prefer to purchase appliances that did not fall off the back of a truck. That way I've got a shot at the warranty."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just don't see why you gotta deprive yerself of some of life's little pleasures just because you don't like the notion of not knowing exactly where they came from, is all."

Emmett silenced them both with a look and turned back to Zane. "You don't have any idea what the burglar might have been looking for? He didn't say anything at all while he was tossing the place?"

"Not really." Zane bit his lip, thinking hard. "He swore a lot. He was kinda nervous, y'know? I guess that guy in the Coaster was waiting for him to hurry up and finish."

"I think you're right." Emmett glanced at Olinda. "You didn't see anything?"

"No." She shook her head. "First I knew somethin' was wrong was when I closed up the cafe and hiked up those damned stairs to see why Zane here hadn't come back down. Thought maybe he'd gone to sleep in front of the rez-screen. At the top of the stairs I saw the guy with the knife and heard you yell to get down. That's all I know about the situation."

"All right." Emmett got to his feet. "There's no point going over this again tonight. We all need some sleep."

"You gonna call the cops?" Olinda asked in a very neutral tone of voice.

Emmett turned toward Lydia. "We can call them, but I doubt that it will do any good. No one was hurt and nothing was stolen. They probably won't even bother to send out an officer to take a report."

"Huh. Not to this neighborhood, that's for sure," Olinda muttered. "Now, if this apartment complex was up on Ruin View Hill, they'd have someone out quicker 'n a man can say he's gotta take a leak."

"Thank you for that insightful observation," Lydia said. "Let's not forget that we do have a clue or two. He used a ghost in the course of an attempted burglary. We know he was a hunter."

"And a young one," Emmett added absently. "With a very limited amount of training."

"You're certain?"

"Reasonably certain." Emmett went to stand at the sliding window that opened onto the balcony. "But those two facts leave us with a very large group of suspects. The cops will be too busy to bother with this, but we've got another option."

There was a short, stark silence behind him.

"Are you suggesting that we take this to the Guild?" Lydia asked eventually.

"It's local Guild business when a hunter uses his talents to commit crimes," Emmett reminded her.

"What makes you think we'll get the time of day from those thugs?" she demanded. "No offense, Emmett, but for all we know, the Guild itself is involved in this."

"No way, Lydia." Zane's voice was hot with feeling. "The Guild polices its own. Everyone knows that. Ever since the Era of Discord, the hunters have taken care of any member who went renegade."

"Yes, of course," Lydia said dryly. "How could I forget my history so easily? We all know the Guild deals with its own internal problems. I can't imagine what got into me to even suggest that it wouldn't fall all over itself to help outsiders prove one of its members was a knife-wielding burglar who likes to terrorize people with ghosts."

Emmett ignored the sarcasm in her voice. "I'll talk to the head of the Cadence Guild tomorrow."

"Mercer Wyatt?" She stared at him in disbelief. "You think you can just walk up to his front door and ask to speak to him? You're crazy. And you're also from out of town. That means that even though you're a hunter, you're not a member of the local Guild. What makes you think Wyatt will see you?"

"Professional courtesy."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

He shrugged. "You can come with me if you like."

She looked slightly stunned. But she recovered swiftly. "Sorry. I've got a funeral to attend."

Olinda looked blank. "Anyone I know?"

"Chester Brady."

"Oh, yeah, right. Chester." Olinda shook her head. "Reckon you were the closest thing he had to a friend. Not that that's saying much about Chester's circle of acquaintances."

"I'll go with you," Emmett said. "My meeting with Wyatt isn't until seven o'clock in the evening."

Lydia frowned. "You've already got an appointment with him? At night?"

"I've been invited to dinner," Emmett said.

They all stared at him this time. The only one whose eyes were not opened unnaturally wide was Fuzz.

"Holy shit!" Zane mouthed in awe. "You've been invited to dinner with Mercer Wyatt?"

"I'll be damned," Olinda breathed.

"Exactly," Lydia said. "Better take a very long spoon."

She was in the tomb chamber again. Ancient though it was, it glowed faintly with the mysterious ambient green light emitted by the quartz walls. She knew the eerie luminescence was dangerous because it masked the energy of the illusion traps and the ghosts the Old Ones had set to guard their underground maze.

She could see the dark opening to the antechamber. She went toward it, just as she always did in this dream; and then she sensed the presence behind her, just as she always did. She started to turn, glimpsed the shifting of shadows, felt the cold chill…

She woke with a start, shivering. For a moment she could not think where she was. The disorientation was stronger this time. The chilly sensation was new, though.

Another cold draft swept across the bed. Then came the muted sound of the sliding glass door closing out in the living room. Belatedly she recalled that she and Fuzz were not alone in the apartment tonight. The knowledge that Emmett was here was as disconcerting as the dream. Maybe more so. She sat up slowly, aware that the whisper of cold night air and the sound of the door indicated that Emmett had gone out onto the balcony.

She glanced at the clock. Three a.m. They had gone to bed at one. She had been adamant about restoring order to her apartment before retiring. No one had argued. No one had suggested that the task could wait until morning. Instead, they had all pitched in to help her clean up the mess the intruder had left in his wake. It was as if everyone understood that it would have been impossible for her to sleep in the midst of the chaos. It had taken nearly two hours to get things back into their proper drawers and cupboards.

Three o'clock in the morning was a weird time to go outside for a breath of fresh air. She wondered if her new roommate had any other odd habits.

"Fuzz?"

At the foot of the bed Fuzz yawned and opened his daylight eyes. They gleamed colorlessly in the moonlight.

"Okay, okay, go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

She pushed aside the covers and got out of bed. She started toward the door without thinking and then paused to grab her robe. Sharing the small living space with Emmett required a few modifications in her own habits, she thought. She could only hope he didn't get in the way too much.

She slid her feet into a pair of slippers, belted the robe, and padded out into the front room. The curtains were open. Moonlight spilled across the sofa, revealing that the makeshift bed was empty.

She looked out at the balcony and saw Emmett. He had pulled on his jeans, but that was all. He leaned negligently against the railing, gazing out at her sliver-size view of the green Wall. In the light of the moon his shoulders looked very broad.

She hesitated, struggling briefly against the impulse to take a closer look at his back. What the heck? she thought. This was her apartment, her balcony. If he was going to wander around half naked, he had to expect that she would notice.

She hadn't been getting out a lot lately, after all.

She walked closer to the glass door and peered through the window at sleek lines of moon-sculpted masculine muscle. A man's back, at least this particular man's back, said a lot about him, she decided. There was power, both psychic and physical, in him. And a riveting sensuality.

There was also grace. An easy, unconscious grace, the kind that came from full control, the internal kind. Something about the way he held himself—even now, when he was simply lounging against a rail-spoke volumes about that inner control. She searched her brain for the right description.

"Centered." That was as good a word as any. This was a man who knew his own resources, made his own decisions, his own judgments of others. He had not accepted the experts' verdict on her para-psychological health, as Ryan and her other former colleagues had done. He had not bought the usual assumptions about people who had survived forty-eight hours alone in the catacombs. He didn't think she was too delicate to do her job.

Okay, so Emmett was a ghost-hunter, and a strong one at that. No one was perfect.

She opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony.

He did not turn around. "Everything okay?"

She had the uneasy feeling that he had known she was there, watching him through the window, all along.

"Not quite." She joined him at the rail. "I don't think I ever got around to thanking you for what you did for Zane and Fuzz this evening."

"If it makes you feel any better, I doubt that the intruder intended to hurt either of them. He just wanted them out of the way while he went through your place."

"Maybe. But I don't think he would have hesitated to singe them if they had gotten in his path."

Emmett did not deny that. He lifted one shoulder, the movement of muscle and bone fluid in the moonlight.

Take deep breaths, she instructed herself. Lots of deep breaths.

Silence fell. Lydia focused on the dark silhouettes of the nearby buildings. She wondered why Emmett did not seem to feel the chill in the night air.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you, don't you?" he asked eventually.

She knew what he meant. "Why you didn't tell me that you're a dissonance-energy para-rez? I know why. I made my opinions about ghost-hunters fairly obvious right from the start. I don't blame you for keeping quiet about your talent. It was a perfectly reasonable decision for you to make under the circumstances."

"I thought so."

She fiddled with the belt of her robe. "The rest of it, the part about being a businessman from Resonance City. That's all true, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She relaxed. "Mind if I ask why you don't make your living as a ghost-hunter?"

"I did for a while."

"What happened?"

"I quit."

She looked up at the stars. "Okay, I know a dead-end conversational wall when I see one."

There was a short silence.

"You think that those two ghost-hunters who were on your team six months ago are responsible for what happened to you in those catacombs, don't you?" Emmett said.

She gripped the railing. "I told you, I don't know what happened to me six months ago. I can't remember."

"But you blame the hunters."

"They blamed my recklessness. We all agreed to disagree."

He nodded. "I'm not the only one with dead-end conversational walls."

"No, you're not." She turned sideways and studied his unforgiving profile. "So let's change the subject again. You think there's a connection between what happened here tonight and the ghost who appeared in my bedroom last night."

"Sort of obvious, don't you think?"

She tightened her fingers around the rail again. "I've tried to talk myself into believing that the two incidents could be unrelated. But I've got to admit I haven't been able to convince myself."

"The ghost last night was intended as a warning." Emmett gazed out into the night. "Presumably meant to stop you from looking for the cabinet. But why did someone search your apartment tonight? What was he looking for?"

"I haven't got a clue." She contemplated the night for a time. "Maybe we should take this to the police, Emmett."

"The cops can't handle it. Hell, they can't even find the guy who killed your pal Brady. This involves hunters. And hunters stick together. We need the Guild's cooperation. Here in Cadence, that means we need Mercer Wyatt's help."

"But maybe the police could talk to him."

"No," he said. "No cops. Wyatt would view it as an infringement of his own authority. Besides, we don't have much to give the police. The ghost last night and the break-in tonight won't amount to much in their eyes."

"What about the fact that your nephew is missing?"

"There's no evidence of foul play. Quinn is eighteen years old, not a little kid. The cops don't have any reason to look for him. They'd say it's a family matter. And they'd be right. Finding Quinn is my problem, not theirs."

"What about the cabinet of curiosities?"

"Same thing. A family problem. It wasn't exactly stolen, after all. It was pawned. I've got a copy of the receipt. No, we can't go to the cops. At least not until I figure out what the hell we're up against."

Some of her gratitude gave way to irritation in the face of his hardheaded attitude. "What harm can it do to at least talk to them?"

"For starters, it might get my nephew killed."

She stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Bringing the cops into it now will drive everyone involved further underground. Whoever's behind this might decide that the easiest way to deal with the problem is to get rid of whatever it is that's drawing the attention of the authorities."

She sighed. "In other words, your missing nephew."

"Yeah."

"All right. Oddly enough, I can see your point of view. No cops. Not yet."

He turned partway around to face her. "Thanks. I appreciate your cooperation."

"Hey, I'm your high-priced private consultant, remember? A satisfied client is my only goal."

He ignored that. "I wish like hell that I could get you out of this."

"I told you, you can't fire me."

He watched her with somber intensity. "Even if I could, it's too late."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"After what happened here tonight, we have to assume that for some reason you're in this up to your neck."

Another chill went through her. This one had nothing to do with the temperature. "I sort of came to that very same conclusion myself this evening. It's not always real obvious, but I'm actually pretty smart, you know."

"I know. Looks like we're going to be sharing a bathroom for a while."

She had a sudden thought and found herself grinning.

"What?" he asked.

"Just make sure you stay out of sight if my landlord comes to the door. I'm not supposed to have long-term houseguests. Driffield says it's a violation of the lease to have anyone living in the apartment who's not named in the lease."

"I'll hide under the bed if he shows up."

"You won't fit. Relax. Odds are, he won't make it up all five flights of stairs." She turned away, intending to go back through the door. Then she paused. "I almost forgot. In addition to saving Zane and Fuzz, I wanted to thank you for something else."

"And that is?"

"For not labeling me delicate." She smiled tremulously. "That counts for a lot in my book."

"Even if the compliment comes from a hunter?"

"I thought you said you were a businessman."

He smiled slowly. "That's right."

She took hold of the handle, started to open the door.

"One more thing," Emmett said softly.

She glanced back inquiringly and discovered that he had moved away from the rail. He was standing very close to her now. Almost touching her. Totally blocking the night view. If she moved, she would brush up against his bare chest.

Deep breaths, she reminded herself. More deep breaths.

"What?" she asked. Damn. So much for deep breaths. She was suddenly breathless.

"Given that you're not the delicate type, and all," he began deliberately.

She searched his face. "Yes?"

"Do you think that you're likely to faint if I make a pass?"

She was no longer just breathless, she discovered. She was out of oxygen altogether. "Is this a hypothetical question?"

"No."

His hands closed around her shoulders. A sizzling charge, more shocking in its own way than a jolt of UDEM energy, shot through her. Every nerve resonated in response. She wondered if her hair was standing on end.

Like brushing up against a ghost but without the pain. No pain at all. Just an exquisite sense of excitement. Very high-rez stuff, she concluded. Very high-rez indeed.

He bent his head slightly. His mouth closed over hers in a kiss that held the concentrated essence of everything she had deduced from her intensive study of his back. Control, power, sensuality.

To hell with deep breaths. It had been a long, long time since she'd been involved in anything that could even remotely be described as an intimate relationship. And this was her balcony, after all.

She flattened her palms on his chest. The heat of his skin burned nicely. She let her mouth soften beneath his.

He groaned. It was the unmistakable sound of hunger stirring in the depths. It should have made her cautious, but instead it only heightened the thrill. Experimentally, she flexed her fingers, savoring the feel of muscle beneath skin.

He tightened his hold on her immediately, wrapping her in his heat and strength. One of his hands slid down her spine, glided over her buttocks, cupping them.

Her lower body was suddenly tight against his. Even through the layers of his jeans and her bathrobe, she was intensely aware of his erection.

And just as intensely aware of the sudden dampness gathering between her legs.

He took one hand off of her long enough to grasp the door handle.

"Inside," he muttered against her mouth. "No room out here."

She did not argue. It was a very small balcony.

He got the door open, got her into the living room. She was conscious of movement. Her feet left the floor. And then she felt the tumbled bedding and the cushions of the sofa beneath her. She turned her head into the pillow and caught his scent-heady, utterly male, unique. As exhilarating as the tangled energy in an illusion trap. And no doubt just as dangerous.

His hands left her. She was once again conscious of the coolness of the room.

She opened her eyes and looked up. Emmett loomed over her. His fingers were busy at the fastening of his jeans.

The unmistakable frisson of psi energy sparked invisibly in the vicinity. She glimpsed tiny flickers in the air just behind Emmett. He was causing them, she realized. Probably wasn't even aware of it.

The little flashes of green light brought her back to reality with a jolt. From out of nowhere came a sharp memory of Melanie's description of a sexual encounter with a hunter who had recently summoned a ghost. Using their talent gives them a hard-on like you wouldn't believe. Makes 'em sexy as hell. Something to do with the aftereffects of exercising dissonance energy. The experts think it's linked to their hormones or something.

Lydia froze. She could not abide the thought that Emmett's eagerness to go to bed with her was just a byproduct of his earlier use of his paranormal talents. It was too depressing to think that any woman might do for him right now.

"Time out." She sat up quickly and shoved her fingers through her hair to get it out of her eyes. Deep breaths. "This is not smart. This is definitely not smart. Everyone knows that this sort of thing plays havoc with a business relationship."

His hands stopped moving at the waistband of his jeans. For a long moment he said nothing. Behind him, the little green sparklers winked out.

"You're right," he said eventually. "Everyone knows that."

He didn't have to agree with her so readily, she thought, irritated. It wasn't as if there weren't several good counterarguments he could have made.

With an effort of will she summoned what she prayed was a nonchalant nod and managed to struggle up off the sofa. "I realize that this was a unique situation. It's not your fault. I completely understand."

"Good to know," he replied as she gathered her robe more snugly around her and edged toward the hall. "Nothing like an understanding woman, I always say."

"My friend Melanie explained everything to me."

"Terrific. Mind if I ask exactly what she explained?"

"You know, all that stuff about how using your particular type of psi energy affects your, uh, libido."

"Lydia—"

"It's okay. Really." She flapped her hands at him as she backed away. "Every type of psi talent produces certain eccentricities."

"Eccentricities," he repeated in that oddly neutral tone.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be back to normal in the morning."

"You really think so?"

"Melanie said the effects are transitory." She paused to give him a chance to respond, and when he didn't she whirled and fled back to the safety of her own bed. She forgot about the little table until her knee glanced painfully off the corner. She knew she would have a bruise in the morning. More than one kind, she thought, thinking of how close she had come to letting Emmett seduce her.

She could only hope that none of the bruises showed.