After Dark

Chapter 8

SILENCE DESCENDED ON them. Emmett looked at Lydia. She met his eyes. A moment of perfect comprehension, he thought.

The waiter returned with the entrees. When he was gone, Lydia refocused her attention on her food.

"He thinks I lost my para-rez pitch because of something that happened to me six months ago," she said after a while.

"I got that impression."

"I had a bad experience in the Dead City."

"I know," Emmett said quietly.

"You do?" She looked up quickly, frowning. "I hadn't realized—" Then she grimaced. "Yes, I suppose you would know."

"I called one of my people back in Resonance City. Had him take a quick look into your background."

"I see."

"The report said you were surprised by an illusion trap. It overwhelmed you, and you disappeared into the catacombs before anyone else on the team realized what had happened. There was a search, but you had vanished. Two days later you walked out on your own."

She shrugged. "So they say. To be honest, I can't remember anything about the forty-eight hours I spent underground. The para-rez shrinks said it's probably better that way."

"What do you think happened?"

She hesitated. "I may have gotten caught in a trap. I'm good, but no tangler is perfect. But there's another possibility."

"What's that?"

"I could have gotten badly fried by a really powerful ghost. That would also account for two full days of amnesia."

He frowned. "Couldn't have been a ghost. You were with a university excavation team. The report said you had two fully qualified ghost-hunters."

She cocked a brow. "You read the official report of the inquiry council, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"It's supposed to be confidential, you know."

"I know."

She let that go. "You're right. There were two hunters with us. They claim they accompanied me to the entrance to the tomb chamber. They told the committee that while they were dealing with a couple of small ghosts at the entrance, I disappeared into one of the antechambers. That was the last they saw of me."

Emmett waited.

"They said I didn't follow standard safety procedures." Her mouth tightened. "They implied I behaved recklessly."

Emmett nodded. The two hunters swore that, in her eagerness to explore the newly discovered antechamber, Lydia had gone ahead without waiting for them or any of the other members of the team. The conclusion of the report had been blunt: she had gotten herself into trouble.

He watched her twirl pasta around the tines of her fork. "Must have been an illusion trap. If it had been a real monster ghost the two hunters would have detected traces of energy in the vicinity."

"So they say." She ate some pasta.

"Are you telling me that you don't believe the hunters' version of events?" Emmett asked very neutrally.

She put down her fork. "I'm saying I don't know what happened. I've got no clear memories of what occurred in that antechamber. I've been forced to take the word of the others who were on the team that day."

"No clear memories?" Emmett watched her closely. "A moment ago you said that you couldn't remember anything about the forty-eight hours you spent in the catacombs."

She said nothing for a time, just looked at him. In the light of the candle her face was shrouded in mystery. He thought about what it must have been like to lose forty-eight hours out of your life and then wake up in the endless green night of an alien catacomb without amber. A lot of people who got lost underground never returned. Those who did find their way out were usually so psychically traumatized that they wound up in para-rez wards for a long time.

For a few seconds he thought Lydia was not going to respond to his question. Then she appeared to come to some inner decision.

"I've never told anyone else, but lately I think I've been getting little bits of memory." She gazed into the heart of the candle flame. "The only problem is, I can't make them out. It's like catching a glimpse of a ghost, the old-fashioned, horror-story kind—a shade or a phantom, not a UDEM."

"Have you gone back to the doctors?"

Her mouth twisted. "The last thing I need is another note in my para-psych file telling the world that I'm showing increasing signs of post-para-traumatic stress. I've already lost one good job because of the shrinks' report."

"And because the chairman of your former department was not willing to give you a chance to prove the doctors were wrong," Emmett reminded her.

"Ryan and I used to be colleagues. He got promoted to chair of the department one month after my Lost Weekend. That's when he apparently decided that I'm too fragile to do my job."

"I see."

"I can't really blame him. Everyone in the department is convinced that no tangler can go through what I did and come out of it with all para-faculties intact. No one wants to work on a team with someone who's—" She broke off to twirl her fingers in a circle. "You know, unreliable. A team member who loses her nerve or her edge in the Dead City puts everyone else in danger."

Emmett thought about how he had found her repainting her bedroom wall that morning to remove scorch marks left by a ghost. Whoever had summoned the UDEM must have known about her terrifying experience six months ago, he reflected. Most people could be expected to panic at the sight of a wild ghost, no matter how small, in their own homes. Anyone who had spent forty-eight hours alone in the catacombs would be especially vulnerable to that kind of small-scale terror.

Before this was over, he thought, he would very much like to get his hands on the hunter who had coldbloodedly attempted to frighten her.

"If it makes any difference," he said, "I don't think you're delicate or fragile or inclined to fracture under stress. In my opinion, you are one very gutsy lady."

"Hey, that's great." She smiled with iron-willed intent. "I'm so glad you think I can do my job. Because we've got a contract and I'm not going to let you fire me."

He groaned. "So we're back to that, are we?"

"Sorry." She took another bite of pasta. "But it is the subject that is uppermost in my mind tonight."

"Lydia, you're missing the point here. I'm the reason someone sent that ghost to your bedroom last night. Don't you get it? If you continue to work with me, there may be other incidents. Someone is trying to make it plain that he or she doesn't want you to help me search for the cabinet."

"True. I wonder why not?"

He shrugged. "It's obvious. Whoever is behind this is afraid that the cabinet will lead me to Quinn. From now on, I have to go on the assumption that someone doesn't want me to find him."

She tapped one glossy green-and-gold-tinted nail against her plate. "If there is someone out there who feels that strongly about it, your nephew may be in serious danger."

"Yes. Until now, I've assumed he was just a lovestruck kid with rampaging hormones chasing after a girlfriend. But after what happened in your bedroom last night—"

"You need me, Emmett." She aimed the fork at him. "Admit it. You need all the help you can get."

"Maybe. But I don't want to be responsible for putting you in danger."

"That didn't worry you when you believed that I was working with Chester."

"That's different."

"No, it's not. Nothing has changed except that you no longer think I know the whereabouts of your cabinet. Look, I'm an adult and I'm a professional. I can make my own decisions."

"Lydia—"

"I won't let you push me out of this, Emmett. I need this job and you need me. I'm going to continue looking for your cabinet, regardless of what you choose to do."

"There's a word for that kind of threat."

"Yeah. Blackmail. You can't stop me. If there is any real danger involved, it will be safer for both of us if we work together. We should share information."

He studied her for a long moment. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she meant every word. She would continue to search for the cabinet, with or without his permission. He should have known that it was not going to be easy to fire her.

"All right," he said after a while. "Okay. You win."

She felt triumphant.

"But as you said," he continued evenly, "it will be safer if we work together."

"Right. No problem. I'll keep you informed—"

"You should be reasonably safe during the days while you're at the museum," he said, talking straight over the top of her eager promise. "There's obviously a renegade ghost-hunter involved in this somewhere, but he isn't likely to try to terrorize you when there are witnesses around."

She quirked a brow. "No?"

"I doubt it. Too much chance of getting caught. Hunters have to work at close range, you know that. Even a strong, well-trained, very experienced one can't summon a ghost and manipulate it from more than half a city block away, even when he's working near the Old Wall. And I don't think we're dealing with a well-trained one here."

"You sound like an authority on the subject," she said coolly.

"Use your head. You know as well as I do that it's illegal to summon ghosts outside the Dead City. Any renegade hunter doing so risks drawing the attention of the Guild authorities. They tend to frown on that kind of thing."

"Especially if there's no profit in it for the Guild," Lydia shot back. "But what if he's not a renegade? What if he's working for the Guild?"

"You really don't hold ghost-hunters in high esteem, do you?"

"Let's just say that I don't think the Guild is above allowing its members to get involved in a few personal financial adventures on the side, provided, of course, that they cut the Guild in for a percentage."

"Are all para-archaeologists here in Cadence that cynical about the Guild?"

"No." She dunked a chunk of bread into the olive oil. "A few of my former colleagues think hunters are sort of sexy, believe it or not. They've actually had affairs with some of them. My friend Melanie Toft at Shrimpton's told me that she once dated a hunter for several weeks."

For a few seconds he thought she must be teasing him. Then he realized she was serious. "I take it the idea of having an affair with a hunter doesn't appeal to you?"

She blew that off with a wave of her hand and bit down on the bread. "Forget my personal opinions on the subject. We've got more important things to worry about."

"All right. As I said, I'm not too concerned about the days, provided you're willing to follow some reasonable precautions. It's the nights that are a problem."

"So?"

"So," he said deliberately, "if you insist on carrying out the terms of our contract, as of tonight you've got a roommate."

She gaped at him in stunned silence. Maybe it hadn't occurred to her that he could play tough too, he thought. Damned if he would let her blackmail him without paying a price.

Not a very big price, of course. Her dumbfounded expression was no doubt as much satisfaction as he would get.