Amaryllis

Chapter 5

Lucas knew that kissing Amaryllis was the act of a desperate man. He had told himself that taking her into his arms would be the quickest way to shatter the illusion of sexual desire that had held him in thrall all evening. He knew more about the nature of illusions than most people, he had assured himself. Hell, he was an expert. He knew one when he saw it.

But the reality of Amaryllis's sweet, warm, incredibly sexy mouth did not have the therapeutic effect he had anticipated. Her lips actually trembled. A shiver went through her, sending shock waves through him.

The evidence of her response sent Lucas straight over the edge. He had a mental image of a jungle canyon full of exotic flowers, and then he was falling straight into the mass of petals. The hot, heady fragrance of desire inundated his senses.

"Lucas." Amaryllis gave a soft, delicious cry and threw her arms around his neck. "Lucas."

She wanted him. The knowledge was dazzling. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. At least this was a case of mutual sexual synergy. The link had definitely worked both ways.

He tightened his grip on her slender body until he could feel her high, firm breasts crushed against his chest. The weightless scarves of the flutter dress were no barrier to his hands. He groaned as he traced the graceful line of her spine down to the curve of her elegantly rounded buttocks.

Amaryllis shivered in his grasp. She clung to him.

Lucas tore his mouth free from hers. "So much for working off the side effects." He scooped her up in his arms and started toward the closed door of what had to be a bedroom.

Amaryllis clutched at his shoulders as he carried her down the hall. She looked up at him from beneath half-closed lashes. Her eyes were so deep he was sure he would drown.

Somehow he got the door open without dropping her. Two more strides through the shadows brought him to the bed. Moonlight from the window revealed a prim, white bedspread.

Lucas turned and fell backward across the bed. He pulled Amaryllis down on top of him. She sprawled on his chest amid a flurry of silken scarves.

"I've never heard of anything like this happening," Amaryllis gasped. "Honestly."

"It's okay, it's okay." He caught her face between his hands and kissed her heavily. "Don't worry about it."

"Yes, but--" She broke off and began to kiss him wildly. His mouth, his jaw, his ear. Her fingers dug fiercely into his shoulders.

Euphoria roared through Lucas. No woman had ever attacked him with such gratifying enthusiasm. He rolled Amaryllis onto her back. The pins fell from her hair. Lucas wrapped one fist in the soft tresses. It was too dark to see the color of Amaryllis's eyes, but there was no mistaking the sheen of excitement in them.

He wedged one leg between her knees. The heat of her thighs threatened to burn through the fabric of his trousers. He covered her mouth with his own and fumbled with the scarves of the dress.

It took forever to get one breast free, but the feel of Amaryllis's tight nipple more than compensated for the effort. Lucas scraped his palm lightly over the delicate bud and then hesitated, afraid to bruise her with his big, calloused hands.

"It's all right." She gripped the fabric of his shirt. "I won't break."

Lucas uttered a thick, hoarse sound that was half groan and half laughter. It was the second time that evening that she had assured him that she wouldn't break under his touch.

"That's good to know," he said.

He bent his head and reverently took her nipple into his mouth. Amaryllis made a soft, wordless sound and clenched her fingers in his hair.

He slid his knee higher between her legs. The scarves fluttered anxiously for a moment and then parted with only token protest. He reached down and cupped the heated center of her warm body. His hand closed over panties that were already damp.

Amaryllis went rigid beneath him. Her eyes widened in the moonlight.

"You're as ready as I am," he breathed, awed by her response. He inhaled deeply, enchanted by the searingly erotic, utterly feminine fragrance that drifted through the shadowed room. "It's definitely not an illusion."

"Illusion?"

"I figured that whatever it was that got me into this condition during the focus link was some kind of artificial stimulation," he confided. "An illusion. But when I realized that you had felt it, too, I decided it didn't much matter what had caused it. I don't know about you, but this is real enough for me."

"Wait a second. You're making love to me because you were sexually aroused by the link?"

"I don't think the reason matters much now." He began to probe beneath the edge of her underwear.

"Wait. Stop." She released her grip on his hair and grabbed his arms. "Stop it right now. This has gone far enough."

"What are you talking about?" He kissed the curve of her throat.

"You heard me." She shoved imperiously at his shoulders.

Lucas blinked, dazed by the sudden turn of events. He realized that she was trying to push him aside. "Amaryllis, what's wrong?"

"Get off me."

It dawned on him that mentioning the link had been a serious mistake. "Take it easy. I didn't mean that I was making love to you just because of what happened this evening. Amaryllis, listen to me."

"Off."

Reluctantly, he eased himself onto one elbow, freeing her. "Just listen for a moment, will you? I'm sorry if I offended you."

"I'm the one who should apologize," she said crisply. "I don't know what got into me."

"You?"

"I'm the professional here." She crawled to the edge of the bed, slid her legs over the side, and stood. "You're just the client."

"Just the client." Lucas propped his head on his hand and watched her in the shadows.

"As a qualified and certified professional prism, it's my duty to adhere to the Code of Focus Ethics. I should never have allowed you to kiss me. It was completely out of line. You're a client, for heaven's sake."

"Actually, I think of myself more as a man than as a client."

"Well, it's my responsibility to think of you as a client, nothing more and nothing less. It was obvious that you experienced some unfortunate side effects from tonight's link."

"I wouldn't call the side effects unfortunate. Just a little unusual."

"As a trained professional, I ought to have made allowances for the fact that the focus did not proceed in the normal manner." Amaryllis buried her face in her hands. "I can't believe that I allowed you to carry me in here and...and..." She dropped her hands to her sides. "I behaved in a thoroughly unprofessional manner."

"Must be tough trying to live up to your professional code of ethics all the time."

"It has never been particularly difficult until tonight."

"I'll try to take some comfort from that." Lucas exhaled slowly and sat up on the edge of the bed.

Amaryllis scurried to the bedroom door. She dithered a moment. Lucas realized that she was trying to decide whether or not to turn on the light. She apparently concluded it would not be a good move. She edged out into the hall and turned to wait for him.

"Please hurry." Amaryllis folded her arms beneath her breasts. "It's quite late. I have to go into work early tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, sure." Frustrated desire clawed at his insides as he watched the way the hall light made her amber hair glow. "You want to get my bill in the mail."

"Lucas--"

"I'm going. I'm going."

He made his way down the hall with stoic determination. His jacket was lying on the floor, right where he had dropped it a short while earlier. He scooped it up and slung it over his shoulder.

Amaryllis hurried after him. "I really do apologize for my unprofessional and ethically questionable behavior, Lucas. I don't know how I could have been so irresponsible."

It was too much. Lucas swung around at the door and put his hand across her mouth, effectively silencing her. He gazed down into her huge green eyes. "If you apologize for your lack of professionalism one more time, I will not be responsible for my actions. Clear?"

Her eyes widened above the edge of his hand. She nodded quickly.

"Good night, Miss Lark." He took his palm away from her mouth and opened the front door. "Go back to bed and cuddle up with your professional code of ethics. Personally, I'm going to go home and take a cold shower."

He walked out into the night and closed the door very deliberately behind himself. He paused on the front step to take a reviving breath of chilled air, and then he went down the steps to his car. His body was tense and heavy. A deep restlessness swirled in his gut. And in his head.

The former he could deal with. But the latter did not bode well.

This was what came of dealing with prissy little prisms. He opened the car door and slid behind the steering bar. He tossed his jacket onto the seat.

For some reason he recalled the novel he had noticed earlier on Amaryllis's bookshelf. Wild Talent, by Orchid Adams. A psychic vampire romance.

Lucas wondered what Amaryllis would say if she realized that she had come within a hairbreadth of making love with an off-the-scale talent whom most people would say fully qualified as a genuine, real-life psychic vampire.

He thought she was a prissy, sanctimonious little prig. Amaryllis sat hunched over her morning cup of coff-tea and bleakly contemplated the disastrous evening. It was not an edifying endeavor.

It had been a very long night. A glance in the bathroom mirror earlier had sent a shudder through her. The dark circles under her eyes were not especially flattering.

She had relived the farewell scene at her front door countless times, and it never got any better. She could still see the derision in Lucas's expression as he made his exit. He thought she was a prim, stiff-necked prism who couldn't unbend long enough to enjoy a night of mutual sexual synergy.

Amaryllis groaned. Better Lucas thought her a narrow-minded, straitlaced prig than that he learn the real truth, which was that she was an idiot.

It was the only logical explanation.

Surely only an idiot would have turned down the chance to make love with the only man who had ever made her feel such passion.

What had stopped her, Amaryllis wondered. It certainly wasn't the Code of Focus Ethics. She had fibbed when she had told Lucas that sleeping with a client was against the code.

The truth was, the code had nothing to say on the subject of personal relationships between prisms and talents. In reality, it was not considered a problem for most people. It was only in psychic vampire romance novels that full-spectrum prisms got passionately involved with powerful talents.

The phone rang just as Amaryllis started to pour herself a second cup of coff-tea. She knew who was on the other end even before she heard her aunt's cheery, determined voice.

"Amaryllis, dear, your picture is in the paper this morning. Have you seen it?"

"No, Aunt Hannah, I haven't."

"Your uncle and I are so excited. I called everyone in the family right after breakfast."

Amaryllis closed her eyes in despair. "Wonderful."

"You didn't tell me that you were going to attend that museum reception with Lucas Trent," Hannah Lark said. "He's the president of Lodestar Exploration."

"I know. I was focusing for him, Aunt Hannah. I was there on assignment."

"You did say something about the evening being work related. But, dear, he's not just any client. He's the man who commanded the defense of the Western Islands a few years ago. He's a hero."

Amaryllis remembered the bleak expression in Lucas's eyes when he described how he had buried the truth about Jackson Rye's betrayal. She didn't care what he said, she knew he hadn't done it for the sake of the firm. He had done it to protect all of the people who would have been hurt. "More than you'll ever know, Aunt Hannah."

"And he found those weird relics, too. It says here that he's looking for a wife. The implication is that you're an agency date, but, of course, we know that's impossible."

"Right. Impossible."

"You aren't even registered yet."

"I was working undercover. Aunt Hannah. It was a security job. The agency date stuff was the story we used to explain my presence at the reception."

"Security work, you say." Hannah's voice sharpened. "Was it dangerous?"

"Not in the least." Amaryllis pulled the morning paper across the counter and studied the photo of herself standing next to Lucas in front of a display case. She winced when she noticed that her mouth was hanging open. "It was a very straightforward assignment."

"Well? Don't leave me hanging. I promised your uncle that I'd find out everything I could about Lucas Trent."

"What do you want to know?" Amaryllis asked warily.

"Well, under the circumstances, I think that the most important thing is to find out which matchmaking agency he's registered with."

Horror shot through Amaryllis. "Aunt Hannah, don't go getting any ideas. He's listed with Synergistic Connections, but he's a serious talent. Class nine."

"What a pity." Some of the enthusiasm drained out of Hannah's voice. "Are you certain?"

"I saw his certification papers. I worked with him last night. Yes, I'm certain." Amaryllis frowned at the recollection of that first surge of power through the prism. Definitely a full class nine. If she hadn't seen his papers, she would have guessed that he was higher than a nine. But his certificate had been very specific. Lucas was a class nine stuck with the almost useless ability to detect other talents at work.

"Oh, well. It was just a thought," Hannah murmured. "You know, I've heard that there have been one or two rare instances in which an agency matched a full-spectrum prism and a strong talent."

"The instances are so rare as to be in the realm of legend," Amaryllis said dryly. "I repeat, don't start thinking of Lucas Trent as a possible match for me. It's not in the cards."

"It really is a shame," Hannah said regretfully. "I wonder if Mr. Trent would have been a possibility if he weren't a class nine. Just speculating, you understand."

"Don't bother," Amaryllis muttered. "Even without the talent-prism problem, I can promise you that no reputable agency would have matched us. Trent is not just my polar opposite psychically, he's also my opposite when it comes to temperament, personality, and personal philosophy of life."

"Oh, well, all the more reason for finishing the forms from Synergistic Connections. I promised your counselor, Mrs. Reeton, that I would turn them in this week."

"Why don't you just send the questionnaire to me. Aunt Hannah? I'll fill it out in my spare time."

"No, you won't. You'll put it aside and never get around to it. You've been dragging your feet about this long enough. I blame your poor attitude on that unfortunate affair with Gifford Osterley. Sometimes I think he actually broke your heart."

"He didn't break my heart. Or, if he did, I've recovered."

"I'm not so sure about that. You've been running scared of men ever since."

"Not true." Amaryllis fiddled with her coff-tea mug. "I've just been cautious." Except for last night, she thought.

"Too cautious, if you ask me. When I was your age, I was out almost every night until I met Oscar. No offense, dear, but you're a bit of a stick-in-the-mud when it comes to your personal life."

"A prissy little prig, would you say?"

"No, of course not. Just a bit shy, I think. Well, Synergistic Connections will find you some compatible dates. Now then, let's see, where did we leave off on this questionnaire?"

"I don't remember."

Hannah ignored that. "Ah, here we go. Physical characteristics desired in mate. We're almost finished with this section. You told me that you didn't have any strong preferences."

"Gray eyes," Amaryllis heard herself say.

"I beg your pardon?"

Amaryllis toyed with the phone cord. "I want him to have gray eyes."

"You're going to get choosy about eye color?" Hannah demanded in disbelief. "Why in the world would you care about something so inconsequential?"

"I don't know." Amaryllis felt suddenly, inexplicably inclined to be stubborn. "But since this is my registration questionnaire. I'm going to be picky about eye color."

"That's ridiculous. Dear, are you feeling well? You sound a little strange this morning."

"Long night. Listen, Aunt Hannah, I've got to run. I'll be late for work."

"What about the questionnaire?"

"I'll give you a call this evening."

"See that you do," Hannah said. "I'll be waiting. We have to complete this quickly. Mrs. Reeton wants to schedule the personal interview."

Raw panic nearly overwhelmed Amaryllis. Filling out the agency questionnaire was one thing. The personal interview with her assigned syn-psych counselor was another. This was getting serious. Reality hit Amaryllis with the force of lightning. She was on the verge of getting herself married.

"Bye, Aunt Hannah. I'll call you later, I promise." Amaryllis slammed down the phone. Her fingers were trembling.

She regarded her shaking hand with disgust. It was too much. She was turning into a nervous wreck, and all because of Lucas Trent. She had to get a grip. She needed to get her mind off her personal problems.

She gave herself another minute to calm down and then she lifted the receiver again. She dialed the number of her office.

Byron answered on the first ring. "Psynergy, Inc. We make it happen. How can I help you?"

"Byron, it's me, Amaryllis. Put Clementine on the phone, will you?"

"You sound terrible."

"Gosh, thanks. And a cheery good day to you, too. Get Clementine, please."

"Didn't things go well with your hot date last night? What happened? Wasn't he straight?"

"Get Clementine," Amaryllis said grimly.

"Okay, okay. Here you go. Great shot of you in the morning papers, by the way. You look like you're about to deliver a lecture to the photographer."

"Give me Clementine."

"You got 'er."

Clementine's deep, no-nonsense voice came on the line a few seconds later. "Amaryllis? How did it go last night?"

"It went very smoothly. No problems. Case closed."

"No mysterious off-the-chart hypno-talent at work, I take it?"

"Of course not. The motivation for the corporate theft was personal. A little old-fashioned revenge. It's over. I'll send Trent the bill as soon as I get to the office."

"Get to the good stuff," Clementine urged. "What happened after the reception? Was Trent any good in bed?"

Amaryllis gritted her teeth. "We kept the relationship on a strictly professional footing."

"Boring."

"Clementine, I want to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Have you ever heard of a politician or anyone else, for that matter, using a prism to focus something like charisma?"

"Charisma?" Clementine sounded surprised. "That's not a talent. It's like charm or a cheerful disposition or something. Some people have it, some don't. It's a personality trait, not a psychic power."

"Last night when I focused for Lucas Trent, I... we... stumbled into another strong talent and prism team working in the same room."

"So? There are a lot of strong talents and prisms running around. Chances are good that there were a few in that room last night."

"But the talent felt very odd. I'd like to get another professional opinion on it."

"What the hell is wrong with my opinion?"

"Nothing," Amaryllis said hastily. "But I'd like to talk with someone in the academic world. Call it professional curiosity. I think I'll go out to the university today."

"Hang on. That art dealer from Cascade Galleries called for an appointment. You know the one, the class-six talent with the nifty ability to detect forgeries. She needs a prism to help her look at some paintings that have been offered for sale."

"Have Zinnia Spring handle it."

"You know Zinnia only works nights. Damn it, Amaryllis. I'm trying to run a business here. I'm not paying you to satisfy your professional curiosity. Besides, it's none of your business what that other team was focusing. Stay out of it."

"Please. My intuition tells me this may be important. I want to check it out."

Clementine sighed. "All right, but get back here as soon as possible."

"Thanks."

Amaryllis hung up the phone and sat gazing glumly at it for a long while. Clementine was right. Whatever had happened with the other talent and prism team at the reception was none of her business. But she couldn't shake the urge to check into it. Things had felt wrong.

Maybe she was, indeed, turning into a sanctimonious little prig, a busybody who thought it was up to her to make sure everyone else stayed on the straight and narrow.

She wondered if Synergistic Connections would match her with a man who was just like her.

It was not a thrilling thought.

The carved relief that covered the entire south wall of the university library depicted the First Generation settlers in their finest hour. Amaryllis paused on the broad steps to gaze at the massive figures hewn from stone. As always, the sight elicited a quiver of admiration and pride in her.

The scene showed the stranded colonists fifteen years after the closing of the curtain. The last of their Earthbound machines had long since failed, forcing them back to a technological level that had been the rough equivalent of the seventeenth century on Earth. They had been forced to find ways to work with native materials.

The artist had created a memorial that had inspired students for nearly a hundred years. The stoic, determined faces of the men carved into the stone were turned resolutely toward the future as they drove primitive plows pulled by big, shaggy six-legged ox-mules through the mud. The women cradled infants to their breasts as they sowed grain from heavy sacks slung across their backs.

The young children were depicted sitting under trees, poring over heavy, handmade books while teachers supervised their instruction. The books were a very significant part of the scene. The cumbersome, handcrafted books had been the salvation of the First Generation.

When the settlers had realized how swiftly their sophisticated technology was failing, they had launched a prodigious effort to save as much of the contents of their computerized library database as possible.

It had been a harrowing race against time. The colonists had set up a scriptorium that had functioned around the clock for months. Information from the disintegrating computers had been painstakingly transcribed by hand onto thick paper made from native St. Helens plants.

There had not been time to salvage everything. The founders had soon realized that only a fraction of the database could be saved before the computers fell apart. Priorities had to be set.

The desperate colonists had concentrated primarily on the basic information they knew they would need to survive. The dazzling technology of Earth was of no use to them. They ignored it in favor of more pragmatic data related to farming, medicine, and survival skills. They had also copied information relating to the social structures that would support a stable community.

A hard, realistic lot, they had not allowed themselves to dwell on what had been lost. But their heritage was built into their language. It showed in many ways, including the whimsical tendency to name the exotic new flora and fauna of this world after the plants and animals that had been left behind. There were no real physical similarities between the life-forms of St. Helens and those of Old Earth, but that had not stopped the colonists from choosing names that held memories.

The library that housed all the precious home-world knowledge turned to dust along with the computers that had housed it. But the founders had salvaged enough to enable them to gain a toehold on St. Helens. The history texts they had copied so laboriously had taught them how to build plows, how to sow and reap and spin and weave. They had learned to make clocks and boats and sewage systems.

Their hand-copied library had saved the founders, and they had made certain that future generations never forgot the lesson.

Amaryllis dashed a small tear from the corner of her eye and continued on up the steps of the library. She walked past it, turned left, and went through the impressive arched doorway of the Department of Focus Studies.

Old memories came back in a rush as she walked along the corridor. Her office had been the second one on the right. She felt a small pang of wistfulness when she noticed the new name on the door. She reminded herself that she had made the right decision when she had left the academic world six months earlier. It had taken her a while to realize it, but now she knew that she belonged in the business sector. Even if she was a professional snob at heart.

"Amaryllis. Long time no see. What are you doing here?"

Amaryllis smiled at the woman who had just rounded the corner. "Hello, Sarah. This is just a social call. How are things going with you?"

"Great." Sarah Marsh tossed a swath of long, dark hair over her shoulder and grinned. "Got a paper coming out in the summer issue of Focus Studies."

"Very impressive. Congratulations." Another jolt of wistful regret. No one in the business world cared much about the acclaimed papers Amaryllis had published in the professional journals.

"With any luck, it will ensure that I get promoted to assistant professor in the spring." Sarah shrugged. "But who knows? Things have been a little chaotic around here since Professor Landreth died."

"It's hard to imagine the department without him. We all knew that he was getting on in years, but somehow it seemed as if he'd be here forever."

"Uh huh. Running the department with his iron fist," Sarah concluded dryly.

"Iron fist?" Amaryllis hesitated. "I certainly never thought of him as a dictator."

"Oh, come on, Amaryllis. Landreth was one of the best scholars in the three city-states, but there was no getting around the fact that he was a martinet. Seemed like he was always lecturing staff and students alike about the importance of professional ethics and standards. Let's be honest. The man was a stiff-necked prig."

Amaryllis flushed. "He was very dedicated to the profession."

Sarah chuckled. "True, but he was also rigid, obsessive, and narrow-minded. He's only been gone a month, but there's a new wind blowing through the department and I, for one, welcome it."

Amaryllis decided it was time to change the subject. "I assume Gifford will be taking over as head of the department?"

"Gifford?" Sarah's dark eyes widened in surprise. "He's not here anymore. Didn't you know?"

"No. I haven't, uh, spoken to him recently."

"He left the department two months ago. Opened his own focus agency. Took Natalie Elwick with him to run his office. Remember Natalie?"

"She was Irene Dunley's assistant."

"Right." Sarah made a face. "Guess Natalie figured she'd never be anything more than a junior secretary as long as Irene Dunley was here, so she took Gifford up on his offer."

"It's hard to believe that Gifford has gone out into the commercial sphere."

"I hear his new agency is very exclusive. Employs only full-spectrum prisms and accepts only VIP talents."

"I see."

"Is that why you're here today? Did you come to see Gifford?"

"No. I came to see Effie Yamamoto."

"You'll be glad to know that she's the new acting head of the department. Everyone expects her to be permanently appointed to the position sometime within the next few months."

"Effie will do a fine job." Amaryllis made to step past Sarah. "Is she still in her old office?"

"No, she's moved into Landreth's office." Sarah lifted a hand in farewell. "See you around."

Amaryllis hurried off down the corridor. A moment later she came to a halt in front of a familiar office. The door was open. Irene Dunley, a tall, sturdily built woman in the middle of her life, was seated behind an immaculately neat desk. The only paper on the polished surface was the one she was working on at that moment. Everything else, except for the telephone and a single pen, was stored out of sight. Irene had always been a model of organization and efficiency.

Amaryllis smiled at the sight of Irene. The woman was almost as much of a legend in the department as Landreth himself. The professor had often claimed that he could not have run the place without her.

Irene's hair was cut in a crisp, efficient style. Her firm, matronly body was encased in a serviceable blue suit. She looked up at Amaryllis's light knock.

"Miss Lark. This is a surprise."

"Hello, Irene. I haven't seen you since Professor Landreth's funeral. How are things going?"

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances. There's been an unnecessary amount of disruption and confusion, what with the suddenness of the transition, but I expect to have things under complete control very soon."

Amaryllis glanced around. "It looks like everything's already under control. That doesn't surprise me. Professor Landreth always used to say that if there was such a thing as a talent for organization, you possessed it."

Irene smiled sadly. "Professor Landreth had such a dry sense of humor. Very few people appreciated it."

"What are all those boxes doing there in the corner?"

Irene glanced at the stack. "Those are Professor Landreth's personal effects. I packed them up myself the day after he died. I notified the authorities, but so far no one has come forth to claim them. Is there something I can do for you, Miss Lark?"

Irene did not waste time during office hours, Amaryllis reminded herself. "I came to see Professor Yamamoto."

"I'll let her know you're here." Irene pressed the button on the intercom. "Miss Amaryllis Lark to see you. Professor Yamamoto."

"Oh, really? What wonderful news! Send her in."

Amaryllis nodded at Irene and then walked through the door of the inner office. "Hi, Effie."

"Amaryllis." Effie rose from behind her desk and held out her hand. "Good to see you. Come on in."

Amaryllis closed the door, went forward to shake hands, and then sat down. She grinned at her old friend. "Looks like you've come up in the world. Congratulations. About time."

Effie laughed. "Things have changed around here. Coff-tea?"

"Thanks."

Effie was several years older than Amaryllis, a distinguished scholar in her late thirties. Her dark eyes gleamed with intelligence. She had an innate sense of style that Amaryllis had always admired. Her black hair was in a sleek, chin-length bob that swung elegantly whenever she turned her head. Her trim, expertly tailored suit somehow managed to appear both professional and extremely fashionable. Amaryllis wondered if she should redo her own wardrobe now that she was making a handsome salary. One night in a flutter dress and a person's taste underwent a drastic change.

"Saw your picture in the paper." Effie winked. "Looks like your social life has improved considerably."

Amaryllis felt her cheeks grow warm. "It was a business thing."

"Ah, yes. Business. Very interesting business from what I saw. So what's the Iceman like in person?"

"He's a class nine, Effie."

"Oh. Well, so much for any long-term hopes there, hmm?" Effie handed Amaryllis a mug and sat back down behind the wide desk. "Still, that leaves open some short-term possibilities."

"I don't think so," Amaryllis said austerely.

"I assume this is not strictly a social call?"

"To be honest, no. I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

Effie spread her hands. "Ask away."

"I'll come straight to the point. Have you ever heard of a prism working with a talent for the purpose of focusing charisma?"

"Charisma's not a talent. It's just a natural part of some people's personality."

"But what if it were a talent?" Amaryllis insisted.

"Well? What of it?"

"A politician could use it to con people into supporting him."

"Politicians are in the business of conning people into doing just that." Effie grimaced. "Even if a particular candidate with a high-class talent was able to use a prism to augment an aura of charisma, it wouldn't be illegal."

"No, I suppose not. But it would definitely be unethical."

"Since when has politics ever been a model of an ethical profession?"

Amaryllis smiled ruefully. "I know what you mean." Now that she was actually sitting here with Effie, she was no longer certain quite what to say. She was not sure how to explain the sense of wrongness that she had felt when Lucas had briefly picked up Senator Sheffield's talent. "What if I told you that I think I witnessed a prism assisting a politician to focus charisma?"

Effie gave an eloquent shrug. "I'd say there wasn't much anyone could do about it."

"What if I told you that I'm almost certain that the prism was trained by Professor Landreth?"

Effie eyed her thoughtfully. "Assuming it can be done at all, a prism would have to be very powerful in order to focus something as vague as a personality trait."

"This prism was powerful."

Effie chuckled. "You know as well as I do that Landreth would never have approved of one of his students focusing for deceitful purposes. He would have made a fuss about it if he had discovered what was happening. But that would have been highly unlikely."

"Because it wouldn't be easily detected?"

"Exactly. How could anyone distinguish between a real personality characteristic and an augmented one?"

"If psychic energy was involved, a strong detector-talent could pick it up," Amaryllis said cautiously.

"Perhaps, but again, not likely. It would take a strong one. Class-nine or class-ten detectors are extremely rare."

"But they do exist."

Effie tilted her head slightly to one side. "You're convinced you encountered a prism working with a politician in an unethical manner, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"My advice is to forget about it. It would be unethical, but not illegal. Only some anal retentive type such as Professor Landreth would make a stink about it."

Amaryllis managed not to wince, but it wasn't easy. "Professor Landreth would have been very upset if he thought one of his prisms had violated the Code of Focus Ethics."

Effie leaned back in her chair. "Just between you and me and ninety-nine point nine percent of the faculty, Landreth was a brilliant man, but he was a fussy old codger."

"He had very high standards," Amaryllis said quietly.

"His standards, as you call them, drove the rest of us nuts. Gifford Osterley left the faculty because of him, you know."

"No, I didn't realize that."

"Landreth and Gifford got into a major row over changes in the curriculum." Effie shook her head. Her beautifully cut hair swung in a perfect wave. "Gifford never stood a chance, of course. Landreth outranked him. When the smoke cleared, Gifford handed in his resignation."

"I see."

"It may have been for the best. Gifford has his own firm, probably making double what he used to make here. He always was ambitious."

"The pay is definitely better in the commercial world," Amaryllis agreed. She got to her feet. "Good-bye, Effie. It was great to see you again. Good luck with the new position."

"Thanks." Effie surveyed her office with satisfaction. "I can tell you one thing, things are going to be a different around here."

"I believe you." Amaryllis turned and walked into the outer office.

Irene looked up as she went past the desk. "Oh, Miss Lark, there's something I wanted to tell you."

"What was that?"

Irene cleared her throat discretely and lowered her voice. "Professor Landreth was always so proud of you. He used to tell me that you were the most talented prism he had ever trained."

Amaryllis took a step closer to the desk, aware of a little twinge of warmth deep inside. "Did he really say that?"

"Yes." Irene's eyes abruptly glistened with unshed tears. "Everyone around here seems to be glad that he's gone. They all talk about how things are going to change now that the old coot, as they call him, is out of the picture. But I miss him, Amaryllis."

"Oh, Irene." Amaryllis went behind the desk and put her arms around the older woman. "I miss him, too."

Irene turned reverent eyes toward the portrait of Jonathan Landreth that hung on the far wall. "I went to work for him after my husband died, and I was with him for twenty-five years. He was good to me. Miss Lark. He was a little gruff on the outside, but he contributed so much to this department. And he always told me that I was invaluable to him. Invaluable. That was his exact word. He needed me, Miss Lark."

Amaryllis hugged the older woman's broad shoulders for a few seconds. She felt tears well in her own eyes. "I think we may be the only people who miss him."

Irene stared at the portrait. "I'm afraid so."

The phone call came late that afternoon. Byron had already left the office for the day, and Amaryllis was almost out the door. She glanced at the shrilly ringing instrument and debated the wisdom of answering it. It couldn't be Lucas. She was crazy to think that he might call. He had made his opinion of her very clear last night. He wasn't the sort of man who would be attracted to a prissy little prig.

The phone rang again. It was no doubt a business call. Amaryllis's sense of responsibility overcame her odd reluctance to pick up the receiver. She reached for it.

"Psynergy, Inc. Amaryllis Lark speaking."

There was silence on the other end of the line, but Amaryllis could hear someone breathing.

"Hello? You've reached the offices of Psynergy, Inc. Can I help you?"

"You were a friend of Landreth's." The words sounded muffled, as though the caller spoke through a thick cloth. It was impossible to tell if the voice belonged to a man or a woman.

"Who is this?" Amaryllis asked sharply.

"If you want to learn the truth about Jonathan Landreth, talk to the woman called Vivien of the Veils."

Amaryllis gripped the phone very tightly. "Tell me who you are."

"She's a syn-sex stripper. Works at a nightclub called SynCity. Ask her about Jonathan Landreth if you want to know the truth."

"Wait. Please, tell me what this is all about."

The line went dead. The caller had cut the connection.