Dark Light

Chapter 15

HER PS! SENSES SHRIEKED A WARNING WHEN SHE WALKED through the door. Not that she needed her intuitive talent to know that the Firewall was the kind of place that gave hunter bars a bad name, Sierra thought. She doubted if even the most thrill-seeking coeds or bachelorette parties would schedule an evening of fun here. Dark, dingy, and reeking of stale booze, it smelled a lot like the alley where Hank and Jake had made their homes.

The ambient underground psi was very strong. Fontana was right; the establishment was probably sitting on top of a hole-in-the-wall. She didn't doubt that he'd been correct about the drug dealing in the basement, either.

With the exception of a couple of tough-looking types dressed in faded khaki and worn leather, the place was nearly empty. The bartender gave Sierra and Fontana a hard look.

"Got a feeling the service is not great here," Sierra said quietly.

"That's okay," Fontana said. "I don't plan to leave a tip." He took her arm in a proprietary manner. "I see someone in the last booth. Is that Hank?"

She peered through the gloom. There was a shadowy figure at the back of the room. "Yes, I think so."

"Keep moving."

She did, but it wasn't easy. Her intuition was shrieking at her to turn around and run. The only tiling that kept her going forward was the knowledge that Fontana was by her side.

Elvis wasn't happy, either. He rumbled softly, not in a good way, and went sleek. His second set of eyes appeared.

One of the men gave Sierra an assessing look and leered. "Well, well, well, Chuck, look what just walked in. Kind of classy for this part of town, ain't she?"

Evidently this pair didn't read newspapers or watch television, Sierra thought. They hadn't recognized Fontana.

"I do believe that what we have here is a nice uptown couple that wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time," the second man said. When he leered, he displayed a lot of bad teeth.

His companion guffawed at the witticism. "I'll bet the pretty lady would be real nice to us if we did her a couple of favors first."

"What favors you got in mind, Chuck?"

"I think we should singe the guy in the suit first. Teach him some manners. This is a hunter bar. Outsiders ain't welcome. Then we burn the little rat on the lady's shoulder. It's a pest-control issue."

"Whatever you say, Chuck." The first man got to his feet. He stepped directly in front of Sierra. "I'll bet you came here looking for a good time, didn't you, honey? Chuck and me, we'll be glad to show you one. Ain't that right, Chucky?"

"Damn right," Chuck agreed.

He, too, was on his feet. He started to circle around behind Fontana.

"Hang on to Elvis," Fontana said quietly to Sierra. "I don't want him to get hurt."

Sierra grabbed Elvis in both hands and clutched him tight. Elvis wriggled in annoyance, but she did not release him.

Fontana looked at the two men. "We won't be staying long. If you're smart, you'll sit down, finish your beers, and leave us alone."

The man who was trying to get into position behind Fontana grinned, showing off his really bad teeth again.

"We can always drink beer. Right now, the lady looks like more fun. Ain't that right, Joe?"

"She sure does" Joe agreed. "I'll get her out of the way. Don't want her to get fried when you take care of the suit."

He reached for Sierra's arm. Elvis snarled, showing his own impressive array of teeth. Unlike those of the hunters, his were in excellent condition. Joe retracted his arm instantly, reddening with anger.

"I'll wring its neck," he vowed, retreating to a safe distance.

"This is not a good idea," Fontana said, his voice calm and just slightly edged with irritation.

"Sure isn't a good idea for you," Joe agreed.

Acid-green fire pulsed. Two ghosts coalesced rapidly out of the heavy alien psi that permeated the atmosphere of the tavern, one in front of Fontana and one behind him.

More energy swirled in the shadowy space. A rippling, whirling, churning river of energy the color of midnight rapidly took shape. It formed a barely visible whirlpool that shimmered fiercely in the gloom. The nearest green ghost was sucked into it and vanished The second one quickly disappeared as well.

The two hunters were still trying to adjust to the realization that their ghosts had ceased to exist when Chuck realized that the dark waves of psi were headed toward him.

He screamed and ran toward the front door. The dark light pursued, brushing him ever so gently. He collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The river of night turned toward Joe.

"No." Joe threw up both hands in a useless attempt to ward off the dark energy. "No."

But his back was to the bar. There was nowhere to run. The black wave touched him lightly. He jerked like a puppet on a string and then sprawled on the floor.

The darkness vanished. Fontana looked at the bartender, who seemed to have been flash-frozen.

"Will there be any further objections to our presence in your establishment?" Fontana asked politely.

The man shook his head. "Nope. You're the new Guild boss, aren't you?"

"Yes."

The bartender nodded. "Thought so. Saw your picture in the Curtain this morning. Chuck and Joe, they don't read the papers. They gonna be all right, or do I have to dump 'em into the catacombs?"

"They'll wake up in a couple of hours," Fontana said. "But they may not be feeling perky."

"Not my problem. That was dark light you zapped 'em with, wasn't it?"

"You're a former Guild man, aren't you?" Fontana asked.

"Damn straight."

"Then you know that officially speaking, there is no other kind of dissonance energy except green light."

"Right. Understood. Can I get you a beer?"

"No, thanks," Fontana said. "We won't be staying long."

He drew Sierra past Joe's still form. She was shivering with reaction to the violence. Adrenaline, she thought. Elvis, however, was fully fluffed again. Only his daylight eyes were visible in his tatty fur.

Hank was still in the booth at the rear, looking bleary-eyed and a little stunned. Both of his hands were wrapped around a bottle of Green Ruin.

Sensing the panic that was only partially dulled by the alcohol, Sierra spoke gently.

"Hank?" She slid into the booth across from him. "Are you all right? I've been very worried about you."

"What are you doing here?" Hank asked, but his attention was riveted on Fontana. "That was dark light, wasn't it?"

Fontana sat down beside Sierra. "Name's Fontana."

"Yeah, I recognized you even before you used the dark psi. You're the new Guild boss. What do you want from me? I'm retired."

"Information is what we want from you," Fontana said.

Hank's gaze went to the two men on the floor. "I don't know anything."

"We know that Jake disappeared," Sierra said.

Hank licked his lips and drew a shaky breath. "This is about what happened to Jake?"

"Yes," she said. "You saw what happened to him, didn't you?"

"I was sleeping off a lot of booze." Hank rubbed the back of one hand across his mouth. "I don't know what I saw."

"Please tell us, Hank," she said.

Hank sank in on himself, looking a lot older. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Elvis fluttered down from Sierra's shoulder. He bobbed and weaved across the table and stood up on his hind legs in front of Hank.

Some of Hank's tension seemed to ease. "Hey, there, little buddy. How you doin'?" He patted Elvis.

Elvis chortled a greeting. Hank seemed to relax a little.

"Tell us what happened to Jake Tanner," Fontana ordered quietly.

Hank tightened his grip on the bottle. "If I tell you what I saw last night, you'll figure that I've been fried." He took a gulp of Green Ruin and lowered the bottle. "I'm tellin' you right now, I'm not goin' to no hospital. I'd rather go down into the tunnels and start walking without amber."

In other words, he would rather commit suicide, Sierra thought. She reached out to touch his arm.

"No one's going to force you into a hospital, Hank," she said. "Please tell us what happened to Jake. You saw something, didn't you?"

Hank fixed her with a grim, haunted look. "You want to know what happened to Jake? The aliens got him, that's what happened."