In Too Deep

22

The glittering hotel ballroom was awash in power, both the kind that came with money and status and the psychic sort.

"Feels like the whole room is ever so slightly electrified," Isabella said.

Raine smiled. "When you gather this many people of talent together in one space, the atmosphere does tend to get a little hot."

"Yes, it does."

Isabella looked across the room at Fallon, who stood with Zack and two other men. As she watched, a distinguished-looking woman with silver-gray hair joined the men.

"The man on Zack's right is Hector Guerrero," Raine said in low tones. "The other one is Paul Akashida. The woman is Marilyn Houston. All three are on the Council. Zack considers them to be allies. They understand the true danger of Nightshade and they will support measures to make sure J&J remains vigilant."

"Fallon tells me some of the other Council members are wobbling because of some vicious rumors about him."

"Which is why Zack insisted that Fallon come tonight." Raine smiled. "I've got to tell you, though, I wasn't sure he would show up."

"Why not?"

"Fallon isn't the kind of man who responds to social pressure. But I suppose a threat to cut off funding for his precious anti-Nightshade project did the trick." Raine wrinkled her nose. "I'm afraid Zack is very good at figuring out exactly what it will take to get someone to do what he wants that person to do. It's part of his talent. One of the two reasons they put him in charge of Arcane."

"What's the other reason?"

Raine raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. "He's a Jones. There has always been a Jones in the Master's Chair. Technically speaking, since the changes made by Gabriel Jones back in the Victorian era, the Council has the power to elect anyone it pleases to the Chair."

"But somehow the result of every election has been a Jones?"

Raine raised her brows. "Yes. Coincidence?"

"I think not." Isabella smiled. "Sounds like the Society operates more like a hereditary monarchy than a democracy."

"Power rules in this organization, just as it does in any group," Raine said simply. "Within Arcane that means, among other things, a lot of raw talent. There happens to be a great deal of that in the Jones bloodline. In addition, the Joneses have been running Arcane a long time. They know where all the bodies are buried. In fact, they buried a few of them."

"Hmm."

Raine's brows went up. "What?"

"I'm not so sure that Fallon is here just because he's worried about the J&J budget. At least I don't think that's the only reason he agreed to show up tonight."

"Really? What other reason might there be?"

"I don't know," Isabella admitted. "Fallon is not always entirely forthcoming."

"You mean he's devious."

"No, he's just a very private person, and he's not accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others because most people don't understand how he thinks."

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Raine said. She gave Isabella a searching look. "I think you may understand him better than anyone ever has."

Isabella took a sip of champagne and lowered the glass. "I expect that somewhere along the line he got tired of trying to explain himself and his talent."

Raine switched her attention back to Fallon. "You may be right. I hadn't thought about it quite like that."

An attractive, expensively dressed woman in her late fifties approached the alcove.

"Good evening, Raine," she said warmly. "You look lovely tonight, as always."

Raine smiled. "So do you. Nice to see you, Maryann. Have you met Isabella Valdez, Fallon's new assistant?"

"No, I haven't had the pleasure." Maryann turned quickly to Isabella. "I'm Maryann Jones, one of Fallon's many aunts. Ours is a somewhat extended family, to say the least."

Raine grinned. "That tends to happen when one of your ancestors sires offspring by three different women."

"Old Sylvester was a bit of a rogue," Maryann sighed. "Then, again, he considered fathering a lot of children part of his research program. He was anxious to test his theories of the laws of psychic inheritance."

"How do you do, Maryann," Isabella said politely.

"It really is nice to meet you," Maryann said. "All of us in the family are so relieved that Fallon finally hired an assistant. He has been trying to handle far too much alone for far too long."

Isabella cleared her throat. "Actually, I'm an investigator at the agency now."

Maryann looked intrigued. "Is that so?"

"In addition to being the office manager," Isabella added hastily.

"Well, regardless of the title, I'm just grateful that Fallon found someone who could work with him day in and day out," Maryann said. "I'm afraid most people find him rather difficult."

"He needs his space," Isabella said. "Given the nature of his talent, he has to spend a lot of time in his own head."

Maryann's expression sharpened. "Yes, he's always been somewhat of a loner. Not everyone understands that. Oh, there goes Linda McDonald. I must speak to her. If you'll both excuse me?"

"Of course," Raine said.

Isabella waited until Maryann had been swept up in the crowd.

"A woman of strong talent," she said.

"Oh, yeah," Raine said. "Like everyone else in the family."

"Uh, mind if I ask what kind?"

Raine smiled. "Didn't you know? Maryann Jones is one of the top matchmakers at arcanematch.com. In fact, she is considered to be the best. Runs the agency."

"I see," Isabella said. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

"No," Raine said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're wondering if Maryann matched Fallon with his former fiancee, aren't you?"

"The question did cross my mind."

"I don't know the whole story, mind you, but Zack told me that Fallon is convinced that with his talent he's not a good candidate for arcanematch. He became even more convinced of that when Zack got a disastrous match through the agency."

"Not you, I take it?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"Zack's fiancee tried to kill him."

"I'd say that qualifies as a poor match."

"Fallon's case was a little different. Since he didn't have any faith in arcanematch, he decided to find his own partner. Legend has it he went about it very methodically, using a computerized matrix, a detailed personality inventory and his own personal theory of para-compatibility. It didn't go well."

"I gathered that."

"And, yes, she's here tonight. That's Jenny Austin over there near the terrace doors. The redhead. She's talking to William Hughes."

Isabella looked toward the doors and saw a strikingly attractive woman chatting to an older man. Jenny was dressed in a sleek black gown that, although elegantly cut, managed to convey a funereal air. Something in the atmosphere around her, Isabella thought, a faint, telltale disturbance.

She opened her talent very cautiously and immediately regretted it. Glacial mist filled the entire room. Everyone in Arcane had secrets, and a lot of them were the deep, dark kind. Hastily she shut down her other sight. From this distance she could not see the precise sort of energy that swirled around Jenny Austin, anyway.

"What kind of talent is she?" Isabella asked.

"Jenny's a spectrum energy-talent. Quite brilliant. She's a very respected researcher in the L.A. lab. Actually, I think that was part of her appeal for Fallon."

Isabella could feel a small cloud of gloom gathering over her head. Of course Fallon would be intrigued by a woman who was not only beautiful but also a gifted researcher.

"I can see where he would have been attracted to her because she has a scientific mind," Isabella said, trying not to let her glum mood show.

"That was no doubt part of it," Raine said. "But according to Zack, there was an additional feature as far as Fallon was concerned."

"Well, she is lovely."

"It wasn't just her looks," Raine said. "It was the fact that one of Fallon's several times great-grandmothers was also a scientist—a botanist, as a matter of fact. Lucinda Bromley Jones lived in the Victorian era and was married to Caleb Jones."

"The other half of the original Jones & Jones?"

"Right. I'm afraid that Fallon went with the assumption that if the founder of J&J had good luck marrying a scientist, it made sense for his descendant to find himself a wife with scientific inclinations."

"In other words, Fallon tried to apply logic to the problem of finding a wife."

"Typical Fallon."

Isabella stifled a small sigh and switched her attention to the other side of the room where Maryann Jones was chatting with a group of distinguished-looking people that included Fallon's mother, Alexia Jones. Fallon had introduced his parents at the start of the reception. Alexia and Warner Jones had been very gracious but that was only to be expected, Isabella reminded herself. There was no way to be sure what they really thought of her. Fallon had made a point of presenting her as my new assistant.

"Fallon's aunt was checking me out, wasn't she?" Isabella asked.

Raine smiled. "She certainly was."

"Think she knows that Fallon and I have a personal relationship as well as a business relationship?"

"I think everyone in the room is aware of that."

"Good grief." Isabella tried to squelch a tiny surge of panic. "How on earth could they possibly know? And don't you dare tell me it's because everyone in the room is psychic."

"You don't have to be clairvoyant to sense the energy in the atmosphere when the two of you are close together. The fact that you and Fallon are involved in a personal way was obvious the minute you walked into the room tonight."

"Ack. I think I need another canape and a second glass of champagne."

"I'll come with you to the buffet table. I need to fortify myself for another round of socializing."

They made their way around the fringes of the crowd, pausing occasionally so that Raine could greet someone or introduce Isabella.

"I imagine being the wife of the Master of the Society can be somewhat demanding at times," Isabella said as they neared the buffet table.

"You have no idea."

Isabella fixed her attention on a platter of tasty-looking puff pastry canapes. "Those look good."

"Go for it," Raine said. "I'm off to check out the cheese tray."

Isabella picked up a small dish and circled around the small group blocking the path to the puff pastries.

"From what I hear, Fallon Jones is getting worse," a man said in low tones. "He's become obsessed with that conspiracy he calls Nightshade."

"Now, Hal, that's just gossip," a woman observed. "You have to agree that Nightshade represented a genuine threat."

"Past tense," Hal insisted. "That's the point, Liz. Look, I give J&J credit for breaking the back of that organization, but with Craigmore gone, there's no way Nightshade will ever recover. With its leader dead and five of the drug labs destroyed, the organization is finished. We should be directing our resources elsewhere."

"Jones is convinced that Nightshade will reconstitute itself," a younger man volunteered. "According to what I've heard, he believes that the scientist who re-created the formula is still out there somewhere, probably concocting another version of the drug for a new boss."

"Doubtful," Hal said. "But here's the real issue, Adrian. There's no way to know if Jones is right or if he's simply sunk so deep into his own fantasies that he can't find his way back to reality. We need someone in charge of J&J who can put things into perspective. The agency should refocus on handling routine investigations for members of the Society. That's why it was founded in the first place."

Adrian looked thoughtful. "I talked to Fallon earlier this evening. He's not real great with the social chitchat thing but he didn't strike me as a wacko."

"It's in the blood," Liz said. "Everyone knows that the men in that line who inherit a high-level version of chaos theory-talent eventually become paranoid and get lost in their conspiracy fantasies."

"Is that right?" Adrian asked.

"Well, there was that old story about one of Fallon's multiple-greatgrandfathers, Erasmus Jones," Hal said. "A mad-scientist type who eventually committed suicide. And there were tales of Caleb Jones, as well."

Liz's expression tightened. "The speculation is that Fallon's version of the talent came directly from his ancestor, Sylvester Jones."

Adrian's brows shot up. "He's got the same talent that the founder had?"

"No two talents are ever exactly alike," Hal said. "But it's no secret that Sylvester was half mad and completely paranoid at the end. Liz is right, that kind of thing can come down through the bloodline."

Adrian drank some wine and looked thoughtful. "What do you suggest?"

"A lot of people are saying that the Council should appoint a new director of Jones & Jones, someone known to be stable and level-headed," Hal said. "A strong strat-talent, perhaps."

"There has always been a Jones at the head of J&J," Liz pointed out.

"Just as there has always been a Jones in the Master's Chair," Hal said grimly. "Doesn't mean it has to be that way. Maybe it's time for a change. Arcane should start by severing its connection with the agency."

Isabella popped a stuffed pastry puff into her mouth. "Now that," she said to Hal, "would be a real dumbass thing to do."

Hal, Liz, Adrian and everyone else within earshot turned to look at her. There was a great hush around the buffet table.

"And you would be?" Adrian asked. Curiosity and a tinge of masculine interest lit his eyes.

"Isabella Valdez," she said. "I'm an investigator with J&J. I work at headquarters. Also, I manage the office for Mr. Jones."

"Ah, so you're the new assistant. I'm Adrian Spangler." Adrian stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too." Isabella brushed crumbs off her palms and shook his hand.

No one else moved. No one else said a word. It was as if everyone in the vicinity except Adrian and Isabella had been flash-frozen.

"So, why would firing Fallon Jones and dumping J&J be a dumbass thing to do?" Adrian asked. There was no challenge in his tone, just curiosity.

"Because with J&J and Fallon Jones, the Society has the best psychic investigation agency on the planet," Isabella said briskly, "at least for the kind of investigative work that Arcane needs. The agency is uniquely qualified to handle Arcane business because it has a grasp of the history of the organization as well as access to all of the private files pertaining to the old cases."

"Good point," Adrian said. "It would be hard for another agency to step in and take over."

Hal frowned. "It might take some time for a new agency to get up to speed, but the trade-off would be a higher level of professional stability at the top."

"Oh, for pity's sake," Isabella said. "Stop trying to imply that Fallon Jones is unstable and crazy. I doubt that you would know a real conspiracy nutcase if you tripped over one."

Adrian grinned. "And you would?"

He was enjoying himself, Isabella realized. She noticed that Raine had quietly joined the small crowd at the buffet table. Raine, too, looked amused. But everyone else appeared to be teetering on the fine line between shock and fascination.

"Absolutely," Isabella said. "I happen to be an expert on the subject of conspiracy theorists. I can spot 'em a mile away. That's one of the assets I bring to the firm, by the way. Trust me, Fallon Jones is no conspiracy freak. Polar opposite, in fact."

Hal scowled, but Liz and Adrian and several others were starting to look intrigued.

"All right," Adrian said. "I give up. What is the polar opposite of a conspiracy freak?"

Isabella smiled. "A real detective, of course."

This time a few whispers rippled across the gathering crowd.

Isabella reached for another canape. "Don't you get it? Fallon Jones thinks like a detective, not a conspiracy kook. He uses his talent to link facts and make connections, but he doesn't invent those facts and connections and he doesn't manipulate them the way true conspiracy nuts do. He's a psychic Sherlock Holmes. Holmes and Jones would be the last people on earth to be sucked into a conspiracy fantasy."

It dawned on her that the crowd was no longer staring at her. Everyone's attention was focused on a point behind her.

She turned around and saw Fallon watching her with an inscrutable expression. There was a little heat in his eyes.

"What do you say we go outside and get some fresh air, Watson?" he said.

"Watson got to carry a gun."

"Forget the gun."

"You never let me have any fun on the job."

"Not true. I let you find a serial killer and some dead bodies, didn't I?"

"Well, there is that." She plucked two more hors d'oeuvres off the tray. "You've got to try one of these little puff pastry thingies. They're yummy."

"Thanks," Fallon said.

He took a canape in one hand, nodded briefly at the small crowd watching the scene and wrapped his other hand around Isabella's arm. He ate the puff pastry as he steered her toward the glass doors that opened onto the terrace.

"Good, aren't they?" Isabella said.

"Not as good as Marge's muffins."

"No," she agreed. "Nothing else is that good."

"Except your grandmother's ginger soup."

"Except for that."