Obsidian Prey

Chapter 13

CRUZ SAW LYRA COLLAPSE TO THE PAVEMENT BESIDE him, but there was nothing he could do for her now. There would be time for explanations later, he thought. First things first. Priorities.

He continued to focus energy through the obsidian amber in his ring, trapping his prey in a disorienting no-man's-land of featureless psi fog.

He could not shield Lyra. The talent did not work that way. It was linked to his aura. When he was generating this much power, everyone in a radius of twelve to fifteen feet around him was enveloped in the mist. Except for him.

In this eerie state he was the ultimate predator, because only he could use his senses. The others had gone night blind in the most extreme manner imaginable, all of their normal senses shut down.

The nasty energy ghosts the two thugs had generated guttered and went out like candles extinguished in the rain as the attackers lost their ability to hold a focus. The men yelled in panic and floundered. Their guns clattered on the pavement.

The dark thrill of impending violence swept through Cruz. He went swiftly toward the first man.

NOTHING MADE SENSE. THE DISORIENTATION WAS COMPLETE. The world as she knew it had vanished. It was as if she had been plucked from the street and dropped into the deepest ocean abyss. Even the eternal glow cast by the Dead City wall disappeared. The balls of ghost fire vanished. There were no headlights in the street. Nothing.

All of her normal senses were affected. In addition to not being able to see or hear, she could no longer orient herself physically. Up and down had no meaning. The only reason she knew she had fallen to the sidewalk was because of the pain that jolted through her.

The shock of the fall was oddly reassuring. If she could feel normal pain, she probably wasn't dead.

Her first coherent thought was that two men were intending to gun down Cruz, and she was unable to do anything to help him because she had been struck by one of her waking nightmares. Panic and rage surged through her. Not now, damn it. He couldn't die. He had just come back to her. She would not let him go again, even if he was trying to manipulate her.

Her physical senses were deadened, but perhaps her para-senses were not as badly affected. Desperately she concentrated on pushing energy through her amethyst charms, willing the world to snap back into focus around her.

The street scene rushed back, but because she was viewing it with only her other senses, it had a strange, surreal quality. The colors of objects were all in the paranormal range. The street sign glowed ultraviolet. The wet pavement gleamed ultragreen. The lights of an upstairs window across the street appeared as an aurora of ultra-yellow.

She had never before been forced to rely only on her para-senses. They usually worked naturally with a person's normal senses. But in this strange state, all of the stimuli came to her from only the paranormal end of the spectrum.

She heard sound, but she perceived it differently. There was, however, no mistaking the thuds, grunts and—most unnerving of all—the shriek of a man crying out in shock and pain.

She turned her head and saw two shadowy figures. It was impossible to see their physical features, because each was surrounded by a spiking aura. One man staggered around in a circle, arms flailing. The other moved in on him, gliding forward in a frighteningly graceful dance that promised to end in violence. A third man was motionless on the ground.

She had no doubt as to the identity of the man who was closing in for what looked like the kill. She would know him anywhere.

"Cruz," she whispered.

In this para-dimension, her voice echoed weirdly. She could not hear herself the way she did when she was using her regular senses. The lack of familiar auditory feedback added to the hallucinatory atmosphere.

A small creature, its aura glowing brightly, dashed out of the darkness and charged for the man Cruz was about to take down.

"Vincent," Lyra said. "No, wait. Come here."

Vincent, fur sleeked back, ignored her. He dashed in to nip at his target's heels.

The thug screeched. "Get away from me. Get away."

But Cruz was also moving in, lightning fast. He made a quick, chopping motion with one hand. The ghost hunter went down, crumpling on the pavement beside his partner.

The world jolted back. Lyra's normal senses kicked in with jarring suddenness. Vincent leaped up into her arms, rumbling with concern. She gathered him close and watched Cruz scoop up the mag-rez guns.

"Are you all right?" she whispered. Her voice sounded tense but normal once again.

He came toward her, still moving with that disturbingly lethal grace. She sensed that he was startled to see her on her feet.

"I'm fine," he said. "What about you?"

"I'm okay. I'm. . a little shaken up, I guess."

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly your fault."

"We'll talk about it later. Right now we have to deal with this pair."

"Okay."

Vincent was once again fully fluffed, hunting eyes closed. He chortled his customary cheerful greeting to Lyra, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

Cruz took a phone from his pocket. "I'll have someone pick up these guys."

"Someone?" She frowned. "You mean the police, right? Please tell me you're calling the cops."

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I'm calling the Guild's security people."

"Damn it, Cruz, the police are supposed to handle this sort of thing."

"Those two are ghost hunters and, like they say, the Guild polices its own. Besides, I need answers, and I'm a lot more likely to get them faster out of my friends at Guild security than I am from the Frequency PD."

There was no point arguing with him. She subsided, fuming. It was just one more example of the arrogance of both Amber Inc. and the local Guild. But she also knew that Cruz was right. When it came to rogue ghost hunters, the Frequency cops took the old-fashioned view. They, too, preferred to let the Guild take care of its own problems.

Cruz spoke briefly to someone on the phone and then cut the connection. He looked at Lyra again.

"Take Vincent upstairs," he said. "I'll wait here until Guild security collects these two, and then I'll be up. We need to talk."

"About what?" she asked.

"About what just happened here."

She searched his face. "It was an attempted mugging. A street robbery."

"Maybe." He dropped the phone into his pocket and crossed to the nearest of the two unconscious men.

A fresh wave of alarm shot through her. "What do you mean?"

Crouching, he went swiftly, methodically, through the hunter's pockets. "I don't think that these two were just a pair of opportunists. They were waiting for us."

"How do you know that?"

"Got a talent for this kind of thing."