Silver Master

Chapter 24

THE GLOW OF THE QUARTZ WALL THAT SURROUNDED THE ancient outpost grew brighter as they drew near. Davis was aware of the ambient psi energy leaking out of the ruins now. He knew that Celinda sensed it, too.

“Is your talent like that of other hunters?” she asked. “Does it get stronger when it’s enhanced by alien psi?”

“Yes.”

The wall was coming up fast now. He could see the remains of an old human-made parking lot. Recklessly he increased the speed of the Phantom again.

“They’re falling back a little,” Celinda assured him. “You’re right, they can’t take this road as fast as we can.”

He concentrated, trying to anticipate problems.

“Did the people who ran the ruins as a concession put up a gate of any kind?” he asked.

“I remember a makeshift wooden gate that they opened for you after you bought the ticket.”

“With luck it won’t be locked.”

“I doubt it. The place has been abandoned for years.”

The Phantom slammed to a stop in the parking lot. A badly weathered sign heralded the entrance: Welcome to the Haunted Alien Ruins. Beneath the sign a large wooden gate hung limply on its hinges.

“Gate’s unlocked,” Davis said. “One less thing to deal with.” He killed the engine and the headlights. “Everybody out. Now.”

Celinda already had her seat belt undone. She grabbed Araminta with one hand and opened the passenger-side door with the other.

Davis got out on the other side and stretched an arm back into the interior of the vehicle. Max immediately hopped down onto the offered perch and bounced up onto Davis’s shoulder.

The four vehicles were still some distance away down the road, but they were closing fast. Headlights jumped and bounced in the night.

Davis yanked the mag-rez out of his ankle holster.

“Go,” he ordered.

Celinda was already moving, running toward the entrance. Suddenly she ground to a halt.

“What?” Davis snapped

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong. Araminta is upset.”

“This isn’t the time to worry about her feelings. Move.”

Celinda started running again. Davis saw the shadow on her shoulder tumble down to the ground.

“Oh, damn,” Celinda wailed. “She’s going back to the car. I can’t leave her.”

“She’ll be fine. She can take care of herself.”

“No, Davis, I think she wants something from the car.”

Celinda rushed after Araminta.

Davis looked at the fast-approaching cars. “Damn.”

But it was too late to stop Celinda. She had reached the Phantom. Araminta was on the ground beside the passenger door, jumping up and down and chattering wildly.

Celinda opened the door. Araminta disappeared inside. Celinda reached in after her.

“Come on, Celinda.” For the first time Davis felt a tendril of real panic. If Celinda would not obey, they were doomed. He started back for her. “Get over here. Now.”

She had already extricated herself from the car. She whirled and ran toward him. He saw that she had her oversized tote in one hand. Araminta was on her shoulder, seemingly content.

They ran, flat-out, toward the entrance.

“She wouldn’t come without the tote,” Celinda explained, breathless.

They raced through the opening created by the sagging gate. The interior of the walled compound was illuminated by the glowing quartz that surrounded it. A handful of ancient spires and domed structures loomed, eternally alien and mysterious in their fantastical, ethereal design.

Old, hand-painted, human-made signs loomed over tumbledown concession stands.

Snacks and Sodas.

Get Your Souvenir Photo Here.

It was the last sign that caught his eye. It was posted outside the entrance to an airy, radiant, green quartz spire.

Prepare to Descend into the Underworld.

“That’s where the staircase is,” Celinda said.

Brakes and tires squealed. He glanced back over his shoulder. The first of the four cars was just pulling into the parking lot. The other three were right behind it.

Celinda dashed through the vaulted entrance of the ruin. He followed.

One look at the glowing quartz staircase, and he understood why the old attraction had lost a few potential customers. The steps plunged downward, twisting and turning in a nightmarish version of a spiral staircase that was vaguely disorienting to human senses.

There was no banister. None of the staircases in the catacombs had been outfitted with them. Evidently the long-vanished aliens hadn’t worried about safety violations or liability insurance problems.

Luckily, in this instance, the sides of the stairwell were close enough to touch. Celinda flattened one palm against the quartz wall on her right and braced herself as she rushed down the strangely twisted steps. He did the same.

The intense paranormal energy that was always present in the catacombs hit his senses in a rush. The stuff had a mildly exhilarating effect on anyone who possessed even an average level of psi ability. For those like Celinda and himself with strong parapsych profiles, the effect was even more intoxicating.

He saw Celinda look up over her shoulder toward the entrance of the stairwell. He did the same. There was no noise from above now. That wasn’t surprising. The energy in the quartz walls had a dampening effect on sound.

“I don’t see anyone following us yet,” Celinda said.

“Keep moving,” he ordered.

She plunged down another twist in the stairwell and disappeared from sight.

He paused for an instant before following her and glanced up toward the entrance again. A figure loomed in the opening. As he watched, another man joined the first. They started down.

He rounded the next bend in the stairwell. When he looked back this time, he could no longer see the entrance or the men following them. Below him, Celinda was almost at the foot of the stairs.

He saw her stumble about three steps before the bottom. She managed to catch her balance by reaching out for both sides of the stairwell, but the action caused her to lose her grip on the tote.

The large bag sailed to the foot of the steps ahead of her, spilling its contents. Two clear plastic boxes containing leftover wedding cake and crackers topped with pink cream cheese tumbled out onto the quartz floor. The food was followed by a leather wallet, a package of tissues, a variety of feminine toiletries, including a brush and lipstick, a small note pad, a pen, and a pair of sunglasses.

“Oh, damn,” Celinda said.

She bent down and frantically began scooping up the fallen items.

“Forget it,” Davis said, reaching the last step. “We don’t have time.”

“But Araminta—”

“She either stays behind with the tote or she comes with us. Her choice. This isn’t negotiable, Celinda.”

Mercifully, she did not argue this time. She started to straighten. Then she froze.

“Davis.”

“What?”

She scooped up one of the objects that had fallen out of the tote. It was a familiar chunk of what looked like crimson plastic.

“Son of a bitch,” he said softly. “The relic.”