Silver Master

Chapter 5

ARAMINTA WAS WAITING FOR CELINDA WHEN SHE GOT back to her apartment. The dust bunny was sitting on the railing of the small balcony that overlooked the Old Quarter. She was fully fluffed, with only her innocent blue eyes showing. There was no sign of the red artifact.

Celinda yanked open the sliding glass door, scooped her up, and looked her in the eye.

“Where have you been? Are you all right? You scared the you know what out of me. You’ve never acted like that before.”

Araminta chattered cheerfully and hopped up onto her shoulder. Celinda reached up to pet her. “Don’t ever do that again, okay? It’s very hard on the nerves.”

Araminta muttered reassuringly.

“You hid that relic somewhere, didn’t you? I hope you realize that Davis Oakes isn’t going to leave us alone until he gets his hands on that thing.”

Araminta displayed a vast amount of unconcern. She made hopeful little noises. Celinda recognized them immediately.

“You’re hungry again, aren’t you? Well, this time I’m not surprised. No telling how long you’ve been running around. Probably worked off lunch. Let’s go see what’s left in the refrigerator.”

Dusk had begun to overtake the Old Quarter. The Dead City wall was starting to glow faintly. When darkness fell, the ambient luminescence would infuse the surrounding neighborhoods with a pale emerald radiance. Celinda thought of it as a permanent nightlight.

She gave Araminta another pat. Together they went back inside the apartment and into the little kitchen. Most of the apartments in the Old Quarter were small, and this one was no exception. The buildings had all been constructed during the Colonial era. The First Generation colonists had built their original structures in the shadows of the ancient walls that surrounded each of the four Dead Cities that had been discovered: Old Cadence, Old Resonance, Old Frequency, and Old Crystal.

Over the years, as the new human cities had grown and expanded into the surrounding countrysides the Old Quarter had fallen into decay and disrepair. Many of the neighborhoods with their tight, cramped streets and dark, looming buildings had become home to derelicts, prostitutes, and the down and out.

Although gentrification had begun in certain sections, you could still get a cheap apartment in the Quarter. That fact had figured heavily into Celinda’s decision to rent in the neighborhood. She had been on a very tight budget when she moved to Cadence to start over. But it wasn’t cost alone that had brought her to the Quarter. Like most strong para-rez talents, her senses responded pleasantly to the gentle ambient psi that leaked out of the ancient city.

She opened the door of the refrigerator. Together she and Araminta surveyed the contents. There was a large wedge of leftover lasagna, some salad greens, a carton of milk, and a half-empty bottle of wine.

Araminta displayed great interest in the lasagna.

“Well, I was going to have that for my dinner, but since it looks like I’m eating out tonight, whether I like it or not, you can have the lasagna,” Celinda said.

She spooned the lasagna into Araminta’s plate on the floor and then went into the bedroom and opened the closet. Her social life had been nonexistent since the debacle in Frequency. She hadn’t been inspired to shop for anything more interesting than extremely conservative business suits.

Her choices tonight were limited to two possibilities. The very pink dress sheathed in clear plastic did not count. She was quite certain that once she wore it for her sister’s wedding, she would never wear it again. Pink was not her color.

She contemplated instead the classic little black dress hanging at the back. It was long-sleeved and had a demure neckline. The last time it had been worn was at a funeral. She pondered it for a long moment. According to Ten Steps to a Covenant Marriage, black was always safe. Furthermore, on a first date elegant was the watchword, not provocative.

On the other hand, there was a fine line between elegant and dull, and as Davis had made clear, this wasn’t exactly the start of a Covenant Marriage courtship.

She pushed aside a couple of jackets and studied option number two, a sleek, dark violet number with a deep, off-the-shoulder cowl neckline that could only be described as provocative.

Number two was probably not a good idea. Regardless of how it had started out, this was not a real date.

But a strange recklessness seemed to have replaced her usual good sense. What the heck, the relic was his problem, not hers. This was the first time she’d been out to dinner with a man in months, and she intended to enjoy it, even if she was breaking all the rules.

She headed for the shower, stripping off her clothes.

AN HOUR LATER SHE INSERTED THE SECOND OF A PAIR OF amber earrings into her ears and stood back to survey the results in the mirror. In spite of the stern lecture she had given herself in the shower, she could not suppress the little thrill of anticipation that shivered through her.

“Think the neckline is too low?” she asked Araminta.

Araminta was perched on the dresser in front of the mirror, playing with a shiny tube of lipstick. She looked up at the sound of Celinda’s voice and made what Celinda took to be an approving noise.

“I’m not sure.” Celinda leaned forward, studying the drape of the fluid fabric of the cowl neckline in the mirror. There were lots of deep shadows and some cleavage, but on the whole, everything still looked decent.

“The earrings may be a little too much,” she said to Araminta. “If there’s a fine line between elegant and boring, the line between sexy and slutty is even thinner. What do you think?”

The doorbell rezzed. Araminta bounced up and down, dropped the lipstick, and hopped up onto Celinda’s bare shoulder. Celinda could feel four of the dust bunny’s six paws gripping her bare skin.

“Watch the claws,” she said. The warning was probably unnecessary. Araminta had never scratched her, not even by accident.

The night was warm and humid. There was no need for a wrap. She stepped into a pair of high-heeled sandals and went down the short hall to answer the door.

Araminta was chortling exuberantly now, scarcely able to contain herself.

“Sheesh,” Celinda muttered. “If you like Oakes so much, why did you run off with his relic?”

Araminta ignored the question, of course. But her eagerness was plain.

Celinda stopped in front of the door to check the security peephole.

Her pulse kicked up immediately at the sight of Davis standing on the other side. He looked as if he had just walked straight out of the heart of midnight in a pair of black trousers, an elegantly casual black jacket, and a black shirt undone at the collar. The only touches of color were his amber cuff links and the amber face of his watch.

But the really startling accessory was the big ball of blue-eyed lint sitting on his shoulder. That explained Araminta’s excitement. She had sensed the other dust bunny.

Astonished, Celinda opened the door. “No wonder you know so much about dust bunnies,” she said.

“This is Max,” Davis said.

Max and Araminta made small, welcoming noises at each other and blinked their daylight eyes.

Celinda stood back to allow Davis and Max into the tiny front hall. Her astonishment gave way to deep suspicion. “Did you bring Max because you think he can find the artifact that Araminta hid?”

“No,” Davis said. “That’s not why I brought him along tonight.”

“Why, then?” she asked, still wary.

He smiled faintly. “Thought that since you and I are going to be busy, he might like to make friends with Araminta. I doubt if Verdigris welcomes critters. Figured we could leave these two in the car while we eat.”

Araminta made more small, squeaky sounds. Max responded in kind.

“Well, they do seem to like each other,” Celinda said, still a little uneasy about the situation. “How did you find Max?”

“He found me. Started coming around my back door a few months ago after I got out of the—” Davis broke off abruptly. “Made the mistake of feeding him. Next thing I knew, he had moved in.”

“That was pretty much how it was with Araminta and me. Got a hunch dust bunnies choose the people they want to attach themselves to for reasons we’ll probably never figure out.”

“Mysterious dust bunny thing,” he agreed. He surveyed the cowl neckline with masculine approval. “Great dress.”

She blushed a little. “Thanks. Nice jacket.”

“Thanks.”

There was a short pause. Celinda tried to think of what to say or do next. Now that the rules against wearing a provocative dress and allowing a date to pick you up at your home had been broken, things were getting murky fast. She was definitely on a slippery slope, but she had to admit it was exciting.

“Ready?” Davis asked.

“Yes.” She picked up the small clutch purse on the hall table and followed him out onto the landing. She paused to rez the lock and then dropped her key into the purse.

They went downstairs into the tiny front hall. Mrs. Furnell’s front door snapped open right on cue. Betty Furnell peered out. She was dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants and matching top, snappy pink running shoes, and a lot of oversized jewelry that she had purchased from the shopping channel. Her white hair was severely permed into a helmet shape, and her round face was illuminated with avid curiosity.

She gave Davis a not-so-discreet once-over before pinning Celinda with feigned innocence.

“Oh, hello, dear.” She hoisted the small plastic sack she held in one hand. “I was just on my way to empty the garbage.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Furnell.” Celinda hesitated and then decided she had no option but to introduce Davis. “This is Mr. Oakes.”

Davis offered his hand. “A pleasure, Mrs. Furnell.”

Betty shook his hand vigorously. “I see you’ve got one of those little dust bunny beasts, too. Cute little devils.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked at the plastic sack. “Would you like me to take that out to the trash bin for you?”

“Heavens no, wouldn’t dream of it, not with you all dressed up so nice like that.”

“Then, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way. We’ve got reservations.”

“Have a lovely time,” Betty said.

“We will,” he assured her.

Celinda was startled by the unmistakably possessive way he took her arm, opened the front door, and escorted her outside onto the sidewalk.

“I’m guessing that’s your alibi for last night?” he asked, sounding amused. “The landlady who can vouch for the fact that you were at home alone between midnight and three AM?”

“Mrs. Furnell doesn’t miss a thing that goes on around here.”

“Yeah, I got that impression. Does she greet all your dates that way?”

“I have no idea. You’re the first date I’ve had since I moved here to Cadence.”

“Hard to believe.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that, so she let it go.

“How long have you been in town?” he asked, opening the door of a sleek, black Phantom 3000.

“Four months.” Celinda got into the car. Now, why did her intuition tell her that he already knew the answer to that question? Maybe it was that subtle little pulse in his psi waves.

The passenger seat cradled her like a leather-clad lover. Araminta hopped from her shoulder onto the back of the seat. Davis closed the door and went around the front of the vehicle.

Surreptitiously, Celinda inhaled the unmistakable smell of expensive car and tried not to appear impressed. The security consulting business obviously paid well, she decided. Whatever else he was, Davis was no ordinary PI.

When he got in beside her, however, she was suddenly very aware of just how close and intimate the interior of the Phantom was.

“Where did you live before you came here?” Davis asked, rezzing the engine.

No doubt about it, she was being interrogated. Well, he was a private investigator after all. She must not forget that.

“Frequency City,” she said, cooling her tone a little.

“I’m just making conversation. That’s what you’re supposed to do on a date, isn’t it?” He eased the Phantom away from the curb. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m getting the impression that you would prefer not to talk about your life in Frequency.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude. The thing is, I have to go back to Frequency tomorrow to attend a wedding, and I am not looking forward to it.”

“Whose wedding?”

“My sister’s. Big Covenant affair. You know the drill, I’m sure.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She noticed that his jaw had gone very rigid.

“I’m the maid of honor,” she said.

“I would have thought that a professional matchmaker would enjoy attending weddings.”

This was a first date, and there was a very real possibility that there might never be another. No need to put a damper on things by dredging up her sordid past. She gave him a high-rez smile.

“You’d understand if you saw the dress,” she said.

“What dress?”

“The one I have to wear.”

He flashed her a quick, curious glance. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s pink. The whole wedding is going to be pink. It’s my sister’s favorite color.”

“Got it. Other than the fact that there’s a major pink theme going, you’re okay with the wedding? This isn’t one of those nightmare scenarios where your sister is marrying your ex-boyfriend or anything, is it?”

“Absolutely not. My sister is marrying a wonderful man. I matched them, myself. It’s just that it’s going to be a little awkward going back to Frequency.”

“Why?”

“The usual story,” she said, trying to sound at ease. “I don’t have a date for the wedding. You know how it will be. Everyone will start trying to play matchmaker. It’s particularly awkward when you’re the expert.”

It was true as far as it went, but it was a long way from the full story. With luck maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“Trust me, you have my full and complete sympathy,” he said, sounding grim. “I’ve got a few weddings to attend myself this summer.”

“Alone?” she hazarded.

“Looks that way.”

“Well, it’s the season. Not like you have a lot of options. There aren’t many excuses for ducking a Covenant Marriage if the people getting married are friends or family.”

Max and Araminta were sitting very close together on the back of the seat, chattering enthusiastically.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Davis said, turning a corner.

“Who knows?” Celinda turned her head to look at the pair. “I’ve never watched dust bunnies interact with each other. In fact, until Araminta adopted me, I’d never seen one in person, just in pictures.”

“Same here. After Max moved in, I talked to a biologist friend of mine at the university. He told me that very little is known about dust bunnies. They’ve never been considered destructive pests, so there’s never been any funding to study them.”

“Thank heavens.” Celinda shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what could happen if some scientists decided that dust bunnies should be studied in a laboratory.”

“Something tells me that bunnies are smart enough to avoid that fate.”

“They do seem to be able to disappear whenever they wish. Sometimes Araminta slips out at night and doesn’t come home until dawn. I have no idea where she goes or how she even gets out of the apartment.”

“Max does the same thing occasionally.” Davis slowed for a streetlight. “Just another dust bunny mystery.”

Conversation stopped. Celinda tried to think of a safe way to restart it.

“What’s it like being a security consultant?” she asked.

He shrugged, watching the light. “It suits me. Can’t think of anything else I’d be good at. What’s it like being a matchmaker?”

Her profession was something else she did not want to talk about tonight. When you were a matchmaker who specialized in Covenant Marriages, you were always focused on the long-term. This was her break-the-rules date with the most interesting man she had ever met, and she was pretty sure the relationship was doomed. On the other hand, she had already shut down one conversational topic tonight, and she had asked him about his job.

“It’s very satisfying when things go well,” she said. “Depressing and frustrating when they don’t.”

“You mean when you can’t find a match for someone?”

“Finding a match usually isn’t the problem.” She hesitated, thinking of the disaster in Frequency City. “True, there are cases where it is impossible to match a client, but those instances, thankfully, are rare. The real problems start when people don’t like the results I come up with and refuse to even meet a potential match.”

He threw her a quick look, brows raised. “Does that happen a lot?”

“More often than it should. Unfortunately, when it comes to Covenant Marriages, a lot of people have very fixed ideas of what they want in a mate. In many instances those notions are flat-out wrong. There are occasions when I can’t convince a really stubborn client to give one of my recommendations a try.”

“What do you do when that happens?”

“Terminate the client’s agency contract and refund the fees that have been paid. Marriage consultants try to avoid being responsible for bad matches at all costs. It’s not good for business in a field where referrals are everything.”

“I can see that. Until the marriage laws get loosened up a little more, getting stuck in a bad CM is the equivalent of a jail sentence.”

Spoken with great depth of feeling, she thought. It was going to be a very long time, if ever, before Davis was ready to trust a matchmaker again.