Amaryllis (34 page)

“It's not that I lack one of my own.” Madison chuckled ruefully. “I assure you my parents saw to it that I was raised to uphold the strictest set of principles. My family believed in the basic tenets of our founders' values before the term became part of our common parlance.”

“How nice for you.”

“But there are few guidelines for off-the-scale talents, as you well know, Ms. Lark.”

“Such talents don't require special rules,” Amaryllis said. “The nature of right and wrong does not alter as one rises higher on the psychic energy scale.”

Gifford rolled his eyes and tugged at his bow tie again.

“You don't understand, Ms. Lark,” Madison said gently. “I still fumble with my great talent from time to time. As I said, it is not always easy to control it, let alone to apply it appropriately.”

Amaryllis tapped one finger on the plush car seat. “Is that right?”

“Yes. But I am determined to use my gifts for the betterment of our city-state. To accomplish my goals I require the focus services of a strong-minded, highly principled full-spectrum prism. Someone who can guide me when my talent surges to the fore. Someone who can control and focus my psychic gifts so that they may be used to help others.”

It occurred to Amaryllis that the compelling power of
Madison's voice had grown stronger during the past few minutes. She realized it was getting easier to believe that he meant every word he said.

Too easy.

She glanced suspiciously at Gifford. He did not look at her. He sat silently in his corner, gazing out the tinted windows.

“There are those who would consider a prism with your high moral standards as something of a nuisance, Ms. Lark.” Madison leaned forward slightly. His eyes gleamed with an almost overpowering sincerity. “But I consider you to be a godsend. You are the prism for whom I have been searching all my life. I seek a helpmate and a soulmate, someone whose own psychic powers match my own and whose sense of values is in harmony with mine.”

He had been looking for her all of his life. Unlike everyone else, he didn't consider her ethical standards to be irritating and naive. He valued her skills and her integrity. Madison Sheffield needed her to help him fight the good fight.

A sense of glowing pride unfurled within Amaryllis. At last she had found a high-class talent who appreciated her. It would be so immensely satisfying, both professionally and personally, to work with such a powerful, influential man. How deeply rewarding it would be to focus for a man who sought her guidance and direction. Madison Sheffield offered the culmination of her dreams.

It would be a perfect psychic match.

“I don't know what to say.” Amaryllis shot another glance at Gifford, who was still staring out the window. “You've taken me by surprise, Senator.

“I realize that.” Madison smiled wryly. “And after what happened last night, you have every right to be suspicious of my intentions.”

Amaryllis shook off a seductive urge to brush the matter aside. “That brings up a very important issue. What you did last night was wrong, Senator. Using your talent to try to coerce people into supporting you is very unethical. I'm sure the founders would never have approved.”

“You're quite right, of course.” Madison looked into her
eyes. “But in my own defense, I must tell you that I was not really interested in acquiring Trent's support last night. It was all something of a smoke screen.”

“Smoke screen?”

“In my own clumsy fashion, I was trying to test your psychic capabilities.” Madison shook his head with admiration. “Gifford had told me that you were a very powerful prism and that you were currently focusing for Trent. Frankly, I doubted the extent of your abilities. When I saw you at the reception, I decided to conduct a quick test.”

“I see.”

“Forgive me. But allow me to tell you that I was extremely impressed. I envy Trent. I have never had the pleasure of working with a prism as strong as yourself.”

Amaryllis considered her sudden wish to let bygones be bygones. It was very strong. Too strong.

She glared at Gifford's averted face.

“Stop it,” she said.

Gifford glanced at her. “Stop what?”

“You're focusing for him. Stop it right now. We both know you aren't strong enough to handle much more of his talent, anyway. You're close to your limits. You may as well quit.”

Gifford sighed, glanced at Madison, and then shrugged in resignation.

Madison's compelling sincerity faded back into the normal range. It was still palpable, but now it had a practiced, superficial quality. It was the sort of sincerity one associated with politicians. Easy to discount.

“Think about my offer, Ms. Lark.” Madison's smile had not altered, but it no longer held the warmth it once had. “Both of us know that it is unsatisfying not to be able to use one's psychic gifts to the fullest extent. Rather like wearing blinders to prevent oneself from seeing properly. One chafes under the restriction. Surely nature never intended for people like you and me to allow our powers to languish from lack of use.”

“I'm not sure what nature's intentions are, but I won't help you use your talent in an unethical manner,” Amaryllis vowed.

“I would not dream of asking you to do so. If you come to work for me, I guarantee that you will have every opportunity to use your ability to focus in ways that are completely acceptable to you. Think of it, Ms. Lark. You can devote yourself to serving your city-state. You will act as my guide and my mentor.”

Amaryllis looked at him very steadily. “I don't have a great interest in politics. Please take me home, Senator.”

Madison's fine mouth tightened. But he inclined his head politely. “As you wish, Ms. Lark. I trust you will consider my offer. We would make a great team. Together we can make a difference.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Senator. You say you hold to the traditions of the founders, but a true founder would be appalled at how low you're willing to stoop in order to get to the governor's office.”

Sheffield's gaze hardened. “My dear, you are painfully naive. The truth is that the founders believed in doing whatever was necessary to protect the city-state. I am proud to follow in their footsteps.”

Amaryllis did not respond. She sat silently in her seat until the limousine glided to a halt in front of her home. Her cozy little house had never appeared so warm and safe and welcoming.

When the door of the limo opened, she saw that Lucas's Icer was parked at the curb. He was leaning against the fender, arms folded across his chest.

“Ms. Lark?” Sheffield put his hand on her arm. “Remember what I said. I offer you a future of selfless public service. The governor's chair is only a stop along the way. One day I shall be president of the United City-states. You can be at my side when that day comes. Not only as my prism but as my wife.”

“Your
wife
. “Amaryllis stopped half in and half out of the car.

“Why not?” Sheffield smiled coolly. “Think about it. You were born a bastard, Ms. Lark. I can make you the wife of the president. I offer you the opportunity to rise above all the shame and humiliation your family suffered because of your birth.”

Amaryllis flew out of the limo. She ran to Lucas, who opened his arms and folded her close.

She buried her face against his shoulder as the long, pale limousine snaked off into the distance.

“That does it. Sheffield has gone too far.” Lucas stood in front of the jelly-ice fire and gazed into the flames. He had to work hard to conceal the depths of his anger from Amaryllis. He was afraid it would alarm her to know just how furious he was.

Sheffield had tried his own perverted brand of seduction on Amaryllis, and he had been unforgivably shrewd about it. He had been clever enough to appeal to the core of indomitable virtue that was so much a part of her.

“It's all right, Lucas.” Amaryllis was curled in the corner of the sofa, her feet tucked under her. “I told him that I had no intention of going to work for him.”

“I should have guessed that sooner or later Sheffield would come after you. There aren't that many prisms who can handle a class-nine or ten talent, let alone one who is off the scale.”

“Gifford told him about me.”

“Osterley has probably run through every full-spectrum prism on his own staff trying to satisfy Sheffield.”

“Yes. Lucas, this is growing more difficult at every turn. Sheffield is obviously bound and determined to use his talent to get to the governor's chair and eventually to the presidency. He gave me a pious speech about wanting to employ his gifts with the ethical guidance of a trained prism. But if he actually had any ethics of his own, he would never have used his talent the way we've seen him use it.”

“I don't give a damn about his ethics,” Lucas said. “He's a politician. But he sure as hell had better not scoop you up in the back of that white limousine again.”

“He won't. Forget his designs on me. I can deal with him. The real question is, do you think he might have murdered Professor Landreth?”

“What?” Lucas swung swiftly around to face her.

“When you think about it, Sheffield had as strong a motive for killing the professor as Gifford did. Stronger, in a
way. If Landreth had discovered what Sheffield was doing with his talent, he might have threatened to expose him. Sheffield might have feared the damage to his campaign.”

“Stop obsessing on Landreth's death. We've got other problems.”

“I told you, Sheffield is not a problem.” Amaryllis looked past him into the flames. “Unless he killed Professor Landreth. Lucas, we need to find that missing file.”

“You haven't got the foggiest idea of how to go about finding a missing file,” Lucas exploded. “And I don't want you trying to dream one up. Every time you try to play prism detective, you get yourself into trouble.”

“I can't quit now. Lucas, I have to know what's going on. Try to understand. I need answers.”

He studied her face in the firelight and knew that there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Her stubborn nature was as much a part of her as her fierce integrity. He knew when he was beaten.

“You want to find a missing file?” he said. “Hire a real private investigator.”

Amaryllis's eyes lit with fresh enthusiasm. “Do you know one?'

“Yeah,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

The following morning Lucas strode past the desks of two assistant secretaries and a clerk. He entered a small, tastefully panelled antechamber. The refined, conservatively dressed woman seated behind the large desk bore a striking resemblence to the prisms Lucas had seen focusing for Sheffield. Same hair color. Same bra size.

“Can I help you?”

“I'm here to see Madison Sheffield.”

“I'm afraid Senator Sheffield is busy at the moment.” The secretary gave him a polite, inquiring look. “Did you have an appointment?”

“No. But don't worry about it. I don't need one.” He moved across the chamber to the closed door of the inner office and reached for the knob.

“Sir, I cannot allow you to just barge in on the senator.” The secretary leaped to her feet and hurried around the
corner of the desk with a surprising turn of speed. “I told you, he's a busy man. If you have an issue you wish to discuss with him, you'll have to make an appointment.”

Lucas glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to ten. “Put me down for ten o'clock. I'm a little early.” He opened the door and walked into the inner office.

He shut the door in the secretary's face and activated the lock.

Madison Sheffield was deep in conversation on the phone. He frowned when he saw who had invaded his sanctum. “Excuse me, Bob, something's come up. I'll call you back later to discuss those changes in the bill.” He slowly replaced the phone.

A series of muffled thuds sounded on the heavy door. Lucas ignored them.

“This won't take long, Sheffield.”

“What do you want?”

“Five minutes to explain the facts of life.” Lucas crossed the thick carpet and halted in front of the broad desk. “You're smart enough to have gotten all the way to this fancy office, but if you expect to make it to the governor's chair, you had better be smart enough to keep your hands off Amaryllis Lark.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Trent?”

Lucas planted both hands on the wide desk. “She's off limits, Sheffield. Touch her and you can kiss good-bye to your hopes of becoming the next governor of our fair city-state. Do I make myself clear?”

“You can't threaten me.”

“Normally I don't get involved in politics,” Lucas said softly. “It's not a great interest of mine. But for you I will make an exception.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“For you, I will call Nelson Burlton personally to give him the inside story of how you use your off-the-scale talent to raise campaign contributions.”

“No one will believe you.”

“The public loves Nelson Burlton. They also love a scandal. But just to make certain, I will also call the biggest donors on your list of contributors and warn them privately
that they were manipulated into giving money to the Founders' Values Party.”

“You have no proof.”

“That's the beauty of it, Sheffield. I won't need proof. I'm the Iceman, remember? The guy who ran the pirates out of the islands. The man who discovered the alien artifacts. I even turned down the chance to run for your seat in the city-state senate. Important people, the kind who give you money, will believe me.”

“How dare you!” Sheffield shot to his feet, his face working with rage. “Get out of my office before I have you thrown out.”

“Stay away from Amaryllis. If the rumors about you start with me and flow through Nelson Burlton, you'll never be able to shake them. Every major contributor you've got will get nervous. People will talk, Sheffield. Ever hear the term psychic vampire? That's what they call off-the-scale talents like you.”