Copper Beach: A Dark Legacy Novel (30 page)

“I know. He’ll pay for it, I promise you.”

“This isn’t about money, damn it.”

He winced. “Bad choice of words. I didn’t mean that he would pay financially. I meant I’ll get him for you.”

Abby took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Okay,
then. Thank you.” She stepped out of his arms and went toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t you want to take some fresh clothes with you?”

“No.” She did not look back. “I won’t be able to wear anything that was here when he broke in. I won’t be able to use any of the dishes or the silverware or the sheets or my new towels ever again. He contaminated everything.”

She was already outside, punching the button for the elevator. Sam switched off the lamp. He stood for a moment, contemplating the violated space.

“Whoever you are, you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to nowhere,” he said to the shadows. “You should never have touched her stuff.”

ABBY WALKED OUT OF THE ELEVATOR INTO THE DIMLY LIT
dungeon that was the underground parking garage. Her emotions were in turmoil. All she could think about was getting into the car and putting as much distance as possible between herself and her violated home.
No, not my
home, not anymore.
Anger burned so hot within her that she did not register the ghostly prickle of awareness on the back of her neck until it was too late.

By the time she realized there was something wrong with the atmosphere in the garage, Sam’s powerful hand was clamping tightly around her upper arm. She turned her head to look at him.

“What—?” she began.

“Quiet,” Sam said, directly into her ear.

He drew her swiftly behind a massive SUV that was parked in the corner. The gray walls of the garage formed a barricade on two sides. The big vehicle provided additional cover.

Ominous energy whispered in the shadows. Abby was suddenly
chilled to the bone. Parking garages were always unnerving at night, and in spite of the condo’s security measures, this one was no exception. Footsteps echoed eerily. There were too many dark spaces between the parked cars. She always walked through the gray concrete underworld as quickly as possible, keys in hand, all senses on high alert. But tonight she had been distracted.

The garage was far too quiet. There were no footsteps or voices, but her intuition warned her that she and Sam were not alone. Someone else waited in the shadows. Sam released her. She watched him take his pistol and a small chunk of silvery quartz that looked like a crystal mirror out from under his jacket. She wondered what the quartz was for but decided this was not the time to ask questions. There was the stillness of the hunter about Sam now. He was very focused, very intent. Very dangerous.

She did not know what to expect, a threat or a command from an armed gunman, perhaps. But there was only a strange, unnatural silence that seemed to deepen by the second. It was wrong. The pale glow of the fluorescent fixtures overhead was growing fainter. The garage was taking on a weird, dreamlike quality.

“Go hot,” Sam ordered softly. “All the way.”

She was already on edge, all of her senses, normal and paranormal, flaring in alarm, but she had made no effort to focus them. The problem with concentrating psychic energy for a prolonged period of time was that the exercise had a downside. The unpleasant jitters and, ultimately, exhaustion that followed a heavy burn were the least of her concerns. She could deal with those. What scared the daylights out of her in that moment was that the garage was starting to resemble the dreamscape of the Grady Hastings nightmare. It was bad enough to wake up and find herself standing beside her bed. What if pushing her talent too hard plunged her permanently into the dream?

Sensing her hesitation, Sam gave her an impatient glance.

“Do it,” he ordered.

The garage was undergoing a bizarre transformation. The space around them was assuming an increasingly unreal aspect, as if it was sliding into another dimension. The rows of cars grew longer, stretching away into infinity. The concrete columns morphed into Möbius strips.

“Is it just me or is this starting to look like a bad dream?” she whispered.

“Looks that way to me, too.”

She took comfort from that news. She wasn’t in this alone. She wanted to explain the reason for her reluctance to follow orders, but this did not seem to be the time or place for an extended conversation. She had hired him as a consultant for situations like this. There was no point employing high-grade talent if you didn’t follow up on the recommendations. Cautiously, she elevated her senses into the red zone.

Sure enough, the otherworldly distortion faded significantly as her para-senses took over. But the garage did not return to what passed for normal. When she was in the zone like this, she was able to perceive light from beyond the visible range of the spectrum. The scene was now illuminated in the radiance of ultralight.

In this eerily lit environment, human auras could be more easily perceived. The hot energy flaring in the shadows between two parked cars confirmed what she had already sensed. Someone waited in the darkness.

The senses-dazzling energy exploded out of nowhere. It was as if someone had lobbed a paranormal grenade directly in front of the SUV that protected them. Abby instinctively shut her eyes, but that did little to reduce the terrible glare. The explosion of searing ultralight affected her para-senses far more than it did her normal vision.

“Don’t waste your time and energy trying to fight it, Coppersmith.”
The dark voice came out of the shadows. It was masculine but strangely
distorted.
“My little flash-bang is crystal-powered. It generates more energy than any human can. It will soon overwhelm your senses. My advice is to shut down your talent before you burn out.”

“Too late with the flash-bang gadget,” Sam said. “I’ve already got the fix on it.”

“It won’t do you any good. But go ahead and try to overcome it if you like. When you’re satisfied that the device is stronger than you are, we can get down to business. Assuming you’re still awake, that is. I’m sure you are aware of the downside of a serious psi-burn.”

“I’ll try to stay up late tonight,” Sam said.

Abby sensed another rush of hot energy in his aura and knew that he had done something with the mirrored quartz. She realized that he was pushing an enormous amount of energy through the stone.

There was a reverberating clang as an object struck the concrete floor. The ultrawhite-hot glare that had filled the space abruptly winked out of existence. When her dazzled senses cleared, Abby realized that the garage had returned to normal.

“Shit.” The epithet was accompanied by a harsh gasp of pain.

The stranger’s voice was no longer distorted. It was, however, clearly annoyed. “You’re a real son of a bitch, Coppersmith. How the hell did you do that?”

“A tuned crystal can generate more steady-state energy than a person, but it takes a human mind to activate it. I didn’t take the fix on your flash-bang device. I took it on you.” There was a short pause before Sam added politely, “I got it while you were chatting about the cutting-edge wonderfulness of your gadget.”

“Fortunately, I brought backup.”

“A real gun?” Sam said. “Good thinking.”

“I assume you have one, too?”

“What do you think?”

“That you’ve got one.” There was resignation and irritation in the
stranger’s voice. “You destroyed my flash-bang. It was a prototype, the first and so far the only version that actually worked.”

“PEC technology?”

“Sure. Do you have any idea how long it will take me to produce another? It requires months to grow a single crystal large enough to power the damn thing, and that’s assuming nothing goes wrong in the process. You know how delicate para-crystals are.”

“What kind of seed crystal did you use?” Sam asked.

“I might give you that information if you tell me what you’re using to power that weapon you brought to the party.”

It dawned on Abby that the conversation had veered off in the wrong direction.

“For Pete’s sake,” she hissed. “This is no time to get into a technical discussion.”

“She’s got a point,” Sam said.

“Yes, she does. I hate to admit it, but I may have underestimated you, Coppersmith. My own fault. I was warned that you might be a problem.”

“I try hard,” Sam said. “Sometimes I succeed.”

“So I see. The thing is, I need Miss Radwell. I give you my word she will not be hurt.”

“Then why are you trying to take her by force?” Sam asked.

“Because, unfortunately, you are in possession of her at the moment, and I doubt that you’ll give her up without a fight.”

“Good guess.”

“All right, then, let’s try this in a businesslike fashion. Name your price for her. I’ll top it.”

“She’s not for sale,” Sam said.

Abby wanted to throttle both of them. “Stop talking about me as if I was a rare book up for auction, do you hear me?”

“In my own defense, I would like to point out that I did try to go about the business in a civilized way, Miss Radwell,” the stranger said.
“I heard rumors of your unusual talent, but it was made clear that you only work by personal referral. I was unable to approach you in the usual manner, because I’m not closely acquainted with any of your other clients and Thaddeus Webber declined to recommend me. So I tried an indirect approach.”

“The herbal,” Abby said. “You sent it to me.”

“It was a gift intended to assure you that I was qualified to become a client. But you never responded.”

“I’ve been a little busy lately.”

“I understand. I tried hiring my own freelancer to find the book. He’s good at his job, but he can’t break codes. I decided I would try to hire you to handle the encryption after the book was in my possession. But this afternoon I got a message from the freelancer saying that he was resigning. I can only assume he was put off by the recent murders. I concluded I had no choice but to take drastic measures.”

“Yes, well, as you can see, your drastic measures aren’t going to work,” Abby said.

“Out of curiosity, did Coppersmith come to you with a proper referral?”

“Yes, he did,” Abby said coldly. “And by the way, he is not only a client. I hired him to protect me while I look for a certain book.”

“The forty-year-old lab notebook that is coming up for auction. Yes, I know. Your choice of a bodyguard is an odd one, to say the least. Rather like hiring the wolf to watch the sheep, isn’t it?”

“Sam and I have an agreement.”

“I will double whatever he is paying you.”

“Sorry, I have to consider my reputation in the business,” Abby said.

“I give you my word that you will be in no danger from me.”

“Right,” Sam said. “That’s why we’re standing around this garage in the middle of the night, holding a conversation that includes a couple of para-weapons.”

“It would appear we have a standoff this evening,” the other man said.

“Who are you?” Abby demanded.

“I think we’ll wait on the formal introductions. Maybe we can do business together some other time.”

Anger flashed through Abby. “You’re the one who invaded my condo and contaminated it, aren’t you? Just so you know, I will never, ever forgive you for that. And I definitely won’t work for a bastard who would do that to a person’s personal space. I’m going to have you arrested.”

“Calm down, Miss Radwell. I admit that I took a quick look around your condo earlier this evening, but it was obvious that someone else had been there first. Either that or you are a very poor housekeeper.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“If I had searched your condo, Miss Radwell, I would have been far more discreet about the process. I would not have left any obvious indications of my presence.”

Sam shifted slightly in the shadows. “Any idea who did go through the condo tonight?”

“No, but it looked like whoever did it was in a tearing rage, probably mentally unbalanced. For Miss Radwell’s sake, I suggest you assume that the intruder is the same person who murdered Webber and Sparrow. You do know that both men are dead, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Abby said. “Are you going to tell us that you’re not responsible for those two killings?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“Both deaths were by paranormal means,” Abby said. “It looks like you have the talent for designing the kind of gadgets that could be lethal.”

“So does your bodyguard. While we’re on the subject, Coppersmith, I don’t suppose you would care to tell me what you used to destroy my flash-bang?”

“Sure. Right after you tell me what you used to turn this garage into a dreamscape.”