Sizzle and Burn (The Arcane Society #3)(47)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“Yes.”

“It’s hard to believe that my father was secretly working on something so dangerous.”

“Raine—”

She put the little cup down very carefully. “No wonder the Council expelled my family from the Society and sent J&J to burn down the lab.”

He crossed the room and halted in front of her on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“I thought I made it clear, the Council kicked your father out of the Society,” he said quietly. “It didn’t expel you or your aunt. Remember that.”

She shrugged. “Not like either of us had much choice after that night when J&J destroyed everything.”

“You didn’t have a choice because you were too young. But your aunt did. She’s the one who made the decision to raise you outside the Society and to deny you your heritage.”

“In her place, I would have done the same thing. She didn’t have a lot of reason to trust the Society or J&J.”

He moved around the end of the coffee table, reached down and wrapped his hands around her wrists. He pulled her up off the sofa.

“What about you?” he said.

“I have no reason to trust the Society or J&J, either. They’ve got their own agendas.”

“And you have yours.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t trust the Society and you don’t trust J&J,” he said. “What about me?”

She searched his face. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he said. He could hear the rough, gritty edges in his own voice but there was nothing he could do to soften them. “It matters.”

“I trust you,” she said. She looked as if the statement surprised her but she didn’t back away from it. “You have been honest with me since the start of this thing.”

He felt something deep inside him ease.

“Okay,” he said. He made himself release her wrists. “Okay, thanks.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He answered without even thinking about it.

“Even though you know I’ve got my own reasons for helping you find out what Nightshade is after?”

“I know where you’re coming from. Not like you’ve kept it a secret. You’ve been honest from the beginning.”

“So have you.” She sank back down onto the sofa. “I’ll pour you some of my special tea. We’ll play some cards.”

He did not want to sit down. He wanted to keep moving. Tea and solitaire weren’t going to cut it tonight. The images of Lawrence Quinn’s last seconds on earth were still too vivid, too intense. The attack by Ski Mask had compounded the usual problems of the aftermath.

It was going to be a bad night and he couldn’t risk dampening his senses with a couple of shots of scotch. Probably better not to even try to sleep.

Raine poured the brew into the small cup and handed it to him. “Here. Drink some of this.”

To please her, he downed half the contents of the cup in a single swallow. The slightly astringent, herbal flavors were not unpleasant but he didn’t think they were going to have any effect on the visions. There was only one thing that could distract him from the death scene and that was the one thing that was not available to him tonight.

Raine picked up the deck of cards and started to deal. He made a valiant effort to concentrate but he knew it was a waste of time. His brain insisted on jumping wildly from images of oncoming death to a raging need to affirm life in the most primitive way possible.

“I appreciate the effort but it’s not going to work.”

“It’s going to be one of those nights, isn’t it?” she asked. “One of the bad ones.”

“I’m used to it. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not feeling very sleepy, myself. Watching that man try to kill you left my nerves on edge, to put it mildly. And then, seeing his body in the street—”

His hand stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. “How did you know that the guy was coming after me?”

“I’m not sure. He passed very close behind the booth where I was sitting. I was just suddenly aware of him. And not in a good way. It was like looking over your shoulder and seeing a tiger waiting to pounce.”

He nodded. “That happens with hunters when they’re running hot. The energy they put out is predatory. Most people can sense it, even if they aren’t consciously aware of it. Another sensitive like yourself wouldn’t have any trouble at all picking up the vibes.”

“You’re sure that the visions you picked up tonight were connected to Lawrence Quinn’s death?” Raine asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“And you’re also sure that the killer was Ski Mask?”

“Can’t be absolutely certain, but it seems logical. The last thing Quinn saw was a face that his panic-stricken brain interpreted as a death’s head. Two black holes for eyes. I’m betting it was really a ski mask.”

“Fallon Jones still thinks I’m the key to this thing,” she said.

He drank a little more of the tea. “Unfortunately, I agree with him.”

“But it’s been a month since Aunt Vella died. No one has made any move to contact me.”

“Fallon thinks they’ve been sitting back, watching you.”

“Watching me do what?” she asked, bewildered.

“Let’s think about this,” he said. “What’s the main thing you’ve been doing in the past month?”

“You mean, aside from running my business?”

“Yes.”

“Settling my aunt’s estate. It’s amazing how much paperwork there is associated with death.”

“Right.”

“So?”

“So, it all comes back to Vella Tallentyre,” he said.

Thirty-six

The dream was a bad one.

…A death’s head coming at him out of the darkness, black holes where the eyes should have been. He was paralyzed, fingers clutching the corner of the steel garbage container. He desperately wanted to turn and run but he was unable to move. There was no point trying to flee. The terrifying figure would run him down…

…The death’s head morphed into Jenna’s beautiful face. She smiled at him and held out her hands.

“I was perfect for you. What more could you want in a woman?”

He came awake, heart pounding. Sweat dampened his T-shirt. He sat up abruptly, swinging his feet to the floor, and breathed hard.