Sizzle and Burn (The Arcane Society #3)(62)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

She put the book down on the table and reached back into the box for one of the other volumes.

The instant her fingers touched the second book psychic electricity crackled across her senses. Instinctively she sucked in her breath and released the small volume, letting it drop back into the box. But she wasn’t fast enough. The voice in her head was a spectral echo of Vella’s, low and throaty and desperate.

…Keep you safe. You’re the innocent one…

She clamped down on the eerie echoes from beyond the grave and twisted her hands together in her lap. She stared at the book as though it were a cobra. Tiny claws sank through the fabric of her pants, into her thighs. Robin and Batman were restless, reacting to the tension that gripped her.

“You okay?” Zack asked.

“Yes.” She could not take her eyes off the volume of poetry. “The book. She was frantic when she touched it. Terrified.”

“For herself?”

“No. For me.”

Batman butted his head against her arm, demanding her attention. She hesitated, then, relaxing slightly, she started to pet him again. Satisfied, he settled back down in her lap.

Zack picked up the book, glancing at the title. Winter Journey.

“It was her favorite book of poetry. Personally, I find the poems extremely depressing but they seemed to comfort her.”

The corners of his mouth and eyes tightened. She knew he was registering the same energy she had picked up.

“She was frightened, all right,” he said. “For you.”

He opened the book. Vella had made no attempt to conceal her message. It was written on the flyleaf. A yellowed business card was also tucked into the book.

“She was panicked but she knew what she was doing,” he said. “She wrote a message to you in this book because she knew it would end up in your hands. A message on a hospital notepad might have been tossed away but not the personal effects of the patient.”

He put the book, open to the flyleaf, on the coffee table. Picking up the business card, he turned it over. The simple black print had faded but the name of the firm was still legible. There was a phone number scrawled across the bottom edge of the card.

“It’s a Jones & Jones business card,” Raine said. “Wilder Jones must have given it to her. I can’t believe she kept it all these years.”

She leaned forward, not touching the book, and read the message aloud.

My Dear Raine,

I am dying and I believe you may be in terrible danger. A man calling himself Parker came to see me today. He told me that he had found Judson’s notes and studied his work. He said that he could cure me. But now I know that he lied. Soon he will realize that I lied to him, as well. As if I would ever trust my secrets to a stranger.

Oddly enough, the drug he gave me has provided me with the first clearheaded moments I have known in years. But I can feel my heart pounding. There is something wrong. I must get this down quickly.

My fear is that when he learns I deceived him, Parker will go after you. You cannot give him the answers he seeks because I never told you the whole truth. But he may not believe that.

There is no help for it now. You must contact Jones & Jones. The Agency will protect you. There will be a price. There is always a price when one deals with J&J. They will demand the same thing Parker wanted. Give it to them, Raine. It is not worth your life. What they want is hidden behind Wilder Jones’s mask. Just remember your birthday.

The blame for everything that happened all those years ago falls entirely on your father and me. You are innocent, Raine. J&J will understand that.

I love you. Please tell Gordon and Andrew I love them, too. I owe you all more than I can ever repay.

Vella’s signature was barely legible.

Raine could not hold back the tears any longer. She eased Batman and Robin off her lap, jumped up from the sofa and hobbled to her room. Once inside, she closed the door, sank down on the side of the bed and gave herself up to the storm of grief and guilt.

She did not hear the door open, but a moment later Zack was beside her, pulling her into his arms. It was too much. Unable to resist the comfort he offered, she pressed her face against his shirt and sobbed. He did not try to console her. He just held her close until the tempest had passed.

When it was over she felt utterly drained. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“I was in Vegas,” she whispered. “Lawrence Quinn was murdering her here in Oriana and I was playing blackjack in Vegas.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Zack said into her hair. “You’re feeling guilty because you were in a casino when she was killed?”

“Maybe if I was here—”

“No.” The single word rang with finality. He held her gently away from him. “You weren’t partying in Vegas. You were doing what you had to do in order to keep her in St. Damian’s.”

“Yes, but—”

“Even if you were here, it would have made no difference. There was nothing you could have done. She let Quinn give her the drug. She was aware that she was taking a chance. Hell, she knew she couldn’t trust him. That’s why she lied to him.”

“I wake up at night sometimes, wondering if I could have done something.”

He slid his hands up her arms to her throat and cradled her head between his palms. “You were so accustomed to your role as her primary caregiver that you can’t allow yourself to deal with the facts. And the facts in this case are very clear. You could not have saved her.”

“Just as you couldn’t save Jenna?”

His jaw tightened. For a few seconds she thought he was going to contradict her. Then he pulled her back into his arms.

“Yes,” he said. “Just as I couldn’t save Jenna.”

They wrapped each other close. Neither spoke for a time.

“You think this is nature’s way of teaching us that neither one of us can save everyone?” she said eventually.

“Looks like it.”

“Hard lesson,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

Forty-six

Raine pushed aside the remains of her peanut-butter-on-toast breakfast and studied the message on the flyleaf of Winter Journey. “I hate to tell you this, but it turns out I may not be an ace psychic detective after all. I still haven’t got a clue what Aunt Vella meant by the references to Wilder Jones’s mask and my birthday.”

Zack was at the counter, pouring coffee into a mug. “Did Wilder leave any of his things with Vella?”