Silver Master (25 page)

SHORTLY BEFORE MIDNIGHT, DAVIS CLOSED THE CADENCE
City directory and dropped it on the floor beside the sofa. He leaned back, stretched out his legs, and looked at Celinda.

“Who the hell knew there were so many people running around claiming to be experts in various forms of psi therapy?” he said.

She put down the pad of paper she had been using to take notes. The task of sorting through the list of practitioners in the directory in an attempt to pick out the mysterious Dr. Hollings had not been successful.

The balcony door was partially open. Max and Araminta were outside on the railing. They were sitting very close together, taking in the night. A few minutes ago Max had come inside long enough to fetch another cookie for Araminta.

Glumly she eyed what she had written.

“From the looks of it, most of them are self-proclaimed therapists and counselors,” she said. “The number with genuine parapsych degrees of one kind or another after their names is only a small subset.”

“The problem is that the city-states don't have any laws dictating who can hang out a shingle calling himself a therapist or a counselor.” He picked up her list. “We've got everything from shady gurus to full-fledged doctors of para-psychiatry here.” He frowned at one of the names she had written. “What the hell is a psychic lifestyle counselor, anyway?”

“I'm not sure, but it's nice to know there are some out there in case I ever need one.”

He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, thinking. “None of the people on that list jumps out at me. Got a feeling our man doesn't advertise in the phone book.”

She considered that. “It wouldn't be surprising, not if he's going after a high-end clientele. Promises, Inc., doesn't advertise, either. We work strictly by referral.”

“Referral,” Davis repeated. He raised his lashes halfway, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I'll bet your competitors know who you are, though, don't they?”

“Definitely.” She was unable to suppress a twinge of pride. “Everyone in the matchmaking business here in Cadence is well aware of Promises, Inc.”

“Maybe the way to find Hollings is to talk to some of his competitors.”

The psi energy of the hunter was pulsing strongly in him. He was running on adrenaline, she thought. Whether he realized it or not, he had not completely recovered from the heavy psi burn in the ruins.

“There's nothing more you can do tonight,” she said. “You need sleep, Davis.”

“I'm too rezzed up to sleep. I'm closing in on him; I can feel it.”

“All the more reason why you should rest.” She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Come on, let's get you into bed.”

Instead of coming up off the sofa, he captured her wrist in his hand and tumbled her down onto his lap.

“Got a better idea,” he said.

He kissed her before she could offer a protest. She did not require her psi senses to realize that he was more than just restless and edgy; he was as hard as quartz. The adrenaline and testosterone bio-cocktail that had aroused all of his hunter's senses was having some predictable side effects.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Holding her locked in the embrace, he reached out and de-rezzed the lamp on the end table beside the sofa. The living room was plunged into deep shadows.

Turning, he stretched her out on the sofa beneath him, peeling off her clothes with quick, urgent motions. Sensual psi flared hotly in the darkness. Her own senses quickened in response. She could feel the rush of sexual hunger that was heating his blood. It burned through her, as well, creating an urgent ache deep inside. A moment ago she had been intent only on getting him into bed. Now all she could think about was getting him inside her.

Invisible energy sparked and flashed between them. He got her blouse open and went to work on the waistband of her trousers. She managed to unfasten his shirt, put her arms around him, and stroke the warm, tight skin of his muscled back. He unbuckled his belt and got rid of his trousers and briefs in a couple more swift, efficient moves.

She reached down between them with one hand and curled her fingers around his rigid length. He made a sound that was part groan and part hungry growl.

The next thing she knew, he had pushed up her knees and slid halfway down the length of her body. When she felt his mouth on her, she gasped, half-shocked and wholly thrilled. She sank her fingers into his hair.

The glorious, glittering, throbbing release hit her like a blast of high-powered alien psi, rocking all of her senses. She grabbed one of the pillows and slapped it over her mouth to stifle her thin, high shriek.

Davis surged back up her body and buried himself inside her. It was an act of possession and desperate need. He yanked the pillow away from her face and kissed her throat. His thrusts were heavy and powerful and fast.

A moment later he raised his head. Every muscle in his body was tensed as though he was some great, wild beast about to bring down prey with a killing blow.

His climax struck hard. She put her hands around his neck, pulled his face down, and kissed him, swallowing his roar of satisfaction.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, crushing her into the sofa cushions.

“Can't get enough of you,” he whispered against her breast. “I could come just by looking at you.”

She smiled into the shadows, trailing her fingertips along his damp skin. “More fun this way, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” He did not open his eyes.

She edged herself out from beneath his crushing weight and tugged on his arm.

“Come on, Davis. It's time to go to bed.”

“I'll just sleep here,” he muttered into the pillow.

“No. You need a good night's sleep. You won't get that here on the sofa. It's too small for you.”

“What about you? Where will you sleep?”

Most of the languid satisfaction she had been savoring faded.
I prefer to sleep alone. Don't take it personally.

“I'll use the sofa again tonight,” she said. “It works fine for me.”

Grumbling, he rolled off the cushions and allowed her to steer him down the hall to the darkened bedroom. She pulled back the covers. He fell into bed, closed his eyes, and was instantly asleep.

She pulled the sheet and quilt up over him and went back into the living room to the open balcony door. She spoke softly to Max and Araminta.

“Are you two coming in tonight?” she asked.

They hopped down off the balcony and tumbled into the apartment. She closed the door and locked it very carefully. She checked the cookie jar one last time to make certain the relic was still safely stashed inside, and then she went to the hall closet, took out a pillow and a blanket, and arranged them on the sofa.

For a long time she lay there looking up at the ceiling, Araminta a heavy little bundle of lint beside her.

“The thing is, I do take it personally,” she said to Araminta.

Araminta opened her baby-blue eyes and blinked a couple of times.

Celinda gave it ten more minutes before she pushed aside the blanket, got up from the sofa, and went down the hall to the bedroom. Davis was sleeping so soundly when she got into bed beside him that he never even stirred

 

HE CAME AWAKE TO THE SENSATION OF A HAND ON HIS
shoulder.

“Wake up,” Celinda said. “You're dreaming.”

He opened his eyes and saw that a pale dawn light was replacing the green glow of night outside the window.

He looked at Celinda. “What are you doing here?”

“It's my bed, remember?”

“You slept on the sofa.”

“Changed my mind. By the way, you will notice that I'm not screaming.”

“What the hell?” Still dazed with sleep, he levered himself up on his elbows.

She glanced down. He followed her gaze. His forearm from elbow to wrist was invisible. The fingers of his seemingly unattached hand gripped the rumpled sheet.

She held out her own hand, palm up. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“SOUNDS LIKE YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT TITUS KENNING
ton.” Martin Skidmore lounged deeper into his padded leather chair, folded his hands across the broad expanse of his belly, and regarded Davis with an expression that contained a mix of disgruntled competitiveness and reluctant admiration. “What can I say? The man's good. He managed to snag a couple of high-end clients right after he opened up for business. Overnight he went straight to the top. Referral only.”

Skidmore's office was located in a shiny tower not far from the headquarters of the Cadence Guild. The discreet sign outside the door announced that he was a psychic lifestyle counselor. He was the third therapist on the list that Davis had put together. He had limited the names of those he wanted to interview to counselors who clearly catered to a high-end clientele on the assumption that Hollings would have gone after the same market. Anyone who could afford a lifestyle counselor had to be pretty well-heeled. If they actually stumbled into Hollings working under an assumed name, Celinda would recognize his psi energy.

“What kind of counseling does Kennington do?” Davis asked.

Skidmore's expression twisted in disdain. “I've heard he calls it dream therapy. Bunch of guru-babble, if you ask me. But there's no denying he hit an amber mine. I hear he's even got Senator Padbury's wife as a client.”

“Do you know where his office is located?”

“Over on Burwell Street in the Old Quarter. Don't know why he set up shop there. It's not the most fashionable address in town, that's for sure. Maybe he likes the atmosphere.”

“Maybe.” Davis got to his feet. “You've been very helpful. The Guild appreciates your cooperation.”

“Any time. Always happy to do a favor for the Guild.”

“I'll mention that at headquarters.” Davis turned to leave. He stopped briefly at the door. “What does a psychic lifestyle counselor do?”

“I can help you explore your unique para-rez potential and guide you toward a truly fulfilling and satisfying life on both the normal and paranormal planes.”

“Cost a lot to get all that?”

Skidmore smiled benignly. “Of course.”

Davis let himself out into the reception area of the office. Celinda was waiting for him.

“Well?” she asked, rising quickly.

Davis savored the hit of anticipation that he always got at times like this. “Nailed him. I'm going to his office now. With luck, I'll surprise him and maybe get some answers or evidence.”

“I'm coming with you.”

“Damn it, Celinda—”

“I'm the only one who will be able tell you for sure whether he's the man whose psi waves I read that night in the lane.”

She was right. Time was short, and he needed a positive ID as fast as possible. His biggest worry at the moment was that Kennington had already gotten nervous and skipped.

“All right,” he said. “One thing I think I should mention.”

“What's that?”

“If you're ever short on ideas when it comes to buying me a birthday present?”

“Yes?”

“Don't get me any psychic lifestyle counseling sessions.”

“Okay, I'll stick with cuff links.”

They went down to the garage and got into the Phantom. He rezzed the engine and then called Trig.

“We're on our way to the office of a Dr. Titus G. Kennington,” Davis said. “I think he's our man. Address in the Quarter. Burwell Street.”

“Want me to meet you there?”

“Yes. Parking is mostly on the street in that part of town, but there will be an alley entrance. Keep an eye on it. If you see someone leave Kennington's building by the back door, follow him.”

“Got it.”

Davis ended the call and drove out of the garage. The distance between the downtown office corridor and the Old Quarter wasn't far in terms of miles, but there was a couple of hundred years' difference when it came to atmosphere.

Within a very short span of time they were back in the narrow, twisted streets and lanes of the city's oldest neighborhoods. He parked a block away from the address he had been given and got out of the Phantom. Celinda joined him on the sidewalk. She stood quietly for a moment, looking at the dark street. He did not like the uneasiness of her expression.

“What?” he asked.

“If Kennington is the man we're looking for, you need to be prepared for the fact that he's a lot like me,” she said quietly.

“Bullshit. He's nothing like you.”

She looked at him, her eyes as shadowed and somber as the neighborhood around them. “I told you, I sensed his psi energy the other night. He's strong, Davis. And he appears to possess the same kind of talent I've got.”

“So?”

“So, there's something I haven't told you about my type of parapsych profile. I don't just read other people's patterns; under certain conditions, I can…influence them a little.”

That stopped him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It requires physical contact,” she said, still disturbingly serious. “At least it does for me. I've never told anyone about this, because by the time I realized what I could do, I was old enough to understand that people would be afraid to get close to me if they thought I could manipulate their psi waves.”

“Maybe we could talk about this later,” he suggested.

“No, you need to know what you're up against. Listen to me, Davis. You once asked me if Landry had raped me after he drugged me. I told you he didn't.”

He touched the side of her face very gently. “It's all right. You don't have to talk about it.”

“It was the truth,” she continued. “He didn't assault me, not in that way. But he fully intended to. The reason he didn't was because the drug only suppressed my ability to move. My psi senses were unaffected. Sexual arousal is heavily influenced by psi patterns. When he put his hands on me, I was able to dampen his arousal enough to make him lose interest. It had the same effect as a cold shower.”

He searched her face. “Are you telling me that Landry didn't rape you because he couldn't get it up?”

“Yes. He didn't realize what I was doing, of course. As far as he was concerned, he just couldn't get aroused. He said something about not wanting to waste time on an ugly bitch like me, slapped me a couple of times, and then he called room service.”

“Son of a bitch,” he said softly.

Her jaw tightened, and her chin came up in a way that he was coming to recognize.

“You now know why I've never found a good match for myself,” she said. “There aren't many men who would want to risk falling in love with a woman if they knew she had the ability to shut them down in bed.”

He smiled slowly. “Got news for you, sweetheart. Nothing you could do to my psi waves could make me lose interest in you.”

She blinked. Her eyes widened. “I realize you're very strong. That's one of the reasons why I knew right from the start that we—” She broke off abruptly, frowning a little. “Doesn't it make you a little uneasy to know what I can do to a man?”

“You manipulated my psi waves once before, remember? After the fight with Landry's men.”

“Yes, but I used the red gadget on you that time and for a different purpose. I'm trying to tell you that I can influence your psychic waves even without the artifact.”

“I'm not worried.” He gave her a quick, wicked grin, showing a lot of teeth. “But I'm warning you, if you try your little cold shower trick on me, I'll get even by going invisible in places that will make you think twice about doing it again.”

She blushed and rushed on. “The thing is, if Hollings tries to control you with his own innate talent, I'm sure you're strong enough to block him if you realize what he's doing and act quickly enough. But if he uses the relic on you, it will be a different story.”

“Think so?”

He didn't sound at all concerned. She wanted to shake him.

“I know so,” she said evenly. “Listen to me, Davis, if he uses the relic, you will have only a two-or three-second window to protect yourself. That's the length of time it will take him to identify your psi waves and figure out which ones to manipulate. You'll have to act immediately, or you'll be overwhelmed.”

“Got any suggestions?”

“I've had years to learn how to tune out other people's psi. But you've never had to do it. Throwing up a mental barricade won't be instinctive for you. I'm not sure how to prepare you.”

“Describe this mental barricade thing.”

Finally, she thought. He was starting to take this seriously.

“The mind can only produce so much energy, and that energy can only be focused in a limited number of ways at one time,” she said. “We can all multitask to some extent, but there are limits. If you think Hollings is using the relic on you, you'll need to focus as you've never had to focus before in your life. Try concentrating all of your psi power on something linked to your survival instinct. It's the most primitive and most powerful instinct any human possesses.”

“Think that strategy will work?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I've only used the relic on one occasion, and you were in no condition to resist. I have no idea what will happen if a powerful talent like you actively tries to fight it. I'm winging it here.”

He gave that a few seconds' thought and then resumed walking toward Hollings's office. “All right, now I'm going to give you some advice. Don't get between me and Hollings, no matter what happens. If anything occurs inside that office that makes you think we're in trouble, you run, you do not walk, to the nearest exit and yell for Trig. He'll be close by on the street.”

She looked around. “I don't see him.”

“The panhandler in the doorway over there.” He did not look toward Trig. “He uses more traditional methods, but in his own way, Trig's almost as good at going invisible as I am.”

Some major cash had been dropped into the renovation of the two-hundred-year-old building that housed Hollings's office. A small sign declared that visitors were expected to announce themselves by picking up the phone beside the locked front door.

Davis stopped a few feet away from the door and examined the area surrounding the phone. There was a camera mounted above the device. He was careful to keep out of range.

“You make the call,” he instructed Celinda. “Tell whoever answers that you were referred by a friend and that you want to make an appointment. Use the senator's wife's name, if necessary.”

“If Hollings is watching the monitor, he'll recognize me.”

“Odds are a guy running an upscale operation will have a receptionist working for him. Even if he does see you, he's going to be damn curious to know why you're here.”

“What about you?”

Davis shrugged. “Now you see me…”

“Now you don't?” She didn't look reassured. She looked worried.

“It will only take a few seconds to get through the door. I told you, I don't get into trouble unless I go invisible for several minutes.”

She wasn't entirely satisfied, but she picked up the phone. She listened for a moment and then responded, smooth and glib.

“I'd like to make an appointment for a consultation…How did I hear about Dr. Kennington? A close friend told me about him. She said he had done wonders for her. Her name? Jennifer. Jennifer Padbury. Yes, the senator's wife.” There was another pause. “Thank you.”

There was a sharp
snick
. The door was unlocked. Celinda pushed it open and moved into a dimly lit lobby. Davis pulsed his own psi power through the amber in his watch, resonating with the dissonance-energy waves at the silver end of the spectrum.

Celinda had been right, he wasn't fully recovered from the long period of invisibility in the old ruins, but he had sufficient juice to manipulate silver ghost light long enough to slip past the camera and through the door into the lobby.

He went invisible and followed her.