Guild Boss (Ghost Hunters #14)(33)

“This is Illusion Town,” Gabriel said. “I’m told the rules are a little different here.”

Joe took the folded newspaper out from under his arm. “Thought you might want to take a look at this. You’re famous. Again. So is Ms. Bell.”

He thrust the papers into Gabriel’s hand and reached up to give Otis a friendly pat.

“How’s it going, little guy?” he asked. “You’re famous, too.”

Otis chortled a greeting.

Gabriel read the headline on the Curtain. New Guild Boss Dating Woman He Rescued. A Real-Life Love Story in the Works?

“Well, hell,” he said. “Lucy is not going to be happy.”

The front-page photo showed Lucy and himself emerging from the limo in front of the Amber Palace. They looked like any other formally dressed couple out for an evening on the town, except for the dust bunny in a sequined tux under her arm.

“Aiden said to tell you not to worry, Boss,” Joe said. “This town loves a good celebrity story.”

“How bad is it?” Lucy asked from the end of the short entry hall.

“It depends on your point of view,” Gabriel said.

He held out the Curtain so she could see the headline and the photo.

“Crap.” Lucy groaned. “When I was in the shower this morning I got a wild flash of optimism. I thought the press might go with something along the lines of New Guild Boss Hires Local Weather Channeler for High-Priority Investigation. But I suppose that was too much to expect.”

Gabriel tossed the paper aside on an end table. “I was afraid you would take that particular point of view.”

Lucy picked up the newspaper, unfolded it, and turned to the second page. “Guess what. There’s another photo.”

“Of us?” Gabriel asked.

“No.” Lucy raised her eyes to meet his. She looked more grim than ever. “Of Otis.”

She handed the paper back to him. The photo showed Otis in his snazzy little tux. He was perched on top of the massive engagement cake, munching on the sugar roses.

Gabriel tossed the paper aside for the second time. “Forget the headlines. We’ve got a job to do, remember?”

“Right.” Lucy squared her shoulders. “Got to stay focused.”





CHAPTER TWELVE





“The client doesn’t want to wait any longer,” Tuck said. He lounged against a workbench and hooked a thumb in the gear belt slung low on his hips. “The experiment will be conducted tonight. The client wants proof of concept before authorizing more funding for your lab.”

His full name was Tucker Taylor, but after being kicked out of the Guild he had reinvented himself as just Tuck. It sounded stronger. More dangerous. It suited his new position as an elite operative in the Blue Amber Agency, an exclusive private security business.

“Fine, have it your way,” Preston Trenchard muttered. “I’ve got enough of the liquid crystal to do one full-scale demonstration, but that’s it.”

“It happens tonight,” Tuck said, putting a little more ice into his voice.

“I heard you the first time, all right? But I’m warning you, this will bring my work to a halt until you get me access to more of the crystal. To do that, you’re going to have to deal with the weather problem.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t worry? You’ve screwed up twice since you lost Bell, and all you’ve got to show for it are a couple of dead channelers.”

“Relax. We brought them in from outside. Independents. None of the locals knew them. Hell, nobody was even aware they were in town.” Tuck paused a beat for emphasis. “And nobody so much as blinked when they disappeared.”

The implied threat sounded good, he thought. They both knew that no one would bat an eye if Preston Trenchard vanished. Trenchard was an inventor—eccentric, reclusive, obsessed with his theory and his creation. He had submitted one patent after another for decades. Thus far, every application had been rejected as frivolous. No government agency, no corporation, and no research institution would back him.

But a little more than four months ago, an anonymous client had offered to fund the development of a prototype of the machine.

“You must understand that we can’t keep using second-rate talent,” Trenchard said. “We need the best. I must have more of the crystal. You’ll have to pick up the Bell woman again.”

“What makes you think Bell is still capable of handling the project?” Tuck said. “By all accounts, she’s developed some form of post-traumatic psychic stress. She hasn’t worked underground since she escaped from the hospital.”

“Because no one will hire her,” Trenchard said, exasperated. “Ghost hunter teams and miners are a superstitious lot. They’re afraid to work with Bell. But I’ve researched her psychic profile. I’m convinced she’s the only one who might be able to access the pool of liquid crystal.”

“The only one? There are hundreds of professional weather channelers scattered around the four city-states, not to mention all the indies who work off the books.”

“Sure, but you can’t keep kidnapping them at random. You’ve gone through two already. Bell has the talent we need, and she’s an independent. There won’t be many questions when she disappears.”