Jayne Castle: Obsidian Prey

"Define closed ," Lyra said.

"There's a small energy storm filling the opening. No one can get in or out."

"Interesting," she said.

"Any idea how it was closed?" he asked.

She raised one shoulder in a tiny shrug. "There are a couple of possibilities. There may have been some stray currents from a ghost river or even a storm in the vicinity."

"None were detected."

"Then it was probably triggered accidentally by someone who can work one of the exotic ambers like silver or diamond."

"Or amethyst?" he asked quietly.

She stilled.

"Or someone who can work amethyst," she agreed without inflection.

"The ruin was open when the AI lab team began work at the site," he said.

She raised a finger. "Point of semantics here. The ruin was open when it was stolen from me in the course of a hostile takeover, the legality of which is highly questionable."

"I think we'll leave semantics out of this for now."

She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. "Why would we want to do that?"

"Because there's too much at stake," he said.

"Not for me." She smiled. "To quote Nancy, I don't have a dust bunny in this fight."

He ignored that. "The ruin was closed when you discovered the amethyst chamber, wasn't it?"

She grinned. "Yep."

"You opened it."

"Sure did. I take it none of your cretins can get the job done now that it's closed again?"

"No," he said. "The lab guys have tried everything. So have I, for that matter, and I'm pretty good when it comes to tuned amber. The energy in that amethyst is unlike anything anyone in the lab has ever dealt with before. We haven't even been able to rez or activate any of the artifacts that have been recovered so far. All the pieces are just sitting in the lab vault like so much purple rock."

"I did get that impression," she said lightly. "I've had a number of phone calls from your head cretin demanding my help. Someone named Webber."

"Dr. Felix Webber. He's in charge of the lab."

"I haven't returned any of his calls, naturally."

"He mentioned that you had been less than cooperative," Cruz said dryly.

"Call me petty, but it gives me so much pleasure to decline to assist Amber Inc. in every possible way, shape, and form." She tilted her head slightly. "So that's why you're here. You want me to open up the ruin for you."

This was not going well, he thought.

"Yes," he said.

"I assume you intend to offer me lots and lots of money?"

"Name your price."

"Forget it," she said softly. She put down the glass and folded her arms on the counter. "You can't afford me, Sweetwater."

"Something else you should know."

"Mmm?"

"When the ruin closed, there were five people inside the chamber: two lab techs and the head of the lab's security team. There were also two Guild men in there. We can't make contact. We don't even know if they're alive."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and dropped her forehead onto her folded arms. "I'm going to have to have a chat with my Harmonic Meditation instructor. There must be something really screwed up with my karma. I don't even get to enjoy a little innocent revenge. Instead, I have to go rescue three cretins who work for Amber Inc. and a couple of Guild thugs."

He had known that she would agree to help. Their time together had been brief, but it had been long enough to be sure of a few things about her. His Sweetwater intuition had not failed him. For all her hostility toward him, personally, and the company in general, she would never leave five trapped and helpless people to their fate.

"Lyra," he said gently. He started to reach across the counter to touch her bare arm.

She straightened abruptly, stepped back out of reach, and came briskly around the end of the counter. "No one got caught in the doorway itself, when it closed?"

"No."

"Good. Give me a few minutes to change my clothes. I don't intend to ruin this dress in the jungle for the sake of Amber Inc."

He watched her walk toward the sliding screens that concealed the bedroom area.

"About the orchids," he said.

She disappeared behind the screens. "What about them?"

The screens were opaque but translucent. He could make out tantalizing glimpses of her shadow as she unzipped the little black dress and stepped out of it. Everything inside him got tighter.

"Just wondered who sent them," he said. "Given the fact that it wasn't me."

"Haven't a clue. There's never a signature."

He looked at the stack of cards. "Must be someone you know well, if he figured he didn't need to sign the cards."

"Mmm."

He contemplated the graceful shadow of her leg and the curve of her hip as she stepped into a pair of pants. She had a very fine rear, he thought. Truly excellent. The presence of the flowers indicated that some other man admired the same assets.

"What do the cards say?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

She appeared at the opening in the screens dressed in jeans, a faded denim shirt, and a pair of low leather boots. She had a jungle pack slung over one shoulder.

"See for yourself," she said.

He could tell from her smile that he was not going to like whatever was written on the cards. But he had to know. He rose from the stool, crossed to the coffee table, and picked up the top card. A strange, icy feeling twisted through him.

" 'We belong together, " he read aloud.

"Romantic, don't you think?"

It took some major willpower, but he managed to suppress the urge to rip the card into little pieces. "That's a damn personal message from someone you can't identify."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Guess I've got myself a secret admirer. Never had one of those. You know, my life has suddenly become a heck of a lot more interesting." She looked at Vincent. "Ready to go on a trip to the jungle, buddy?"

Vincent chortled enthusiastically and scampered across the room. Lyra scooped him up and headed for the door.

"Let's go," she said to Cruz. "The sooner I get your cretins out of the chamber, the sooner I can go to bed. It's been a very long day."

THEY ENTERED THE CATACOMBS THROUGH ONE OF THE official gates located inside the Dead City. That alone told Lyra just how seriously everyone was taking the situation.

"Oh, wow," she said when Cruz brought her to a halt at the doorway of one of the ethereal green quartz towers. "I get to go in through an actual authorized gate? I thought the only people allowed to use the Guild gates were corporate- and academic-sponsored R&D teams that paid top dollar for the privilege. I'm just a small-time independent, remember? Are you sure the Guild honchos know about this?"

"I'm aware that you don't like the Guild any better than you do Amber Inc.," Cruz said.

"Mostly because they have always worked hand in hand with AI to monopolize exploration underground and in the jungle, not to mention crush small indies like Dore Tuning & Consulting. Aside from that, I have absolutely nothing against either AI or the Guild."

"Do you think you could hold back on the sarcasm until we get those five people out of that chamber?"

"Sorry. Sometimes I just can't help myself."

"I noticed."

She gave him another glowing smile, aware that she was feeling downright reckless. Okay, so he hadn't come crawling back on his hands and knees to beg her forgiveness. He was back, and like it or not, he needed her, at least for a short time. As vengeance went, it was pitiful, but it was something.

They made an odd-looking pair, she thought. She was dressed for the jungle in the jeans and work shirt that she usually wore when she went underground. Cruz had removed his black jacket and tie, but he still had on the black trousers and black shirt he'd worn to the gallery reception. He had not wanted to waste time returning to his town house in a gentrified section of the Quarter to change clothes. But he had replaced his dress shoes with a pair of black leather boots, and he had a pack on his back. Both items had come out of the trunk of the Slider, where they were evidently kept for emergencies. Assassin informal, Lyra thought.