Jayne Castle: After Dark

"You mean he likes to run things the way they were run in the days following the Era of Discord. Somebody ought to tell him that times have changed."

Penny's brow furrowed deeply. "Just because the Resonance City Guild decided to turn itself into some kinda wimpy business corporation doesn't mean the other Guilds got to do things that way. Here in Cadence, we're into tradition."

"Well, Benny—"

"Renny."

"Excuse me. Renny. Tell you what. Go ahead and honor your traditions. In the meantime, not only is the Resonance Guild making money hand over fist, but one of the vice presidents is getting ready to run for a seat on the Federation Council."

Renny's mouth dropped open. "The Council? Are you serious? A guildman is running for public office?"

"He's mounting a campaign, and the latest polls show he's probably going to get elected. You know why? The voters think he's had a lot of good, solid business experience because of his executive position in the Guild."

"Well, shit." Renny shook his head. "If that don't beat all. How the hell did they do it?"

Emmett shrugged. "Let's just say that the last boss of the Resonance Guild decided he didn't like being regarded as the CEO of a racketeering mob. He decided to upgrade the Guild image. You know, mainstream the organization."

Renny's face scrunched up into a puzzled frown. "Mainstream?"

"Never mind. Look, it's getting late. You've delivered your message, so why don't we just say good night?"

"Wait—you haven't accepted Mr. Wyatt's invitation."

"I'll go back to my hotel and think about it. If I decide I can fit it into my busy social schedule, I'll give him a call." Emmett started to move on. "You know, on the phone?"

Renny looked alarmed. "Mr. Wyatt will be real disappointed if you don't have dinner with him, sir."

"Good old Mercer. He always was the sentimental type."

Renny cleared his throat. "One more thing. I'm supposed to tell you that if you accept Mr. Wyatt's invitation, he might be able to help you out with your business here in Cadence."

Emmitt stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Is that a fact?"

"Yes, sir."

Emmett considered that for a moment while Renny twitched uneasily. Striking a bargain with Mercer Wyatt definitely came under the heading of risky business. But if he got some assistance from the Guild out of the deal, it just might be worth it.

"Tell Wyatt I'll call him in the morning," Emmett said.

Renny blinked a couple of times. "You mean you ain't gonna accept right now?"

"No. I want to think about this for a while." Emmett turned away again.

"Mr. Wyatt's not gonna like being told he's gotta wait," Renny called out behind him.

"I warned you that being a messenger was a high-risk job," Emmett said. He walked off into the fog.

LYDIA WAS NOT sure what it was that awakened her. It could have been Fuzz shifting his weight at the foot of the bed. She lay unmoving and opened all of her senses.

The unmistakable aura of psi energy vibrated in the air around her.

"Damn."

She knew this prickling sensation all too well.

"Fuzz. Don't move."

The dust-bunny made a low rumbling sound, not a pun—but a hissing growl. Lydia sat up cautiously, searching the shadows swiftly for what she knew had to be there.

The bedroom was not very dark. After the Lost Weekend incident, she had altered more than one routine. These days she left the light on in the adjoining bathroom all night long. In addition, she slept with the curtains open to allow the reflected glow of the street-lamps and some moonlight into the bedroom. There had been other changes, too. She wore one of her personalized amber bracelets to bed and kept half a dozen others scattered around the apartment. Forty-eight hours in the catacombs had left their mark. She saw Fuzz's eyes first—his second pair, the ones he used for hunting. They glowed a fiery gold in the dimly lit room. Fuzz was seriously concerned. That meant that she was not overreacting.

She swept the rest of the bedroom, seeking the telltale glow. Nothing.

The whisper of energy shimmered again in the air. Lydia concentrated. No doubt about it, a ghost had invaded her bedroom. But it had not yet materialized.

"Just a tingle. A small one. Fuzz."

Of course it was a small ghost, she thought, desperately trying to reassure herself and the dust-bunny at the same time. Here in the Old Quarter, psi energy leaked freely out of unseen cracks in the Dead City. Nevertheless, even a strong ghost-hunter could summon only a small manifestation of dissonance energy outside the catacombs.

But the conclusion was obvious. If there was a ghost in the vicinity, there was a ghost-hunter somewhere nearby. Unstable Dissonance Energy Manifestations did not appear on their own outside the catacombs. And the only folks who could manipulate energy ghosts were ghost-hunters.

A shadow moved on the balcony outside her window. Lydia turned her head quickly, but she caught only a fleeting glimpse of a figure.

"Pervert!" she shouted.

The shadow disappeared from sight.

She longed to give chase, but she had to deal with the ghost first. Even small UDEMs could do a considerable amount of damage.

She eased aside the bedclothes, got to her feet, and scooped Fuzz off the quilt. The dust-bunny did not relax in her arms. His hunting eyes were twin flames in the shadows. His small body trembled. Lydia caught a glimpse of fang. He was staring at the space above her pillow.

The ghost began to materialize. Acid-green energy pulsed erratically. Lydia edged back toward the door. Fuzz hissed.

'Take it easy. There's nothing either of us can do except stay out of its way until it vaporizes. It really is pretty small. I doubt it will last more than a few minutes."

She did not turn her back on the ghost as she retreated into the hall. The green glow of the coalescing form grew steadily more intense.

"That bastard out on my balcony probably thinks this is very funny. If I find out who it is, I'm going to turn him in to the cops. Summoning ghosts outside the Dead City is illegal, and everyone knows it."

But the vow was a waste of breath. Even if she managed to discover which of the neighborhood toughs had pulled this vicious trick on her tonight, the police were unlikely to get involved. At most, someone would contact the Guild authorities and report the incident. The Guild might or might not take action.

Fuzz growled again. His hunting eyes gleamed more fiercely.

In the air above her bed, the green ball of energy started to move. There was an audible crackle as it floated closer to the wall. Lydia grew more uneasy. There was no sign that the ghost was weakening. More disturbing was the fact that it did not seem to be moving randomly now.

Fuzz stared, unblinking, at the pulsating energy ball over the bed. Lydia knew that there was nothing either of them could do about the ghost except stay out of its way and hope that it did no serious damage. Only a dissonance-energy para-resonator—a ghost-hunter—could summon one; only a hunter could de-rez it.

The small, pulsing green specter was almost touching the wall over the bed now. Lydia watched in frustration.

Then she smelled scorched paint.

"My wall!" Lydia whirled and ran down the hall, barely avoiding a collision with the small end table she had put there because there was no other space for it.

She dashed into the kitchen, tossed Fuzz onto the counter, flung open the door under the sink, and grabbed the household fire extinguisher, then raced back toward her bedroom.

Fuzz gamely tumbled down from the counter and scampered after her.

"It can't last much longer," she told him. "It just can't. Not here, outside the wall."