Jayne Castle: Dark Light

Two hundred years earlier the colonists from Earth had established their first towns in the shadows of the ruins of the four Dead Cities that had been discovered on Harmony. Crystal was no exception. The two-hundred-year-old structures built by the humans appeared stolid and grimly functional compared to the ethereal spires and the fantastical domes that the aliens had left behind.

But unlike the aliens, the colonists from Earth had been at home on Harmony right from the start. Even after the energy Curtain that had made travel between Earth and Harmony possible mysteriously closed, the settlers had not only survived but thrived.

Things had evidently been much different for the aliens. The experts had come to the conclusion that something about the very atmosphere of the planet had been poisonous to the ancients. The long-vanished people had been forced to enclose their cities within towering green quartz walls that gave off the psi they must have needed to survive. Eventually they had retreated underground. In the end they had either abandoned the planet altogether or simply died out. No one knew for certain what had become of the Others. It was one of the many mysteries that surrounded them.

"I'm waiting for your explanation, Mr. Fontana," Sierra said.

He could tell from the cool tone of her voice that she had herself back under control. He also sensed that her reporter's curiosity had surfaced. That was good. His entire plan hinged on it.

"What I'm going to tell you stays between us and is strictly off the record until I say otherwise," he said. "Is that understood?"

"I'm making no promises until I know what I'm getting into."

He turned around to face her. "You really don't trust anyone connected to the Guild, do you?"

"Nope."

"Because you are convinced that there is some conspiracy going on inside the organization."

"Yep."

He went back to the desk and picked up the copy of the Curtain . "A conspiracy to conceal the discovery of an alien lab somewhere in the rain forest."

"Uh-huh."

"Care to tell me why you're so sure there's been a discovery of such potentially monumental significance and why the Guild would want to conceal it?"

"Gee, no, I don't think so."

"Because it would mean revealing your sources?"

She hesitated for a couple of beats before she answered. "That's right."

Why the slight pause before what should have been a predictable professional response? he wondered. Maybe she didn't have any solid sources, after all. If that was the case, his scheme was doomed.

But that didn't make sense. She had not merely reported vague rumors of the alien lab. She had linked it to the dealing of the illegal drug known as ghost juice, and she had documented the disappearance of a number of homeless men who had become addicts. She knew more about the damn conspiracy than he did. He needed her.

He angled himself onto a corner of the desk, one foot on the floor.

"You know," he said, "this conversation probably isn't going to go far unless one of us takes a flier and decides to trust the other person."

She raised her brows. And waited.

"Guess that would be me," he said finally. "Okay, here goes. I happen to agree with you, Miss McIntyre. There is a conspiracy going on. What's more, my predecessor was involved in the cover-up."

Her eyes widened. "You're admitting it?"

"Yes."

"Hang on." She unzipped her purse and started to delve inside for her pen and notepad.

He reached down and captured her hand. The bones of her wrist felt delicate and graceful.

"No notes," he said.

Her mouth tightened. She looked pointedly at his fingers encircling her wrist.

He realized that he did not want to let her go. Reluctantly, he released her.

There was a moment of tense silence. Elvis, having evidently concluded that they weren't leaving, after all, fluttered off Sierra's shoulder and returned to the coffee mug on the desk.

Reluctantly, Sierra sat back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the arms.

"All right," she said. "No notes. Tell me about the cover-up."

"Unfortunately, I don't know much more than you do. Maybe less."

She acknowledged that with a small, disdainful sniff. "Try again, Mr. Fontana."

"A few months ago some of the other members of the Crystal Council and I began to suspect that Jenner was involved in the ghost juice business."

"The police think that the juice is being distributed by the Night Riders, a motorcycle gang," she pointed out.

"It is, but that doesn't mean that Jenner wasn't involved. He covered his tracks very well, but there were rumors. We hired an outside investigator to go undercover."

"You brought in a private investigator?" She was clearly intrigued.

"A former hunter."

"What happened?"

"Three weeks into the job, he turned up dead."

"Nathan Harder." Sierra was suddenly very focused. "I wondered about that. The official story was that he got caught in a ghost river whirlpool, and when they finally pulled him out, he was brain-dead."

"Following Harder's death, my associates and I decided that whatever was going on was more widespread and more dangerous than we had realized. We figured it was time for Jenner to retire."

"According to the press release, Jenner suffered a stroke and died. Is that the Guild's idea of a golden parachute?"

"We believe Jenner was murdered."

She sat very still in her chair. "By you?"

He smiled his faint, dangerous smile. "I know this will come as a great disappointment to you, Miss McIntyre, but the answer to your question is no. I didn't kill Jenner. I think someone put something lethal into his IV line."

"I see." Well, you couldn't expect the man to confess to a reporter.

"The strategy the other Council members and I put together did not call for Jenner's death," Fontana added patiently. "We just wanted him out of this office. We thought that would be sufficient."

"What was your so-called strategy for getting rid of him?"

"An old-fashioned one. I challenged him to a duel. He lost."

"Good grief. The Guilds still conduct ghost energy duels to determine the next chief?" Disgust dripped in every word. "I've heard rumors, but I assumed that sort of archaic approach to running the organizations had been halted long ago."

"Occasionally there's something to be said for the old ways."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Talk about primitive, testosterone-driven behavior."

"Within the Guild we prefer to call it tradition."

"Right. Tradition."

"Jenner wasn't married. That made things easier."

"He was between Marriages of Convenience," she said sharply. "Everyone said that he was shopping for his fifth wife."

"Like I said, that situation made things simpler."

"Why is that?" she asked, baffled.

"Theoretically, anyone in the Guild can challenge the chief to a ghost light duel. If the Council approves, the duel takes place."

"Sounds like a Guild version of a vote of no confidence in the CEO."

He smiled humorlessly. "It is. But a Guild boss's wife has certain privileges. She can go before the Council and demand that the challenger be denied. No one can override her. It's another old tradition designed to stabilize the power structure of the Guilds and protect the chief from dealing with the distraction that would be caused by constant challenges."

Sierra whistled softly. "Well, that certainly explains why Guild bosses are almost always married."

"The tradition does tend to reinforce family values."

"Some family values. Jenner went through a lot of wives, but he never got involved in a Covenant Marriage. His relationships were always Marriages of Convenience."

Her disapproval amused him. Marriages of Convenience were legal, if short-term contracts, but a lot of well-bred, conservative-minded people tended to view them as nothing more than socially sanctioned affairs. There were major differences, however, and he was intimately aware of the high cost of those differences.