Jayne Castle: Canyons of Night

“What about the doll?”

“Listen, you idiot, do you hear it?”

“No,” Earring admitted.

“Then it switched itself off like it’s supposed to after a few minutes. Find the body.”

Earring disappeared into the hall. Slade heard the bathroom door open slowly. The light came on inside and spilled out the opening.

There was a short, tense silence. Ponytail pushed Charlotte a couple of steps farther into the living room. He was directly under the sleeping loft now.

“We’ve got a problem,” Earring shouted. “We need to get out of here.”

“What the hell?” Ponytail said.

His attention was focused on the hall. Instinctively, he focused the gun in the same direction. Energy flared in the small space. He had jacked up his talent.

Charlotte looked up and saw Slade. She kicked Ponytail hard in the leg. It was a slick, calculated move that caught Ponytail in the vulnerable spot at the side of his knee. He staggered violently and yelled in fury but he did not go down. His hunter-talent reflexes kept him on his feet.

“Bitch,” he snarled.

He swung the gun toward Charlotte. But Slade was already falling toward him. The force of the impact took them both to the floor. Slade heard the gun clatter across the floorboards but there was no time to grab it. Ponytail was fast. He twisted with the lithe, wiry energy of a specter-cat and produced a knife.

Slade tried to grab the man’s knife hand. He missed. Ponytail’s eyes blazed with fury and psi. The guy was strong, Slade realized. And cat-fast.

Slade went hotter, flying straight into the stormlight at the end of the spectrum. He did not need any instruction this time. He did not have to run an experiment. With his senses running wide-open he could see the dangerous psychic currents of Ponytail’s talent. He knew exactly what to do. He pulled dark energy and focused it.

Ponytail stiffened as though he had been struck by lightning. An instant later he went limp.

There was no time to comprehend what had happened. The second man was shouting.

“Get it off, get it off,” Earring shrieked.

Slade rolled to his feet in time to see Rex clinging to the back of Earring’s neck, small claws dug into the windbreaker and probably some skin as well.

Frantic, Earring tried to back up against the nearest wall, intending to squash Rex.

“Rex,” Slade said. “That’s enough. I’ve got him.”

Rex leaped nimbly free, twisted in midair, and landed lightly on his feet. He faced Earring, snarling silently.

Earring was clearly traumatized but he produced a gun from under his windbreaker. Oblivious of Slade, he aimed the weapon at Rex.

Slade moved. He caught Earring’s gun arm, jacked up his talent, and reached into the storm.

Earring went limp and collapsed to the floor.

Slade went quickly around the room, collecting weapons. He found two pairs of handcuffs in his desk drawer, FBPI issue, and used them to secure the wrists of the unconscious men.

He went to Charlotte. She watched him with wide, psi-hot eyes as he gently pulled the tape off her mouth.

She gasped, taking in great gulps of air. He dug out his Takashima pocketknife and went to work freeing her wrists.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Yes, sure, never better,” she managed. “Scared to death, though. And they broke my glasses. Bastards.”

“What happened?”

“They were watching the house, like you said. They blocked the entrance of the drive with their car. The creep with the ponytail made it clear he would shoot me through the windshield if I didn’t get out of the car.”

“I knew they would come back for the clockwork gadget,” he said. “They couldn’t afford to leave it at the scene of the murder too long because of the risk that someone would find it.”

“They talked about it on the way down the drive. By then I figured out that you must have already run into the doll and dealt with it. I realized you were probably setting some kind of trap. I also knew that I had screwed things up for you.”

“You had no way of knowing what had happened and there wasn’t time to tell you.” He looked around. “Do you see that gold watch the second man brought along?”

“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I can’t see very well without my glasses.”

Rex appeared from under the couch, muttering excitedly. He waved the gold pocket watch and rushed across the floor to his clutch bag. He pried open the purse and put the watch inside.

Charlotte squinted. “Did he just put the watch in the clutch?”

“He did,” Slade said grimly.

“Good luck getting it back.”

“Maybe I’ll let Arcane handle that job.” Slade reached for his phone. “I’ll call Willis and have him pick up these two.”

Charlotte frowned. “Hang on. They’re hunter-talents, aren’t they?”

“They were a little above midrange, I think. Not exactly the stuff of legend.”

Charlotte tilted her head ever so slightly to one side. “They were a little above midrange?”

“They’re just normal bad guys now. Willis can handle them.”

Charlotte cleared her throat. “Why are they merely normal?”

He looked at her. “Remember you told me that I probably wouldn’t figure out what I can do with all that stormlight energy until I found myself in a position where I needed to use it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I found out a few minutes ago what I can do with my talent.”

“But what, exactly, did you do?”

“I burned out their para-senses. They’re psiblind.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Permanently?”

“I think so, yes. Can’t be positive because I’ve never done it before but it sure felt like a permanent psi-burn.”

“LEAVE THE AUTOMATON IN THE BATHTUB,” MARLOWE Jones ordered over the phone. “Don’t touch it. Don’t let anyone else touch it. Sounds like you deactivated it successfully but the tub will provide some additional protection in case it’s still capable of generating energy. You’re sure it’s facedown?”

“I’m sure,” Slade said. He was standing in the bathroom, the phone clamped to his ear, looking down at the Sylvester doll in the tub. “But I think it’s safe to handle as long as the key is out.”

“Pay attention, Attridge. You are not to take any more chances with that device.”

“Well, it sure as hell can’t remain here in my tub for long. I need to shower occasionally.”

“My assistant is on the phone to the lab people at the museum now. The removal-and-transport specialists should be there sometime tomorrow afternoon. The experts have ways of dealing with paranormal artifacts. They’ve got a specially equipped van.”

“Good to know,” Slade said. “But we’ve got a big storm coming in tonight. We’re bracing for wind and rain damage. If there’s a lot of it the ferry dock may be out of commission for a couple of days. Your lab people may have to wait until the following day to get here.”

“I’ll let them know. You say the automaton was made to resemble Sylvester?”

“The Old Bastard, himself.” Slade walked out of the bathroom into the hall. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget that he’s one of your ancestors.”

“Believe me when I tell you that no one in the Jones family ever forgets that,” Marlowe said. There was great depth of feeling in her tone.

“Give me some background on this clockwork weapon.”

“The original clockwork curiosities were created by a brilliant clockmaker named Millicent Bridewell back in the late Nineteenth Century, Old World date. Mrs. Bridewell sold the devices to special customers who were in the market for a discreet assassination machine that would not leave any hard evidence at the scene. I gather from my ancestor, Caleb Jones’s notes, that the toys caused a lot of trouble for J&J at the time.”