Jayne Krentz: In Too Deep

She got her focus and poured everything she had into an electrifying charge of energy.

“Get lost,” she said softly.

Vogel froze. He released her, his expression going slack. He turned toward the door and started walking at a steady, deliberate pace.

“Vogel.” Sylvia was alarmed now. “Come back here. Where are you going? What’s wrong with you?”

Vogel did not respond. He opened the door, crossed the porch and went down the steps.

“Come back here,” Sylvia shouted.

Vogel was in the yard. He disappeared from view, walking off into the driving rain. Somewhere in the distance dogs barked.

Sylvia spun back around to face Isabella. Fury contorted her features. “What did you do to him? You’re just a finder-talent.”

“I think he must have snapped,” Isabella said. “Sorry about that. Maybe he’s on drugs like Walker said.”

Sylvia stared at Walker. “How did you know?”

Walker rocked.

Something went ping in Isabella’s head. It sounded a lot like the ping on Fallon’s computer.

“Oh, crap,” she whispered. “You’re right, Walker.”

“Tell me how you know about the drugs,” Sylvia hissed.

“Leave him alone,” Isabella said.

Sylvia moved toward her. “What did you do to Vogel to turn him into a zombie?”

The storm was at nightmare pitch now. Lightning lit up the sky. It silhouetted the dark figure of Fallon. He came through the doorway on a floodtide of energy.

“No . ” Sylvia crouched directly behind Isabella and aimed the gun at Isabella’s head.

“Make one more move and I’ll kill her,” Sylvia said. “I swear I will. Stay back.”

Isabella sensed the rising heat in the atmosphere. She knew what Fallon was about to do. Sylvia must have sensed the threat as well.

“Stop it,” she shouted. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I swear I’ll kill her before you can do anything to me. It only takes a fraction of a second to pull the trigger. She’ll be dead before I will.”

Isabella looked at Fallon. “It’s okay. Trust me on this.”

He stopped.

“That’s right,” Sylvia said. She seemed to pull herself together. “That’s smart, Jones. Very smart. Isabella and I are going to leave now. She stays alive as long as no one follows us. Understood?”

“Understood,” Fallon said. But in his eyes there was the promise of death.

“Good.” Sylvia straightened slowly. “There’s a knife on the floor, Jones. Use it to cut her ankles free.”

The dogs were closer now. To Isabella’s ears they sounded like a pack of hellhounds.

Fallon walked across the room, picked up the pocket knife and slashed the duct tape that bound Isabella’s legs.

“You’re sure you want to do it this way?” he said softly.

“I’m sure,” she said.

“Shut up, both of you,” Sylvia said. “On your feet, Isabella.”

Isabella staggered awkwardly to her feet, aware of another kind of energy heightening the atmosphere. She knew then that Sylvia was going to try to kill Fallon.

“Can’t stand,” Isabella gasped. “My legs are numb.”

Sylvia put a hand on her back and shoved her violently toward the door. “Move . ”

The physical contact gave Isabella the focus she needed. She pulsed energy into Sylvia’s aura, more energy than she had ever used in the past. She was suddenly on fire with power. It roared through her, filling the room.

The nexus energy , she thought. I’m drawing on some of the natural power in the vicinity .

“Run,” she whispered. “Straight ahead.”

Sylvia went absolutely still for an instant. The gun fell from her hand. Once again invisible lightning crackled in the atmosphere. Fallon had a fix.

“No,” Isabella repeated.

Sylvia launched herself through the door and fled into the pounding rain.

The dogs were closer now, barking furiously.

Somewhere out in the storm a thin, high scream rose above the roaring wind and waves. It ended abruptly a few seconds later.

The dogs stopped barking.

Fallon pulled Isabella into his arms and held her as if he would never let her go.

A moment later Poppy and Clyde and the rest of the dogs rushed through the door of the cabin. They were delirious at the sight of Isabella. Henry and Vera and several other familiar faces raced up onto the porch and came through the door.

“Everybody okay here?” Henry asked.

Isabella raised her head from Fallon’s shoulder and looked at her friends and neighbors.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything is okay now.”

Isabella and Fallon sat in the front of the black SUV. Walker rocked gently in the rear seat. They watched the sheriff and two deputies load Sylvia Tremont’s body into a van.

In her mad flight from the cabin, Sylvia Tremont had fallen from the top of the bluffs onto the rocks below, breaking her neck.

“You knew she would run off the top of the bluffs,” Fallon said quietly. It was not a question. “That’s why you told me not to stop her.”

“Yes.” Isabella shivered. The full shock of what she had done was hitting her now. “I knew that would take her to the top of the bluffs.”

Fallon took his right hand off the steering wheel and gripped her left hand very tightly.

“First time you’ve ever used your talent like that,” he said. Again, it was not a question.

“I told you, I’ve encountered my share of dead bodies.”

“But you were never the one who made them dead.”

“No,” she agreed.

“You didn’t want me to do it,” he said.

“No.”

“Because you thought I’d have a problem with killing a woman?”

“No.” Isabella shivered. “Because it was my responsibility. I’m the one who brought her down on us. If I hadn’t insisted on taking the Zander house case—”

“She would have found another way to get J&J involved in digging up the cache of curiosities,” Fallon said. “The artifacts were highly volatile, unpredictable time bombs just waiting to go off. She needed us to get into the shelter, stabilize the objects and ship them safely back to the lab. Once they were well secured in L.A., she would have been able to arrange to steal them and let Rafanelli take the blame for the theft.”

“Think so?”

“I know so,” Fallon said. “Sylvia Tremont was a very determined woman. She killed Sloan in cold blood, and she was prepared to kill you and Walker, as well.”

“Yes,” Isabella said. “You’re right.”

“Should have let me handle it.”

“No,” Isabella said. Time to change the subject, she thought. “Any sign of the bodyguard?”

“Not yet.”

“He’s probably still walking,” Isabella said. “I told him to get lost. He’ll do just that.”

“Alien drugs,” Walker muttered. “Poison.”

Fallon glanced at Walker in the rearview mirror. “What drugs?”

“I told you, a-alien drugs,” Walker said urgently.

Isabella looked at Fallon. “The bodyguard looked like a steroid freak. Walker thinks Vogel was using drugs.”

“I knew it.” Fallon tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Nightshade.”

They sat side by side on the lumpy sofa, feet propped on the small coffee table, and drank some whiskey together.

“We’re decompressing again,” Fallon said.

“Yes.”

“Twice in one week.”

Isabella studied the contents of her glass. “It has been a very complicated week.”

“It has,” Fallon said.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that one of the remaining Nightshade circles decided to try to acquire some para-weapons. When they got into that market they encountered the broker, Orville Stone.”