Jayne Krentz: In Too Deep

She closed down her other senses, opened the car door, slung her pack over one shoulder and raised her umbrella. A blast of wind-driven rain caught her squarely in the face.

She fought her way across the drive and up the cracked stone steps. When she reached the shelter of the wide front porch, she collapsed the umbrella and punched the code into the key box. The key tumbled into her gloved hand.

The door opened with a suitably ominous squeak of rusty hinges. She stepped into the shadowy foyer and took the small flashlight out of her pack. Norma had warned that the electricity had been turned off eons ago.

She stood the dripping umbrella in a corner and heightened her talent again. Given the amount of energy that enveloped the old house, she had been expecting to find something of interest inside: an old will, perhaps, or an envelope filled with long-forgotten stock certificates. Maybe even a few pieces of valuable jewelry. But the sight of the glowing river of obsidian-dark mist that roared through the house caught her completely off guard. Shards of black ice fluoresced in the vapor.

She pulled herself together, took a deep breath and followed the terrible luminescence down a shadowy hall. The mist disappeared under a door. She opened the door and looked down a flight of stone steps. A terrible sea of energy flooded the basement.

She hurried back to the foyer, grabbed her umbrella and went outside. She opened the phone that Fallon had given her the first day on the job. The list of contacts was quite short. There was only one number.

Fallon picked up midway through the first ring.

“What the hell is wrong?” he asked. “Flat tire? Out of gas? I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive out there in this weather.”

“I need backup.”

“Huh. Don’t tell me you found a ghost.”

“There’s something here to find,” she said. “Not sure what yet, but I don’t think it’s going to be anything good.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s a basement involved.”

She waited for him in the car, doors locked, key in the ignition. She was ready to speed off to safety if necessary. But no one burst out of the house wielding a meat cleaver. The mansion loomed, bleak and dripping with ominous energy.

Her pulse was still beating too fast and the hair on the nape of her neck hadn’t settled down by the time the black SUV pulled into the drive. She glanced at her watch. It had taken Fallon less than ten minutes to reach her, driving through pouring rain on a narrow, winding road.

He got out of the big vehicle and walked toward her. The hood of his black rain jacket was pulled up over his face partially concealing his features, but she could tell that he looked even more grim than usual, and when she revved up her senses, she saw a little heat in his eyes.

She opened the driver’s-side door and extricated herself from behind the wheel, fumbling again with the umbrella and her pack. Fallon took the umbrella from her, snapped it open and held it up to shield her from the elements while she got herself organized.

“You do realize that agents who get spooked by a haunted house don’t make J&J look good,” he said.

“You ever see one of those slasher horror films?” she asked. “The kind in which the too-stupid-to-live perky blond teenager goes down into the dark basement and gets hacked to pieces by a serial killer in a mask?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

They started toward the stone steps. Getting to the front porch was much easier with Fallon holding the umbrella and using his big frame to protect her from the worst of the squall. There were some advantages to size, she reflected.

“Let’s just say I didn’t want to star in the role of the perky blond teen,” she said.

“You’re not blond,” he pointed out. “And you’re not a teenager.”

“But at least I’m perky, right?”

He gave that some thought. “I don’t think that’s the right word.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to be extremely literal, boss?”

“Yes,” he said. “Usually at the same time that I’m being told I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Nonsense. Of course you have a sense of humor.”

“I do?” He seemed genuinely surprised to hear that.

“It’s just a little offbeat, that’s all.”

“Like my talent?” His voice went flat.

“Like your talent,” she agreed. “It’s not as if I’m exactly normal, myself. Which is probably why I’m working for J&J.”

She opened the door. Fallon collapsed the umbrella and stood quietly for a moment, contemplating the darkened foyer. She sensed energy shiver in the atmosphere around him and knew that he had heightened his talent. She did the same. Once again, icy mists pulsed and seethed in the entry hall.

“What do you see?” Fallon asked.

“A lot of energy that is infused with some really dark ultralight. Looks like fog.”

“Huh.”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said. “All I can tell you is that when I’m in my zone, I see the residue of energy laid down by people with something to hide. Most of the time I ignore it because everyone has secrets. But occasionally I detect the sort of currents that tell me there is a secret that needs to be found. And before you ask, I can’t explain that part, either. As the old saying goes, I know it when I see it.”

He nodded once, satisfied. “You’re a kind of finder-talent.”

“Yes.”

“Any idea what the fog in here is telling you?”

“No.” Another frisson of awareness chilled her. “But like I said, the answer is in the basement, and I don’t think that it’s going to be good.”

“The house feels empty.”

“I agree.” You could always tell, she thought. Empty houses gave off their own unique vibes. “But something feels wrong.”

“Let’s take a look at the basement,” Fallon suggested.

“Okay.” She took out her flashlight and switched it on again. “Electricity is off.”

“No surprise there.”

He moved into the foyer and reached inside his jacket. She was startled when she saw the gun appear in his hand.

“Wow,” she said. “You brought your gun.”

“You made me nervous when you called and said you needed backup.”

“Oh. Sorry. I really don’t think there’s an immediate threat. As you said, the house feels empty. But I hate finding dead bodies by myself.”

“And that’s what you’re expecting?”

“I’ve seen this kind of fog before.”

She followed him into the foyer, her senses wide open.

He took a flashlight out of the pocket of his coat and switched it on. “Which way?”

“I forgot you can’t see the energy.” She aimed the beam of the flashlight directly in front of him. “Turn left. The basement door is halfway down that hall.”

He glanced at the floorboards. “Lot of footprints in the dust.”

“Don’t forget, Norma Spaulding has been in here. She also said that there were indications that transients had camped out in the house from time to time.”

“Probably the source of the rumors about the place being haunted.” He stopped in front of the basement door. “Is this the right door?”

“Yes.”

Fallon opened the door. They both looked down the concrete steps.

“Still feels empty,” Fallon said.

Isabella moved closer to the opening and studied the cold light roiling and surging below. The sense of urgency that had set her nerves on edge climbed higher.

“We need to find whatever it is down there that needs finding,” she said, resigned. “Crap. I hate this part.”

He studied the scene below. “Interesting.”

She glanced sharply at him. “What?”