Dark Prism Page 8

  “Ladies,” he said by way of greeting, a faint trace of amusement curving the grim line of his mouth. He didn’t appear affected by so much nakedness up close and personal.

  The girls, with no clue about personal space, crowded near him as if they were vaqueros herding a particularly interesting bull. If they got any closer, they’d leave oil slicks all over his dusty clothes. It would almost be worth seeing their reaction when copious amounts of Jack’s red dust were transferred to them.

  Disgust and irritation sharpened Sara’s tone. “Did you go into the kitchen?”

  “No. Yumi came to get Harry out of the pool, and she told us the door was locked and to talk to you.”

  “Who’s Yumi?” Jack turned to her, his dark blue eyes filled with amusement. Sara refused to be charmed by him.

  “Grant’s assistant. She and Pia both live here.” She liked Grant’s assistant very much. Because William’s personal assistant stayed in town, Pia and Yumi had to pinch-hit for all three of them at times.

  Jack had sealed the kitchen earlier to prevent any of the people he’d teleported outside from returning. Yumi was a Half wizard and would’ve known immediately that the seal on the door had nothing to do with a puny lock.

  “Harry was in the pool again?” Sara asked. Honest to God, living here was like running a day care center. Never a dull moment.

  “Harry. Roe’s giant snake, Harry?” Jack asked, amused, changing to appalled in an instant. He looked around as if the boa constrictor might be napping nearby on the living-room sofa.

  “Same old Harry.” All ten feet of bad attitude usually stayed put in William’s wing of the house. Unfortunately, every now and then the door was left open, and Harry decided to explore. He had a particular fondness for Sara’s closet.

  “Isn’t bringing him here rather like smuggling a microchip into Microsoft?”

  Of course it was. Just getting the darn snake through customs had been a logistical nightmare. As if William couldn’t get his hands on any number of snakes by walking out the back door on any given day.

  “I offered to buy him a parrot when we came to Venezuela,” Sara said dryly, remembering that Jack had been less than fond of her partner’s pet when they’d met at a Christmas party at William’s house in San Francisco. “But he and Harry have been together for twenty years. Longer than some marriages. Don’t worry, Harry usually sleeps most of the day in William’s suite—you won’t run into him.”

  “Good to know.” Jack stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Shouldn’t we … ?”

  Get the kitchen out of the way. “Yes.” She turned back to the girls, who were assessing Jack’s attributes like accountants at tax time. “Carmelita and Alberto are both away,” Sara informed Inga and Ida briskly. “They went to stay with her mother in the village for a few days.”

  Sara dug inside the purse on her shoulder while she pondered this new and annoying wrinkle. She wasn’t in charge of what, or whom, the girls did, but Grant was not a man who shared. And while she didn’t want Jack, he couldn’t be allowed to mess with Grant’s girlfriends.

  “Here.” She took out her wallet and handed over a handful of notes, then removed a key from her key ring. “Go to dinner on me. Grant won’t be back until late tonight or tomorrow, so go ahead and spend the night in town and have fun. Take the Aston Martin, if you like, or have Benito or Andres fly you in.”

  “Really? Wow, tack, Sara, you’re the best.” Inga snatched the key from her fingers. “We’ll drive, ja?” They trotted off on ridiculously high heels, speaking excitedly in Swedish.

  “An Aston Martin on these roads?” Jack asked as they headed to the kitchen.

  San Cristóbal was modern and had good roads, but there were miles and miles of dirt road to get down the mountainous switchbacks and into the city proper.

  Sara shrugged. She usually flew, but the three-hour drive into town would keep the girls out of her hair. “Grant enjoys fast cars. He’s not going to be thrilled I let them drive the Martin, but I don’t want them around while I clean up the kitchen and assess the situation.” And figure out how to keep them away from Jack. “I hope I don’t have to tell you to keep your hands off those two.”

  “Trust me, that’ll be no problem. I like my women a little more seasoned. How old are they? Sixteen?”

  Almost as bad. “Eighteen.” They exchanged looks, on the same page for just a moment. Then the moment passed.

  What women? Had he been dating since they broke up? Of course he had. Jack liked sex too much to be celibate.

  “Maybe Grant’s going for an age-appropriate total of thirty-six?”

  “I’m serious, Jack. Don’t even think about it.”

  “The fact that you think it necessary to warn me shows just how damn little you know me,” he said with dangerous calm. “Don’t worry, Sara, those kids are safe from me.”

  She believed him. Jack was a lot of things, but a cradle-robbing womanizer wasn’t one of them.

  “I see Baltzer’s been his usual brutish self. Don’t give me that look. I’m not blind. I saw the bruises on those two.” When she didn’t respond, he said instead, “Tell me more about this Yumi. Interesting name.”

  “Grant’s new assistant, Yumi Kimura.”

  “He’s got quite a harem here.”

  “Yumi’s sleeping with William, as it happens. And Grant and I are friends. Always have been, always will be.” There were so many conversations she didn’t want to have with Jack again, it almost made her dizzy.

  “Has he ever harmed you?”

  Sara stared at him. “Of course not.” Only you did that.

  “No ‘of course’ about it. He likes hurting women.”

  “He likes rough sex. I am not having, nor have I ever had, sex with Grant. Not that it’s any of your business. Let’s move on. What’s the plan of action?” she asked, straightening a watercolor on the wall as they passed. How dare he ask her anything about her life? He’d given up that right years ago. “The sooner we find out what the council wants to know, the sooner I can get on with my life.”

  “I’d like to talk to the local cops, see if anything out of the ordinary has happened. Crazies brought in, whatever.”

  “We should start with hospitals, then.”

  “We’ll visit both.” Jack put out his arm to stop her as they arrived at the kitchen door. Luckily for him he didn’t touch her or that arm would be in a cast.

  His lips twitched as though he knew what she’d been thinking, and he dropped his arm and turned to the closed door. “Like I told you, I did a down-and-dirty Protection spell so no one could get in.”

  Smart. Sara wished she’d thought of it first, but she’d been a little distracted at the time; large men wielding knives and screaming at her tended to have that effect. Jackson did something swift with his hands, and she felt a subtle shift.

  “Okay. It’s lifted.”

  Sara pushed past him and turned the handle. The stench hit her before they opened the door. Even with air-conditioning, the bodies stank to high heaven. Jack materialized two face masks and handed her one.

  “Wait out here, I’ll take care of it.”

  She covered her mouth and nose with the mask, not wanting Jack’s favors. “My home, my problem. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  He stepped back and waved her in. “Have at it.”

  Chapter Six

  The kitchen was just as they’d left it, but the smell was worse, sweet and sickly and redolent of violent death. Sara’s stomach churned and she swallowed nausea.

  “Council wants the bodies,” he reminded her from the doorway.

  “You do it,” she told him tersely. The task was far too important to get wrong. The Wizard Council wanted the bodies, but she had the responsibility of telling their families. Between them it took only a few minutes to sanitize the kitchen. There were times when magic was necessary. As long as using it didn’t involve emotion—hers—or anyone nearby, she’d do what had to be done, even if she preferred
to go the nonmagical route. When they were done, one would never have guessed that there’d been wholesale murder done there just hours before.

  “The Mindwipe I used on the kitchen staff is temporary and it won’t last much longer. How do you want to handle that?”

  She could only imagine how terrified the already superstitious staff would be if their memories started to return. Most of them came from local villages where myth and magic were an intrinsic part of their culture. “If I call them in, would you do a permanent Mindwipe?” She hated to ask him for help again, but she knew that since she was emotionally tied to these people, she’d screw up the wipe.

  “Funny how you use magic when it suits you.”

  “Never mind, don’t bother, Jack. I’ll just talk to them.”

  “Talking to them isn’t going to erase their memory of seeing their friends being butchered.” He glanced at the agate-faced watch on his wrist. “They have about fifteen minutes of the temp Mindwipe left. Your call.”

  “Do it. Okay? Just damn well do it.”

  “Thank you, Jackson,” he said sweetly. “I appreciate your help in a mess that has not a fucking thing to do with you!”

  “Fine, Jackson. Thank you. Happy now?”

  He gave her a sour look. “Not by a long shot.”

  She rubbed the Jack-induced pain in her temple with two fingers. Two Jack headaches in one day. A record. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Talk to the Council, Sara. Neither of us wants to do this. Not together, anyway. I suggest that for the duration, you embrace magic and use it to get this assignment done so we can go our separate ways.”

  If embracing magic would get rid of Jackson Slater once and for all, Sara would hug it with both arms. “I’ll take that under advisement.” He’d never understood her fear of her magic’s backlash, and she wasn’t about to get into it now. What would be the point? They’d finish the job and he’d be gone. Again.

  They went back to her office, and she used the intercom to announce a staff meeting in her office immediately.

  In less than ten minutes, the room was filled. As the workers gathered in tight groups, fear and suspicion surrounded the throng like noxious vapor.

  Sara knew the moment Jack removed the memory and fear from their minds. Their body language changed instantly. Shoulders lowered. Creases of worry disappeared. Sara smoothly gave them mundane instructions for the rest of the week while the housekeeper and Alberto were away.

  “Thanks,” she told Jack after everyone had filed out. “Nobody should have to relive that hour.”

  “Want me to—”

  “No.” She didn’t want him messing with her mind any more than his presence had already. “Now, about contacting the authorities. There are six different police forces here, but for our purposes, I think we only need to talk to the Policía Técnica Judicial, the criminal police, and the Policía Metropolitana, the city cops.”

  “Do you have the coordinates?”

  Sara picked up her tote and pulled off her sunglasses, then slung the strap of the bag over her shoulder. “Better. I have the addresses. We’ll fly.”

  “Glad to hear you’re coming to your senses.”

  “We’re not teleporting, hotshot. We’re taking the helicopter.”

  THE HEAT SLAMMED INTO them the moment they stepped outside. Jack materialized dark glasses and followed Sara around a gigantic, splashing five-tiered fountain in the center of a rustic courtyard filled with lush vegetation and enormous trees with vivid red flowers.

  The rain had stopped. The scent of steaming jungle, verdant with an undertone of decay, saturated the muggy air. Jack matched his steps to Sara’s and easily fell into her rhythm, getting a faint whiff of her citrus perfume as she moved.

  Even in jeans and a button-down shirt, she looked and walked like a woman wearing haute couture. She’d always loved clothes and, being tall and slender, wore anything well. Her stride was long and unhesitating, despite the combination of high heels and flagstones, as she headed toward the garage on the far side of the sprawling hacienda.

  This was the take-charge side of Sara that had always surprised and delighted him, the more-than-competent woman who could take hours choosing between two fabrics then handle a room full of businessmen as if they were friends.

  The sunlight formed a circlet of light on the crown of her glossy, sun-streaked hair. The longer length suited her. He’d had a fondness for her nape, and the swirled-up hairstyle bared the pale, sensitive skin for anyone to see. He shot her a quick glance, hoping like hell Sara wasn’t having that same thought right then. Clearly she wasn’t, since they remained outside.

  The concept of making a simultaneous thought a reality was intriguing. Annoying if it happened again, but fascinating because it had never occurred before today. On the other hand, it hadn’t taken much to get them naked before now.

  She used a remote to activate one of several double-size doors, revealing part of Baltzer’s impressive fleet of luxury automobiles. Garage wasn’t the word for the building they entered. The climate-controlled area held six vehicles and two top-of-the-line motorcycles and had what were probably servants’ living quarters the size of a four-bedroom house above.

  Jack had to admit, he had a pang of car envy. He usually teleported, but, every now and then, it was nice to drive a well-tooled machine just for the sheer joy of it. “Baltzer’s doing well.”

  “He’s a smart guy. This way.” Sara walked between a late-model black Jeep and a bright red Audi convertible.

  “I thought we were flying.” Jack hadn’t forgotten what a lousy driver she was, but he figured he’d strap himself into the passenger seat and teleport if an immovable obstacle loomed. Sara’s claim to fame was that she’d never had an accident. He wasn’t sure how many accidents her erratic driving might have caused over the years, however.

  She shot him a look that told him she knew where that comment was going and didn’t appreciate it. “Relax, Jack. This is a shortcut. We have a small airfield and helipad out back.”

  She’d obtained her small plane and helicopter licenses before they’d met, but Jack had never flown with her. This was sure to prove interesting. On the plus side, there wasn’t anything for her to bump into up there. Well, in theory, at least. It depended on whether the air-traffic controllers in San Cristóbal were taking siestas or not.

  The helicopter looked damn small sitting out on the helipad. “One of my favorite things about living in South America is that I get to fly almost every day,” Sara told him, sounding more upbeat than she had for the last few hours. “This little beauty is a Bell 407. Smoothest ride in its class.”

  She opened the door and tossed in her bag. “I have to do a check. Climb in and buckle up. I won’t be long.” She gave the glossy red-and-white body of the chopper a fond pat.

  While she circled the chopper, giving it a thorough check, Jack assessed the area behind the hacienda. There was another chopper nearby, and a small white plane with the Baltzer company’s red-and-black logo painted on the tail. A blacktop landing strip appeared to run directly into the solid green of the jungle and vanished there, along with so many other things.

  Large snakes, for instance. Very, very large snakes. Crap, why the hell couldn’t this situation be taking place in, say, the Arctic?

  The estate’s boundaries were marked by a twelve-foot-high stone wall. The place was a veritable fortress. High walls and the surrounding dense jungle ensured Baltzer’s privacy. He suspected the guy had a top-of-the-line security system as well.

  A damned odd and inconvenient place to live, no matter what Sara said about being close to the sites of the hotels they were building. And that was saying a lot, coming from a guy who spent the majority of his nights sleeping in a pup tent in some pretty inhospitable spots.

  “All set.” Sara climbed in, slamming her door shut. Jack did the same. The chopper was pretty spacious, with large expanses of Plexiglas for three-sixty views. It seated six or seven in comfort and
had leather seats, stereo, AC. An absolute necessity, living way the hell and gone, so far from civilization.

  “How far’s this place from town?”

  “By helicopter, half an hour. By car, three-ish hours.”

  Sara went through the engine checklist systematically, giving the task her undivided attention. He was impressed. She was completely professional and very thorough. Very Sara.

  The engine started with a throaty roar and the chopper vibrated. “That’s my girl,” Sara crooned as the vibrations increased and the rotor started spinning. “Don’t worry, Jack.” She shot him a smile that made his chest hurt. “The computer does all the work.”

  His theory about teleporting still applied. “Good to know,” he said affably, reaching for the headset she hadn’t offered. He slipped it on as Sara informed the tower in San Cristóbal of their heading and ETA.

  “We’ve got a few minutes to spare. Would you like an aerial view of the jungle before we head to San Cristóbal?”

  “Maybe on the way back.”

  Sara took off, then turned left, flying low over the tree canopy. “As an Aequitas, did you know that you could be called in at any time?” she asked, her expressive eyes hidden by her sunglasses. “That you wouldn’t be given a choice?”

  “Yeah. It was certainly something I was instructed in. But it was purely theoretical. To be honest, I’m not sure the Wizard Council is accurate on this theory—but it’s pretty hard to disprove that the hurricanes, tsunamis, et cetera, are the work of the Omnivatics. Although the possibility that something other than nature produced all those disasters is fascinating.”

  “Fascinating? Now you want to do this crazy thing?” she asked incredulously, her voice crackling through his headset.

  “Find an Omnivatic? Not particularly. But investigate the cause of all these seemingly natural disasters? Hell, yeah. I live for shit like this.”

  “I know you do. Did you ever track down the Australian ley you were researching … ?”

  Before we broke up was the rest of that sentence. “Yeah. Matter of fact, I discovered its exact location this year. Even though it’s an enormous power source and hundreds, even thousands of miles long, it’s unusually deep, and so far underground my equipment didn’t pick up the incredible strength of it. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to finish my survey. I’ll get back to it sooner rather than later, I hope.”