She saw an opening and seized it.
“Davis said that he was from a Guild family and that he’s a hunter of sorts.” She kept her tone very casual.
“Right.”
“He told me that he doesn’t pull ghost light from the usual point on the spectrum.”
“He said that much, did he?” Trig looked impressed. “That’s more than he tells most people.”
“I didn’t realize that there were different kinds of ghost light.”
Trig lifted massive shoulders in a shrug. “Very few people realize that there’s a wide spectrum of dissonance energy leaking out of the catacombs. But most hunters can only work the green stuff.”
“He also told me that he was never employed as a regular ghost hunter.”
“Ghost hunters tend to be real traditional,” Trig said. “Hunters who don’t work standard ghost light make other hunters nervous underground.”
“So, Davis went into the PI business, instead.”
“Uh-huh.”
She got the feeling that pushing Trig wasn’t going to gain her any more information, so she reluctantly dropped the subject. “I have another extra blanket and pillow you can use.”
“Don’t worry about me, Miss Ingram. I won’t be sleeping tonight.” He held up a book. “Brought some reading material with me. With this and some coffee, I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yep.”
She looked at the book. “What are you reading?”
“Espindoza’s History of the Era of Discord. I’m on the last volume. Almost finished.”
She tried not to show her surprise. “I see.”
He smiled benignly. “I know, heavy reading for a guy like me, but I’m managing to wade through it.”
She grinned. “You’re doing better than I did. I never got past volume one.” She looked at Davis. “He’ll be okay?”
“Sure. Just the normal burn-and-crash thing. He’ll wake up in a few hours feeling good as new.”
SHE TUMBLED INTO BED A SHORT TIME LATER AND GAZED out the window into the night. She hadn’t slept well in four months, but tonight she had a whole bunch of new anxieties to keep her awake. A Guild relic had gone missing and everyone involved held her more or less responsible. There were not one but two men spending the night in her apartment. She had a date for her sister’s wedding that was going to take some explaining, and Araminta was out there somewhere in the night running around with a stranger she had only just met.
Sleep was going to be even more elusive than usual tonight.
Chapter 10
ARAMINTA AND MAX RETURNED SHORTLY BEFORE DAWN. The sound of the sliding glass door being opened woke Davis. He watched Trig let the dust bunnies into the apartment.
“Any sign of the relic?” he asked.
“Afraid not,” Trig said.
“Damn. Guess that would have been too easy.”
Max tumbled across the floor to greet him. Araminta drifted down the hall in the direction of Celinda’s bedroom.
Trig stretched. “You need me any longer, boss?”
“No, I can take it from here.” Davis sat up and discovered that there was a blanket covering him.
“Miss Ingram put it over you after you conked out last night,” Trig said.
“Huh.” The thought of Celinda bending over him in what must have been a fairly solicitous manner, ensuring that he didn’t get cold during the night, made him feel much better than he had a moment ago.
He pushed the blanket aside and contemplated a shower. He needed one. Experimentally, he rubbed his jaw. He also needed a shave.
Before he could decide how to proceed, rapid footsteps sounded in the hall.
Celinda appeared. Her hair was a tangled cloud around her face. She wore a dark blue robe secured with a sash and a pair of matching slippers. Araminta was perched on her shoulder.
Davis looked at her and realized that he was getting aroused all over again. He liked Trig a lot, trusted him completely, but right now he wished his friend was anywhere else but here in Celinda’s living room. He didn’t like the idea of Trig or any other man seeing her like this, all warm and soft and flushed from sleep. The surge of possessiveness caught him by surprise.
“Araminta’s back,” Celinda announced excitedly.
“Yeah, they both rolled in a couple minutes ago,” Trig said, angling his head toward Max.
Celinda turned to Davis. She seemed oddly startled at the sight of him sitting there on her sofa. It dawned on him that, what with his crumpled black dress shirt and trousers and the morning beard, he probably looked as if he, too, had spent the night out on the tiles.
Celinda’s hopeful expression dimmed. “No one looks very cheerful. Can I assume that means they didn’t bring back the relic?”
“It’s still missing.” Davis got to his feet. “Mind if I use your shower?”
The request seemed to floor her. Her eyes widened. “Uh.” She recovered quickly, blushing a bright pink. “No, no, of course not. Go ahead. I’ll, uh, start breakfast. Or something. I think I’ve got some eggs.” She turned quickly to Trig. “Will you stay?”
“Appreciate the offer, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way,” Trig said. “I need to start working our contacts on the street and inside the Guild, see if we can find the guy who generated those twin ghosts last night.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Celinda paused, looking first at Trig and then at Davis. “What about the second man?”
“The getaway driver?” Davis nodded. “We’ll look for him, too. But we haven’t got much to go on there.”
“Well,” Celinda said, “if it helps, I can tell you that he’s got a rather twisted parapsych profile. I would advise extreme caution if either of you happen to run into him again.”
They both looked at her.
“Are you saying that because he’s involved in a criminal enterprise and, by definition, most outlaws probably have twisted profiles?” Davis asked evenly.
“No.” She seemed to hesitate, then come to a decision. She reached up to pat Araminta. “I’m saying that because I can read psi profiles if I get close enough to a person. Last night, for a few seconds, I was very close to the getaway driver.”
Davis looked at Trig and then turned back to her.
“Are you telling us that you can sense other people’s psi energy patterns?” he asked.
“At close range, yes.” She shrugged. “It’s one of the reasons why I’m so good at my job. I can match people psychically as well as in the usual ways.”
Trig whistled softly. “Whoa. Talk about a nonstandard talent. Ever been tested?”
“Yes. My parents suspected I was a little different. They took me to a private lab. The ability to read psi patterns is extremely rare, so I don’t advertise my talent for obvious reasons. But Davis is a strong and evidently rare para-rez himself, so I assume neither of you gets nervous around nonstandard talents.”
“How strong are you?” Davis asked.
She hesitated again. “Very.”
He raised his brows. “Are we talking off the charts?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted, “but I’m sure that’s only because the talent is so rare in the population the testing labs don’t have a good basis for comparison.”
Davis rubbed his jaw again. Something in common, he thought. “How much can you tell about a person based on what you pick up from his or her psi energy patterns?”
