Every schoolchild knew the story. Vincent Lee Vance recruited ghost hunters into his renegade army. The city-states responded by creating the militias known as the ghost-hunter Guilds. In the end, the colonies were able to put down the rebellion, thanks to the admittedly heroic actions of the Guilds.
After the Era of Discord, the Guilds were never disbanded. Instead, those in charge saw a golden opportunity to corner a booming new market. Exploration and excavation of the alien catacombs was rapidly becoming big business. Hundreds of academic, corporate, and privately financed companies were eager to go underground to compete in the search for valuable alien antiquities and the quest for long-lost secrets. And they all needed ghost-hunter teams to protect the crews from the wandering balls of alien energy. It took a ghost to kill a ghost, and only ghost hunters could do the job.
The Guilds contracted the services of their members to those who wanted to hire them. Over the years the organizations, led by a series of shrewd, ambitious men, had become powerful, secretive institutions bound by mysterious traditions and Guild Law.
History was repeating itself once again with the recent discovery of the vast, underground rain forest. Within the last few months the Guilds, led by Cooper Boone, the boss of the Aurora Springs Guild, had moved swiftly to position themselves as the primary source of guides and bodyguards for researchers, para-archaeologists, treasure hunters, and others who wanted to explore the jungle.
There were those—Celinda counted herself among them—who considered the Guilds only a notch or two above criminal mobs.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why the Cadence Guild is interested in my relic,” she said.
Davis smiled his faint smile. “One of the things that I offer my clients is a guarantee of confidentiality.”
“Why did the Guild hire you?” she asked. Then she held up a hand to stop him from responding. “Wait, let me guess. Guilds usually throw their business at people connected to the organizations. There must be half a dozen private investigation and security firms in Cadence that are owned and operated by retired hunters. Is your firm one of those companies?”
He contemplated her with a considering expression. “I come from a family of hunters. But I turned out a little different.”
“I see.” More bad news. He came from a Guild family. Traditionally, Guild people married other Guild people. It was one of the many customs that, in her opinion, had kept the organizations from going truly mainstream.
How could she have been so wrong about him? So much for her psychic powers.
Sadly, all the lecturing in the world wasn’t going to dampen her intuitive reaction to Davis Oakes. Something about him compelled her senses, riveted them. Probably a bug-to-liquid-amber kind of thing. Silly little bug gets attracted to the enticing, glowing resin, goes for a stroll, gets stuck and—whappo—the stuff hardens around her and she’s trapped in amber forever.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to give me that artifact.” Davis reached inside his jacket and took out a checkbook. “I’ll reimburse you for the cost plus an extra thousand for your trouble.”
“An extra thousand?” She was stunned. “It’s worth that much to the Guild?”
“Let’s just say that my client is very eager to recover the relic. Fifteen hundred?”
The arrogance of the offer irritated her.
“What happens if I refuse to hand it over?” she asked.
He took out a pen, put the checkbook down on the desk, and began writing. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Gosh, I don’t know.” She unfolded her arms and spread her hands. “Maybe because I bought it legally. Even got a receipt.”
“The relic was stolen. You are not the legal owner.”
“Maybe I just don’t like the Guild thinking it has the right to have a private investigator barge into my office and take it away from me without an adequate explanation.”
He did not look up from writing the check. “This is Guild business, Miss Ingram.”
“I love it,” she said, not bothering to conceal her disgust.
He glanced up. “You love what?”
“You thinking that Guild business is an adequate explanation.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That is so very Guild-like.”
He straightened, put the pen back in his pocket, tore out the check, and handed it to her. “Maybe this will make up for the lack of a full explanation.”
She took the check from him and read it carefully. Two thousand dollars was clearly written out in a bold scrawl. She could do a lot with two thousand. Pay her rent, buy some badly needed new clothes, treat herself to some fancy restaurants…
She tore the check in half very deliberately and then put the halves together and ripped them into fourths.
He regarded her with polite inquiry.
“Not enough?” he asked.
“There is no amount of money that I would feel comfortable accepting from the Guild.” She shuddered. “In point of fact, I don’t want anything from the organization.”
“You’re going to make this difficult?”
“Not at all.” She gave him a tight little smile. “You can have the stupid artifact, because the last thing I want is to become involved in Guild business.”
“You’re sure you won’t accept the money?”
“Positive.”
“You do realize that this means that the Cadence Guild now owes you a favor,” Davis said neutrally.
“No, absolutely not.” She was appalled. “The Guild doesn’t owe me a thing.”
“You know what they say, the Guild always pays its debts.”
“Sounds like a real nightmare scenario to me. Look, I’ll make a deal with you. You can thank me for giving you the artifact by not mentioning my name to your client.”
He thought about that briefly and then nodded once, his expression somber. “If that’s what you want. I don’t see how keeping quiet about your role in this will violate my professional obligation to my client.”
“Terrific.” She went to the door, opened it abruptly, and held the relic out to him on the palm of her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Oakes. I won’t say it’s been a pleasure, but it has been interesting.”
He picked up his briefcase and walked toward the door, halting directly in front of her. “Are you a good matchmaker, Miss Ingram?”
“The best.”
“I notice you’re not wearing a wedding ring. I take it that means you haven’t been able to find a match for yourself.”
She knew she was turning red, but she managed to keep her composure. “Very observant of you.”
He nodded. “Probably just as well. I got matched by a pro once.”
“I can tell by your tone of voice that it did not work out.”
“No,” he said. “Luckily for both of us, we found out shortly before the wedding that the match was a bad one.”
“I see,” she said coolly. “I’m sorry you had such an unfortunate experience. All I can tell you is that what happened to you was an anomaly. Statistically speaking, the odds of making a good match are significantly improved when you employ a knowledgeable, reputable marriage consultant.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Personally, I’ve pretty much decided to skip the whole happily-ever-after thing.”
She stared at him, startled. Very few people went around announcing that they planned to skip the happily- ever-after thing. Even if one were personally inclined to avoid marriage, family and social pressure proved too strong for most people. Folks who didn’t get serious about marriage after a certain point in life found that their careers stalled, invitations from one’s peers—all of whom were married—dried up, and people began to regard the unmarried individual as exceedingly odd.
In spite of her annoyance, her consultant instincts kicked in immediately.
“Never say never,” she said bracingly. “I’m sure the right person for you is out there somewhere.” She couldn’t believe that for a while there she had actually thought that person was her.
