being swept away by the glittering lures of romance, passion, and plain, old-fashioned lust.
Covenant Marriages were supposed to be carefully thought out business and social arrangements reserved for those who were more mature and ready to settle down.
Guys like him, Cooper thought. He'd had it all so carefully planned.
'Well, don't blame yourself too much.' She patted his shoulder in much the same way that she had just patted Rose. 'After all, I accepted your proposal. I thought I knew what I was doing, too. And Guild tradition is a powerful force. Guess we both had a narrow escape.'
'Guess so.' Conjugal relations was the last subject he wanted to think about just now. But he couldn't seem to move on. 'You ever tried an MC?'
'Who? Me? Nope. Left at the next corner.'
'Why not?' he asked, unable to stop himself.
'Let's just say that an MC is easier said than done in a small town where everyone knows that you're the daughter of one of the members of the Guild Council. I always had to worry about the real motives of the men who showed an interest in any sort of arrangement with me, short- or long-term.'
'Men like Palmer Frazier, do you mean?'
'I think we'd better avoid the topic of Palmer Frazier.' She paused. 'What about you? Ever been in an MC?'
'No.'
'Why not? Too busy working your way up through the Guild?'
He moved one hand slightly on the wheel. 'That was one of the reasons.'
'Are there any others?'
'None that I'm prepared to discuss tonight.'
'Oh.' She sounded chagrined. 'I don't have the right to ask those sorts of personal questions, do I? Turn right.'
He followed directions obediently. There was no reason to mention that he already knew how to get to Ruin Lane because he had cruised past St. Clair's Herbal Emporium earlier today, immediately after he had arrived in town.
As was the case with all of the other major city-states, Cadence had grown rapidly, pushing out into the surrounding countryside. Predictably, the Old Quarters had been treated with benign neglect. Over the years many of the neighborhoods near the great walls had became home to the down-and-out and those who lived on the margins of society, as well as a varied selection of nightclubs, bars, and taverns.
But due to their close proximity to the ancient alien metropolises, the Old Quarters all possessed one strong, vibrant, economic underpinning that kept them from sliding into complete decay: a lively trade in alien antiquities, both real and fake.
Interspersed with the cheap apartment houses, dives, and forlorn storefronts here in the cramped streets of Cadence's colonial neighborhoods, Cooper saw small shops purporting to offer relics from the Dead City and the Early Colonial era:
When he had made quiet inquiries a few months back to assure himself that Elly was not living in a dangerous neighborhood, he had been told that her shop was in one of the newer, recently gentrified sections of the Old Quarter. Today when he had driven slowly down Ruin Lane, he had been relieved to find out that his information had been solid.
True, the area wasn't as neat and tidy as the street where she had lived back in Aurora Springs, but he didn't see conventions of drug dealers, cop cars, and prostitutes on the corners, either.
'There's Bertha's shop,' Elly stated. 'Go around the corner. We'll park in the alley.'
'I seem to be spending a lot of time in alleys tonight.'
'They're considered a scenic attraction here in the Old Quarter. Very atmospheric.'
He eased the Spectrum slowly into the narrow service lane behind Newell's Relics, parked, and climbed out. The fog was getting thicker, he noticed.
Elly, with Rose on her shoulder, emerged from the front seat before he could get around to the passenger side.
She removed a key from the depths of her tote and went quickly toward the rear door of Newell's Relics.
'Hang on a second,' he said quietly. 'I want to be sure the Spectrum is still here when we come back.'
He sent out a little pulse of psi power through his amber, using it to grab some of the ambient energy drifting through the night. Concentrating briefly, he formed a tiny ghost and anchored it to the rear license plate of the Spectrum. The little UDEM flared to life, illuminating the plate in a faint, green glow.
'That should do it,' Elly said dryly. 'Can't imagine anyone dumb enough to steal that car now.'
He shrugged. 'In my experience, it's excellent insurance against grand theft auto.'
Okay, so it was a little flashy, he conceded silently. Very few dissonance-energy para-rezzes were strong enough to anchor a ghost, even a small one, outside the catacombs. But replacing the Spectrum would be both expensive and inconvenient. The little UDEM sent an unmistakable message:
Elly opened the door of the darkened shop and switched on the lights.
He followed her inside and found himself in a back room filled with small green quartz artifacts. There was nothing that looked particularly valuable, as far as he could see. Most of the relics were the sort of simple tomb mirrors, undistinguished urns, and unexceptional vases that were found in low-end antiquities shops in every Old Quarter.
'Where's her rat hole?' he asked.
'Same place mine is, in the cellar. Stairs are over there.'
'You've got an entrance to the catacombs beneath your shop?' he asked, surprised.
'Yes. Pretty cool, huh? Doesn't do me much good, of course, but I let my friend Doreen use it. She takes me down with her sometimes.'
'Who's Doreen?'
'She's another ruin rat. A tangler. Very fashionable. She went shopping with me shortly after I arrived and helped me pick out a new wardrobe.'
'I did notice the new clothes,' he said neutrally.
'Doreen has a shop and apartment directly across the street from mine.'
'I see.'
He followed her down a cramped flight of steps into the depths of a damp, dark cellar.
'You know, this isn't how I had planned to spend my first night in the big city,' he remarked.
'That's the trouble with you Guild bosses, you're not spontaneous,' she said.
Chapter 5
THE RUSH HIT HIM BEFORE HE GOT OUT OF THE catacombs, rezzing all of his senses, making him fully aware of his power.
It had been a close call tonight. Thanks to the stupid, weak-stomached chemist, the old woman had nearly escaped. Those damn ruin rats were hard to kill.
By the time he had arrived on the scene to clean up the mess, Bertha Newell and her utility sled had vanished, leaving only a pool of blood on the green quartz floor. The woman had evidently come back to her senses long enough to climb aboard the sled and drive off into the maze of tunnels. She had probably been terrified to return to the surface, fearing that someone would have been waiting for her. She had been right. Now that they knew she had seen the lab, she could not be allowed to live.
Luckily, the chemist had noted the frequency of the amber-rez locator on Newell's sled. It was the only smart thing the fool had done tonight.
He tightened his grip on the wheel of his sled. If it weren't for the fact that the chemist was the only one who knew precisely how to transform the psi-bright herbs into enchantment dust, he would have gotten rid of him
