Rafe leaned forward and rested his folded arms on his thighs. Right size, right build. He even moved the right way.
'Rafe? Can you tell if it's him?'
He did not look at her. He was too intent on studying his quarry. 'Got to be certain. Link.'
He sent out a short, probing pulse of psychic energy. His strat-talent senses fluttered. He felt the familiar wave of brief disorientation that always accompanied an initial quest.
Orchid said nothing but out on the psychic plane the very special prism took shape. Crystal clear. Powerful. Unique. Made just for him.
With an intense feeling of satisfaction that was equaled only by the sensations he felt when he made love to Orchid, Rafe sent power through the prism.
Psychic energy sharpened all of his senses. The quality of the atmosphere around him altered. Suddenly he could see in ways that he could not explain, ways that felt utterly natural.
Ways that he had never been able to savor for more than a few seconds at a tune before he met Orchid.
The darkened showroom assumed countless new dimensions. Objects that had been little more than shadows in the gloom could now be clearly discerned, not just through sight but in another, less easily described fashion. Smells sharpened and separated, revealing subtle nuances. The perfume worn by the woman in the next row made Rafe wrinkle his nose. He tuned it out. At the same time he was intensely aware of Orchid's nearness. It felt right to have her at his side, not just because they were temporarily linked on the metaphysical plane but because . . .
Because it felt right.
Rafe made himself push the awareness of Orchid and all of the other sensation in the lounge into the background. He concentrated on his quarry.
On stage Mr. Amazing raised his gloved hands high in a dramatic gesture, lowered them quickly and suddenly a curtain of what appeared to be crackling bands of energy materialized on the stage behind him. It shimmered grandly in an invisible breeze. Sparks snapped in the darkness.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' Mr. Amazing announced in a deep voice augmented by a hidden microphone, 'I give you, the Curtain as it must have looked to our noble Founders just before it closed forever.'
The semi-inebriated audience was suitably awed. Oohs and aahs rippled across the rows of seats.
Rafe listened to the voice of Mr. Amazing with para-sensitive hearing. He filtered out the distortion created by the microphone.
The same voice. He was sure of it.
'And now,' Mr. Amazing intoned, 'let us see what our Curtain reveals.'
The magician moved his hands in a melodramatic gesture. A woman with long green hair materialized out of the Curtain. She wore only a silver thong and a matching bra made of translucent silver mesh. The audience was treated to the sight of a pair of enormous breasts tipped with gaily painted nipples.
'Talk about an illusion,' Orchid muttered.
Rafe ignored the comment. The woman's breasts did not interest him. His quarry was the only thing that mattered. He sifted through the scents that flowed around him in a vast sea, searching for one that was familiar.
In the world of para-heightened awareness, scent was one of the most reliable of all stimuli—easily identified, virtually impossible to disguise. The magician was already sweating in the glare of the stage lights.
A second later Rafe caught the unmistakable taint of an illusion-talent. A talent that was strikingly similar to the one he had fought the other night outside Theo Willis's house. It had to be the same man who had trapped Orchid in Morgan Lambert's kitchen with the fire illusion.
This was the enemy.
Eagerness coursed through Rafe. A deep yearning to give chase came over him. He recognized the instinct and squelched it quickly. It probably would not be a good idea to bound up onto the stage and pound Mr. Amazing into the floor in front of Orchid and the rest of the crowd. A little too primitive.
'Rafe?'
He sensed the aura of Orchid's sudden unease and knew that she had picked up some sense of his elemental desire to bring down his quarry. He hoped she wouldn't hold it against him. She was more understanding than anyone else he had ever met when it came to the nature of his psychic talent. Nevertheless, he was pretty sure she would take a dun view of him entertaining himself with a little happy mayhem.
'It's him,' he muttered, feeling somewhat defensive.
'You're sure?'
'Of course I'm sure.'
'You don't have to snap at me.'
'I didn't snap at you.'
'Yes, you did.'
Before Rafe could think of a suitable rejoinder another assistant walked out on stage. A man this tune. He was slightly shorter and not as solidly built as Mr. Amazing. His features were thin and sharp. He wore his dark, curly hair cropped close, and his costume resembled formal black evening wear.
Rafe concentrated intently for a few seconds. A sigh of anticipation escaped him when he caught the telltale traces of a familiar scent.
'The prism,' he said very softly.
The music swelled as the assistant displayed a case of throwing knives. The lady in the translucent brassiere arranged herself in an artful pose against a colorful target. Mr. Amazing selected a knife and threw it with confident skill. The point sank into the target near her head. The audience gasped. The woman smiled.
Mr. Amazing selected another knife.
Rafe cut the focus link.
'What do we do now?' Orchid whispered.
'We leave.'
Under cover of a burst of applause, Rafe reached out, took her hand, and got to his feet. He led Orchid back up the aisle to the curtained entrance of the show lounge.
They stepped out into the frenetic activity of the gaming floor.
'We're going to follow Mr. Amazing after he finishes the show, aren't we?' Orchid asked.
Rafe smiled at the enthusiasm in her voice. She was not a strat-talent, but she definitely had a few primitive instincts of her own. 'The thought had crossed my mind.'
'Then what?'
'Depends.' Rafe drew her through the throng of eager gamblers toward the front of the casino. 'The dressing room entrance is in the alley. We can keep an eye on it from outside.'
The street in front of the Icy Dicey was even more crowded now than it had been earlier. The few cars that had ventured into it were trapped by the milling revelers. No one seemed to mind.
The decibel level had escalated. Another street band had joined the ice rock group on the corner. Rafe heard Orchid crunch a discarded noisemaker underfoot. Streamers drifted through the night.
He found a spot near a doorway that offered shelter from the jostling crowd and a good view of the alley entrance. A street vendor dressed in a Founders' Day costume held out a large paper bag.
'Popped nut-corn. Get 'em while they're nice and hot.'
'Sounds good.' Orchid fished in her pocket, found some change, and handed it to the vendor.
She accepted the brimming bag, took a handful of popped nut-corn for herself, and offered some to Rafe.
He scooped up a fistful of the salted nut-corn and shoved it into his mouth. Using his talent for extended periods of time heightened all of his appetites, he reflected.
'I love Founders' Day.' Orchid surveyed the cheerful crowds as she dug into the bag for more nut-corn. 'I know we're here on serious business, but it's actually turning into a fun evening. You know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. Stonebraker.'
'Glad you're enjoying yourself.'
'Are you going to give up this private investigation hobby of yours when you take control of your family's firm?'
