“Will do.”
“Oh, and by the way, congratulations on your new talent.”
Jack froze. “What are you talking about?”
“I could buy the fact that you got lucky yesterday and took down one hunter, but I’m not buying that you were able to take down three people today, two of whom were hunters.”
“I only got the one hunter,” Jack said evenly. “And the woman. No big deal. Chloe handled the other hunter.”
“Whatever. Like I said, congratulations.”
“You don’t sound worried.”
“As long as you’re taking out Nightshade agents, I don’t have any problem with your new talent. I need all the help I can get. Call me after you talk to Stone.”
Fallon broke the connection.
PREDICTABLY, IT WAS CHLOE who insisted that they make the offer to the Nightshade agents. But Fallon Jones was right. They refused. The cops removed the duct tape and wire bindings and replaced them with standard-issue handcuffs. They stuffed both men into the back of a patrol car and drove away.
Chloe and Jack stood on the front steps and watched the vehicle disappear.
“I’m betting they both escape within twenty-four hours,” Chloe said. She shook her head. “They’re hunters. They’re not only preternaturally fast—they’ve also got para- hunting skills. The cops won’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late.”
“Fallon says they’re as good as dead,” Jack said. “He told me that Nightshade will drop them like live bombs now that they’ve been picked up by regular law enforcement. They won’t get any more of the drug. First they’ll go crazy. Give them twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours at most, and then they’ll commit suicide.”
Chloe shuddered. “The drug is a terrible creation. Jones is right. Nightshade must be stopped.”
“I’m not usually into conspiracy theories, but I’m starting to think Jones has a point about this one.”
37
CHLOE GRIPPED THE COFFEE MUG EMBLAZONED WITH THE Drake Stone logo in both hands and looked at Drake. She was seriously impressed by his resilience.
“I can’t believe you’re going to do your show tonight after what happened to you today,” she said. “A lot of folks would be gulping sedatives and worrying about post-traumatic shock.”
They were sitting outside by the pool. Overhead the patio heaters spread a pleasant warmth. Drake had fixed the coffee, himself, after sending his housekeeper home to her family to recover.
“You know that old showbiz saying?” Drake asked.
“The show must go on?” she quoted.
“No,” Drake said. “The any-publicity-is-good-publicity saying. Tonight my name is going to be all over the evening news here in town. I haven’t had press like this since I was outed a few years ago. If I don’t do the show tonight the rumors will really start flying.”
“What rumors?” Jack asked.
“The ones that claim I’m actually dead. They’ve been floating around for years.” Drake stretched out his legs. He studied Jack with a speculative expression. “How the hell did you get the drop on those two this afternoon and who were those guys from L.A. who took the lamp?”
“It’s complicated,” Jack said.
Drake nodded. “I thought it might be.”
“Would you believe me if I told you that the bikers who invaded your home today were working for a secret criminal organization that uses an illicit drug that gives their agents psychic powers?”
Drake raised his eyes to the awning. “I knew it. You’re with the government. What is this, really? Some kind of drug sting? Casino fraud?”
“No,” Chloe said quickly. “We aren’t government agents. Honest.”
“Forget it.” Drake held up a hand to silence her. “I don’t want to know anything more about the investigation. This is Vegas after all. Around here, ignorance is, if not exactly blissful, usually a hell of a lot safer.”
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” Jack said.
Drake raised his brows. “You want to know about my visitor last night, don’t you?”
“You didn’t make up that story just to get us out here today, did you?” Jack asked.
“No. The irony here is that I really was planning to call you and tell you about the woman who came to see me. But I don’t have any more information than what I’ve already told you. I just can’t remember the details. Ever have a dream you can’t quite recall?”
“Yes,” Jack said. He looked at Chloe. “I have.”
She tried to ignore him. She knew that he had a lot of questions, and it was clear that he was not in a good mood. She couldn’t blame him. He had awakened thinking that he was no longer a double-talent only to discover the hard way that he could still project nightmares. As far as he was concerned he was still a psychic freak.
In addition his senses had to be close to exhausted after the way he had used them to take down Sandy and Ike. You couldn’t use that much psi without paying a price. Energy was energy. When you pulled a lot of it you had to give yourself time to recover. She was feeling drained, herself. She had drawn heavily on her own talent to put the hunter to sleep.
She still had some reserves left, however.
She concentrated on Drake and opened her senses. For the most part his dreamlight looked normal, or at least as normal as ultralight could look. But there was something wrong with the hues on a few of the wavelengths. The colors were murky, and the pattern was out of sync. She’d seen that kind of trouble before.
“I think there is a possibility that whoever came to see you last night gave you a hypnotic suggestion,” she said.
Drake raised his brows. “There’s more than one hypnotist in this town. I know all the headliners who are any good at that kind of thing. But they’re all men. And why would anyone want to put me under unless it was to rob me? Nothing was missing this morning.”
“No guarantees, but I might be able to help you recall some of the details of your visitor.”
“How?”
“Think of it as a relaxation technique,” she said. “I promise you’ll be wide awake and aware the whole time. You’ll remember everything I say and do and you’ll have full control of what you are telling me.”
Drake contemplated her for a long moment, and then he nodded once. “I’ll admit the blank spot in my memory is bothering me. If I can forget that I had a visitor last night, the next thing you know I’ll start forgetting the words to ‘Blue Champagne.’ That would be a career killer. Let’s do this.”