"Because we're descended from the founder." Fallon looked around the room, mentally cataloging the antiques scattered around the space: the desk and the old inkwell, the Victorian umbrella stand and the wrought iron coatrack on the wall. All of the offices of J&J across the U.S. and in London had some mementos that reflected the history of J&J and the Society. Both of which were inextricably bound to the history of the Jones family, he thought. "They fear us because we've always controlled Arcane."
"Not just the organization," Zack reminded him. "But a lot of its deepest secrets, as well. The family has always had enemies. You know the old saying."
"Friends may come and go but enemies accumulate."
"The Joneses have had more than four hundred years to acquire our enemies."
Fallon smiled grimly. "And what's more, we're good at it."
"Comes with the territory," Zack said. "Like I told you, I don't know yet if the person who started the rumors about you and J&J is in any way connected to Nightshade, but I think it's clear that his ultimate goal is to make certain that the Joneses lose control of Arcane."
"And its secrets. It's actually a hell of a strategy, when you think about it. Why go to all the trouble and risk of resurrecting the currently broken version of Nightshade if you can take over Arcane from the inside and create a super-Nightshade? It's brilliant."
Zack cleared his throat. "Let's save the conspiracy theories until we know exactly what we're dealing with."
Fallon turned back to the window. Even those within his own family circle considered him a conspiracy nut. Zack and everyone else used the term conspiracy theory so loosely, he thought. They did not seem to grasp the bright, shining line that separated a valid theory of a case and a conspiracy fantasy. No wonder it had been easy for someone to fire up the new rumors at the highest levels of Arcane. I gave the traitor all the ammunition he needed.
"Will you come to the Winter Conference?" Zack asked quietly.
Zack was right, Fallon thought. Within Arcane, power spoke and spoke loudly.
"I'll show up for the opening-night reception," he said. "Will that satisfy you?"
"Yes." Zack came up off the desk and clapped Fallon on the shoulder. "Thanks, cousin. I knew I could count on you."
"One thing you should know. I'm working on another project at the moment."
"Sorting out the Bridewell curiosities? No problem. Once Rafanelli and his team pick up the gadgets, that old case will be closed."
"I'm not talking about the curiosities," Fallon said. "I meant Isabella."
Zack shot him a knowing smile. "Bring her to the conference. Hell, the fact that you've got a date will, uh--"
"Make me look more stable?" Fallon asked evenly. "Normal?"
"Yeah, something like that," Zack admitted.
Fallon turned back to the view of the Sunshine. "You don't understand. I'm working on Isabella's case."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She thinks someone killed her grandmother. She's convinced that the same person may be gunning for her."
"No offense," Zack said, "but why would anyone bother to kill the Sentinel? She's a nutcase. Everyone knows that. And why would anyone want to murder Isabella?"
"She thinks that she stumbled into a real conspiracy. She told her grandmother and now she thinks her grandmother is dead. So, yes, Isabella thinks there's a connection. I agreed to investigate."
Down below, the door of the Sunshine opened. Isabella and Raine emerged carrying paper sacks that were no doubt filled with fresh, hot muffins. Fallon could see that the two women were talking easily together, as if they were old friends. You'd never know they had met only a short time ago. Isabella's energy had that effect on people as well as dogs and plants, he thought. But, then, energy was energy. Living things always responded to it, one way or another.
Raine was tall with distinctive eyes that she tried to veil behind the severe frames of her glasses. Like Zack, she wore a lot of black.
"Let me get this straight," Zack said. "J&J is investigating the possible death of one of the nuttiest conspiracy freaks who ever fired up a website."
"More or less," Fallon said.
"You're the man who does the numbers. You never say more or less. What are the odds there's a real conspiracy involved here?"
"I don't know," Fallon admitted.
"You always know," Zack said.
"Not this time." He watched a big silver-gray SUV drive slowly down the narrow street. "There's the team."
The driver of the vehicle stopped and rolled down the window to speak to Raine and Isabella. Fallon watched Isabella point toward the small parking area behind the office. Then the two women entered the empty lower floor of the building.
There were footsteps on the stairs. The door opened. Isabella and Raine walked into the room preceded by the spicy aroma of the warm muffins. They brought something else into the office, as well, the subtle heat of their auras. Both women were powerful talents. Strong sensitives stirred the atmosphere in a space even when they were not running hot.
"Dr. Rafanelli and his team will be here in a few minutes," Isabella said. "We told them to get some coffee and muffins at the Sunshine first."
"Damn." Impatience flashed through Fallon. He glanced at his watch. "We don't have all day. We need to get started. It's going to take some time to make sure those gadgets are deactivated and properly stowed for safe transport."
"I'm sure the crew won't be long," Isabella said. She opened her sack and held it out to him. "Here, have a muffin. They're right out of the oven."
Distracted, he peered into the sack. "Okay, thanks."
He selected a muffin and downed half of it before he realized that Zack and Raine were watching him with scarcely veiled amusement.
"Something funny?" he asked, munching.
"No," Zack said quickly. He took a bite of the muffin that Raine had handed to him. "You said there's a lot of old para-energy in the bomb shelter. Anything else we ought to know about?"
Isabella tossed the empty muffin sack into the trash. "We should probably tell you about the body."
Raine looked at her and then at Fallon. "There's a body?"
"Old one," Fallon explained. "Just a skeleton. Belongs to the con artist who founded an intentional community here twenty-two years ago. The members of the community kicked him out when they realized that he'd taken all their money and was trying to set up his own private harem. He returned one night to try to steal the curiosities. He got one out, the clock."