ever used in the past. She was suddenly on fire with power. It roared through her, filling the room.
The nexus energy, she thought. I’m drawing on some of the natural power in the vicinity.
“Run,” she whispered. “Straight ahead.”
Sylvia went absolutely still for an instant. The gun fell from her hand. Once again invisible lightning crackled in the atmosphere. Fallon had a fix.
“No,” Isabella repeated.
Sylvia launched herself through the door and fled into the pounding rain.
The dogs were closer now, barking furiously.
Somewhere out in the storm a thin, high scream rose above the roaring wind and waves. It ended abruptly a few seconds later.
The dogs stopped barking.
Fallon pulled Isabella into his arms and held her as if he would never let her go.
A moment later Poppy and Clyde and the rest of the dogs rushed through the door of the cabin. They were delirious at the sight of Isabella. Henry and Vera and several other familiar faces raced up onto the porch and came through the door.
“Everybody okay here?” Henry asked.
Isabella raised her head from Fallon’s shoulder and looked at her friends and neighbors.
“Yes,” she said. “Everything is okay now.”
35
Isabella and Fallon sat in the front of the black SUV. Walker rocked gently in the rear seat. They watched the sheriff and two deputies load Sylvia Tremont’s body into a van.
In her mad flight from the cabin, Sylvia Tremont had fallen from the top of the bluffs onto the rocks below, breaking her neck.
“You knew she would run off the top of the bluffs,” Fallon said quietly. It was not a question. “That’s why you told me not to stop her.”
“Yes.” Isabella shivered. The full shock of what she had done was hitting her now. “I knew that would take her to the top of the bluffs.”
Fallon took his right hand off the steering wheel and gripped her left hand very tightly.
“First time you’ve ever used your talent like that,” he said. Again, it was not a question.
“I told you, I’ve encountered my share of dead bodies.”
“But you were never the one who made them dead.”
“No,” she agreed.
“You didn’t want me to do it,” he said.
“No.”
“Because you thought I’d have a problem with killing a woman?”
“No.” Isabella shivered. “Because it was my responsibility. I’m the one who brought her down on us. If I hadn’t insisted on taking the Zander house case—”
“She would have found another way to get J&J involved in digging up the cache of curiosities,” Fallon said. “The artifacts were highly volatile, unpredictable time bombs just waiting to go off. She needed us to get into the shelter, stabilize the objects and ship them safely back to the lab. Once they were well secured in L.A., she would have been able to arrange to steal them and let Rafanelli take the blame for the theft.”
“Think so?”
“I know so,” Fallon said. “Sylvia Tremont was a very determined woman. She killed Sloan in cold blood, and she was prepared to kill you and Walker, as well.”
“Yes,” Isabella said. “You’re right.”
“Should have let me handle it.”
“No,” Isabella said. Time to change the subject, she thought. “Any sign of the bodyguard?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s probably still walking,” Isabella said. “I told him to get lost. He’ll do just that.”
“Alien drugs,” Walker muttered. “Poison.”
Fallon glanced at Walker in the rearview mirror. “What drugs?”
“I told you, a-alien drugs,” Walker said urgently.
Isabella looked at Fallon. “The bodyguard looked like a steroid freak. Walker thinks Vogel was using drugs.”
“I knew it.” Fallon tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Nightshade.”
36
They sat side by side on the lumpy sofa, feet propped on the small coffee table, and drank some whiskey together.
“We’re decompressing again,” Fallon said.
“Yes.”
“Twice in one week.”
Isabella studied the contents of her glass. “It has been a very complicated week.”
“It has,” Fallon said.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that one of the remaining Nightshade circles decided to try to acquire some para-weapons. When they got into that market they encountered the broker, Orville Stone.”
“Who, in turn, led them to Sylvia Tremont,” Isabella said, “who was busily selling off para-weapons from the Arcane museum basement. It must have been obvious that if she was already willing to risk stealing from Arcane, she was ripe for recruitment. Someone in Nightshade made her an offer.”
Fallon turned the glass between his palms. “Tremont was thrilled because her new business associate promised her a lab of her own and unlimited funding for her experiments in glass psi.”
“Yep.”
“Operating a state-of-the-art lab costs money. Sounds like at least one of the Nightshade circles is still going