Jayne Castle - Canyons of Night

She touched the side of his jaw with gentle fingertips. “You would have because you would have told yourself that it was the best thing for me. And then I would have had to chase after you, which would have been very embarrassing.”

“But you would have come after me?”

“In a heartbeat,” she said. “I love you. I knew that we were meant for each other the day I watched you walk off the ferry. Actually, I knew it fifteen years ago but I told myself that it was just a teenage crush. Now I know better. It was the real thing.”

A strange, heady sensation unfurled inside him. It took him a heartbeat to recognize it because he had kept it locked away in the deepest part of his being for so long. But now that he could set it free he could give it a name. Joy.

“You were always there in the back of my mind,” he said. “That was why I kept the pocketknife that you gave me the morning I left town. It’s the only thing I’ve ever hung on to in my life. And now I’m going to hang on to you. I’ll never let go.”

“And I’ll never let go of you,” she vowed.

He drew her close and kissed her. The warm, bright, abiding energy of love shimmered in the atmosphere around them.

RANDOLPH SEBASTIAN TOOK THE PHONE CALL HE HAD been dreading ever since he had taken the helm of Sebastian, Inc., and been entrusted with the family secrets.

“This is Sebastian,” he said.

“Slade Attridge. I’m the new chief of police here on the island.”

Randolph tightened his grip on the phone. A chill of intuition went through him. He could tell from Attridge’s cold, controlled voice that the new police chief was a man to be reckoned with and, quite possibly, a problem.

“My assistant advised me of your identity when she put through the call,” Randolph said. “What can I do for you, Chief Attridge?”

“According to the notes left by one of my predecessors, your family controls the Rainshadow Preserve Foundation.”

“That’s correct.”

“Something is going on inside the Preserve,” Slade said. “I need to know what is happening in there.”

Alarm flashed through Randolph. After all these years the secrets of the Preserve were stirring.

“Has a section of the fence failed?” he asked. But he knew even as he asked that he was grasping at straws. “I can send out a repair crew.”

“The fence is holding, at least as far as I know.”

“I don’t understand. Has someone gotten through it? That fence was made more secure by our security people five years ago after a couple of trespassers managed to get inside. Has there been another intrusion? Do you need a search-and-rescue team?”

“No, I need answers. What does that fence protect?”

Randolph tightened his grip on the phone. He got to his feet and walked to the window of his office. He stood looking out over the city of Cadence. The headquarters of Amber Sea Trading was a modern business tower located on the outskirts of the city’s old Colonial-Era Quarter. Randolph had an excellent view of the ancient alien ruins in the heart of the city. The green quartz walls and ethereal towers sparkled in the sunlight as if they had been made of emeralds. At night the Dead City glowed with green psi, giving off enough light to illuminate the streets of the Quarter.

The time had come to make a decision, Randolph thought. He had to go with his intuition.

“The short answer to your question, Chief, is that I don’t know what the fence is guarding,” he said.

“That’s not good enough. I’ve got a town to protect.”

“I assure you, the people of Shadow Bay are safe as long as they refrain from trespassing inside the Preserve,” Randolph said. “But it is imperative that no one goes through the fence.”

“You know as well as I do that a No Trespassing sign is an irresistible attraction for some people.”

“The fence is virtually impenetrable.”

“No,” Slade said. “It’s not. Earlier this week I had to go in and pull out a couple of teenagers.”

“What?” A terrible sensation swept through Randolph. It took him a second to recognize it as a flash of panic. “Two kids got in? You went in? You were able to find them? I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Slade said. “I need to know what I’m up against here. If this requires the evacuation of the island I’m going to have to contact the authorities. And I’m going to need some real good reasons to give them.”

“I can’t give you any reasons,” Randolph said, “because I don’t know what is going on inside the Preserve. All I can tell you is that everyone is safe so long as they stay out.” I hope, he added silently.

“I want answers.”

“I will send the head of Sebastian Security to investigate and assess the situation immediately. He’ll be on the island tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting for him.”

The phone went dead in Randolph’s hand. He stood at the window a moment longer, composing himself and trying to clarify his thoughts. After a time he rezzed a number into the phone. His grandson answered at once.

“What’s wrong?” Harry Sebastian asked without preamble.

“Something’s come up on Rainshadow. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. How soon can you be in my office?”

“Five minutes.”

Randolph put the phone down. He had doubled the family fortune in the thirty years he had been in command of the company. That had been the easy part. The hardest part about running Sebastian, Inc., was managing the complicated dynamics of the sprawling Sebastian family. His strong intuitive talent made him a force of nature in the business world but it was not nearly so useful when it came to dealing with his willful, stubborn, intelligent, and highly talented relatives. His two grandsons were the most maddening of all. Probably because they had turned out a lot like him, he thought.

Four minutes later the door opened. Harry walked into the room. He had been named for his pirate ancestor and with his black hair, ascetic features, and cold, green eyes, he was the living image of the man in the portrait that hung on the wall of the office. But it was only much later when his unusual talent had appeared that everyone in the family realized he resembled the original Harry in more than just looks.

“We have a problem on Rainshadow?” Harry asked.

“If even a fraction of the legends concerning the secrets our ancestor buried there are true,” Randolph said, “we have a very big problem on the island.”

ON FRIDAY EVENING, CHARLOTTE STOOD WITH RACHEL on the outdoor deck of the Shorebird Restaurant, glasses of lemonade in their hands. Together they contemplated the crowd. Slade was in the center of the group, a large knife in one hand. There was a vast sheet cake covered in chocolate and lemon-colored icing on the table in front of him. The words on the cake read Happy Birthday, Chief.

“You know, I think he actually was surprised when he walked in a few minutes ago,” Rachel said.

Charlotte laughed. “Stunned speechless is more like it. Who’d have thought that you could pull off a real surprise party for a former Bureau agent who also happens to be Arcane?”

Devin and Nate were in front of the table, euphoric over the success of the party they had planned. Myrna and Kirk Willis stood nearby. Both had wide grins on their faces. All of the shopkeepers on Waterfront Street, including Fletcher Kane and Jasper Gilbert, as well as most of the permanent residents of the island had turned out. Rex was perched on the railing with his clutch. His attention was riveted on the cake.

“Being an FBPI agent doesn’t mean you can see a surprise party coming,” Rachel said. “And a man who hasn’t done a lot of celebrating in his life wouldn’t have any reason to expect a couple of kids to organize a whole town for a birthday party.”

“No, probably not,” Charlotte said.

Rachel smiled. “Something tells me that Slade has a lot to celebrate now, though.”

Slade caught Charlotte’s eye across the crowded space and winked. He put the large cake knife aside.

“This is a very special cake,” he announced. “Myrna tells me that I get the first slice so that slice will be cut with a very special knife.”

He reached into his pocket and took out the Takashima pocketknife. Charlotte felt tears gather in her eyes.

“Hang on,” Myrna yelped. “You can’t cut my beautiful cake with a dirty knife.” She whipped a packet out of her purse, tore it open, and produced a sterilizing wipe.

Slade obediently wiped the gleaming blade and then he cut a neat square of the cake and slid it onto a paper plate.

Myrna bustled around to take his place behind the cake. “I’ll cut the rest of the pieces, Chief. Rex gets the next slice.”

Rachel looked at Charlotte. “Has anyone told Rex that the glory days of endless zucchini bread are over?”

“We’re hoping he’ll move on,” Charlotte said. “Dust bunnies are very adaptable. They know how to rez with the frequency, unlike some of us.”

Myrna used the large cake knife to cut off a big square of chocolate and lemon cake for Rex. She put the cake on a paper plate and set it on the railing. Rex chortled gleefully and set about polishing off the treat with as much enthusiasm as he had previously reserved for Thelma Duncan’s zucchini bread.

“Were you really surprised by the party, Chief?” Devin demanded for the fifth or sixth time.

Slade smiled at him. “I was really surprised, trust me.”

The crowd laughed.

“We made everyone promise to keep it a secret,” Nate explained.