Another unstable client.
Sierra stifled a groan. Just what I do not need.
But a professional go-between had to overlook the minor inconveniences. She had already come to the conclusion that the vast majority of people connected to the underground market were weird in one way or another. Some were obsessive. Most were secretive and reclusive. A few were violent. And then there were the flat-out crazies. Figuring out how to handle the odd clients who came her way was a job requirement.
Still, she had never seen an aura quite like North Chastain’s.
She eased the SUV to the curb and brought it to a halt. It was almost ten o’clock and the streets in the old warehouse district were mostly empty of traffic. Over the last several hours they had exhausted the rumor mill. No luck.
She pretended to adjust the big rearview mirror while she heightened her senses so that she could study the reflection of North’s aura. There was plenty of power in it but there was something very disturbing going on as well. She already knew he was suffering from sleep deprivation, a factor that played havoc with even the strongest auras. But there was another, more alarming instability in the currents. It was obvious he was fighting the dissonance waves, but sooner or later he was going to lose the battle.
Not my problem, she reminded herself. I’m just the go-between.
She contemplated the boarded-up brick building looming in the shadows. A construction fence surrounded the three-story structure. Signs announced that the location would soon feature a new mixed-use office tower, but there was no indication the developer had begun the demolition phase.
“According to Matt’s message there’s an opening in the fence,” she said. “He’ll meet us inside the building.”
North studied the darkened structure through the windshield. “Out of curiosity, how often do you do late-night meetings like this?”
“Most of my work is done at night. This isn’t late. It’s only just ten.”
“Does it strike you that you’re in a high-risk business?”
“You’re a badass Foundation cleaner,” she said. “Talk about high risk. Ready to do this?”
“Ready.” North reached inside his jacket and took out a gun.
Startled, Sierra turned quickly in the seat. “Hey, hey, you won’t be needing that. Matt is a colleague. I trust him.”
“Good to know.”
But North did not holster the gun. He opened his door and got out. With a small sigh, Sierra opened her own door, jumped down to the pavement and joined him on the curb.
They found the place where the wire fence had been cut and slipped cautiously into the construction site. There was enough light from the streetlamps to guide them to what had once been a service door at the side of the building.
“None of my business,” Sierra said, “but don’t you find those dark glasses a bit of a nuisance at night?”
“You have no idea.”
The grim emotion in the words sent a chill across Sierra’s senses. Note to self: don’t mention the sunglasses again. They were clearly not a fashion statement.
Matt Harper had said that the sheet of plywood covering the old doorway opening was loose. He was right.
“I’ll go first,” North said.
“I’ll take the lead here,” Sierra said. “Matt will get nervous if he sees you with a gun.”
“You told him you would have company.”
“I didn’t tell him the company would be armed. At least let me alert him that we’re here and that you’re going in first.”
“All right.”
North eased the plywood aside. Sierra peered around the edge of the opening and saw a faint light emanating from a doorway in the middle of a long hall. It looked like the glow of a flashlight or a camp lantern.
“Matt?” she called. “It’s Sierra. I’ve got the man from the Foundation with me. He’s got a gun but it’s just a precaution. Nothing to worry about.”
There was no response.
North edged her aside.
“Stay here,” he ordered in a tone that indicated he expected to be obeyed.
The problem with clients was that they often got the idea that they were the ones in charge.
He moved past her into the dark hallway. She watched him glide down the corridor. He stopped just before he reached the illuminated doorway.
“Harper?” he said quietly.
Again there was no response. Sierra watched North disappear into the room.
He reappeared a moment later. “There’s a man down in here. Alive but unconscious. I assume it’s Harper but you’re the only one who can identify him.”
“Matt.” Sierra rushed forward.
North stepped aside when she arrived at the illuminated doorway. She looked around at what had once been a studio apartment and saw Matt sprawled on the floor. The flashlight he had evidently brought with him had fallen next to his outflung hand. The beam was aimed at the doorway.
She crouched beside him, stripped off her gloves, braced herself and put her fingertips to the side of his throat. She got a small jolt but she also found a reassuring beat.
“His pulse is strong,” she said. “There’s no sign of physical injury but he’s definitely unconscious. I’ll call nine-one-one.”
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out her phone.
“Looks like whoever attacked him is long gone,” North said from the doorway. He glanced back at Harper. An eerie stillness came over him. “I think he was trying to run.”
Sierra was about to make the call to the emergency operator. “What?”
“Judging by the way he’s lying on the floor and the position of the flashlight, it looks like he was trying to get out of here in a hurry.”
“He was probably trying to get away from whoever attacked him,” Sierra said.
“Yes.” North left the doorway and crossed the room to pick up the flashlight. “There’s some weird energy in here. Feel it?”
“Yes,” she said. She looked around. “It has the vibe of an artifact. But I don’t see anything.”
North switched off the flashlight. With the space plunged into total darkness, Sierra became aware of a faint glow seeping out between the cracks of a cupboard door. The eerie ultraviolet radiance was clearly paranormal in nature.
“It’s in there,” she said quietly, and put her gloves back on.
North crossed the space and opened the cupboard door. A small, square, steel container about the size of a jewelry box sat on the top shelf. The lid was open. The strange light originated from the interior.
North reached up for the device.
“No,” Sierra said. “Let me handle it. I’m the expert, remember?”
She went to the cupboard, stood on tiptoe and stretched to pick up the artifact.
The instant her gloved fingers closed around it, she knew she had made a mistake.
She leaped back and spun around. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“Yeah, I got that impression.”
“We can’t leave Matt,” Sierra said.
“I’ll handle him. Here, take the flashlight.”
He tossed it to her, holstered his gun, slung Matt over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and followed her toward the doorway.
Behind them paranormal light sparked and then blazed from the box, flooding the old apartment in a senses-dazzling glare.
Halfway to the door an icy tsunami of energy swept over Sierra. The shock to her senses threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t breathe. She could no longer move. A terrifying darkness closed in on her. She realized she was about to pass out. Frantically she struggled to rally her talent.
North was beside her now. He ripped off his sunglasses. He had Matt draped over his shoulders but he reached out with one hand to grab Sierra’s arm. Another kind of shock zapped through her, a fortifying rush of heat and power.
Suddenly she could breathe again. The waves of dazzling light crashing through the small space receded. Not because of anything she was doing to hold back the tide, she realized. Some other force was at work.
North. She realized he was using his own aura to shield Matt and her from the violent energy released by whatever was inside the steel box.
“Let’s go,” North said.
He hauled her toward the doorway. They made it out into the hall. There was now a solid wall between them and the exploding waves of light. It absorbed a significant amount of the energy. Sierra recovered her senses.
“I’m okay,” she said.
North released her arm. In the seconds it took for him to slap on his glasses she caught a glimpse of his eyes. She could not make out the color but she had no trouble perceiving the heat of paranormal energy. Whatever else he might be, North was a very strong talent.
Together they raced down the corridor and out through the service door. When they reached the jagged tear in the construction fence, Sierra pulled aside the raw wire edges so that North could get through with Matt.
She followed and then stopped and turned to survey the boarded-up building.
“I think the energy is fading,” she said.
North lowered Matt to the sidewalk and looked at the apartment house.
“You’re right,” he said.
There was some paranormal light emanating from between the cracks in the plywood-covered windows but the glow was rapidly weakening. Within a minute or two it was no longer visible.
“What in the world just happened?” Sierra whispered.
“I think we encountered the first working example of a paranormal weapon,” North said. “Some sort of grenade that exploded with currents of dark light.”
“Energy from the dark end of the spectrum? But you were able to control it, at least long enough for us to get clear of the explosion zone.”
“I used to have a talent for manipulating that kind of energy.” North rubbed his temples. “Luckily I still have a little left.”
“A little? Looked like a lot to me.”
“Not for long. Never mind. There’s another reason I was able to handle that light grenade.”
“What?”
“I recognized the paranormal signature,” North said. “Pretty sure my grandfather built it.”
“Your grandfather?”
“Long story. No time for it now. Stay here with Harper. Call nine-one-one.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back inside that building. I need to get that light grenade.”
“Are you crazy?” Sierra said. “You just said you think it’s some kind of explosive device.”
“It is but it’s no longer active, at least not right now. If I’m right, it will have to be recharged before it can be activated again.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The light in that box was coming from the dark end of the spectrum,” North said. “I told you, that’s my area of expertise.”
“Yes, but you can’t be an expert on paranormal weapons. You just said that box is the first working version of one that you’ve come across.”
“The weapon is unique,” North admitted. “But I was able to resonate with it. I can handle it. Look, I know you’ve got a lot of questions. I can answer some of them, but now is not a good time. We need that box.”
Sierra groaned. Unstable clients. Hazard of the business.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Go get the box.”