Page 34 of Sweetwater and the Witch

Initially she had wondered if he was planning to fire her because of the Illusion Town project disaster, but he had not taken any action to terminate her. That had been a relief, of course. She did not know all of Spooner’s secrets, but she knew some of them, more than enough to get her killed if he decided he no longer needed her.

It wasn’t only the increased tendency toward secrecy that alarmedher. For as long as she had known him, he had been a model of ice-cold control. He certainly had a temper but he wielded it like a stiletto. His temper was always,alwaysunder control.

Lately, however, she had witnessed him screaming at underlings. On at least one occasion he had hung up on an R and D manager and smashed an expensive vase against a wall.

An unpredictable Spooner was a dangerous Spooner.

She shot up out of the chair and worked to suppress the surge of rage and panic threatening to choke her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she prowled the living room of her apartment and summoned her mantra.

“You have a destiny. You have a destiny. You have a destiny.”

When she had herself back under control she returned to her desk and took out her other phone, the one she never used for anything except to advance her private project.

She was aware that Taggert Spooner spied on her, just as he monitored the handful of other people at Spooner Tech who had some knowledge of the company’s ultrasecret lab, code-named Vortex. She made sure to give him plenty to look at on her primary phone—an active search history, email, personal business, social media—enough to make him think he knew everything about her private life.

She was certain he was still unaware of the special project phone. She had set up a smorgasbord of traps and alarms. Spooner was very good when it came to sophisticated technology. He had, after all, launched his high-flying company with one of his own inventions. But when it came to navigating the rez-net, she was light-years ahead of him.

Her talent was not limited to locating and manipulating data—she had a talent for locating and manipulating people, as well. And in the end it always came down to people. The ability was an aspect of one of her three talents.

She was a true triple. Theoretically she should be dead or incarcerated in the locked ward of a para-psych hospital by now. Most triple talents did not survive long into adulthood. The few who did were invariably highly unstable.

The experts claimed the human brain was not capable of handling the heavy load of sensory input generated by multiple talents. It was para-psychology dogma, an assumption that had been made generations ago, back when it became obvious something in the environment on Harmony was releasing and enhancing the latent psychic senses in the colonists.

Most people could manage one talent, the experts said. A few strong individuals could handle two, but that was the upper limit. Even dual talents made others uneasy. The result was that those who commanded two psychic talents were careful to keep a low profile.

Triple talents like her—those who survived, at any rate—took even more precautions. In her case, no one but her mother had ever known about her three psychic abilities. Her mother was dead. Her father had been an indie quartz prospector who had spent his life chasing the dream of a big strike in the Underworld. He had vanished into the tunnels shortly after she was born, never to be seen again.

So, yes, most normal people born with multiple talents would have been dead or insane by now. But she was not normal. She was descended from Vincent Lee Vance, the powerful triple talent who, a hundred years earlier, had almost succeeded in conquering the Federation of City-States.

Like Vance, she was quartz-solid stable. She had inherited not only his powerful talents but his ability to control them.

Furthermore, she understood what Vance had failed to grasp. In the modern world there was no need to engage in an armed rebellion to establish an empire. Vance had taken that approach and failed spectacularly.

The secret of true power lay in controlling the technology and vital resources that enabled modern civilization to exist.

Taggert Spooner understood that, as well. He was the president and CEO of Spooner Tech, so, for the moment, he held power over her. But when the time came, she would be the one who took control of Vortex.

She had a destiny to fulfill. Spooner had a role to play in it. He just didn’t know that yet.

Chapter Seventeen

“So, any advice for me on how to improve my dating style?” Ethan asked.

Ravenna looked at him across the short expanse of the intimate, candlelit table. It was impossible to tell if he was joking or entirely serious.

She had spent the day in a state of restless tension. It had taken a supreme effort to focus on work. One moment she found herself fretting over all the things that could go wrong if Garrett Willis regained his memory. In the next she obsessed over what to wear for a date with a man who might have mob connections. And then there was the very real possibility the Illusion Town police would storm into the office at any moment and arrest her.

At the end of the day, when she realized she was not going to be handcuffed at work and dragged ignominiously out of the office, she had gone home and made the hard decisions about attire. Harriet had, as usual, supervised and offered commentary.

After trying on all five black dresses, she had gone with the snug little sheath sprinkled with a scattering of black crystals. She had added a tiny black evening bag on a long gold chain. Harriet had seemed quite excited when she selected a pair of obsidian-and-amber earrings and a matching bracelet to go with the outfit.

Ethan wore a steel-gray blazer over a black pullover and black trousers. Gentleman-assassin evening casual, probably.

He had chosen a chic, cozy establishment in the Dark Zone. As was usually the case in the DZ, it was easier to walk than drive through the twisty streets and try to find parking in the narrow lanes and alleys. He had met her at her front door on foot and they had strolled to the restaurant. Harriet had accompanied them for a few blocks, riding on Ethan’s shoulder, and then she’d nipped off to disappear into the softly glowing night.

The menu promisedA culinary experience featuring Old World classics interpreted through the lens of contemporary Harmonic sensibilities, whatever that meant. But the seafood stew, roasted vegetables, and crusty bread were excellent.

Ravenna had been surprised to find herself starting to relax during dinner. Ethan had asked her questions about the matchmaking business and how the talent worked. He had seemed genuinely interested in her answers. She, in turn, had asked him why he had struck out on his own instead of taking a position in the family business. He had explained the decision in a single, concise sentence:I love my brother, but I can’t work for him or anyone else.

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