Page 6 of It takes a Psychic

She started toward the steps but hesitated when she felt his hand onher elbow. For a chaotic few seconds she wondered if he was planning to make both of them invisible again.

“What are you—?” she began.

But Oliver did not rez his talent. Instead, he escorted her to the bottom step, released her, and stepped back. When she made it to the stage she glanced back. He had not exactly vanished into the crowd, but those around him were ignoring him. He really was the perfect thief, she thought. You would never see him coming.

Once again she had to remind herself that she was a trained para-archaeologist, dedicated to the preservation and study of important artifacts. People in her profession did not admire antiquities thieves. On the contrary, they helped the authorities catch them whenever possible.

There was no more time to contemplate her mixed feelings about Oliver Rancourt, because Tripp was greeting her and signaling to the stage crew.

“The curtain, please,” he ordered with a dramatic gesture.

The heavy amber drapes slid aside, revealing five transparent display stands. An object draped in black cloth was positioned on top of each of the stands.

“Uncover Submission Number One,” Tripp commanded.

Two people—members of the Society’s staff, judging by their formal attire and white gloves—stepped forward to raise the first black cloth. A large, round, elaborately faceted gray crystal was revealed.

“If you please, Dr. Griffin?” Tripp urged.

She stepped forward, kicked up her senses a little, and confirmed what she had already concluded with an initial visual exam.

“A fine example of crystal unique to the Ghost City ruins,” she said, automatically sliding into her authoritative academic voice. “Alien tuning. There is definitely power locked inside. Purpose unknown.”

She did not add that Hollister’s museum had a dozen similar objectssecurely stored in the basement vault—which was where this one should be. True, objects of power that had been engineered by the Aliens were notoriously difficult for humans to activate. That was a good thing, because such artifacts were inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Still. They should be in safekeeping. There were laws.

But everyone knew the laws were routinely flouted and ignored by collectors. Artifacts judged to contain any degree of energy were sought after on both the legitimate and the black markets.

“Thank you, Dr. Griffin,” Tripp said. “Candidate Number One is hereby accepted into the Society.”

More applause.

The drapery was removed from the next pedestal, revealing a brilliant quartz mirror. In spite of her desire to finish her job and leave, she could not resist a smile of appreciation.

“Very nice,” she said. “Definitely of Alien origin. There is some power inside. As usual, purpose unknown.”

“Candidate Number Two is hereby accepted into the Society,” Tripp declared.

There was another wave of polite applause.

The drape was removed from the third pedestal. Leona took one look at the very charming blue amber necklace and winced.

“A pretty piece,” she said. “But it is, to put it politely, a reproduction.”

“A fake,” Tripp stated.

“I’m afraid so.”

Tripp looked pleased. “Your opinion confirms that of our in-house experts, Dr. Griffin.”

This time there was a roar of laughter from the audience. She sighed. Obviously the fake relic had been inserted into the lineup as a test to see if she knew what she was doing. If she hadn’t already been pissed off because of the captive dust bunnies, the disrespect would have triggered hertemper. She reminded herself that her job was to finish the authentication process and go home—in a limo that had been paid for by the Society. Maybe she would dismiss the ride and accept Oliver’s offer.

She dealt with the fourth submission—a decent example of dreamstone sculpture—and moved to the last pedestal.

She sensed the vibe before the drapery was removed. There was only a thin trickle of energy, but when she rezzed her talent, the frissons struck her senses like small shocks of lightning.

Whatever was under the drape was Old World in origin, not Alien. It was also powerful.

As badly as she wanted to leave, she knew she could not have walked away from object number five without satisfying her professional curiosity. She had to know what was under the drape.

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