Page 74 of It takes a Psychic

“I’m a simple man. I like simple plans. I told you, I’m not one of the jugglers.”

“You are not a simple man, but we can argue about that later. Let’s do this. I don’t like being watched.”

He opened the door of the studio and led the way out onto the sidewalk. They walked quickly back toward the inn. The fog was heavier now. He heard footsteps behind them. The watcher was trying to close the distance.

When they reached the narrow alley between the general store and an amber tuning shop, he stepped into the dense shadows, stopped, and waited.

Leona kept walking, Roxy tucked under one arm. The footsteps of the person following her drew closer. A dark silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alley.

Oliver spoke from the darkness. “Looking for someone?”

The figure gave a violent start and swung around.

“I just want to talk to her. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

A man, Oliver realized. Late forties. His long hair was tied back with a narrow strip of leather. The khaki trousers, well-worn boots, and scarred leather jacket marked him as ex-Guild. There was a set of headphones draped around his neck.

Oliver moved closer so that he was no longer concealed in the alley. “Why do you want to talk to my consultant?”

Before the watcher could respond, quick, light footsteps announced the return of Leona. She appeared out of the fog, still clutching Roxy, who was, Oliver noted, fully fluffed and unconcerned. The dust bunny did not detect an immediate threat.

“Who are you?” Leona asked.

She spoke in a calm, polite voice, as if she were accustomed to strangers following her in a fog-bound night. Some of the watcher’s tension dissipated.

“Starkey,” he said. He cast a wary glance at Oliver and then turned back to Leona, very earnest now. “Dwight Starkey. I wasn’t going to hurt you, Ms. Griffin, but I need to know if what folks are saying is true. Are you the bride?”

“No,” Leona said. “There is no bride, just a dumb legend.”

“They’re saying you brought the key. That you’re here to open the enhancement machine and awaken Vance.”

“Do you really believe Vance is going to make a comeback tour?” Oliver asked.

“Didn’t used to.” Starkey grunted. “Figured it was just a local legend for the tourists. But after Vance started talking to people here in town, making promises…Well, I started to wonder.”

“Vance talks to people?” Oliver asked.

His voice must have had an edge, because Starkey flinched.

“He contacts his followers telepathically from the enhancement machine,” Starkey said. “At least, that’s what everyone around here thinks is going on. Personally, I don’t buy that story.”

“Are you one of his followers?” Leona asked gently.

“Shit, no.” Starkey took a deep breath and seemed to stand a little straighter. “I’m fourth-generation Guild. My great-grandfather fought Vance’s rebels at the Last Battle of Cadence. My granddad and my dad were members of the Cadence Guild. I joined when I was eighteen. I’d still be working in the Underworld if I hadn’t gotten burned real bad by an artifact. Moved here a couple of years ago. I’m an artist now.”

Leona brightened. “Are you, by any chance, the artist who signs his work Stark? The one who did that amber and metal specter-cat on display in the lobby at the inn?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Starkey said.

“I love the piece,” Leona said. “I’m going to buy it before I leave.”

“Thanks,” Starkey said. “Good amber in that cat. Tuned.”

“I know nav amber when I see it,” Leona said. “My work takes me into the Underworld, too.”

Oliver cut in before the conversation could meander any further. “You’re the one who was watching our windows in the fog last night, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Just trying to figure out what in green hell is going on. I’ve got this feeling that the whole damn town is in danger. Most folks around here seem to be in some kind of trance.”

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