The cops are calling it hit-and-run,” Zack said into the phone. “He was dead when I got to him. No ID. No one saw the car.”

“What about you?” Fallon asked.

“I didn’t see it, either.” He paced Raine’s serene living room, trying to work off some of the excess energy that was still pumping through him. Batman and Robin trotted at his heels, trying to figure out if this was a new game. “But it sounded like the same SUV that was waiting for him in the motel parking lot last night.”

“Are the police paying any attention to you and Raine?”

“Not at this stage. They read it as an attempted robbery gone bad. I told them I went to the restroom and then stepped outside to get some fresh air. The guy surprised me. Had a knife. He took off running when Raine came outside to see what was going on.”

“All true,” Fallon said.

He sounded satisfied. Everyone knew the Number One Rule. Stick to the truth as much as possible but don’t try to explain the Arcane Society and its problems with Nightshade to the authorities.

On the whole, it was a good rule, Zack thought. There was just no way a conversation about the Society and Nightshade would go well with a cop. See, Officer, I work for a psychic detective agency that’s on retainer to an organization devoted to paranormal research, and there’s this other crowd that stole a secret alchemical formula that can enhance a person’s psychic powers…

Yeah, right.

Once in a while the Arcane Society found itself in the pages of the tabloids right next to breaking news about new appearances by Elvis and innocent women getting impregnated by strange creatures from other planets. That was bad enough, as far as Fallon was concerned. He had no intention of compounding the problem by allowing J&J to become a joke among law enforcement agencies.

“The cops are, of course, very interested in the car that hit the robber,” Zack said.

“Even if they find it, I doubt it will lead them anywhere. Whoever took out Ski Mask will make sure of that. The way I see this, his handler inside Nightshade gave him one more chance to remove you from the equation. When he failed, they had a Plan B ready, just for him.”

“Any theories on what was going on with all that morphing?”

“Looks like he may have possessed two high-grade talents,” Fallon said. “But he couldn’t control them both.”

Raine walked in from the kitchen, carrying a bamboo tray that held a delicate pot and two fragile-looking cups. She had changed out of the sexy black dress into a white spa robe. Slippers had replaced the stiletto heels. Her hair was still up in a sultry twist but several silky tendrils had come loose during the excitement in the alley. They dangled around her ears and down the nape of her neck in an incredibly sexy way. Zack’s body, still abuzz with leftover adrenaline, reacted immediately.

“I thought the appearance of multiple high-level talents in any one individual was supposed to be impossible,” Zack said, unable to take his eyes off Raine. “The experts claim that one talent always becomes dominant.”

“Like everything else, there’s an exception to the rule,” Fallon growled. “The historical record indicates that there have been a few cases in which certain individuals displayed strong levels of more than one type of talent. But yes, the phenomenon is extremely rare. According to the experts, there is a logical explanation for why one talent is almost always dominant.”

“Something to do with overstimulation of the brain, right?”

“The brain is designed to process a vast amount of incoming data supplied by all the senses. It is also engineered to tune out unimportant or unnecessary information coming in from those senses. We call it the ability to focus. But if that ability is overridden, the brain can short-circuit, for want of a better term.”

“Information overload.”

“You yourself know that it’s hard enough to handle the stimuli provided by a level-ten psychic sensitivity,” Fallon said. “Takes a lot of willpower and self-control. Just imagine what it would be like to deal with two equally powerful talents.”

“The guy in the ski mask was definitely losing control. It was worse tonight than last night. He was blinking on and off like a bad neon sign.”

“I checked out every reference I could find,” Fallon said. “In each confirmed instance, and admittedly there were only a handful, the double-talents died at an early age. Probably nature’s way of ensuring that those folks don’t become super predators who, in turn, breed more super predators.”

“If you’re right, what are the odds that Nightshade came up with one of those extremely rare multitaskers who didn’t die young?”

“Slim to nothing,” Fallon said. “My gut tells me that Nightshade didn’t find a double-talent; they created one using some new variation of the formula.”

“Makes sense. But if they went to all that trouble to produce one, why destroy such an expensive tool?”

“Obviously because he proved unreliable,” Fallon said. “He went up against you twice and failed both times. Nightshade seems to be a very Darwinian organization. Only the strong and the successful survive and advance to the higher ranks.”

“Sure hope they don’t have a whole bunch of high-level double-talents lined up to fill that guy’s shoes.”

“Not likely.” Fallon sounded very certain. “Cost issues aside, the analysts assure me that, statistically speaking, there are very, very few people who possess the sort of parapsych profile that could be chemically stimulated to create a functioning double-talent.”

“Statistics wasn’t my favorite subject. Too many ways they can be manipulated.”

“Look on the bright side,” Fallon said, dourly cheerful. “You’re obviously making progress with the assignment. At least we now know that Lawrence Quinn is dead and that the double-talent you encountered tonight is probably the one who killed him.”

“We also know that Nightshade stole something from Quinn before taking him out. His computer, I think. The bartender at the club said he had one with him.”

“Probably contained his research notes or whatever information he intended to sell to Nightshade,” Fallon mused. “But something must have gone wrong. The folks who arranged to kill Quinn and steal the computer didn’t get whatever it was they expected to find so they’re back in Oriana. And Raine Tallentyre is the only lead we’ve got. Whatever you do, don’t let her out of your sight.”

Zack heard a click and realized he was holding a handful of dead air. He clipped the phone back on his belt, stopped pacing and looked at Raine. She was seated on the sofa, pouring tea with a sensual grace that made the breath catch heavily in his chest. Everything deep inside went tight and hard.

Get a grip, Jones. It’s just the aftermath. You’ve been here before and survived.

Raine set the pot down on the tray and looked at him with a shadowed expression. “What did Fallon have to say?”

He forced himself to concentrate and managed to give her a quick summary of Fallon’s comments.

The cats, having concluded that the pacing game was over, wandered over to the sofa and hopped up onto the cushions on either side of Raine.

Zack shoved his fingers through his hair, trying to concentrate. “One good thing. Fallon doesn’t think we need to be worried about another double-talent hanging around the vicinity of Oriana.”

Raine used both hands to raise the tiny cup to her lips. “What about the person who just murdered the one we did have?”

“Him, we probably should worry about.” He realized he was staring at her mouth. Focus, Jones. He started moving again, prowling the room. “But maybe not for a while.”

She paused before taking a sip of the herbal concoction. “Why do you say that?”

“Fallon may be right. Maybe Nightshade did remove their double-talent because he failed to get rid of me. But there’s another possibility. Maybe the real reason for the termination was that Ski Mask slipped out of control and became a problem.”

She pondered that briefly.

“You mean you don’t think he was ordered to make another attempt to kill you tonight? You believe he was acting on his own?”

“He was running very, very hot. It’s hard to explain but I sensed that he wanted to kill me for his own, personal reasons. He just didn’t have the kind of detachment that a pro is supposed to have. Fallon thinks they were giving him some variation of the formula. It may have affected his sanity.”

She shuddered. “From what you’ve said, the founder’s formula has a long history of driving users crazy.”

“Yes.”

“It’s hard to believe that my father was secretly working on something so dangerous.”

“Raine—”

She put the little cup down very carefully. “No wonder the Council expelled my family from the Society and sent J&J to burn down the lab.”

He crossed the room and halted in front of her on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“I thought I made it clear, the Council kicked your father out of the Society,” he said quietly. “It didn’t expel you or your aunt. Remember that.”

She shrugged. “Not like either of us had much choice after that night when J&J destroyed everything.”

“You didn’t have a choice because you were too young. But your aunt did. She’s the one who made the decision to raise you outside the Society and to deny you your heritage.”

“In her place, I would have done the same thing. She didn’t have a lot of reason to trust the Society or J&J.”

He moved around the end of the coffee table, reached down and wrapped his hands around her wrists. He pulled her up off the sofa.

“What about you?” he said.

“I have no reason to trust the Society or J&J, either. They’ve got their own agendas.”

“And you have yours.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t trust the Society and you don’t trust J&J,” he said. “What about me?”

She searched his face. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he said. He could hear the rough, gritty edges in his own voice but there was nothing he could do to soften them. “It matters.”

“I trust you,” she said. She looked as if the statement surprised her but she didn’t back away from it. “You have been honest with me since the start of this thing.”

He felt something deep inside him ease.

“Okay,” he said. He made himself release her wrists. “Okay, thanks.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He answered without even thinking about it.

“Even though you know I’ve got my own reasons for helping you find out what Nightshade is after?”

“I know where you’re coming from. Not like you’ve kept it a secret. You’ve been honest from the beginning.”

“So have you.” She sank back down onto the sofa. “I’ll pour you some of my special tea. We’ll play some cards.”

He did not want to sit down. He wanted to keep moving. Tea and solitaire weren’t going to cut it tonight. The images of Lawrence Quinn’s last seconds on earth were still too vivid, too intense. The attack by Ski Mask had compounded the usual problems of the aftermath.

It was going to be a bad night and he couldn’t risk dampening his senses with a couple of shots of scotch. Probably better not to even try to sleep.

Raine poured the brew into the small cup and handed it to him. “Here. Drink some of this.”

To please her, he downed half the contents of the cup in a single swallow. The slightly astringent, herbal flavors were not unpleasant but he didn’t think they were going to have any effect on the visions. There was only one thing that could distract him from the death scene and that was the one thing that was not available to him tonight.

Raine picked up the deck of cards and started to deal. He made a valiant effort to concentrate but he knew it was a waste of time. His brain insisted on jumping wildly from images of oncoming death to a raging need to affirm life in the most primitive way possible.

“I appreciate the effort but it’s not going to work.”

“It’s going to be one of those nights, isn’t it?” she asked. “One of the bad ones.”

“I’m used to it. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not feeling very sleepy, myself. Watching that man try to kill you left my nerves on edge, to put it mildly. And then, seeing his body in the street—”

His hand stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. “How did you know that the guy was coming after me?”

“I’m not sure. He passed very close behind the booth where I was sitting. I was just suddenly aware of him. And not in a good way. It was like looking over your shoulder and seeing a tiger waiting to pounce.”

He nodded. “That happens with hunters when they’re running hot. The energy they put out is predatory. Most people can sense it, even if they aren’t consciously aware of it. Another sensitive like yourself wouldn’t have any trouble at all picking up the vibes.”

“You’re sure that the visions you picked up tonight were connected to Lawrence Quinn’s death?” Raine asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“And you’re also sure that the killer was Ski Mask?”

“Can’t be absolutely certain, but it seems logical. The last thing Quinn saw was a face that his panic-stricken brain interpreted as a death’s head. Two black holes for eyes. I’m betting it was really a ski mask.”

“Fallon Jones still thinks I’m the key to this thing,” she said.

He drank a little more of the tea. “Unfortunately, I agree with him.”

“But it’s been a month since Aunt Vella died. No one has made any move to contact me.”

“Fallon thinks they’ve been sitting back, watching you.”

“Watching me do what?” she asked, bewildered.

“Let’s think about this,” he said. “What’s the main thing you’ve been doing in the past month?”

“You mean, aside from running my business?”

“Yes.”

“Settling my aunt’s estate. It’s amazing how much paperwork there is associated with death.”

“Right.”

“So?”

“So, it all comes back to Vella Tallentyre,” he said.