Eye of the Beholder

around."
    "Interestingly enough," Foster said, slipping into his pedantic mode, "that adage is based on ancient karmic doctrine which holds that all actions have consequences, not only in the material world but in the personal and metaphysical realms as well."
    Trask did not take his gaze off Alexa. "Translated, that probably means that no good deed goes unpunished."
    "I'll keep that in mind the next time I see you standing on the wrong side of the guard rail," Alexa said. "How long do you plan to be in town, Trask?"
    "As long as it takes."
    Alexa could have sworn that she felt a chill wind blow across the cafe terrace. But the scalloped edge of the green awning did not so much as flutter.
    He was playing games, she thought. Why? Were the rumors right after all? Had he returned to Avalon on a mission of vengeance?
    Trask sampled his coffee. The hard line of his mouth curved in rueful dismay. "The quest goes on."
    Alexa tensed. "What quest?"
    "I've been looking for a decent cup of coffee ever since I arrived in town. So far no luck."
    Foster laughed. "I've heard that people from Seattle have an obsession with coffee."
    Alexa raised her brows. "If you want coffee, Trask, you came to the wrong place. Cafe Solstice is known for its tea. The owner blends it himself."
    "Looks like I've got a problem," Trask said.
    "Could be." Alexa had had enough. She scooped up the festival binder and rose to her feet. "You just said you don't put much stock in metaphysics, Trask, but maybe the fact that both our scenery and our tea leaves you cold is a sign that you won't be staying too long in Avalon."
    "Depends."
    "On what?" she snapped.
    "On whether I find something else besides the scenery and the tea here. Something that won't leave me cold."

7

    The Guardian drank the last of the herbal tea and watched the rays of the setting sun paint the canyons and spires of Avalon in shades of rust and blood.
    Night descended. After a while, the outlines of reality shifted, altered, and took on new dimensions.
    Here in this realm of enhanced consciousness the power and direction of the energy vortices were clear and easy to analyze if one was gifted, as the Guardian was, with the ability to see the deeper truths.
    The vortices were in flux, as expected. Trask's arrival, after all, had been anticipated for months. The harmonic balance of powers in the region had shifted violently. The negative energy fields were surging to the surface.
    It was a dangerous state of affairs, this imbalance in the vortices. But the Guardian reveled in it, drew power from it.
    The Guardian went deeper into the trance, found the place where the most volatile energy pulsed and seethed.
    After a while, when the time was right, the Guardian surrendered to the swirling forces with a shuddering cry of raw, sexual release that reverberated endlessly against the cavern walls.
    The climax was a real mind-blower. But then, it had been twelve years since the last really good one.

8

    She kept her promise to Edward. She wore black to the opening night gala at the resort, and as soon as she was inside the lobby, she made every effort to fade into the woodwork.
    Alexa drifted, ghostlike, along the fringes of the crowd and listened to the scraps of conversation around her. She was careful to keep a watchful eye on Trask, making certain that they were separated by a sea of people or a jungle of potted palms.
    There were several familiar faces in the throng. She exchanged nods with some friends of Vivien's and Lloyd's and smiled at a couple of Elegant Relic customers. Although all the local VIPs were present, including the mayor and her husband, many of those in attendance were from out of town. In addition to the architect, design, and construction teams that had worked on the resort project, there were representatives of various sectors of the tour industry.
    Travel writers from the Tucson and Phoenix papers were among the invitees, and the reporter from Twentieth-Century Artifact had arrived.
    The sheer numbers present made it easy to remain unobtrusive. Alexa told herself that all she had to worry about was staying out of Trask's path.
    It was not difficult to know where he was in the room at any given moment. Some sixth sense warned her whenever the natural ebb and flow of the crowd brought him too close.
    The odds of accidentally stumbling into him were minimal, she thought. Even if she had been trying to get close, she would have had to work at it. As the host for the