Fired Up

agreed. “Look, Fletcher, I’m in a hurry. Got a plane to catch.”
    “So now you’re taking off on vacation?”
    “No. It’s business.”
    “If you’re going to leave town I don’t see why I can’t stay here for a couple of nights. It’s the least you can do under the circumstances.”
    “No, Fletcher. I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
    No man stayed overnight in her private space. Not even when she was not around. Dream energy stuck to sheets and bedding like darkness on night. You couldn’t wash out that kind of psi. If she allowed Fletcher to sleep in her bed she would have to buy a new mattress, a new set of sheets, a new mattress pad, new pillows and probably a new comforter as well. She could handle strange beds for a few nights if she took the proper precautions, but when it came to her own bed, she liked things pristine.
    “What is it with you?” he grumbled. “I thought we were friends.”
    Before she could answer she heard the muffled sound of the first-floor lobby door opening and closing. A tingle of awareness whispered through her, stirring things deep inside. She did not have to go out onto the landing to see who was coming up the stairs. Hector went past her to greet Jack.
    “Sorry, Fletcher,” she said. “My client is here. I have to go now.”
    “What client?” Fletcher turned to look back down the stairs.
    “The one who helped me save your life,” she said.
    Jack arrived on the third- floor landing. He looked at Fletcher with the same lack of interest that Hector displayed.
    “Jack Winters,” he said.
    “Fletcher Monroe.” Fletcher frowned. “You’re the guy who was at my house last night?”
    “Right.”
    “Why the hell did you save Madeline Gibson?”
    Jack looked at Chloe.
    She shrugged. “I told you, clients are never satisfied.”

16
    VICTORIA KNIGHT PICKED UP HER DEEPLY ENCRYPTED PHONE and punched in a number. There were several rings before her new associate answered.
    “What is it?” Humphrey Hulsey whispered. “Do you have some news?”
    “The initial experiment is definitely a success. It’s been over a week now and Winters is alive. He’s showing no indications of insanity or deterioration.”
    “Then your first theory is correct.” Hulsey was exultant.
    “Looks like it.” She kept her voice cool, refusing to let her own elation show.
    “That settles it. You must find the lamp and a dream talent who can work it as soon as possible so that we can move forward.”
    “As it happens, we’ve caught a very lucky break.”
    “What do you mean?” Hulsey said.
    “Winters himself is now searching for the lamp,” she said. “In fact, it appears that he has dropped everything else, including his business, to go after it. There’s only one reason he would suddenly decide to make such an effort.”
    “His second talent is emerging.”
    “It seems that my grandfather was also right about age being a genetic trigger. Jack Winters turned thirty-six a couple of months ago. He is now the same age Griffin Winters was when his second talent emerged.”
    “Interesting. It makes sense that the genetic change is tied to chronological age. You said Jack Winters is searching for the lamp?”
    “He’s hired a dreamlight reader to help him find it. Evidently he believes the legends, too.”
    “Where did he find a high-level dreamlight reader?” Hulsey asked. “It’s not a common talent.”
    “He hired a low-rent private eye who just happens to have that particular ability. Looks like they’ve had some success already.”
    “How do you know?” Hulsey demanded.
    “They boarded a flight to Las Vegas about twenty minutes ago. I doubt very much that they’re going there to gamble.”
    “Do you think it’s possible that they’ve actually found the lamp already?”
    “We’ll know soon enough. I’ve got two people watching them.”
    The upper echelons of Nightshade were in hushed but seething turmoil at the moment. That was a good thing. Nothing like a temporary power vacuum at the top of an organization to provide cover for a little maneuvering farther down the chain of command.
    It had taken the members of the Inner Circle of Nightshade—known officially as the Board of Directors—some time to become convinced that the founder and Master was no longer alive. William Craigmore was a legend, a dangerous one, and such men did not die easily. But the board had finally concluded that he was dead. There was some question as to the cause of death.