Running Hot

resonance and raw power.
    “You must bring her to me,” she sang.
    Newlin’s dark brows crinkled together over the rims of his glasses. For an instant his own considerable intelligence rose to the surface.
    “Wouldn’t it be simpler if you just called her at her hotel in the morning?” he said plaintively. “I’m sure Miss Renquist would probably be thrilled at the chance to meet you in person.”
    She was suddenly and completely Verdi’s Lady Macbeth, faced with the maddening challenge of trying to urge her lover to overcome his foolish scruples. She launched into the sleepwalking aria, energy soaring through her.
    . . . You tremble?
    . . . Shame
    Toward the end she sailed on the wings of the high D-flat. Even Callas, La Divina herself, had found it difficult to hold on to that exposed note. But it was nothing for La Sirène, nothing at all.
    Newlin was transfixed.
    “I would do anything for you,” he whispered. “Anything.”
    No doubt about it, she still had the Voice.

FORTY-FIVE
    Luther swiped one of the laundry carts from the housekeeping closet down the hall and stuffed the still sleeping Damaris into it. When he had her safely locked away in another room on a different floor, he took out his phone and punched in Grace’s number.
    She answered halfway through the first ring.
    “Luther? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick. I had that terrible feeling again, the same one I had the night you ran into Craigmore in the garage. I tried to call you but your cell was off. Then the sensation just sort of evaporated.”
    A sense of deep satisfaction warmed him. Bonded for sure. It felt good.
    “It’s a long story,” he said, “but yeah, I’m okay.”
    “I just had a call from Fallon Jones. He said they found some files in Craigmore’s safe indicating that Vivien Ryan is his daughter. He was a sperm donor years ago. What’s more, there’s another daughter around somewhere.”
    “Her name is Damaris. We just met.”
    “What?”
    “She’s going to be the first person to enter the Society’s version of a witness protection program.”
    There was a brief silence on the other end.
    “You’ve been busy,” Grace said.
    “And the night is only going to get busier. Don’t take this the wrong way, but it looks like I’ll be spending the next hour or so in a hotel room with a blonde.”
    “Okay, that’s going to take some explaining.”
    He gave her a quick rundown of events, deliberately finessing the confrontation over the laser. Unfortunately, Grace could read between the lines.
    “She tried to kill you.”
    “She’s on the drug, Grace,” he said quietly. “Her supply was cut off when her father died.”
    Grace sighed. “She’s dying.”
    “Her only hope is the antidote. She’s willing to talk to J&J and Zack Jones and anyone else in order to get it. She’s not a complete sociopath like her sister. Her spectrum is complete. This was all about trying to please Daddy.”
    “William Craigmore.”
    “Turns out he wasn’t just a traitor to the Society. He was the founder of Nightshade.”
    “Well, that’s going to be a little awkward to explain at the Society’s next general meeting.”
    “I think so, yes. Fortunately, we don’t have to worry about the politics of the situation. Start packing. I’ll come back to the hotel as soon as someone arrives to collect Damaris.”
    “We’re checking out tonight?”
    “I’m going to take you to L.A. I don’t want you in the same town as Vivien Ryan any longer than necessary. We’ve got some time, though. According to Damaris, Ryan doesn’t know we’re here. She also said La Sirène probably won’t return to her hotel room until very late tonight if at all.”
    “Because of the reception we read about in the newspapers?”
    “Right. It’s being thrown by her current lover, Newlin Guthrie.”
    “As in Guthrie Hall, the new opera house?”
    “As in. Guthrie made his fortune in software and high-tech gadgets. He owns half the town.”

FORTY-SIX
    It was going to be a long night. Now that she was no longer worried about Luther’s safety, Grace became aware of the combined effects of the long flight from Hawaii and the adrenaline rush following the identification of La Sirène’s aura.
    She started a pot of coffee in the little machine that sat on the granite counter and went into the bathroom to take a reviving shower. She was not looking forward to the drive back to L.A.
    The sense of throat-tightening urgency hit her a short