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"Not to rain on your parade, Quinn, but the aliens are gone. They couldn't make it here on Harmony. Maybe their powers weren't so great, after all."

"You have no imagination. I have searched for more pyramid stones for years, and at last I have found them."

"You know, I think your grandmother was wrong about those pyramids—"

"Silence."

"This is so typical of the Dore luck. I join a meditation class to reduce my stress levels, and what do I get? A mad guru."

"Enough. I will not allow you to provoke me. You would do well to remember that you will remain alive only so long as you serve me."

"Serve you?"

"Well, I had planned to offer you marriage," he conceded. "But when Sweetwater returned, you rushed straight back into his arms, in spite of how he had betrayed you. It was obvious that you are incapable of appreciating what I could give you. So, yes, instead of sharing my power, you will serve me."

"What made you think there might be more pyramid stones?"

"My grandmother was convinced that there were others. She did not believe that the one she found was the only stone of its kind. But I knew that only another amethyst worker was likely to find others. Do you realize how rare your talent is?"

"I've heard that a lot lately," Lyra said.

"For the past six weeks I have tried to drive you closer to me. To woo you. Twice a week I sent you the most exquisite amethyst orchids."

"So you're the one. Well, that figures. I finally get a secret admirer, and he's a nutcase. And here I was blaming the plumber. Tell me something. If you wanted me to like you, why did you try to scare the crap out of me with those damned hallucinations?"

"I wanted you to turn to me for help. I wanted to show you that I and I alone could save you from the nightmares. But you kept resisting. For a time I saw it as a tribute to your spirit. I even admired your strength of will. I enjoyed proving that I was your master. But then Cruz Sweetwater came back into your life. I tried to remove him."

"You were the one who hired those thugs to try to kill him," Lyra said. "You tried to take him out not once but twice. The second time you were there, on the other balcony, generating one of your stupid dreamscapes. But that didn't work either, did it? You're a real, all-around screwup, aren't you, Quinn?"

Quinn's normally serene features twisted into a demonic mask. "And you're a real bitch."

"Does this mean that the ultimate harmonic relationship is off?"

"Turn left."

"Sure."

She rounded another corner and saw the vaulted entrance of a small antechamber. Nancy stood there, scared, her arms tightly wrapped around her waist, but under control. Quinn had not bothered to tie her up. He had taken her amber. That was more than enough to confine anyone underground.

"Lyra." Relief and panic mingled on Nancy's face. Her eyes glittered with tears. "I'm so sorry."

"This is my fault, not yours." Lyra rushed toward her, hugging her fiercely. "It's going to be okay. I promise you."

"Enough," Quinn said. He looked at Lyra. "You have seen her. She is alive, and she will stay in that condition if you do exactly as I say. Take me to the three stones."

Lyra released Nancy, stepped back, and kicked off her heels. "It's a long hike from here. I'm not going to last much longer in these shoes."

"Hurry," Quinn hissed.

Lyra looked back at Nancy. "Stay right where you are, okay? It will be all right, I promise you."

"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere without amber," Nancy vowed.

"Move," Quinn ordered. He backed up the command with another disorienting wave of energy.

"You know, if you don't stop doing that," Lyra said, "I'm going to throw up on your fancy robes."

Quinn blinked, startled. He took a hasty step back, scowling. "Let's go."

"I'll need a locator," she said to Quinn.

"Give me the frequency coordinates. I'll enter them in my locator."

She rattled them off quickly and waited while he punched in the numbers.

"Now," Quinn said. A feverish excitement glittered in his eyes. "Take me to the stones."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Lyra said.

Chapter 34

CRUZ LOOKED AT THE TELEPHONE RECORDS THAT JEFF had just tossed down in front of him. Vincent dropped the red crayon he had been playing with and drifted across the desk to see what was going on.

"How did you end up with Vincent?" Jeff asked.

"He's keeping me company while Lyra helps Nancy set up for an art auction tonight. They were afraid he would get into the hors d'oeuvres." Cruz studied the records. "What did you find?"

"Those are Valentine Fairstead's calls for the past three years." Jeff dropped into a chair. "I circled the ones he made to Flagg and Webber and those that he received from them. They tend to occur in clusters."

"Probably corresponding with the times when they were setting up thefts and sales of the artifacts out of the vault."

"That's what it looks like." Jeff leaned forward. "In which case we're looking at twenty-eight different thefts during the past three years. Fairstead also made some calls to various high-end clients at those times, letting them know that he had something special, probably. I tracked down the names and wrote them in the margin. For the most part they're the usual suspects."

Cruz moved his finger down the list of calls. "Here's the one he made to Wilson Revere last week."

"There are other familiar names there, as well. Like I said, most are collectors who have been known to dip into the underground antiquities market."

"Something I'm having trouble with here," Cruz said.

"What?"

"The street muscle that we've been assuming Flagg hired to whack me."

Jeff's brows shot up. "I thought it was more than an assumption."

"He denied it when I asked him about it."

"Well, sure. He's not going to admit he tried twice to have you killed."

"Everything else about this scam was well-managed for over three years. But hiring those four thugs was sloppy and unsophisticated."

"I don't know about that. If it had worked, you'd have been dead, and the antiquities scam would still be humming along."

"It just doesn't feel like Flagg."

"Maybe Webber hired the guys who tried to take you out."

"Maybe. But regardless, there's another question. Whoever used amber to generate those hallucinations that forced me to shatter obsidian was there that night. What's more, he's been stalking Lyra for about six weeks. Flagg told me that Webber was furious with her because she refused to cooperate with the amethyst experiments, but I just can't see Webber as a stalker."

"You'd be surprised by the profiles of the men that turn into stalkers."

"Whoever this guy is, I think he may also have been sending twice-weekly deliveries of purple orchids to Lyra."

"Okay, you've got me there. That definitely doesn't sound like Dr. Felix Webber."

Cruz sat forward and folded his arms on the desk. "In which case, we're looking for a fourth man, someone who had nothing to do with the antiquities scam."

"Someone who can generate hallucinations?"

"Yes." A familiar frisson of icy awareness shot through Cruz. "Lyra."

"What about her?" Jeff asked.

"Something's wrong." He reached for the phone and punched in Lyra's number. There was no answer. He was trying the number for the Halifax Gallery when Jeff suddenly looked at Vincent.

"Hey, what's up with the bunny?" Jeff asked.

Vincent had sleeked into full predator mode. All four eyes were open. He leaped to the floor and dashed toward the door.

"Vincent," Cruz said.

To his amazement, Vincent paused, looking back. His small body was vibrating with urgency.

"Wait for us," Cruz said.