But time was the one thing he did not have, Rafe thought. It was rapidly becoming clear that he could not depend upon Hobart Batt and Synergistic Connections to find him a suitable wife in the few weeks that he had left before the annual board meeting.
He had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He would allow Hobart to continue to comb through the listings of registrants at Synergistic Connections. There was no harm in that and it made sense to cover every angle.
But while Batt fiddled around with his files of registered candidates, Rafe thought, he would go hunting on his own. He was a strat-talent, after all. Hunting was the one thing he did very well.
The first rule of the hunter was to go where the quarry was. Full-spectrum prisms were not exactly thick on the ground. Some worked in research labs and others held positions at the university. It would not be easy to meet and screen a lot of them in such a short amount of time.
But there was another place to find full-spectrums. Many of them worked at least part-time for focus agencies, where they commanded exorbitant rates for their services.
How hard could it be to arrange to hire and evaluate a bunch of unmarried full-spectrum prisms from a variety of local focus agencies? The natural optimism of the hunter rose within Rafe. Anticipation flowed across his senses.
He would hunt his own mate. Wife, he immediately corrected himself. He would hunt his own wife, not mate. Mate sounded so ... primitive.
So did hunt, for that matter.
Okay, he would search for his own wife.
When he had narrowed the field to a handful of possible candidates, he would call Hobart in to help him choose the best match of the lot.
Chapter 1
One month later . . .
"Stolen?" Stunned, Orchid Adams managed to keep her jaw from dropping in open-mouthed amazement, but it was not easy. She was still reeling. One thing she had to admit about focusing for Rafe Stonebraker, the jobs were never dull.
She turned on her heel in a slow circle and stared at the volumes housed in the rows of glass cabinets that lined the steel walls of the state-of-the-art, climate-controlled, underground gallery.
"You're kidding." She took a deep breath. "All of these old books are stolen?"
"Every last volume." Elvira Turlock smiled proudly. Light gleamed on her elegant silver chignon. "Including the one that brings you and Mr. Stonebraker here this afternoon."
"Good grief," Orchid whispered, awed in spite of herself. This was definitely Stonebraker's most bizarre case yet.
Elvira looked pleased by her reaction. "My new book of Morland poetry is quite spectacular, don't you think?"
Orchid studied the slim, leather-bound volume inside the glass case. She would not have it in her library, she thought, but she had been raised to be polite.
"Interesting," she said cautiously.
"Oh, dear." Elvira winced. "We all know what 'interesting' means, don't we?"
Rafe stirred in the shadows. "It's called Three."
Orchid did not exactly jump in surprise at the sound of his low, dark voice, but she did feel the hair lift on the nape of her neck.
She reminded herself that she had known he was there. He was, after all, the one who had brought her here today. But her new client was a strat-talent. He had an extremely annoying knack of sinking deep into the shadows.
She had almost refused to accept the first assignment earlier in the week. Only the combination of her boss's abject pleading and dire threats had finally convinced her to work with Rafe.
"I don't want to work with a strat-talent," Orchid had said when Clementine Malone had told her about the job. "They give me the creeps."
"Come on, how many have you worked with?"
"One." Orchid shuddered at the memory. "That was enough."
"Look, you know I'm trying to build an exclusive image for Psynergy, Inc. Stonebraker's an exotic. We want to attract exotic talents."
"There are other kinds of exotics."
"Yeah," Clementine said, "but not like strat-talents. You know how rare they are."
"Not rare enough as far as I'm concerned."
"Not to put too fine a point on this," Clementine said, "but you're not exactly one-hundred-percent normal yourself."
Orchid winced but she refused to take the bait. "Give Stonebraker to one of the other full-spectrum prisms on the staff."
"They've all got assignments. Or a home life at night." Clementine grinned triumphantly. "Which you, being single, don't yet have. Besides, you know you always request evening assignments."
"Only because I need my days for my writing."
"Stonebraker apparently prefers to work at night."
"Right. Probably under full moons."
Some people viewed strat-talents the way they did wild jag-pards in zoos. Fascinating, but dangerously undomesticated. In a world where virtually everyone had some degree of paranormal talent and where such abilities were taken for granted as a naturally evolving aspect of the human species, para-sensitive strategic-awareness talent was considered very retrograde, evolutionarily speaking.
After meeting Rafe Stonebraker, Orchid was prepared to dismiss the throwback theories. Whatever else he might be, he was neither primitive nor unsophisticated, although she would not go so far as to call him domesticated.
He was well educated, well read, highly opinionated, and chillingly intolerant of those who failed to think as clearly and cogently as he did. Intelligence and awareness burned in him with the cold, powerful energy of jelly-ice.
But during the past week she had rediscovered why strat-talents were sometimes called hunters. They did have some distinctly unnerving habits. Hanging out with one was a bit like keeping company with a chameleon-cat.
She had discovered that if you took your eye off Rafe for even a moment it was easy to lose sight of him. He did not exactly disappear, but he had a natural affinity for whatever camouflage happened to be convenient. If he wished, he could fade right into the woodwork. His ability to become uncannily still made it possible to overlook him when he stood in any kind of shadow. Until he moved a second ago, he had been blending quite nicely into the dark space created by two narrowly focused lights positioned above two of the glass cases.
"Percy Morland was one of the foremost stylists of sixth generation meta-zen-syn philosophical poetry," Rafe said.
His disapproval lapped at her like a dark sea in the windowless chamber.
"Yes, I know." With an effort of will, Orchid managed to keep her voice polite. Did he think she had never attended a basic lit class?
No doubt about it, as interesting as he was—and he was a far sight more fascinating than meta-zen-syn poetry—Rafe Stonebraker was starting to get on her nerves.
Orchid reminded herself that it never paid to offend the clients. Clementine would not be pleased if she was rude to this one in particular. Think Exclusive was Clementine's latest office slogan.
Orchid did not mind thinking exclusive, but she wondered if Clementine was aware of just how exotic her newest client really was. Rafe claimed to be a class-six strat-talent and he had the certification papers to prove it. But this was the third time she had worked with him in the past week and Orchid was willing to bet her next royalty check that he was far more powerful than his papers claimed.
When she focused for him she could literally feel the self-control he was forced to exert in order to hold his talent to a class-six level. She sensed the hunger in him to use the full range of his power. She knew that the powerful prism she projected for him whetted his appetite.
Three years ago she had known another strat-talent whose hunger had been just as powerful. Calvin Hyde's talent, however, had also been tainted with the dark hint of evil. But after the first very cautious focus session with Rafe, Orchid had known at once that he was no Calvin Hyde.