Page 7

Leona reached the second floor, went down the hall, and rezzed the lock on the front door of her apartment. She let herself into the shadowed interior and stood quietly for a moment, absorbing the silence. She loved the spacious one-bedroom with its big windows and little balcony. There was a view of the massive green wall and the tops of the ethereal spires and towers of the Dead City.

She had enjoyed decorating the place to suit her personal taste for strong colors and sleek lines. Everything from the ocher walls to the jewel-toned area rugs and modern furniture was precisely as she wanted it. Yet for some reason, it seemed to be missing something tonight.

She stepped out of the high heels and went down the short hall to her bedroom. There was no need to rez the lights. The green glow of the ruins spilled softly through the windows.

When she slipped out of Oliver’s jacket, she found herself reluctant to let go of it. For a moment she just stood there, gripping it in both hands while she tried to figure out why she did not want to hang it in the hall closet where she always hung guests’ coats.

Her jumbled emotions made no sense. Okay, so she was attracted to him. So what? He certainly wasn’t the first interesting man in her life. She was an adult, a well-educated, professional woman with a great career and a reasonably active personal life. She’d had her share of relationships—men were attracted to the idea of dating a self-declared free spirit. True, they usually changed their minds after they got to know her, so her relationships usually fizzled out fairly quickly. Still.

The exception was the recent fiasco with Matt Fullerton. Things hadn’t fizzled at the end; they had exploded. She needed time to recover from the humiliating disaster. It had been unnerving to discover that she had allowed herself to be deceived by a creep who had used her to advance his own academic career while plotting to crush hers. She had vowed to never again date anyone else in the profession of para-archaeology.

It occurred to her that Oliver Rancourt was in that profession. At least he wasn’t a colleague. She could modify the rule to accommodate an exception for museum directors.

She contemplated the jacket and wondered if an arrangement to view the pyramid stone at his museum constituted a real date.

She groaned and crossed the bedroom to hang the jacket in the walk-in closet—the closet she used—not the one out in the hall. When she was finished, she closed the door very firmly. Out of sight, out of mind. Except that she would see it every morning when she dressed for the day and every evening when she got ready for bed.

She skimmed off her underwear, took a shower, put on a nightgown and a robe, and headed for the kitchen. She needed a drink to help decompress.

She poured a restorative glass of brandy and went to stand at the wall of windows. The familiar sight of the glowing Dead City had a calming effect.

She was about to swallow some brandy when a shadowy silhouette appeared on the deck railing. Startled, she almost spilled her drink. At first she thought she was looking at a large night bird of some kind. But the creature hopped down to the deck and bustled to the glass door. There was a muffled chortle.

Delighted, she opened the door. The dust bunny fluttered inside and stopped, stood on her hind paws, and graciously offered an object that glowed faintly in the night.

“For me?” Leona whispered. She crouched and took the offering. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But this is probably going to cause a lot of trouble.”

The dust bunny lost interest and fluttered around the loft, checking it out as if deciding whether or not to move in. Leona stood and went into the kitchen. She picked up a glass canister and shook it a little.

“I have some pretzels if you’re interested,” she said.

The dust bunny chortled again and bounded across the room and up onto the counter.

Leona took the top off the canister and poured some pretzels into a bowl. “Help yourself.”

The dust bunny hovered over the bowl and surveyed the pretzels with an intent expression before making a decision. Selecting one, she munched enthusiastically and reached for another.

Leona sank down onto a dining stool, rezzed a light, and held up the gift to get a closer look. The pyramid crystal sparked with inner fire. She could feel the stone around her neck resonating in response.

“I wonder how long it will take Oliver Rancourt to discover that one of the crystals is missing from Pandora’s box?” she said. “It will be interesting to see what he does when he finds out.”

The dust bunny ate another pretzel, blissfully unconcerned. Leona smiled.

“I think it’s time you got a name,” she said.