“If you murdered Joe you can consider yourselves dead men.”
“Your driver is just sound asleep. Never a good idea to leave bodies around.”
“Especially not the bodies of loyal Guild men. Management doesn’t take that well.”
“Don’t worry, we’re not going to kill you,” the voice grated. “Right now you’re more valuable alive.”
“Meaning you plan to kill me down in the tunnels, dump my body there or in the Rainforest, and hope to green hell it never gets found,” Gabriel said. “You do realize that kidnapping and murdering a Guild boss is a really bad idea.”
Lucy opened her sequined evening bag and took out the small mag-rez pistol she had stashed inside. She moved closer to the opening in the Wall and surveyed the scene.
In the glary fog she could see the silhouettes of Gabriel and three men. Otis had stationed himself next to Gabriel’s left leg. She got the sense that he was ready to launch himself into battle as soon as Gabriel gave the signal. They were going to do this together, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. A dust bunny and an unarmed Guild man whose talent was only good for tracking lost people didn’t stand a chance against three vicious thugs armed with mag-rez pistols.
“Who said anything about kidnapping?” the man who appeared to be in charge said. “We’re just a delivery service. Come along nicely now, or we’ll have to kneecap you.”
“I’ve got other plans for the evening,” Gabriel said.
Lucy decided her best bet was to go with the element of surprise. The attackers had to know she was in the vicinity, but they were clearly not anticipating trouble from her.
She leaned out of the opening and fired two quick shots. The roar of the small mag-rez shattered the desert silence. It wasn’t just the sound of the shot that was startling. The fog abruptly sparked with flashes of wild storm energy. It was as if someone had set off paranormal fireworks.
“What the hell?” Gabriel said.
“Shit, there’s another bodyguard,” one of the men yelled. “Where’d he come from?”
The three attackers swiveled their guns toward the jagged opening and opened fire. Lucy ducked back behind the shelter of the Wall. The bullets pinged harmlessly off the quartz.
“Gabriel, in here,” Lucy shouted. “I’ll cover you.”
“Damn it, Lucy, stay inside.”
The night suddenly exploded with ghost fire. Through the opening in the Wall, Lucy watched a seething storm of violent green energy coalesce in front of the three attackers, brushing lightly against them. She saw their mouths open in shocked screams, but all three went down before any sound could be heard.
Lucy stared, astonished. Ghosts as large as the one Gabriel had just pulled could kill. If the three men were not dead, they were definitely unconscious.
Otis chortled cheerfully and immediately fluffed up. Satisfied that things were under control, he scampered around, apparently searching for something. He found his dust bunny toy and dashed toward Lucy. She scooped him up.
Gabriel went to each attacker in turn, collecting guns and ID. He used his phone to take photos of each face. When he was finished, he turned back to Lucy.
“What did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice low and unnervingly stern. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to use a mag-rez in this kind of atmosphere?”
He was angry. She had tried to save his life and he had the nerve to get mad?
“How was I to know you could rez a ghost like that?” she snapped. “Aboveground, no less. A few minutes ago you told me you had an entirely different talent.”
“It’s complicated,” Gabriel said.
“No, it’s not. You’re a dual talent, aren’t you?”
Statistically speaking, while even young children could rez amber to turn on a light switch or unlock a door, most people were endowed with average psychic ability. The city-states were full of people who could tune amber, produce art, or interpret dreams. Some were good at prospecting for crystal and quartz. Others investigated crimes—or committed them—and some did high-level math or became great chefs or surgeons. Talent came in endless varieties.
But truly powerful talents of any sort were not common. Those individuals usually went out of their way to keep a low profile, because traditionally they were viewed with wariness by the general public. Some off-the-charts talents had proven to be exceedingly dangerous people. Power was power, and all power had the potential for good or ill.
Dual talents—people endowed with more than one powerful psychic ability—were in another category altogether. They were viewed as not simply potentially dangerous but inherently unstable. At best they were delicate. At worst they were human monsters. Triple talents usually ended up in locked wards at para-psych hospitals, assuming they did not take their own lives first. Very few triple talents survived beyond their twenties.