Verity wrinkled her nose in a question. “What do you mean by that?”
Jonas stifled a soft curse. “Nothing much. Just that I guess it’s possible to say the past has a familiar feel. After all, it exists. Has existed. It has tentacles that reach into the present. We’re all victims of it. But it makes no sense to say the same about the future.”
“I think it does. I look at Caitlin and I see the woman I may be in another couple of years. Minus the artistic genius, of course. She has carved out a space for herself and she occupies it completely. She’s strong. I know she employs Tavi to handle the day-to-day problems of life, but you always have a sense that Caitlin would do just fine without Tavi if it was necessary.”
“Verity, Evanger is one cold fish. Trust me. A man knows that kind of woman when he sees one.”
Verity shrugged. “You see that because she makes it clear she has no need for a man. What’s wrong with that? It gives her a kind of freedom that many women will never know. She’s not dependent on a man for anything, least of all her own happiness. She takes care of herself and finds satisfaction in doing so. I should think you would admire a woman like Caitlin. She’s the kind of woman who would never make demands on a man. She would never try to tie him down or turn him into something he’s not. In short, the perfect female.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Verity. It’s obvious you’ve got a bad case of hero-worship, but don’t try to drag me into the congregation.”
“It’s not a question of hero-worship. I like her. I think she needs friends and I have no objection to being her friend. That’s all there is to it.” Verity smiled wryly and stared out the window. “Maybe we’d better change the subject.”
“Maybe we’d better, since you’re not making much sense.”
“Jonas, I’m warning you, if you don’t behave yourself I’m going to fire you on the spot.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
She opted not to respond to that piece of provocation. Jonas had been in an unreadable mood ever since he had told her he had decided to give her time.
It was very ,thoughtful of him, Verity had decided. The problem was, she was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t really want any more time. With a man such as Jonas, a woman had to accept the fact that she wouldn’t have him around for long. It was beginning to occur to Verity that it was a shame to waste what time she did have with him. Like her father, he would take off one of these days. And it was, after all, her father who had taught her to enjoy what life offered when it was offered because there were never any guarantees.
She developed a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of how much Jonas and Emerson had in common. Several times a day she told herself it was better if the brief affair she had begun with Jonas was nipped in the bud. The last thing she needed in her life was a relationship with a man who shared none of her own values.
On the other hand, given her advancing age and future prospects, surely she had a right to at least one interesting sexual fling, she decided wryly.
“Well, here we are,” Jonas announced as he parked the car in a wide, graveled drive. “I don’t see anyone rushing out to greet us. Maybe no one’s home.”
“Don’t sound so hopeful.” Verity opened her door and got out. The wind off the sea whipped her hair into an instant tangle. The jeans and plaid shirt she had put on that morning in Sequence Springs were not proof against the crisp, snapping breeze, so she reached into the backseat for the bright yellow windbreaker she had brought along.
As she fastened her jacket, the door slammed on the other side of the car. Jonas stood, one arm resting casually on the roof of the car while he eyed the forbidding structure in front of him.
“One half-expects someone named Igor to open the door,” he said dryly.
Before Verity could respond, Tavi Monahan opened the wide, gray door. She stood at the top of the concrete steps leading up to the house and looked at them with an unreadable expression.
“Caitlin will be pleased to know you’re here,” Tavi said very quietly. Tavi herself looked a little less than pleased. Verity thought there was a sense of anxiety beneath that serene, elegant facade.
“I’m glad somebody is pleased,” Jonas muttered as he pulled his duffel bag and Verity’s small suitcase from the backseat.
Once again, Verity decided to pretend she hadn’t overheard the crack. Sometimes the only thing a woman could do with someone like Jonas was ignore him.
They followed Tavi down a hallway paved in gray and black stone. Everything in the house seemed to have been finished in gray and black. Verity silently decided that Jonas was right. Some designer had gotten a little carried away with the theme of concrete and steel. The unusual windows at the front of the house that had looked so much like insect eyes from a distance allowed light in on three levels.
Caitlin’s home was large and as untraditional inside as it was out. The floor plan of the three-story home did not seem to follow any familiar pattern. A steel-banistered staircase connected the various levels, but the rooms Verity saw as she followed Tavi to the top floor seemed strangely shaped. Walls curved and assumed odd angles.
There was a second, narrower staircase that connected the levels from some point at the rear of the house.
Tavi opened a door in the center of a long, battleship-gray corridor and revealed a granite-colored room that had a wall of angled glass on the ocean side. A huge four-poster bed dominated the room, but it was unlike any four-poster Verity had ever seen before. Instead of being fashioned from heavy oak or mahogany, it was metal. The four posts were stark, monolithic pillars pushing toward the ceiling. A gray and black quilt covered the bed.
“What an interesting room,” Verity said with forced enthusiasm.
A quick, sardonically amused glance from Jonas reminded her for some reason that interesting was the way she had described his lovemaking. She knew from the expression in his eyes that he was remembering the word and the previous context in which she had used it. Verity was annoyed to feel herself turning pink.
Tavi spoke up. “You have the room at the end of the hall, Mr. Quarrel. I will show you to it. Caitlin will be waiting for both of you downstairs.”
“Just a minute,” Jonas said as he caught sight of an old rapier hanging on the wall near the bed. He walked a few steps closer to the blade and stood studying it silently. He made no move to touch it.
Verity followed his glance and saw the long, delicately tapered sword mounted on a metal plaque. The thin, sharply pointed weapon had an elaborately gilded hilt with what appeared to be small, finger-sized rings built onto it.
“Is that an antique sword?” she asked curiously, aware of his sudden fascination with the weapon.
“A rapier. Mid-eighteen hundreds, I’d say. Or a hell of a good reproduction.” Jonas swung around to confront Tavi. “Does your boss collect or is this just for decoration?”
Tavi glanced at the blade without much interest. “The rapier was here when Caitlin bought the house a few years ago. There is another one in your bedroom. The former owner was apparently a collector. When he died, the place was sold as is by the heirs. They had little interest in the house or anything in it. As far as I know, the rapiers are genuine, not reproductions, but I can’t be certain. There’s one in every bedroom. Caitlin has never had them appraised.”
Jonas nodded and looked at Verity. “I’ll drop my bag in my room and meet you back here in a few minutes.” He spoke with authority.
“Yes, Jonas,” she said with mocking obedience. “Anything you say.” Two could play at the sarcasm game, she decided.
Caitlin was waiting for them on the first floor in a long rain-colored room that faced the ocean. She had been standing at the window, staring out to sea. As they walked into the room she turned, her ebony cane in hand. Her eyes went first to Jonas but it was Verity she greeted.
“Thank you for coming, Verity.”
There was more than simple graciousness in the words. There was a hint of relief, as if Caitlin had been more than a little anxious about their arrival. A wave of sympathy went through Verity. She went forward with a warm smile and gave her hostess a quick, friendly, woman-to-woman hug.
“Thanks for having us, Caitlin. What a fabulous view. You seem to have this entire stretch of coast to yourself.”
“I prefer to work without distractions. This house, ugly as it is, serves my purpose.” Caitlin gestured her guests to a low, padded bench covered in gray silk. “Please have a seat. Tavi is getting lunch ready. I have instructed her to prepare a vegetarian menu while you’re here.”
Verity chuckled. “That was thoughtful of you. I hope it won’t mean a lot of extra work for her. I’m very good at making a meal off all the goodies that usually get served around a slab of beef. I’m not a fussy eater, believe me.”
“Just don’t try to import hamburgers and french fries from a local fast food joint,” Jonas advised. “You’ll never hear the end of it.” He didn’t take the seat Caitlin had indicated. Instead he walked to the window to examine the view.
Verity glared at his back but he seemed unaware of the censuring look. “Jonas has a peculiar sense of humor,” she warned Caitlin.
“I’ll remember that,” Caitlin said. “Perhaps after lunch you and Jonas would like to take a walk along the cliffs. There’s a storm heading our way. It should be here by tonight. The cliff views are quite spectacular when a storm is moving inland from the sea. You must exercise caution, however. The former owner had a fence installed but it’s since collapsed in a few places. I haven’t had it repaired. There’s a path down to the beach at the far end of the cliffs.”
“I’d like a walk later,” Verity said, thinking she could use the opportunity to tell Jonas once again to behave himself. For all the good it would do. “Where is your studio, Caitlin?”
“On the top floor. I’ll take you upstairs and show you while we wait for Tavi to prepare lunch. That is, if you’d like to see it?”
“Very much. I’ve never seen the studio of a working artist.”
“Come with me, then.”
Caitlin climbed the stairs with a slow, stately tread, using her cane to steady her braced leg. As she made the ascent to the top floor of the house, she explained that she had bought her home three years earlier.
“When it came on the market the heirs were not exactly swamped with offers,” she explained. “The views are great, but most of the people who could afford this kind of location and this size house were put off by the architecture.”
“It is unusual,” Verity noted cautiously.
“No need to be polite. It’s cold and ugly,” Caitlin said calmly. “I understand the former owner suited it perfectly.”
It was Jonas who picked up on that. He was climbing the stairs behind Verity. “Who was the former owner?”
Caitlin paused, one hand on the steel banister. She glanced back over her shoulder. “I’m told his name was Sandquist. From all accounts he was a very successful businessman who kept this place for a weekend retreat. He died here one weekend and it was several days before anyone thought to come looking. They found the body on the beach. He had apparently fallen from the top of the cliffs. The circumstances of his death were the kind they call suspicious in detective novels. At least, the locals liked to call them suspicious. There was some talk about murder but nothing ever came of it. The real estate agent assured me the authorities never pursued the investigation very far. Apparently they were satisfied.”
“Who started the rumors of murder?” Jonas asked curiously.
“A few of the people in that little town down the road. The real estate saleswoman who showed me the place said that the villagers liked to think this house had been the scene of wild orgies and sadistic rituals. Sandquist used to throw parties here for his friends, apparently. None of the locals was ever invited, so of course they invented a lot of tales about what went on at the gatherings. When Sandquist died, it was no great surprise that the villagers assumed some of the festivities had gotten a little too wild. Who knows? Maybe it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter now.”
Verity grinned. “No ghosts hanging around?”
Caitlin started up the next flight of stairs. “We all have a few ghosts cluttering up our lives, Verity. Some of us have more than others. But I’ve never seen the ghost of the former owner here in this house.”
“Why should you?” Jonas asked blandly. “It would be busy haunting the cliffs where Sandquist died.”
Verity shot him a repressive glare.
The studio at the top of the stairs occupied an entire corner of the house. The bulging, faceted windows allowed light from two sides into the stark, bare room. It was the first room Verity had seen that was not painted gray. Caitlin’s studio was white from floor to ceiling.
There were several canvases stacked facing the walls, most quite large. An easel, a huge table decorated with several years’ worth of spattered paint, and some artist’s tools sat in the middle of the white floor. One large canvas, much bigger than the others and draped in a sheet, was tilted inward against one wall.
“Is that the painting you’re currently working on?” Verity inquired, indicating the large canvas.
“Bloodlust is done,” Caitlin said, her voice perfectly neutral. “I finished it a few months ago. I’m preparing to sell it at an auction. Until then, I’m not letting anyone look at it.”
“An auction?” Verity eyed the draped canvas, wondering what was underneath. “Will it be conducted by a San Francisco auction house?”
“No,” Caitlin stated firmly. “I will conduct the auction myself, here, in this house. Only a certain, select group will be invited to bid on Bloodlust.”
“Are you planning on holding the auction soon?” Verity’s curiosity was definitely aroused, although she wasn’t certain why.
“Yes,” Caitlin said. “Soon.” Her eyes went to Jonas, who was glancing around the white room with idle interest. “Shall we go downstairs? Tavi will be ready with lunch.”
Much later that night Tavi went through the ritual of preparing her employer for bed. She removed Caitlin’s robe and the brace on her leg and poured a snifter of brandy.
“He might not touch it,” Tavi warned. “He didn’t touch the rapier in her room earlier today. He didn’t take hold of the one in his own room when I showed him into it. Maybe he won’t try to touch it at all.”
“He won’t be able to resist handling it, however briefly,” Caitlin said with grave certainty. “It’s perfect for him. It’s from the right era, the right historical context, and it’s genuine. What’s more, although you and I can’t feel it, it must be carrying a whole freight load of heavy, screaming emotions. All the vibrations associated with rape and death. How can he not take it in his hands, at least for a moment or two? That rapier will draw him like a magnet. And when he does take it down from the wall to examine it, we’ll know for certain that he still has the touch. He’s bound to show some reaction.” She looked at the small television screen on a table near the bed. “The camera is working well.”
The television screen held a black and white image of a long, tapered rapier mounted on the wall of a bedroom.
Tavi nodded reluctantly. “I set it up this morning and double-checked it while Quarrel and Ames walked along the cliffs this afternoon. If Quarrel takes hold of the rapier and it has any obvious effect on him, we’ll be able to observe it. Unless, of course, he picks up the rapier after he’s turned out the lights, in which case the camera will be blind.”
“He’s not likely to look at such a valuable item in the dark,” Caitlin scoffed. “He’ll have the lights on when he checks it out.”
“You’re sure you’ll be able to tell if he responds to the rapier?” Tavi asked doubtfully. “I d
on’t see…”
“I’ll know,” Caitlin said. “I’m sure of it. I saw what happens to him when he picks up anything that carries a strong emotional charge.”
“I’m not sure if I believe in this strange talent you say he has.”
“Psychometry?” Caitlin sipped her brandy, her eyes steady on the unwavering image on the television screen. “Believe in it, Tavi. It’s for real. It caused him to nearly kill a man five years ago.”
Tavi frowned. “If you say so, Caitlin. If you’re right and the rapier has a strong effect on him, what’s to keep him from going crazy the way he did the last time? He might kill us all in our beds.”
Caitlin shook her head. “No, we’ll be safe enough as long as the present time context is considerably different from the historical context in which the rapier was used. The lab reports are clear on that score.”
“What do you expect him to do tonight?”
“He’ll probably try touching the rapier for a moment or two because his curiosity will get the better of him. He’ll drop it quickly when it becomes too much for him. That was the way he dealt with objects during the testing sessions I observed at Vincent.” Caitlin stared at the television screen. “I wonder what goes on in his mind when he touches an old object and senses its past vibrations. I wonder what he actually sees.”
Tavi shivered and said nothing as she began to massage Caitlin’s weak leg. She wasn’t sure what to believe, but she knew that there was little chance of changing her dear, tormented friend’s mind. Caitlin had to have her vengeance. On the television screen the black and white image remained unchanged.
Jonas glanced at his watch and tossed aside the book he had been reading. It was a collection of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s poems, which he had borrowed from Emerson Ames’s library. Jonas had brought the book along on the trip with some vague notion of brushing up his own love poetry. He had decided to take lessons from a master.
Lorenzo had been a true Renaissance man: a connoisseur of art, an astute banker, a politician, scholar, and poet. In addition, he could handle a sword, as he had proven the day he fought his way to safety after an assassination attempt in a church.