Serafina and the Virtual Man (2 page)

He flung open the door, and Sera stepped forward. Petra, Jilly noticed, made no effort to go in.

The room had certainly been spectacularly trashed. The entire floor was covered with splintered wood, feathers, ripped books, shards of glass, what looked like bits of machinery and clothing, and, surely, a shredded mattress. The light fitting was no more than a frayed wire dangling from the ceiling. Dents and scratches of various sizes were scattered over the walls and the door, as if hard objects had been flung at them with considerable force.

“Bloody hell,” Sera observed in awed tones. “It looks like someone took a wrecking ball to the place. Except,” she added as her glance moved on, “the window isn’t broken. What is this room? Your bedroom?”

“No, thank God,” Dale said fervently. “It’s just a spare bedroom. We used it a bit like a storeroom, shoved things in here to get them out of the way—old computers, books, clothes for charity collections, that kind of thing.”

Jilly stepped into the midst of the rubble. Beside her, Sera had gone still and quiet, trying to feel for whatever had caused this mess. If the Ewans hadn’t just had a massive fight and wrecked the place from temper. Although even Jilly had to admit it would have to have been a hell of a temper and pretty drawn out to achieve quite this much carnage.

“So what actually happened?” Jilly asked. “Were you in here when the trouble started?”

“No, I woke up to these awful crashing sounds,” Petra said from outside the door. “I thought a plane had crashed into the house or something, but it was all coming from this direction, and it didn’t let up, so then I knew… I yelled for Dale.”

“And where were you?” Jilly asked him. He stood on the other side of the door, looking in with a wariness that seemed genuine.

“In my study along the gallery there.” Dale nodded back the way they’d come, perhaps toward the slightly open door Jilly had already noticed—if it was his study, it would perhaps explain the massive electronic activity in that area of the house. “I ran around when I heard it, met Petra at our bedroom door. We both knew what it was. We didn’t go in until it stopped. It would have been suicide.”

“But you did go in immediately after?” Jilly pursued. “You didn’t go away and then come back?”

“No, we huddled in the hall here and waited for it to stop. After about five minutes of silence, I opened the door and found this.”

“And was the window open or closed?” Jilly asked.

“Closed and locked,” Petra said. “Why? Are you imagining some disgruntled employee broke in, trashed the place, and climbed back out through the window?”

Jilly shrugged. “It crossed my mind. We have to eliminate all the physical possibilities before the psychic can really be considered.” She glanced at Sera, who’d started to move around the room again as best she could, picking her way through the mess.

“There’s nothing here now,” Sera said shortly. “But I can feel something, an echo.”

She reached out, touched the pristine window frame. Her breath caught, and she drew back, blinking.

“What?” Jilly asked and received a false, bright smile.

“Nothing. Yet.” She swung toward the door. “Does it always stick to this room?”

“Oh no, it roams all over the house. It’s flung things around the kitchen, the main sitting room, my study, Petra’s sitting room. But never as badly as this. This made me realise we really have to do something about it. It’s going to kill us.”

Sera nodded. “It’s obviously growing, picking up your negative energy and adding it to its own. Does it only make its presence felt at night?”

“So far. Why
is
that?”

Sera shrugged. “Humans’ primal fear of darkness. More negative emotions around, makes it stronger. Okay,” she said decisively, making for the door. “Let’s see if we can’t have a chat with it while it’s weak enough not to hurl us off the walls.”

Petra’s jaw dropped. “You want to
bring
it?” she managed at last, pointing with a shaking hand back into the bedroom. “
That?
“

“Worth a shot,” Sera said breezily. “Let’s try somewhere it’s been before but somewhere you still feel comfortable.”

“Like with chairs,” Jilly murmured, clambering over the broken wood with her laptop still intact.

“I don’t want to do this,” Petra said, sounding genuinely frightened. “I thought you were going to get rid of it, not invite it in again.”

“Afraid it’s here already. We need it to come out of hiding to get rid of it,” Sera said cheerfully.

Jilly tried and failed to peer in the crack of the one not-quite-shut door.

“Don’t worry,” Sera continued. “I can handle poltergeists. Remember, it doesn’t seem to be
trying
to kill you—it didn’t form in your presence when it did
that
.” She jerked her head back toward the spare bedroom.

“Then what the hell’s its problem?” Dale fumed, throwing open one of the farther doors.

“I’ll ask it,” Sera said without emphasis, and Jilly stifled a grin.

Dale paused, frowning. “You mean you actually hold conversations with these—things?” he said uneasily.

Jilly brushed past him into the room—again white and tediously empty of anything more interesting than an abstract painting and a large vase of expensive dried flowers—and perched on the arm of the nearest sofa, the laptop bag still dangling carelessly off her shoulder. She arranged the laptop on her knee while Sera answered.

“Well, I can converse
up to a point
. Poltergeists use their violence to communicate, so understanding tends not to come from words.”

Behind Sera’s back, Dale and Petra exchanged a hurried, almost panicked glance. Dale gave an infinitesimal shrug and Petra’s eyes fell.

Whoa. Something’s going on here…
The back of Jilly’s neck prickled like a pincushion. From disappointment in Dale’s…
ordinariness
, she was now hearing definite alarm bells.

Sera was the one with the psychic gifts. She could tell truth from lies, read past events and emotions from a simple touch. But Jilly had grown up in a family of criminals. She could spot shifty when she saw it.

Shifty plus all that unexplained electronic energy equalled what? Were they going to create a fake poltergeist electronically for Sera’s benefit? Sera would spot it, of course, and besides, Jilly couldn’t really see the point unless the couple were really, really bored.

Whatever, they seemed prepared to cooperate. Well, it was their own money they were spending.

They all sat down in what was, apparently, Petra’s sitting room, although it was hardly Jilly’s idea of cosy. It was a magazine’s idea of tasteful. White walls, clean lines, minimalist furniture made of steel and limited upholstery. Uncomfortable for arm perching, but what Jilly really wondered was where all Petra’s stuff was. Nothing here proclaimed her interest in anything other than interior design—probably someone else’s interior design. Maybe her bedroom gave more away, or some other room in the bowels of the massive house that no casual visitors ever saw. That was okay; Jilly could relate to privacy.

While Sera sat back, eyes closed, reaching out to any dead intelligence she could find, the Ewans watched her with anxious fascination. And Jilly watched them. She almost missed the cooling of the temperature, the change in Sera’s breathing that signified her excitement. She’d found something.

The curtains swished; air brushed against Jilly’s cheek. Her spine tingled in alarm. The rug under her feet undulated. Petra squeaked. Dale muttered something that sounded like, “Oh fuck.” They clutched each other.

Jilly knew how they felt. This sort of thing gave her the willies. However, at least she was used to it to the extent that it no longer paralysed her, and none of it—except the vampires last year—had ever fazed Sera. So when everyone’s attention was on the shifting items in the room or on Sera herself, Jilly simply stood up and slipped away, leaving her friend to face it alone.

Chapter Two

Despite the activity in the sitting room, Jilly half expected one or both of the Ewans to call after her as she hurried back along the gallery, stuffing the laptop into her bag as she went. It wouldn’t matter much to be dragged back, she assured herself. She was simply following her nose—and the computer readings—to see if she could get away with it. So far as she could tell, the poltergeist was real, but the unexplained electronic activity still bothered her. And that brief, shifty look she’d intercepted between the Ewans.

She went straight to the not-quite-closed door, behind which she suspected was some very powerful computer equipment. Probably nothing to do with poltergeists and none of her business, but she was pretty sure now the Ewans were hiding something. And if it was equipment capable of conjuring something like the effects of a poltergeist, she needed to know. She could scratch her head over motive later.

Besides, how could anyone who appreciated electronics pass by the chance of a snoop around the house of the Genesis owner?

Jilly whisked into the room and pushed the door back into its original position. So far, so good.

She was in Dale Ewan’s study: surprisingly small, dominated by a huge desk; laptop almost hidden by a big tower computer and three monitors. At last—geeks’ paradise. Except the laptop was closed and the big computer was switched off. So where was all the power coming from?

From beyond the inner door.

Jilly almost didn’t see it because there was no frame surrounding it and no handle. At first glance it looked like part of the wall, except that it had a keypad beside it at around Jilly’s head height.

Impasse. She glared at the tiny, visible crack down one side of the door. Apparently, Sera’s lover, the vampire Blair, could open doors by looking at them. For the first time ever, Jilly wished for his presence. Since she didn’t have it, she ran one finger down the crack in a regretful sort of way while wondering if she could simply ask Dale for a tour. She decided against it on the grounds that he’d almost certainly take it as an invitation to seduce her.

Jilly wrestled with her conscience and her common sense. Not only would breaking in be wrong, she could lose Serafina’s the job and get herself arrested. She really didn’t want the police poking around her own electronic gadgetry.

I’m a hacker, not a burglar.

But they’re hiding something, I know they are. That must impact on the case…

“Fuck it,” Jilly whispered and delved into her laptop bag to find the correct, illegally acquired instrument. Even as she stuck one end to the keypad panel and plugged the other into her laptop, she was aware that the case wasn’t her only motive. She really wanted to see what Genesis was up to next. For no other reason than sheer geekery.

The computer whirred, the door clicked and slid open. Jilly took a deep breath, detached the gadget from the keypad and walked inside while still shoving her equipment back in the bag.

Oh yes, she’d struck gold. Not one but several computers were banked along one wall of the large, sterile room, although only one hummed busily behind its blank screen.

Jilly surveyed the room. It was large, probably ran for some distance behind the mirror in the gallery. A cushioned bench, like an operating table, stood in the centre of the space with masses of wiring, virtual reality headsets, gloves, etc. Above it hung other instruments. It looked a bit like a dentist’s surgery.

She’d no time to investigate properly. Pointless—and mad!—to have broken in here without several hours to play around.

She turned back to the active computer, bent, and wiggled its mouse. Nothing more interesting than a list of numbered files popped up. On impulse, Jilly grabbed a memory stick from her bag and shoved it into one of several USB ports.

She had to remind herself that less than five months ago she’d hacked into the systems of several banks and got away with it. Nicking files was no big deal. It wasn’t as if she’d use them for anything except satisfying her own curiosity.

She clicked Copy and stepped back from the computer, farther into the room.

As if she’d pressed a different button entirely, coloured lights suddenly flashed all around her. She whirled. The lights seemed to merge into one green one, emanating from some instrument over the operating table. The light moved, sweeping down her body and back up with increasing brightness so that she had to throw her arms up over her eyes.

When she lowered her arms, a man stood in front of her.

Tall, lean, a little dishevelled, he regarded her with a mixture of frowning anxiety and wonder. His steady, unblinking eyes were a melting dark brown, his hair a shock of unstyled black messiness, sticking up in various places and flopping forward over one side of his forehead. He wore casual, faded blue jeans and an old black T-shirt with some of the band logo worn off.

The overall effect was curiously appealing. Of course, his shoulders were broad and his arms pleasingly muscled, and he was very good-looking in a careless sort of way Jilly didn’t quite understand, because the sight of him was sending pleasant little tingles through her stomach. Then he spoke, his voice deep, quiet, and oddly stirring. It also sounded bewildered.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Are you dead?”

****

Sera had encountered several poltergeist-type spirits before. Two of those seemed to have formed merely from the negative energies of very much alive if troubled teenagers. Another had been all that was left of a very unpleasant dead man’s spirit. The Ewans’ poltergeist had something of the feel of the latter, but she’d never encountered such focused fury before.

Sera wasn’t normally scared by any supernatural being, but this one’s pure hatred made her skin crawl. It whirled around the room, no more than air, battering at anything it came in contact with, desperately trying to form, to strengthen.

It fed off fear, of course. She could control her own, but the Ewans, who’d been living with it for months, had more than enough for all of them. To calm them, she addressed the being aloud.

“Settle down and tell me the problem, or we’ll get nowhere,” she said, keeping her voice cool, amused.

The rushing air lessened, as if she’d surprised it. She’d certainly surprised the Ewans, who were gawping at her openmouthed. Good. Just for a moment, they’d forgotten to be afraid.

“What are you doing here?” she asked it, again aloud, although she kept the question in her mind too, directing it toward the furious consciousness of the spirit.

A blast of fury battered against her mind. No words. Just concepts. Anger. Hatred. Death.

“You’re dead,” Sera observed, and the anger battered her again. Enraged to be dead. “You can’t stay here. You have to move on with the rest of your spirit. Find peace.”

Ridicule, more fury, a blast of air in her face as though it would hurt her if it could. It didn’t want to disperse and wouldn’t just because she told it to. Her words were still more for the Ewans.

The poltergeist huffed around the room some more, a bit like an angry toddler.

“Oh, bugger off,” Sera said and forced the thought into the spirit’s consciousness. The malevolence evaporated, disappearing like air from a pierced balloon.

The Ewans huddled together on the opposite sofa, stared at her in growing wonder, doubt, and hope.

“Is it gone? Is that it? Is that all it took?” Petra babbled.

“Oh no, not quite,” Sera said. “It’s still around and will come back constantly stronger unless we disperse it for good.”

“How do we do that?” Dale asked, frowning in irritation as if she hadn’t done her job to the standard he expected of his hirelings.

“We need to deprive it of food—the negative energy it’s living off. I’m afraid that’s you two, largely, although it has a sizable amount of its own anger and hatred to keep it in place. If it stops growing, I can force it away.”

“How?” Petra demanded with more despair, Sera suspected, than any real desire to know.

Sera winked at her. “I’m stronger than it. Tell me, did someone die in the house recently?”

The Ewans shook their heads in perfect unison. Too perfect?

“No one’s ever died here,” Dale said. “We built the house only about four years ago.”

“Then I wonder where your angry spirit came from?” Sera mused.

“Could he have died on this land some time before the house was built?” Dale asked.

“Maybe,” Sera allowed. “But he didn’t make his presence felt until five months ago? Did something happen around that time? Some major event that affected either of you deeply?”

They looked blankly at her, at each other. They shook their heads. For Sera, there was just a little bit too much innocence there, and yet if they were lying, they were bloody good at it. Besides, what was the point if they wanted their poltergeist sent about its business?

“Not that I can think of, no,” Dale said. “My friend and ex-partner died in October, which was a horrible shock, if not entirely unexpected. But this stuff was already well underway by then.”

He shifted in his seat. “You don’t think our grief could have made this thing even stronger?”

Sera shrugged. “It’s possible. Look—”

“Where’s your friend?” Petra said suddenly.

Good question. “Probably taking readings elsewhere in the house,” Sera said comfortably. “It’s all useful information.”

But Dale would not be distracted. He strode toward the half-open door, and Sera hoped profoundly that he wouldn’t find Jilly anywhere she shouldn’t be. In a house full of electronic wizardry, it was a pretty vain hope.

****

Jilly stared at the stranger in front of her. Typical. The first man she’d met in ages whom she didn’t want to punch, and he was short of the full shilling.

“Dead? Why should I be dead,” she snapped. “Are you?”

He dragged one hand through his untidy black hair and down over his stubbly jaw. “Well, yes, I think so.”

Jilly blinked. “You look pretty lively to me. Where did you come from?”

He gazed around. “I don’t know. Sort of—asleep, and then I was here looking at you.”

Shit, she hadn’t even seen him in her desperation to get at the computers. He hadn’t been on the benches… Perhaps he’d been under them? Or wandered in from somewhere else in the house, through the outer study?

“Who are you?” she asked. And then since attack was the best method of defence: “What are you doing here?”

“Adam. And I don’t know.” His dark gaze came back to her. His frown deepened. “Are you sure you aren’t dead?” He stepped closer, reached out one curious, hesitant hand, and touched her cheek. Almost as if he imagined she’d disintegrate on contact.

Warm fingers, slightly rough in texture…

Her breath caught, but since his hand slid away almost immediately, she’d no reason to shove or punch. She curled her hands into fists but kept them still at her side.

“Soft,” he murmured as if pleased by the discovery. His frown cleared, and his lips quirked upward, almost smiling. “So soft.”

Jilly flushed. “Only on the outside. Why do you keep saying ‘dead’?”

“I remember dying.” The frown was back. “I was shot. Hurt like hell.”

“You’ve been dreaming,” Jilly said with a dismissive flap of one hand.

He nodded. “Could be. Or I could be wasted. Certainly never imagined the afterlife would resemble Dale’s testing lab.”

“Is that what this place is?” Jilly asked with interest. “What’s he testing?”

The frown between his brows twitched. His lips parted, and he sank backward, leaning his hip against the edge of the bench. “Of course… Wow. Shit, this is mind-blowing. I can
remember
.”

“Remember what?”

“My life… Well, most of it. No wonder everything’s so unreal.” His glazed eyes came back into focus, sparkling with excitement as he gazed at her face. “And you—did I really manage to think you up too?”

“No, you fucking didn’t,” Jilly said indignantly, and a grin flickered across his face. He had a good grin, boyish and spontaneous, allowing her a glimpse of what might, in other circumstances, be a fun-loving personality.

“Thought not. You’re much too grumpy.”

Jilly felt her lips part in shock. She wasn’t used to anyone calling her something as unpleasantly mundane and trivial as “grumpy.” Even Sera usually just ignored her or threw things at her when she got bad tempered. Men either told her she was beautiful in a placating sort of a way or backed off in terror, which was just as it should be.

Amusement lingered in his dark eyes as he straightened and began to pace around the room. “Trust me, it’s a fascinating combination, and I’m very glad to have met you. Although I wish I was alive to enjoy the experience to the full.”

Jilly rolled her eyes. “Oh, for… Are you back at the dead thing again? You want to see a doctor, or preferably a shrink.”

He spread his hands wide at his side and came to a halt just in front of her. “Feel free to bring one.”

She had to crick her neck to look him in the eye. She wished she wasn’t so aware of his tall, strong body only inches from hers, and confusion made her snappish.

“You’re not my problem, pal. Look, just walk past me and out the door.”

She stepped aside with a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He glanced at the door. His brows twitched. Then he took one pace forward and stopped. Suddenly, he looked lost, and, stupidly, her heart tugged as if he were an abandoned child.

“Come on,” she muttered ungraciously. “I have to get out of here anyway. Follow me.” She marched to the door, turned to make sure he was coming too—and found an empty room.

She stared carefully around, even looking under the bench this time, but there was no sign of him. All the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

This she
really
couldn’t understand.

Swallowing, she turned away, then suddenly recalled her flash drive still attached to the computer. She ran and grabbed it. At least she remembered to remove all trace of it from the computer before she left the room and hit the Close and Lock button on the keypad.