"You have a way of doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked.

"Clarifying."

"Oh. Okay."

"The bottom line is that I survived and Tucker died."

"You did what you had to do," Isabella assured him.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"I was out of my head," Fallon said. "Who knows how I might have handled the situation if I'd been in a normal state of mind? Jenny started screaming and crying. She was hysterical with grief and rage."

"Why was she so upset? Because of the hallucinogenic light of the lantern? Surely when she came back to her senses, she understood that you had been forced to fight for your life."

"Tucker Austin was her brother."

Isabella sighed. "I see. Well, that certainly explains her distraught reaction."

"Tucker was her older brother. She idolized him. Hell, he was the golden boy of the Austin family. Jenny and her parents have never believed that Tucker was running the club or selling the magic-lantern light. They have what you might call another theory of the crime."

Understanding hit her hard.

"They think you were the one running the Arcane Club and dealing the magic-lantern light."

"Their version of events is that after J&J fired up the investigation, I decided to cut my losses, shut down the club and set Tucker up to take the fall. Literally, in this case."

"To cover your tracks?"

"Yes," Fallon said evenly. "They also believe that my family protected me."

"Of course they can't prove that because there is no proof, so they comfort themselves with their own version of history. It's actually a pretty solid conspiracy theory, because within Arcane the Joneses wield a lot of power. It would be easy to believe they would circle the wagons around one of their own."

Fallon's eyes were bleak. He said nothing.

"That's one of the hallmarks of conspiracy theories, isn't it?" She shook her head. "As someone once said, they are the losers' version of history."

"Never thought about it like that."

"Probably because you weren't raised in a family of dedicated conspiracy freaks." She glanced down at the ring. "So every year on the anniversary of Tucker's death someone sends you a nasty little memento mori. Who is it? Jenny?"

"Probably, although I suppose it could be Tucker's mother or father."

"You've never tracked down the sender?"

"Didn't seem to be much point. I got the message."

"Will the Austin family be at the Sedona conference?"

"The Austins are power brokers within Arcane. Yes, they will be in Sedona."

"No wonder you're not keen on attending."

"At least this year I'll have a date."

21

The following morning Isabella took a break at the Sunshine with Marge. As was the custom, Violet and Patty walked over from the inn to join them. Isabella sat at the counter and sipped tea from a heavy mug. The other three drank Marge's high-test coffee and told tales about the brief heyday of the Seekers' community.

The arrival of an overnight delivery van interrupted yet another denunciation of Gordon Lasher. They all watched the vehicle roll down the street and stop in front of Jones & Jones.

"They found me," Isabella yelped. She set down her mug and jumped to her feet. "I was so afraid that there would be a screwup and they wouldn't be able to find Scargill Cove."

"I'm assuming that's the dress and the shoes?" Marge asked.

"I sure hope so," Isabella said. She headed for the door. "Otherwise, I'm in bad shape for that business conference in Sedona."

"Bring the clothes back here," Violet called after her. "We want to see them."

"Especially the shoes," Patty said.

Isabella paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Why the shoes?"

Patty grinned. "I want to see if they really are glass slippers."

Isabella frowned. "I keep telling you, this visit to Sedona is a company business trip."

"Sure," Marge said. She chuckled. "A business trip that involves a corporate jet, a dressy reception and high-end fund-raiser auction. Woohoo! Go get the dress and the shoes and bring them back here so we can see them."

Isabella hurried outside. The driver of the delivery van had the rear door of the vehicle open. He removed two boxes.

Isabella rushed across the street. "Are those for me?"

He glanced at the labels. "Address says Jones & Jones."

"That's me. I mean, I work for Jones & Jones. I'll take the packages."

"Sign here."

She scrawled her signature, took the boxes and went back inside the Sunshine. Marge was waiting with scissors. She got the first box open in a flash.

Isabella parted the packing tissue and removed a long sweep of midnight blue. There were gasps all around.

"Oh, my," Violet said in prayerful tones. "What a beautiful dress. You're going to look gorgeous in it."

Isabella touched the liquid fabric. "It is nice, isn't it? Cost a fortune, but Fallon told me to bill it to the agency."

"Of course," Marge said. "He's the one who told you this was a business trip."

"The shoes," Patty said impatiently.

Marge used the scissors to open the second package. There was a shoe box inside. Isabella opened it and took out the pair of black evening sandals. Jet crystals gleamed discreetly on the gleaming patent leather straps.

"Oooh, they're so sexy," Patty said.

"Very nice," Marge agreed. "Not exactly glass slippers, though."

Violet smiled and touched one of the delicate black crystals. "Close enough. You can always count on Zappos."

Marge looked at Isabella. "Just think—you're going to the ball, Cinderella."

22

The glittering hotel ballroom was awash in power, both the kind that came with money and status and the psychic sort.

"Feels like the whole room is ever so slightly electrified," Isabella said.

Raine smiled. "When you gather this many people of talent together in one space, the atmosphere does tend to get a little hot."

"Yes, it does."

Isabella looked across the room at Fallon, who stood with Zack and two other men. As she watched, a distinguished-looking woman with silver-gray hair joined the men.

"The man on Zack's right is Hector Guerrero," Raine said in low tones. "The other one is Paul Akashida. The woman is Marilyn Houston. All three are on the Council. Zack considers them to be allies. They understand the true danger of Nightshade and they will support measures to make sure J&J remains vigilant."

"Fallon tells me some of the other Council members are wobbling because of some vicious rumors about him."

"Which is why Zack insisted that Fallon come tonight." Raine smiled. "I've got to tell you, though, I wasn't sure he would show up."

"Why not?"

"Fallon isn't the kind of man who responds to social pressure. But I suppose a threat to cut off funding for his precious anti-Nightshade project did the trick." Raine wrinkled her nose. "I'm afraid Zack is very good at figuring out exactly what it will take to get someone to do what he wants that person to do. It's part of his talent. One of the two reasons they put him in charge of Arcane."

"What's the other reason?"

Raine raised one shoulder in an elegant little shrug. "He's a Jones. There has always been a Jones in the Master's Chair. Technically speaking, since the changes made by Gabriel Jones back in the Victorian era, the Council has the power to elect anyone it pleases to the Chair."

"But somehow the result of every election has been a Jones?"

Raine raised her brows. "Yes. Coincidence?"

"I think not." Isabella smiled. "Sounds like the Society operates more like a hereditary monarchy than a democracy."

"Power rules in this organization, just as it does in any group," Raine said simply. "Within Arcane that means, among other things, a lot of raw talent. There happens to be a great deal of that in the Jones bloodline. In addition, the Joneses have been running Arcane a long time. They know where all the bodies are buried. In fact, they buried a few of them."

"Hmm."

Raine's brows went up. "What?"

"I'm not so sure that Fallon is here just because he's worried about the J&J budget. At least I don't think that's the only reason he agreed to show up tonight."

"Really? What other reason might there be?"

"I don't know," Isabella admitted. "Fallon is not always entirely forthcoming."

"You mean he's devious."

"No, he's just a very private person, and he's not accustomed to sharing his thoughts with others because most people don't understand how he thinks."

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Raine said. She gave Isabella a searching look. "I think you may understand him better than anyone ever has."

Isabella took a sip of champagne and lowered the glass. "I expect that somewhere along the line he got tired of trying to explain himself and his talent."

Raine switched her attention back to Fallon. "You may be right. I hadn't thought about it quite like that."

An attractive, expensively dressed woman in her late fifties approached the alcove.

"Good evening, Raine," she said warmly. "You look lovely tonight, as always."

Raine smiled. "So do you. Nice to see you, Maryann. Have you met Isabella Valdez, Fallon's new assistant?"

"No, I haven't had the pleasure." Maryann turned quickly to Isabella. "I'm Maryann Jones, one of Fallon's many aunts. Ours is a somewhat extended family, to say the least."