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.“It leads from this balcony to the roof of the building across the street.Just step over the railing and you’ll be on your way.”Fallon looked down.Strange machines moved on the street below.Lights glowed and flashed.Cars, some part of his brain whispered.Get a grip.You’re fourteen floors above the street.“Don’t you see the bridge?” Tucker asked.“It leads to all the answers, Fallon.You just follow the crystal brick road to find the wizard.”Fallon concentrated.A crystal bridge materialized in the night.The transparent steps were infused with an internal light.He pulled harder on his talent.The bridge brightened and beckoned.But a tiny sliver of awareness sliced through the wonder of the scene.“Think I’ve seen that bridge before,” he said.“Yeah?” For the first time Tucker sounded slightly disconcerted.“Where?”“In the movies.Damn silly plot but the special effects were mildly entertaining.”Tucker chuckled.“Leave it to Fallon Jones to come up with a logical explanation for a perfectly good hallucination.Well, it was worth a shot.But if you won’t do this the easy way, I guess we’ll have to go with Plan B.”He moved suddenly, bringing up the object in his hand.Fallon tried to raise one arm to block the blow, but his muscles would not obey.Instinctively he twisted aside, instead.He lost his balance and went down hard on the tiled floor.The object Tucker wielded was a hammer.It struck inches away from Fallon’s head.He heard the crack of the tiles.The entire balcony shuddered with the force of the blow.Somewhere in the night a woman started screaming.“You crazy son of a bitch,” Tucker said.He raised the hammer for another blow.“You’re supposed to be out of your head by now.”Fallon rolled away and reached for more talent.The hammer struck the floor of the balcony again.He managed to scramble to his feet.The sparkling, iridescent night spun wildly around him.Tucker charged him in a violent rush.The promise of imminent death sent another rush of adrenaline through Fallon, producing a few seconds of brilliant clarity.He finally succeeded in getting a focus.For an instant the familiar features of the man he had considered a trusted friend were clearly visible in the light from the living room.Tucker’s face was twisted with a maddened rage.Fallon realized that he had never known the real Tucker until tonight.The shock of being so terribly, horribly wrong brought another dose of clarity.People had died because of Tucker Austin, and Fallon knew that he was, in part, to blame.He summoned up the full, raging force of his talent, reached into the heart of chaos and seized a fistful of fire.He hurled the invisible currents of paranormal radiation into Tucker’s aura.Not exactly Zeus with the lightning bolts but good enough to get the job done.Tucker grunted once, clutched at his heart, and instinctively reeled backward to escape the onslaught of energy.He fetched up hard against the balcony railing.He was a tall man.The barrier caught him at midthigh.The force of his momentum sent him over the edge.He did not scream, because he was already dead.But Jenny’s scream went on forever.Fallon knew he would hear it for the rest of his life.TURN THE PAGE FOR A LOOK ATQUICKSILVERThe second novel in the Looking Glass Trilogy by Amanda QuickNow available from G.P.Putnam’s Sons.THE VISIONS OF BLOOD AND DEATH BLAZED VIOLENTLY in the mirrors.The terrible scenes, lit by gaslight, reflected endlessly into a dark infinity.Virginia lay very still for a moment, her heart pounding while she tried to make sense of the nightmare in which she had awakened.Myriad reflections of a woman lying on a tumbled, bloodstained bed surrounded her.The woman was dressed in only a thin linen chemise and white stockings.Her hair cascaded around her shoulders in tangled waves.She looked as though she had recently engaged in a passionate encounter.But her dazed eyes were wide with shock and horror, not fading desire.It took Virginia a few seconds to realize that the woman in the mirrors was herself.She was not alone in the bed.There was a man beside her.The front of his unfastened shirt was soaked in blood.His head was turned away, but she could see enough of his handsome face to recognize him.Lord Hollister.She sat up slowly, unconsciously letting go of some unseen object that she had been gripping in one hand.A part of her insisted that she was living through a dreadful dream, but her other senses warned her that she was awake.It took everything she had to touch the side of the dead man’s throat.There was no pulse.She had not expected to find one.The chill of death enveloped him.A fresh surge of panic flared through her.Tiny icicles lanced the back of her neck and the palms of her hands.She scrambled frantically out of the bed.When she looked down she noticed that a portion of her chemise was stained crimson.She raised her eyes and saw the knife for the first time.It was half hidden by the rumpled sheets.The blade was covered in blood.The hilt lay very close to where her hand had been a moment earlier.At the edge of her vision she saw disturbing shadows shift deep within the mirrors.She hurriedly shuttered her psychical senses.She could not deal with a reading just now.Her intuition was flaring wildly.She had to get out of the mirrored room.She turned quickly, searching for the new bronze-and-black gown that she had worn to the Hollister mansion that evening.She saw the dress and her petticoats.The garments were crumpled carelessly in the corner as if they had been hastily discarded in the throes of passion.The toes of her high-button walking boots were just visible beneath the folds of the cloak.For some incomprehensible reason, the thought that Hollister had partially undressed her before she had sunk a knife in his chest was more unnerving than awakening next to the body.Dear heaven, how could one kill a man but have no memory of the violence? she wondered.Dark energy seethed again in the mirrors.Fear and the need to escape were making it hard for her to control her senses.Once more she managed to suppress her talent.The shadows receded deeper into the looking glasses.She knew she could not banish those shadows entirely.It was no doubt still night outside.Glasslight energy trapped in mirrors was always strongest after dark.There were scenes lurking in the looking glasses surrounding her that she needed to confront, but she could not read the afterimages now.She had to get out of the room.She looked around and realized that there was no obvious door.The walls of the small chamber appeared to be covered in mirrors.But that was not possible, she thought.The air in the room was fresh.The gas lamp burned steadily.There had to be some concealed means of ventilation, and somewhere there was a door.And where there was a door there would be a draft over the threshold [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]