Harmony 01 After Dark Read Free Page A

magnificent when it was silhouetted against the light of the dying sun. She contemplated the narrow wedge of the wall that she could see from the balcony and watched the last of the daylight illuminate the emerald glow of the stone. The nearly indestructible green quartz had been the Harmonics' favorite building material. The four dead cities that had been discovered thus far—Old Frequency, Old Resonance, Old Crystal, and Old Cadence—had all been constructed of the stuff.
    Aboveground the architecture of the various alien buildings assumed a dazzling variety of fanciful shapes and sizes. No one knew how the Harmonics had actually used any of the structures that were being painstakingly uncovered by the archaeological teams contracted to the university.
    The only thing para-archaeologists could be sure of was that whatever had gone on aboveground in the eerie ruins, it was nothing compared to what had gone on underground. By several estimates, less than twenty percent of the catacombs had been explored. Illusion traps and energy ghosts made the work slow and fraught with danger.
    She had told the doctors that she had no memories at all of what had happened during the forty-eight hours she had spent in the glowing green catacombs, but that was not entirely true. Sometimes, when she sat on her deck like this and watched night descend on the Dead City , fleeting images came to hover at the farthest comers of her mind. The wraiths always stayed just out of sight, disappearing whenever she tried to draw them into the light of day.
    A part of her was more than content, even eager, to leave them in the shadows. But her intuition warned her that if she did not eventually find a way to expose them, the phantoms would haunt her until the end of her days.
    She sipped her wine, gazed at the green wall, and felt the familiar little shivers go down her spine.
    The knock on her door startled her so profoundly that wine sloshed over the edge of her glass.
    Fuzz rumbled in annoyance.
    "Could be Driffield." Lydia sucked the drops off her fingers as she got to her feet. "Maybe he got my last letter threatening to call a lawyer and decided he'd better do something about the elevator. Naw, I can't see him climbing five flights of steps to tell me he's going to get it fixed."
    With Fuzz on her shoulder, she went back into the apartment and crossed the miniature living room. When she reached the door she stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole.
    Emmett London stood in the hall. He did not appear to be breathing hard after the five-story climb.
    For a few seconds she just stared, unable to believe her eyes. Emmett gazed calmly back. He was not exactly smiling, but there was a trace of amusement in his expression. He was obviously aware that he was being observed.
    She noticed that he had picked up the evening edition of the Cadence Star, which had been left on her doorstep, and held it absently in one hand. She could read the headline of the lead story: museum assistant questioned in MURDER.
    She wondered if London had stopped by to tell her just how much he disliked being connected to a murder investigation.
    Taking a deep breath, she summoned up enough bravado to open the door.
    "Mr. London." She gave him her best professional smile. "What a surprise. I wasn't expecting you."
    "I was in the neighborhood," he said dryly.
    Not bloody likely, she thought. Hers was not the sort of neighborhood that attracted upscale businessmen who were inclined to worry about getting mugged.
    On the other hand, something told her that Emmett didn't fret too much about street crime. He looked quite capable of taking care of himself.
    Fuzz rumbled. It wasn't a warning.   The dust-bunny sounded inquisitive.
    "I see." Lydia looked at the newspaper in Emmett's hand. "It really wasn't necessary to go out of your way to tell me that you've changed your mind about hiring me as a consultant. I already assumed I wouldn't get the job."
    "Did you?"
    "You, uh, indicated