Gift of Gold (Gift #1)

Gift of Gold (Gift #1) Page 40

"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 don'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.

The man had also had a bawdy sense of humor. Jonas savored one of the light carnival songs Lorenzo had penned for a holiday procession. It was a paean to Bacchus, desire, and dance. Wine, women, and song. But underneath the bright lyrics was a subtle warning that life was short and it was foolish to postpone pleasure and happiness. Lorenzo must have had a few premonitions. He had died at the age of forty-three.

Jonas reflected briefly on the sobering thought of just how close he himself was getting to forty-three.

He had wasted a lot of years running from something he still didn't understand, let alone know how to control. Some would say he had taken Lorenzo's advice and opted for life's pleasures during the past five years, but he knew better.

He got up out of the steel and gray-leather armchair and walked to the window. He had taken off his shirt and boots earlier and now wore only his jeans. He had planned to go straight to bed but that had proved impossible. The room was filled with a disturbing influence that made him restless and uneasy.