Chapter Twenty #2
She raised her gaze to the low ceiling and saw a small, oblong mirrored panel about the size and shape of a subway tile. It glowed faintly with paranormal energy. The hit of excitement and anticipation was coming at her in small waves. Like all emotional reactions, it was contagious.
The effect on the other guests was immediate and dramatic. The nervous muttering was replaced with a bubbly, slightly intoxicated vibe.
“Way to warm up the crowd,” Luke said into Sophy’s ear.
“Remember to follow the illuminated path through the gallery,” the disembodied voice said.
“It is the only route to the exit. For your own safety, please be aware that the velvet ropes that block the entrances to the dead-end corridors are there for your protection. Gallery attendants have been positioned along the path. Please feel free to speak with one if you have questions or are in need of assistance. Enjoy the Art of Light Experience.”
Another set of doors slid open, revealing a deeply shadowed corridor punctuated by two brilliantly lit installations. Another rush of artificially induced anticipation bubbled through the small crowd. People streamed out of the antechamber and began exclaiming over the art.
She and Luke trailed after the others and joined a group gathered in front of the first installation, a glass sculpture in the shape of a large vase. It glowed dramatically thanks to some strategically placed fixtures.
“Spectacular,” someone announced. “Incredible color saturation.”
“I love what the artist did with the design,” another guest offered. “Extraordinarily sensual.”
“Amazing,” a third person said.
They moved on to the next installation. Sophy stepped closer to the glass vase.
“It’s certainly attractive,” she said to Luke. “But I’ve seen a lot of glass art that looks very similar. There’s nothing unique about it.”
“Eye of the beholder and all that,” he reminded her, deadpan.
“True.”
She leaned in to read the small card on the wall. It was inscribed with the title—Sunset—and the name of the artist. In addition to the information, she got something else—a small shock of lust. It felt wrong in every way.
Instinctively she retreated a couple of steps and came up against an immovable object. Luke. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She got another little sensual thrill. This time it was real.
She caught her breath, regained her balance, and put some distance between them.
“Do you feel that?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” There was some heat in his eyes, the kind of energy that enhanced the twist of desire that she had experienced when he touched her a moment ago.
“This is not good,” she said in low tones.
“Not to mention unnecessary, at least as far as I’m concerned.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. The heat is coming from a tile at the base of the pedestal. Take a look.”
She glanced down and saw the dimly lit oblong panel. The faint current of lust was emanating from it.
“What is going on here?” she said.
“Someone has found a very interesting way of manipulating the reactions of the viewers.”
“To drive up prices at the auction?”
“Maybe.”
The thoughtful note in the one word made her glance at him, but he did not elaborate.
They moved on to the next installation, a miniature model of the art colony and the imposing red rock canyon walls that surrounded it.
The scene was about three feet square, and as far as she could tell, it was accurate.
She recognized the inn, the sculpture garden, the casitas, and the workshop.
The old house that now served as the Maze Gallery was also in the scene.
An ominous, pulsing aurora emanated from deep within the landscape.
Sophy watched the small group of people gathered around the model. They looked fascinated.
“It’s interesting,” she whispered, “but I’m not sure it qualifies as art. It looks more like one of those small-scale models developers use to illustrate their plans for a shopping center.”
“Move a little closer,” Luke said.
Gingerly she went forward—and got an annoying pulse of artificial lust. This time she was braced for it. She stepped back.
“This is actually getting scary,” she said.
“We’re dealing with a psychic hypnotist who can manipulate the response of the viewers.
A porno vibe is one thing, but what if it were some other emotion?
Despair could push a vulnerable person over the edge.
Panic could generate a stampede. Mob violence is a thing. ”
“I know,” Luke said. “But the wavelengths are very short, much less than the average range for human-generated paranormal energy. I estimate the reach is only about three feet, max. Notice how rapidly the power levels fall off when you move away from the installation?”
Experimentally she took a couple of steps back. The pulse of focused energy became extremely weak and then disappeared entirely.
“Yes,” she said.
“It’s impressive that any talent could embed a hypnotic suggestion into a mirror or any other material and have it activate remotely. Whoever is behind this has made a significant engineering advance, but it is obviously still in the development stage.”
“This is seriously dangerous technology,” she said. “It’s one thing to have to listen to ‘Jingle Bells’ for two months during the holiday shopping season. I don’t want to even think about what would happen if the currents of music were carrying a hypnotic suggestion to buy more stuff.”
“That would be the least of the potential damage this tech could do…Huh.”
She shot him a quick, searching look. “What?”
“Someone has found a way to record a static message in the tiles, but based on everything I know about human-generated psi, the hypnotic suggestion has to be renewed frequently—by a human with a talent for the work.”
She studied him, intrigued. “You really do know a lot about the physics of paranormal energy.”
“For a CIA assassin, you mean?”
She was suddenly grateful for the darkness, because she could feel herself turning red. “I never actually said you were an assassin.”
“You didn’t have to say it.”
“Are we going to refight the old feud here?” she shot back. “In public?”
“Nope. I think we’ve insulted each other enough for one day. I suggest we focus on our problem.”
“Good plan,” she muttered.
“The interesting thing about this conversation is that it’s given me an idea.”
She realized that they were alone in front of the installation. The other guests had disappeared down another glowing hallway.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“The development of this tech would have required more than one talent. Yes, a hypnotist is involved. But someone else probably invented the mirror tiles. We’re talking about two very different kinds of psychic ability.
Then there’s the money angle. It took a fortune to reopen the art colony and another fortune to keep it running. ”
“All that just to sell mediocre art?”
“I think it’s more likely the art marketing is a cover for what is really going on here.”
“Which is?”
“A series of experiments. If you’re developing a new technology you need to run a lot of tests. What better way to do that than keep an inn full of carefully selected test subjects on-site?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.” He urged her forward with one hand. “We can talk about it later. We need to keep moving.”
“Thanks for the we,” she grumbled. “I feel so honored to know you consider me a member of the team.”
“I sense sarcasm.”
“Actually, I’m pissed off. I don’t like the idea of being a test subject in an experiment no one told me about. There was no informed consent here.”
“Like one of your dates?”
“That’s ridiculous. All dates are, by definition, experiments. Everyone knows a date has the potential to end badly.”
“Interesting logic. Never mind. At this point my theory is just a theory. I’m still gathering data. Connecting dots.”
They followed the illuminated path to an intersection. Two of the three branching corridors were barred with velvet ropes. On the other side of the ropes, the hallways were drenched in darkness. An attendant politely raised a hand to indicate the one glowing corridor.
Sophy peered down an unlit path as they went past the entrance. “Why would anyone turn an entire house into a maze? The man who built it must have been beyond eccentric.”
“Or full-on paranoid.”
“Do you think he built the maze to trap intruders?”
“You know what they say—just because he was paranoid doesn’t mean he didn’t have enemies.”
“Maybe he hid an extremely valuable painting in here somewhere and wanted to protect it.”
The trail led to another installation that was surrounded by a small group of admirers. Sophy stopped a few steps away from the piece and considered the twisted sculpture on the pedestal. It appeared to be made of transparent plastic molded into bulbous shapes and lit with cleverly arranged lights.
“It looks like a balloon animal,” she whispered to Luke.
“Yes,” he said. “It does.”
He took a few steps closer, paused a moment, as though examining the ballon animal, and then came back to join her.
“Another example of mirror tile hypnosis at work?” she asked.
“Definitely,” he said.
She went forward, curious, and stopped abruptly when she picked up the vibe of one of the men who was standing nearby. There was no mistaking the currents that charged the atmosphere. He was sexually aroused. When he noticed her he turned, his eyes glittering. Sweat beaded his brow.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“No,” Luke said before she could respond. He came up behind her and took her arm in a way that was clearly proprietary. “She’s not alone. She’s with me.”
For a beat Sophy thought the stranger would argue the point, but when he got a close look at Luke, he evidently changed his mind. He grunted and returned his attention to the sculpture.
“That was a tad unnerving,” she murmured as Luke led her away.
“Only a tad?”
“I could have handled him,” she said quickly.
“I don’t doubt that for a moment.”
She made a face. “But thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome. I assume you would do the same for me if the situation was reversed.”
“Rescue you from a sex-maddened connoisseur of balloon art? Absolutely. That’s what allies do.”
“Good to know.”
He released her arm. She realized immediately that she missed his touch. Don’t get accustomed to it.
A thought occurred to her. “I wonder how long the effects of the suggestion last?”
“Good question. Probably not long, considering how weak the currents are.”
The next installation was titled Into the Woods. They walked through a small forest composed of columns of light projected downward from concealed fixtures.
“I have to admit that I like this artwork,” she said. “Maybe because it’s interactive.” She caught the faint pulses of energy from a nearby tile and knew she was supposed to be sexually aroused. “Forget it. The hypno-tile ruined it for me.”
She turned the corner…
…and froze at the sight of the life-sized sculpture at the end of the short passageway. Her pulse slammed into fight-or-flight mode. Icy perspiration trickled down her sides. She shivered as adrenaline-fueled panic threatened to overwhelm her.
Luke came up behind her. “What’s wrong?”
She could not speak.
“I see,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.
It was impossible to tell what the sculpture was made of—molded, high-tech plastic, perhaps, Sophy thought.
There were two figures, a male and a female.
The woman appeared to float in midair. The folds of a dark purple cape whipped around her.
In the shadow of a hood, her eyes blazed, wildfire hot.
Her gleaming red nails were sharpened into claws.
The crimson lips were parted in predatory sexual hunger, revealing the pointed tips of white teeth.
She held a set of gleaming metal chimes in one hand.
A partially nude male was sprawled beneath her. Asleep, perhaps. Or dead.
The white card on the wall did not give the name of the artist, just the title of the installation. Succubus.