Free Canyons of Night by Jayne Castle Page A

many of the small rentals on the island. The furniture was sturdy but battered. The well-worn couch and the pair of reading chairs set in front of the fireplace looked as if they had been around for several generations. The two framed pictures on the wall were faded generic landscapes of Amber Island scenes that had probably been in the house as long as the furniture. There was a bedroom and bath but the cabin also boasted a sleeping loft in the high-ceilinged front room designed to accommodate additional guests. The loft overlooked the main room and was accessed by a narrow wooden staircase.
    She crossed the old braided rug and went into a vintage kitchen. Opening the elderly refrigerator, she took out the bowl that contained the cucumber, tomato, olive, and basil salad she had brought with her. She poured the dressing that she had made earlier over the salad and tossed everything together. When she was ready she picked up the bowl of salad and the loaf of zucchini bread she had brought and went back outside. The sun was sinking fast. The evening was growing cooler. By the time she left she would need the sweater, she thought.
    “Devin Reed stopped in to see me today,” she said. She set the salad and the bread on the picnic table. “I assume that was your doing?”
    “I may have given him a push in that direction. I figured out he was the most likely suspect.” Slade eased the fish onto a platter. “Devin just turned thirteen. He is obviously coming into a talent of some kind. He’s attracted to the energy in the shop. But I’m sure he didn’t steal anything.”
    “I gave him one of the antiques.”
    “Yeah?”
    “An old Damian Cavalon compass.”
    “An original?”
    “Yes.”
    Slade whistled. “Nice gift. Was he thrilled?”
    “He seemed pleased. I did a little tuning work on the compass. It suits him now.”
    “The way that pocketknife you gave me suits me?”
    She shrugged. “It’s what I do. Speaking of young Devin, I’ve noticed that he hangs around you every chance he gets. Looks like he even managed to find a pair of sunglasses that looks exactly like yours.”
    “I talked to him today about what’s happening to him.”
    “The development of his talent?”
    “Right.” Slade sat down on the opposite side of the table. “He doesn’t have any idea of what’s going on and he’s afraid to talk to his grandmother for fear she’ll think he’s got mental health issues.”
    “It’s a reasonable concern. He wouldn’t be the first kid to get sent to a shrink after coming into a nonstandard, non-amber-related talent. What kind of ability do you think he has?”
    “Not sure,” Slade said. “It’s still unfocused.”
    “He lost his mother a few months ago. That kind of trauma can delay or even totally screw up developing senses.”
    “He’s a good kid but he’s caught some bad breaks.”
    “I understand that there’s no father in the picture.”
    “No,” Slade said. “The kid’s got his grandmother but that’s it.”
    “Myrna isn’t going to have an easy time of it. It’s hard enough to raise a teenage boy alone. Trying to deal with one who is showing some serious talent will be even more complicated.”
    “Especially if the person doing the raising isn’t comfortable with the concept of nonstandard talent, herself,” Slade said.
    “Who is, unless you happen to be Arcane? And even within the Society, very strong talents tend to make other sensitives nervous.”
    “That’s the thing about power of any kind,” Slade said. “It can be scary. I told Devin that what was happening to him was normal but that most people wouldn’t think so. I advised him to keep quiet about his new senses until he’s older and until he’s figured out how to control them.”
    “Good advice. Meanwhile, he needs guidance. No matter how you label it, what he did last night certainly fits the definition of illegal entry.”
    “It won’t happen again.”
    “A kid like Devin could go either