Silver Master by Jayne Castle Page A

When he opened the door she saw a short, stocky man with a shaved head. Elaborate tattoos decorated the thick arms exposed by a black T-shirt. He looked like he could juggle large vehicles without breaking a sweat.
    â€œThis is Trig McAndrews,” Davis said.
    Trig nodded politely. “Miss Ingram.”
    â€œMr. McAndrews.”
    He grinned. “Call me Trig.”
    â€œAll right.” She inclined her head. What did one say to a bodyguard? “Would you like some coffee?”
    He gave her a smile that lit up the room. “That sounds like a truly splendid idea, ma’am.”
    It also gave her something constructive to do. She slid off the stool and went around the counter into the small kitchen.
    While she made the coffee, she listened to Davis give Trig a brief rundown on what had happened. The part that sent a little chill down her spine was the bit about how Davis had been forced to melt amber in order to deal with the twin ghosts. Everyone knew that amber didn’t actually melt when someone pushed too much para-resonating psi energy through it, but it did lose its delicate tuning if it was overused. The thing was, the vast majority of people couldn’t generate enough paranormal energy to melt amber. Only someone with a lot of power could do it.
    Whatever else he was, Davis was a very strong psi talent. But, then, she already knew that, she reminded herself.
    â€œTomorrow I’m going to escort Miss Ingram to Frequency for a wedding,” Davis concluded. “While we’re gone, I want you to see what you can find out about a para-rez who can pull a dopp aboveground. Can’t be that many of them running around.”
    â€œHe shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Trig agreed. “Guy like that probably has some past connection to the Guild. Wyatt’s people will help. You know what they say: The Guild polices its own.”
    â€œHah.” Celinda did not look up from spooning coffee into a pot.
    â€œMiss Ingram is not what you’d call pro-Guild,” Davis explained.
    â€œYeah, I got that impression.” Trig didn’t sound the least bit offended. “Not like she’s the only one who has a few doubts about the sterling qualities of the organizations.”
    Celinda rezzed the coffeemaker and turned around. “But I’ll bet the Guilds make excellent clients, right?”
    â€œOh, yeah,” Trig said cheerfully. “They pay right on time, and their checks always clear. We at Oakes Security take that sort of thing real seriously.”
    â€œI guess a client is a client,” she admitted. “I can’t say that I haven’t had a few in my time whose chief redeeming quality was the fact that their checks cleared.” She surveyed her tiny living room. “Where’s everyone going to sleep?”
    â€œDon’t know about the rest of you,” Davis said, dropping heavily onto the edge of the sofa. “But I’m sleeping right here.” He reached down to take off his shoes.
    He looked as if he was holding himself together through sheer willpower, Celinda thought. But, then, he had a lot of that. Maybe more than was good for him.
    On impulse, she went around the counter and down the short hall to the linen closet. “I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”
    When she returned to the living room, pillow and blanket in her arms, Davis seemed vaguely surprised but not ungrateful.
    â€œThanks.” His voice was low and drowsy with the rush of oncoming sleep.
    He took the pillow from her, turned on his side, and closed his eyes.
    Celinda waited a couple of seconds. When she realized that he was already sound asleep, she unfolded the blanket and covered him with it.
    She turned to find Trig watching her with a carefully veiled expression. The room seemed suddenly very quiet.
    â€œDoes he do this a lot?” she asked, for want of anything else to say.
    â€œRun up against a doppelganger ghost and