After Dark by Jayne Castle Page B

“flickers” to describe the tiny, harmless scraps of energy that were too small to be classified as real ghosts. They lasted, on average, for only a few seconds before winking out of existence. They were too little and too weak to be manipulated. Even the youngest and weakest hunters could summon flickers by the time they reached puberty.
    â€œYou’re sure it was a real ghost?” Zane looked doubtful.
    â€œTrust me on this, Zane. If there’s one thing I can recognize on sight, it’s a real ghost.”
    â€œYeah, sure,” he said much too quickly. “I believe you, Lyd.”
    But she caught the flash of concern in his gaze and knew what he was thinking. Zane was her friend and loyal defender, but deep down he, too, was worried that she had been badly damaged by whatever she had experienced during her Lost Weekend in the catacombs.
    Until she got back underground and faced a few traps, she could not prove to herself or anyone else that she wasn’t going to crack under pressure.
    The knock on the front door interrupted her before she could grill Zane further.
    â€œThat will be my hot date.” She started to get to her feet.
    But Zane leaped off the sofa and charged toward the door. “I’ll get it.”
    He opened the door with a flourish. There was a moment of acute silence while man and boy regarded each other.
    â€œHello,” Emmett said. “I’m here to pick up Lydia.”
    Zane grinned. “Hi. I’m a friend of Lydia’s. Zane. Zane Hoyt.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Zane. I’m Emmett London.” Emmett glanced at the large chunk of amber that hung around Zane’s neck. “Nice necklace.”
    â€œThanks. I’m a dissonance-energy para-rez. Gonna join the Guild and become a ghost-hunter when I turn eighteen.”
    â€œThat right?” Emmett asked politely.
    Lydia frowned. “You’re only thirteen, Zane. You’ll probably change your mind about what you want to do a thousand times before you turn eighteen.”
    â€œNo way,” Zane said with absolute conviction. He grimaced at Emmett. “Lydia’s not real keen on ghost-hunting. She had a bad experience a few months ago, you see, and she blames—”
    â€œThat’s enough, Zane,” Lydia cut in swiftly. “I’m sure Mr. London has dinner reservations. We’d better be on our way.”
    â€œYeah, sure,” Zane said. He looked at Emmett with a proprietary gleam in his eyes. “Lyd’s ready to go, Mr. London. She looks real nice, doesn’t she?”
    Emmett swept Lydia with a considering expression. His eyes gleamed, too. Lydia was pretty sure she saw amusement in that amber-colored gaze, but she thought she also saw something else, something that might have been masculine appreciation. She grew unaccountably warm.
    She wasn’t blushing. She could not possibly be blushing. This was business, after all.
    Maybe she should have worn a business suit instead of the little aqua dinner dress. She had bought it just before the disaster in the catacombs, right after she and Ryan Kelso had started dating. But Ryan had eased himself out of her life in the weeks following her Lost Weekend, and she’d never had an opportunity to wear the dress.
    When she had taken the frock out of the back of the closet where it had been hanging unworn for more than six months, it had seemed discreet enough for a business dinner. The long sleeves and the high neckline gave the garment an almost prim look. At least, that’s what she had told herself. Suddenly she was not so sure.
    â€œYes,” Emmett said, “she looks very nice.”
    Nice? What did “nice” mean? She wondered. She eyed his slouchy, unconstructed black linen jacket, black T-shirt, and black trousers. Definitely not nice, she decided. Dangerous, sexy, intriguing, but not nice.
    She cleared her throat. “We’d better be on our way. Zane, you can do