“Yes,” she said. “I see them a lot in my work as a crime scene reader and housekeeper. I’m not saying I believe in ghosts and spirits, but the energy of death and violence is very real. It makes a place feel haunted.”
“Okay, I won’t argue with that.” He studied the house. “According to Hatch, at least two of the previous owners died inside the gallery, so there may be some bad vibes in there.”
“At least the energy will have faded somewhat.”
Earlier, viewed from a distance, the house had appeared to be filled with darkness. Now that they were approaching it, shedecided nothing had changed. It certainly wasn’t getting brighter or more welcoming. The exterior gardens and outdoor sculptures were artistically lit, but there was no hint of a glow from inside.
“You’re right,” Luke said. “It is creepy.”
They were among the first to be ushered through the doors by two gray-haired attendants, who, like the guard at the front gate, appeared to be retirement age. To Sophy’s great relief, the room that served as a lobby was glamorously if dimly illuminated. She glanced around, wondering why there had been no light showing through the windows. Then she saw the heavy drapes.
“Blackout curtains,” she whispered. “That explains why the place appears so dark from the outside.”
Before Luke could respond, a stocky, gray-haired attendant opened a door into a heavily shadowed room.
“Welcome to the Art of Light Experience,” he said, sounding like the jovial greeter at a big-box store.
Sophy started to move forward but paused when Luke touched her arm.
“I want to check out one of the windows before we go inside,” he said quietly.
He steered her toward the nearest set of heavy drapes and positioned her so that she was standing in front of him. She heard the curtains shift ever so slightly and knew he had tweaked one aside.
“Thought so,” he said. There was cool satisfaction in the words. “All right, we can go in now.”
Together they moved toward the entrance, joining others who were streaming into the exhibition area.
“What did you find?” she whispered.
“Behind the curtains the windows are covered in some kind of black glass. Old glass. It probably dates from when the house was constructed.”
“You heard Hatch tonight. The man who built this place and established the first art colony was notoriously eccentric. Maybe he was paranoid about people spying on him.”
“The glass in the windows is hot, Sophy.”
“I take it you don’t mean from sitting in the desert sun all day.”
“No, it’s the kind of residual heat glass and other materials pick up when they are exposed to paranormal energy over long periods of time.”
She took a long breath. “Interesting.”
“Very.”
“There is a certain buzz in the atmosphere,” she said. “The other guests are probably unaware of it. Or maybe they chalk it up to the effects of the free champagne.”
They followed a small group into an antechamber. When the attendant closed the lobby door they were plunged into dense darkness. There was some uneasy laughter.
“What’s going on?” someone said, sounding annoyed.
“Hatch is all about the drama,” a woman answered.
“Well, it is an art gallery,” a third person said. “You’ve got to expect drama.”
“Yes,” the first person said, “but this is like the start of a dark ride at a theme park.”
Sophy stilled as the first shiver of claustrophobia kicked in. She felt Luke’s hand close around her upper arm. Instinctively she heightened her talent a little. The chamber was now illuminated in a familiar gray light. She felt energy shift in Luke’s aura and knew he had gone into his excellent night vision.
“Do not be concerned,” a disembodied female voice intoned in warm, reassuring accents. “The darkness will last for only sixty seconds. It will give your eyes time to adjust to the gallery lighting so that you can truly appreciate the art.”
