She flinched in surprise when she caught the intense vibe.
“You’re right,” she said, “there’s energy inside. But it’s locked.”
“That’s interesting. The question is, why would someone lock it?”
Sophy smiled, feeling rather smug, in spite of the gravity of the situation. “It wasn’t locked by the bad guys. This is Aunt Bea’s signature.”
Luke’s eyes sharpened. “What are you talking about?”
“My aunt is very good with crystals. She can tune them and lock the energy inside—at least until someone like me comes along.”
“Are you telling me you can unlock that crystal?”
“I can neutralize the currents of the lock, which amounts to the same thing. Just a little light housekeeping.”
Luke’s eyes tightened at the corners. “Got to admit, I’m impressed.”
“I’m delighted, of course, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention thatextremely confidential, private, and personal informationto the Foundation people. They would probably jump to some awkward conclusions.”
“I’m hurt that you think I would even consider conveying gossip to the Foundation. Would you please unlock that damn crystal?”
“Yep.”
She focused on the currents that locked the crystal, intuitively searching for the anchor.
“Got it,” she said. “Bea didn’t try for complicated. She must have wanted the stone unlocked as soon as it was discovered. That implies she knew, or maybe she hoped, that I would be around when it was found.”
“Yes it does,” Luke said. “And she was right.”
The currents that had been locked in stasis inside the pyramid began to oscillate. The crystal glowed faintly in her palm.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “I’m not sure where this is going.”
The life-sized figure of a rugged-looking man in his late forties or early fifties sprang up in the middle of the room. Sophy gave a shriek of surprise and bolted to her feet.
The figure bounced around the space as if it was the beam of a flashlight.
Bruce yipped, scrambled out of the way, and gave Sophy a reproachful look.
“Sorry,” she said. She patted him gently. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.” She held the crystal steady. The figure stopped moving. “What in the world?”
“It’s a paranormal hologram,” Luke said. He shook his head in admiration. “I knew Deke was working with some old cameras that he was sure were Bluestone tech. Looks like he figured out how to take a photograph and lock it in that crystal. When you unlocked the crystal it was like flipping a switch.”
“That person who is now hovering a foot off the floor is your uncle?”
“Meet Deke Wells.”
“Hmm.”
The man in the holographic image was about Bea’s age. He was lean and fit. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was swept backfrom a peak on his forehead and fell to the collar of his khaki shirt. Faded jeans and low boots completed the outfit. Something about his eyes reminded her of Luke.
In the hologram he held up a sheet of yellow notebook paper in one hand. There was a message written in ink. Luke moved closer to read it aloud.
Luke, if you’re reading this, I fucked up. Not sure what Hatch is doing here in this so-called art colony but I think it involves those old Kaleidoscope weapons. Hatch has a talent for photonics and I remember Granddad saying the guns were designed to fire lethal light waves. Got to be a connection.
The more immediate problem is that the para-rad levels here in the compound are climbing. The high-tech lighting scattered around the grounds is masking most of the heat, but Bea says not for much longer. She thinks the place is a tinderbox. I agree.
A lot of the energy is natural—this canyon is a true vortex—but there’s more to it. The epicenter is the gallery. Bea and I are going to take a look inside later tonight. If you’re here because we disappeared, don’t waste time looking for us. The priority is to find the source of the instability, get the hell out of the canyon, and call in the Foundation. It’s the only outfit that can handle this mess.
