Ponytail stiffened as though he had been struck by lightning. An instant later he went limp.

There was no time to comprehend what had happened. The second man was shouting.

“Get it off, get it off,” Earring shrieked.

Slade rolled to his feet in time to see Rex clinging to the back of Earring’s neck, small claws dug into the windbreaker and probably some skin as well.

Frantic, Earring tried to back up against the nearest wall, intending to squash Rex.

“Rex,” Slade said. “That’s enough. I’ve got him.”

Rex leaped nimbly free, twisted in midair, and landed lightly on his feet. He faced Earring, snarling silently.

Earring was clearly traumatized but he produced a gun from under his windbreaker. Oblivious of Slade, he aimed the weapon at Rex.

Slade moved. He caught Earring’s gun arm, jacked up his talent, and reached into the storm.

Earring went limp and collapsed to the floor.

Slade went quickly around the room, collecting weapons. He found two pairs of handcuffs in his desk drawer, FBPI issue, and used them to secure the wrists of the unconscious men.

He went to Charlotte. She watched him with wide, psi-hot eyes as he gently pulled the tape off her mouth.

She gasped, taking in great gulps of air. He dug out his Takashima pocketknife and went to work freeing her wrists.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“Yes, sure, never better,” she managed. “Scared to death, though. And they broke my glasses. Bastards.”

“What happened?”

“They were watching the house, like you said. They blocked the entrance of the drive with their car. The creep with the ponytail made it clear he would shoot me through the windshield if I didn’t get out of the car.”

“I knew they would come back for the clockwork gadget,” he said. “They couldn’t afford to leave it at the scene of the murder too long because of the risk that someone would find it.”

“They talked about it on the way down the drive. By then I figured out that you must have already run into the doll and dealt with it. I realized you were probably setting some kind of trap. I also knew that I had screwed things up for you.”

“You had no way of knowing what had happened and there wasn’t time to tell you.” He looked around. “Do you see that gold watch the second man brought along?”

“Sorry,” Charlotte said. “I can’t see very well without my glasses.”

Rex appeared from under the couch, muttering excitedly. He waved the gold pocket watch and rushed across the floor to his clutch bag. He pried open the purse and put the watch inside.

Charlotte squinted. “Did he just put the watch in the clutch?”

“He did,” Slade said grimly.

“Good luck getting it back.”

“Maybe I’ll let Arcane handle that job.” Slade reached for his phone. “I’ll call Willis and have him pick up these two.”

Charlotte frowned. “Hang on. They’re hunter-talents, aren’t they?”

“They were a little above midrange, I think. Not exactly the stuff of legend.”

Charlotte tilted her head ever so slightly to one side. “They were a little above midrange?”

“They’re just normal bad guys now. Willis can handle them.”

Charlotte cleared her throat. “Why are they merely normal?”

He looked at her. “Remember you told me that I probably wouldn’t figure out what I can do with all that stormlight energy until I found myself in a position where I needed to use it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I found out a few minutes ago what I can do with my talent.”

“But what, exactly, did you do?”

“I burned out their para-senses. They’re psiblind.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Permanently?”

“I think so, yes. Can’t be positive because I’ve never done it before but it sure felt like a permanent psi-burn.”

“LEAVE THE AUTOMATON IN THE BATHTUB,” MARLOWE Jones ordered over the phone. “Don’t touch it. Don’t let anyone else touch it. Sounds like you deactivated it successfully but the tub will provide some additional protection in case it’s still capable of generating energy. You’re sure it’s facedown?”

“I’m sure,” Slade said. He was standing in the bathroom, the phone clamped to his ear, looking down at the Sylvester doll in the tub. “But I think it’s safe to handle as long as the key is out.”

“Pay attention, Attridge. You are not to take any more chances with that device.”

“Well, it sure as hell can’t remain here in my tub for long. I need to shower occasionally.”

“My assistant is on the phone to the lab people at the museum now. The removal-and-transport specialists should be there sometime tomorrow afternoon. The experts have ways of dealing with paranormal artifacts. They’ve got a specially equipped van.”

“Good to know,” Slade said. “But we’ve got a big storm coming in tonight. We’re bracing for wind and rain damage. If there’s a lot of it the ferry dock may be out of commission for a couple of days. Your lab people may have to wait until the following day to get here.”

“I’ll let them know. You say the automaton was made to resemble Sylvester?”

“The Old Bastard, himself.” Slade walked out of the bathroom into the hall. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget that he’s one of your ancestors.”

“Believe me when I tell you that no one in the Jones family ever forgets that,” Marlowe said. There was great depth of feeling in her tone.

“Give me some background on this clockwork weapon.”

“The original clockwork curiosities were created by a brilliant clockmaker named Millicent Bridewell back in the late Nineteenth Century, Old World date. Mrs. Bridewell sold the devices to special customers who were in the market for a discreet assassination machine that would not leave any hard evidence at the scene. I gather from my ancestor, Caleb Jones’s notes, that the toys caused a lot of trouble for J&J at the time.”

“What happened to them?”

“Most disappeared after J&J worked a case that came to be known in the records as the Quicksilver affair. But a few showed up a couple hundred years later in the twenty-first century. That was back when Fallon Jones was running J&J.”

“Which Jones?”

“Never mind, take my word for it, he was one of the legendary directors of J&J. He got all sorts of interesting cases. Rogue psychics, Nightshade, Mrs. Bridewell’s curiosities.”

Marlowe sounded wistful, Slade thought. He smiled. “Well, it’s not like you and your fiancé haven’t been busy lately. According to the press the two of you saved the whole Underworld.”

“Yes, that was quite exciting,” Marlowe said, brightening. “You say the device in your bathtub is still in working order?”

Slade thought about the cold energy that had almost iced his heart. “No doubt about it.”

“Does the mechanism look like Old World technology?”

“No, the escapement and the other parts are all new,” he said. “So is the costume. Everything about it was obviously constructed here on Harmony.”

“Except for the eyes. I’ll bet they’re original. They are the source of the killing energy and no one has ever figured out how to re-create Mrs. Bridewell’s brilliant work.”

“Not that you know of.”

“True. But there is absolutely no record of her work having been duplicated. Bridewell found a way to infuse powerful energy in glass and hold it in stasis until it is released by mechanical means. Her weapons-grade automatons could be used again and again, like guns. Quite unique.”

“The question now is, how the hell did this thing end up on my island?”

There was the faintest of pauses on the other end of the connection.

“Your island?” Marlowe repeated neutrally. “Adam told me that as far as you were concerned, the job on Rainshadow was strictly temporary. He said you were planning to quit in a few months.”