Ultimate Nyssa Glass, H. Burke [cat reading book .TXT] 📗

gate back to its original position and continued along the sidewalk as if on a stroll.

They apparently approached it as if no one lives here, and from the street that certainly appears to be true, but there could still be eyes. The man invented the videophone. Surveillance wouldn’t be beyond him … sensors … Let’s see what we’re dealing with.

She unshouldered her pack and fished out a pair of goggles. Adjusting them so they sat comfortably over her hair, she turned the dial on the side. They had several settings—from simple night vision to limited x-ray—but right now she needed the one that would detect electro-magnetic fields. She scanned the area around her. Yep, the streetlights had a gentle glow around them through the lenses. They were still operational. She turned to the wall. The whole thing glowed like a theater marquee.

“What the heck?” She stepped closer. The gray-green glow followed the ivy in web-like patterns. She bent closer. What she’d mistaken for plants, she now realized were wires, ornately designed to mimic ivy, but definitely man-made. She touched a leaf then yanked her hand back at the bite of electric shock. The leaf quivered, sending a pulse of energy through the wires, like a message zipping through a pneumatic tube. Still active, but dang, that leaf feels real. Ignoring another shock, she broke off the leaf and crushed it between her fingers. The green scent of chlorophyll rose to her nostrils. She dropped it in surprise. “Sparks and shocks, it is real.”

Nyssa continued walking down the sidewalk. Whoever had set up this security system had somehow incorporated biological and man-made components. She’d heard such things theorized, but no one had even come close. At least she’d thought they hadn’t.

“How to get over without triggering an alarm, then?” Getting down on her haunches, she opened her satchel, dug out a pair of rubber gloves and slipped them on. Nyssa touched the wires again. No pulses went out. She smiled. Rubber gloves, rubber soled shoes. Just have to be careful not to touch anywhere where I can cause an arc.

The rubber gloves helped her grip the wall as she climbed. Towards the top, the ivy net thinned. With a great huff of breath, she pulled herself onto the wall and to her feet, balancing for a moment.

A large overgrown garden stretched below her like a jungle. A hedge maze lay at her feet, and beyond that a rectangular pond reflected patches of gray sky but with a slight tinge of green. Nyssa aimed for the top of the nearest hedge and jumped.

Branches crunched beneath her, but she caught hold, swung, and landed in a crouch on the garden path. For a moment, Nyssa listened. Nothing stirred, not so much as a bird. Her heart pounded painfully. It’s the exertion of the climb, she assured herself. She dabbed with her sleeve at the sweat beading on her neck. You’ve been in worse spots. Places with guard dogs and men with guns. This place is as dead as dice. Nothing safer to rob than a grave, if you can push past the creep factor.

Straightening, she peeled off her gloves and tightened the satchel’s straps. “What would Mr. C think if he could see me now? What’s the verse? The shepherd comes in by the gate, anyone entering any other way is a thief. Well, that’s me, a thief. Call it asset recovery if you want. You’re not fooling anyone.” She shook her head.

Hedges rose like walls before and behind her. She’d gotten a quick but conclusive glance at the maze from above and knew which way to head. Right, left, right, right, and I should be out of here.

Knee-high grass and patches of nettles swiped at her legs, making her glad she’d worn her thick, wool leggings rather than the more fashionable silk stockings. Spiderwebs and bits of abandoned birds’ nests stuck out of the greenery. She navigated to the front of the maze. Through the arched gate, an overgrown lawn stretched to the edge of the pond. She could smell the rancid water from there. Taking the open space at a run, she aimed towards the side of the house, not the main entry.

A thick layer of green scum topped the pond. Nyssa wrinkled her nose and steered away from it, towards a line of poplars creating a windbreak between the house and the garden.

A faint buzzing tickled her ears, like the drone of an engine. She froze in the shadow of the great trees. A horseless carriage back on the road? No, it’s coming from the other direction. From the house.

The noise grew louder. Clicks and the grinding of metal on metal now stood out over the steady buzz. Then it faded again, as if the source had passed her position and continued on.

The hairs at the back of her neck prickled. This is your last chance to turn back, go to the police. Nothing here worth risking your life for … but sparks and shocks. What is that noise?

She pushed through the low branches of the poplars and bit back a scream. A man loomed before her, nearly eight feet tall. She stumbled against the tree trunk. The man didn’t move.

Nyssa blinked. The shape was a man, but that height wasn’t, and it wasn’t moving. Emerging from the safety of the branches, she eyed the figure … the green, leafy figure. She shook her head. “Topiaries. Of course.”

The man was only one in a line of carefully pruned bushes, shrubs, and trees. To his left was a dragon breathing a blast of leafy fire, to his right a stately unicorn. Nyssa touched the leaves.

If no one were tending to these plants, they wouldn’t maintain these shapes.

On the other side of the yard of “hedge art” loomed the faded, gray mansion’s wall. So close. She stepped out.

Whir, clatter, clack, grind, whir …

Nyssa flattened herself against the bushes. The smell of hot iron singed her nose. A