CHAPTER
21
A FEW HOURS
later, Laura straightened up her desk and returned to her hidden room. As she zipped up the uniform jacket and shifted into the Mariel glamour, she cast a longing glance on the rumpled, unmade bed. The day had been long already, but she had more work to attend to. She checked her Mariel image—this time wearing the standard black uniform rather than the business suit. Cress had left word that she would be working late, so Laura took her usual route through the accounting department, then the elevator to the InterSec unit offices. Once through the locked entrance, she knocked on Cress’s office door and leaned in. “You left a message for me?”
From her work counter, Cress cocked her head over her shoulder. “Hello. Let me finish this, and I’ll be right with you.”
Laura leaned against the counter and watched as Cress used an eyedropper to add a clear fluid to a row of test tubes. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Cress shook her head. “Routine. A team brought in some soiled clothing to test. We’re trying to figure out where a murder victim has been.” She held up one of the tubes and watched as the liquids swirled around each other. Replacing the tube in the tray with the others, she loaded them into a centrifuge and turned it on.
From her desk, she collected a folder and handed it to Laura. “I received the results from your gloves.”
Laura reviewed the report, skipping over the technical analysis to the summary section. “The taggant is military?”
Cress tapped at a lined sheet covered with signatures in different hands. “All explosive hardware is inventoried and tagged by recipient. As it changes hands or locations, the information is updated.”
“The C-4 from the shop bombing was from Fort Bragg,” Laura read.
Cress placed a manifest in front of Laura. “That’s the last registered location. I’ve already checked the Department of Defense database. No C-4 reported used, missing, or stolen from that shipment.”
Laura glanced up. “Could they have not discovered it missing yet?”
“It’s possible. I opened channels for a discreet inquiry.”
“If it came from Bragg, it will be a bigger problem,” Laura said.
“Why?”
Laura flipped through the data analysis. “Special Forces train and operate there. It’s no secret a lot of black ops recruit out of training camps.”
Cress crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Are you saying these attacks might have official U.S. sanction?”
Laura dropped the folder on the desk. “Maybe. When military hardware is involved, it usually means two things: official sanction or rogue operatives. Neither is comforting in my book.”
Cress rubbed at her forehead. “Gods, I’m so sick of all of this.”
Laura reached out and took her by the shoulder. “Have you talked to Terryn yet?”
Moisture pooled in her eyes, startling Laura. She had never seen such an obvious emotional response from Cress. The
leanansidhe
rubbed at her eyes and slipped onto a stool. “No. We haven’t had ten minutes awake together in the last few days. This never ends, does it? If it’s not some terrorist, it’s a government. Or some fey embezzling from humans. Or some plain-vanilla serial killer—which is more sick that I can call something like that plain vanilla. It never ends. It never ends and he . . .” She grimaced and shook her head. “These things pull at Terryn. He never rests, never lets things be. It’s always his responsibility. He never gives himself time for himself. For . . .” She stopped.
Laura’s chest felt heavy from the emotion pouring off Cress. “For what? For you?”
Cress dropped her head. “And now I am the cause of more problems.”
Laura brushed stray hairs back from Cress’s cheek and fixed it over her ear. “Is Rhys still making trouble for you?”
With a stricken look, she stared at the ceiling as if she could see through the floors above to the Guildmaster’s office. “I don’t know if it’s him, but I’ve been called into several meetings. They’re questioning me about the Archives.”
“Interrogating, you mean,” she said.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Laura sensed full truth, but it didn’t make her feel better. Cress knew she’d sense a lie if she had said no, so she was honest. But then she would shut down any further conversation. They didn’t pry into each other’s lives. Laura used to think that was the courtesy of friendship. Now she wondered if that said something about the friendship itself.
“Does Terryn know?”
She went to her desk and straightened some papers. “He’s busy with Draigen’s visit.”
Laura shook her head. “That’s not good enough, Cress. You almost died saving all those people at the Archives. You don’t deserve this.”
She hugged herself. “That was my fault. I was focused on venting off excess essence. I didn’t hold anything back for myself.”
Cress’s choice not to absorb essence from anyone without invitation made it harder for her to maintain her own essence. Even given that, Laura wanted to shake her for blaming herself for not protecting herself. “That’s ridiculous, Cress. Nothing was your fault. Rhys needs to know that, and Terryn should help you.”
Cress stared at her. “Is that going to matter in the end? I’m a
leanansidhe
, Laura.”
“Terryn—”
“Terryn”—she interrupted—“is one man, who takes on more than he should as it is. He’s worried about his family, about his clan. He’s worried about the balance of power between governments. Do you think he has the time to do anything about a Guildmaster who is afraid of what everyone else is afraid of?”
Laura shrugged slowly. “He’s Terryn macCullen.”
Cress’s jaw dropped. She snapped her mouth closed, then started laughing. “He’s Terryn macCullen. You’re right. And that’s why I can’t ask him, because he will try. And when someone tries to do too many things, nothing gets accomplished.”
Laura held her by the shoulders. “You matter, Cress.”
She closed her eyes. “I wish I could believe that. I know he loves me. I know I matter to him; but in the big picture, is it fair of me to want to matter more than anything?”
Laura did shake her then, but gently. “Yes. It is.”
Cress bowed her head. “Thank you for that.”
Laura hugged her. “Life sucks, Cress. You know that. The whole point of finding someone like Terryn is that you have someone to turn to when it really sucks.”
She knew she heard herself say it, even believed it. Life was a chain of disappointments, but life itself didn’t have to be. There were other chains, other paths, that did not lead to sadness. As she soothed Cress, she thought how tired she was and that the best she had to hope for at the end of the day was an unmade bed in a room with no window. Maybe, she thought, it was time to take her own advice. Maybe she needed to move beyond that and remember what life was like outside the walls of a Guildhouse.
When this job is done, she told herself, change is going to happen.
CHAPTER
22
IN THE EARLY-MORNING
hours, Laura drove through a still-slumbering city. She had spent the night at the suite InterSec provided her in a nearby residential building, which she used as Mariel Tate’s home address. Already glamoured, she arrived at the Guildhouse as dawn broke, ready to spend the day with the macCullen staff as Mariel.
With Draigen’s visit to the White House at midmorning, she had cleared her schedule of anything else. No Legacy stint. No Guild work until late in the day. She didn’t want to face any hassles balancing other duties while she worked security. Once she was on the scene with Draigen, she needed to see the operation through to its conclusion, so other personas were out of the question.
While the rest of the city awakened, she had already spent hours within the Guildhouse with the macCullens on a final assessment, the plan review, the staff review, the location review. As the appointed time for Draigen’s departure drew near, the security team spread throughout the lobby of the Guildhouse. Business continued as usual, with people arriving and departing as in any other office building. As the base for the Seelie Court’s diplomatic missions in the U.S., the Washington Guildhouse attracted a number of fey species rarely seen together.
The short trip to the White House was scripted to the minute. Brinen and Aran remained in charge, responsible for any major decisions that cropped up. She had her own role to fill—show up at the right time in the right place and do the right thing when required. It was the type of work that was second nature to her, an assurance of her skills and abilities that didn’t require unnecessarily second-guessing herself.
Today, spies concerned her. Opening the Guild in the 1900s to all fey regardless of their historical affiliations remained one of High Queen Maeve’s most shrewd decisions. A significant number of Teutonic fey joined or worked for the Guild, producing unlikely scenarios of elves and dwarves and their allies working closely with Maeve’s Celtic supporters. The situation gave Maeve political cover, helping her to appear as a unifier among the fey. In reality, the Teutonic fey were given limited authority and never in an area that would have an impact on Maeve’s political agenda. Laura knew many of the Teuts were spies, but it was a situation that surprised no one. Maeve had her own spies at the Elvenking’s Consortium consulate across town.
The morning threat assessment gave no clear understanding of the Elvenking’s position on the Inverni situation. There were arguments for both sides. On the one hand, turmoil in the Seelie Court worked to his advantage, so encouraging the Inverni opposition also worked in his favor. On the other, provoking the Danann clans to act against the Inverni produced the same result. Donor Elfenkonig was a sharp politician, though. He knew the perception of his own aggressive posturing often made him an easy target for criticism. Under the circumstances, he might sit back and watch how Maeve handled the role for a change. Still, the local Teutonic fey bore watching.
The more subtle threat, in Laura’s opinion, were the Celtic fey. Not everyone trusted the Danann. They had come to power centuries ago through war. The fey had long memories. And the Dananns trusted no one. The tension between the Inverni and Danann clans only made matters worse.
The travel plans were checked and double-checked up to the moment when the word came down that Draigen was ready and the president was ready and everything that was supposed to bring the two together either was or wasn’t ready, but didn’t matter anymore. Things had to happen. Immediately. The show was on. A brownie security guard leaned toward her. “Agent Tate, we have a go out front.”
“A minute, please,” she said. Laura surveyed the lobby one more time as she smoothed her long dark hair over her ear. The security plan was tight, but it never hurt to have additional measures in place, ones that not everyone knew about. She didn’t know Draigen’s staff well enough to want to rely solely on them, so she had her own check on the plan.
We’ve got a go, Jono. What say you?
“Nice, solid barrier spell across the front. Ends capped. I’m seeing a thin gap on one side.” His voice whispered softly in her earpiece as he used a radio link. The shield barrier made it difficult for him to send.
No one else knew Sinclair was out there and that he was checking up on the Inverni security.
What does the closest Inverni Guardian look like?
“Tall, crabby guy. Dark brown hair braided to the waist,” he said.
Aran macCullen.
Lord Guardian, this is Mariel Tate. Tighten up your spell. You’ve got an opening,
Laura sent.
After a long delay, Aran macCullen’s sending drifted across her mind.
Thank you, Agent Tate. I think a streetlamp was warping the line. Where are you? I thought you were inside.
Jono?
she sent.
“It’s closing,” he said.
Affirmative, Lord Guardian. ETA in one minute,
Laura sent.
Nice catch, Jono,
she sent.
“Thanks. Did I ever mention how hot your voice sounds in my head?”
She smiled. He couldn’t see her yet.
Focus,
she sent hard.
He growled in her ear. “Ouch. Ohhhh . . . I like it when you get rough.”
Remembering she was supposed to be a stoic security agent, she dropped the smile. “We’re good to go,” she said to the brownie beside her.
Draigen emerged from the elevator, and Laura fell in step beside her.
“What was the delay?” Draigen asked.
“Final details, Lady Regent. Nothing to be concerned about,” she said.
Laura pushed through the revolving door and into the bright sunlight of late morning. As the door spun behind her, she scanned the area while Draigen waited for the signal to exit. Local police blocked off traffic on the short block, redirecting it to the other side of the park opposite the Guildhouse. The limousine idled at the curb. Brinen macCullen was stationed on the sidewalk to the right near the front of the car while Aran stood by the rear bumper. Both men had their backs to her as they monitored the barrier spell that was intended to block any essence-fire directed at the car or the building. Farther down each end of the block, Inverni Guardians and Guild agents boosted the spell, some on the ground, some in the air.
“Hold,” Jono whispered in her ear.
Hold,
she sent in a wide broadcast. Laura thrust her hand down in a fist in case someone didn’t receive the message. Everyone froze. Body shields flickered on or hardened. She spotted Sinclair on the opposite side of the park, wearing a gray track suit and dark sunglasses.
What have you got?
“I thought the barrier was going to change. It’s okay now,” he said.
Laura relaxed her hand. Tension eased, and the revolving door spun behind her. Draigen emerged and paused, despite having been told to keep moving the moment she appeared outside. Terryn wasn’t the only macCullen who liked to push against imposed limits, Laura thought. Draigen came even with her on the right, and they moved forward together across the sidewalk. Ten steps to the car, and they would be on their way.
“Gap’s back,” Jono said in her ear.
Lord Guardian . . .
Laura began. Something jumped across her vision, small and light-colored. She heard someone grunt as she looked down at a chip in the sidewalk. A small dark object blurred across her vision. A fragment of the sidewalk cement shot up, deflected by her body shield.
Sniper!
she burst in a broadcast sending. Moving too fast for a human to track, Laura gripped Draigen by the shoulder and shoved her back and down. Aran jerked his head toward them for a visual check on Draigen, then spread his wings high and wide, hardening the essence in them. Brinen rushed in front of Laura, and their interacting body shields crackled. Laura perceived the movements as peripheral, instant confirmations of who and what moved in her immediate surroundings as other agents moved in to surround Draigen.
She gauged the trajectory of the gunshot and fired a streak of white-hot essence up the street toward the roofline of a building two blocks away. Aran went airborne, using the shot as a directional marker. In a whirl of color and speed, Brinen and Draigen disappeared into the darkness of the limousine. The door slammed shut, and a hardened essence barrier rippled into place around the car.
Inverni Guardians and Guild security swarmed the sidewalk. Laura pointed as more fairies joined Aran in the air. “Roofline, right side, two blocks down.”
She hurried to the car. A slivered gap opened in the protection barrier to let her in. She dove through it as the door opened, pulling it shut behind her. Exuding calm, Draigen sat on the rear seat, hands folded in her lap. Next to her, Brinen angled across the seat, craning his neck for a view out the back window. He held one hand against his chest.
“Are you secure, Lady Regent?” Laura asked.
Draigen shifted her gaze to the sidewalk as if the car had paused for her to admire the view. “Yes, thank you, Agent Tate. My brother has been shot, however.”
Sinclair’s voice came in low and urgent. “Are you okay, Laura?”
Agent Tate is fine. Radio off,
she sent.
Laura peered out the window at the gathering agents on the sidewalk. “We’ll have a medic team in a moment.”
“They can follow us to the White House,” she said. The car started moving.
Startled, Laura arched an eyebrow. “Lady Regent, your brother . . .”
“I am fine,” Brinen said. He didn’t look fine. He held one wing open along the seat, puncture wounds visible near where it connected to his back. His voice vibrated with truth when he spoke, though. If he wasn’t fine, he at least believed he was.
Draigen gave her a cool stare. “Nothing will stop this meeting, Agent Tate.”
Laura settled into the seat, eyes on the passing sidewalk. She had to admit, the level of determination in Draigen’s voice impressed her. An assassination attempt and a wounded brother did not fluster the woman. Terryn had chosen well when he made his sister regent.
Police motorcycles shadowed them the few short blocks to the White House. At the gatehouse, Secret Service agents allowed them in without pause. Laura stared out the window as the car eased along the drive to the side entrance. She had not been in the Executive Mansion during the current president’s administration. The amount of security she was seeing impressed her. She glanced toward Brinen, who held his hand lightly against his chest wound. Times had changed. The security had become a necessary part of life in the capital.
The car stopped, and someone opened the door from the outside. Aran ducked his head in, his gaze first to Draigen, then his brother, then Laura. He held out a hand to Draigen. She took it and eased herself out, her wings unfolding with a sparkle of essence as news photographers jostled nearby.
Attend to my brother, please, Agent Tate,
she sent to Laura.
The door closed. Brinen visibly relaxed against the seat. He dropped his hand, blood glistening with a pale red shimmer. He grimaced as he unbuttoned his tunic. “Clavicle is cracked or broken. I believe a bullet is lodged near my shoulder cap. No artery hit.”
“Oh, good. I was concerned it might be serious,” Laura said.
Brinen shot her an annoyed look, one that looked distinctly familiar from her experience with Terryn. Brinen changed his expression to a pained grin. “Terryn never mentioned you were funny.”
Amazed, she shook her head as blood welled out of the dark wound on his chest. “He never mentioned his entire family has balls of steel either.”