Face Off (29 page)

She paused, then decided to provide proof that only Terryn would truly understand. “DeWinter asked Fallon Moor to transfer the money into the Inverni account at Aran’s direction. I traced the transaction and have confirmed proof.”

I’m sorry, Terryn,
she sent.

Terryn looked stricken.
You are not to blame.

Sendings fluttered through the air. Terryn turned to Laura. “Thank you, Mariel. This is now a clan matter.”

She hesitated. “I have one more thing to say. While you played games with the leadership of your clan, people have died. If you keep on this course, more will. Find a better way because I think you are all doomed otherwise. If you can’t, you deserve to lose everything.”

She walked to the door, but Terryn called her name. She turned, expecting an argument.

“Please tell Agent Sinclair I expect to see him report for official duty,” he said.

A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. “I will.”

You need to make a decision about your own life, too, Terryn. Good luck,
she sent.

She didn’t look back. Despite everything—Brinen’s misguided plans, Rhys’s machinations, Terryn’s love for Cress—she knew that what she had exposed to the macCullens would probably cause more problems among the Inverni than any of the others.

She had one more stop to make. When the elevator arrived, she held her InterSec badge up and ordered the brownie security guard out. In the long run, it didn’t matter who knew she went to the Guildmaster’s office, but given that she had attacked him the night before, she wanted as little security around as possible.

As Laura entered the anteroom to Orrin ap Rhys’s office suite, it occurred to her that she had never been there before as Mariel. She had a sense of wrongness, as if she had crossed personas, something she avoided at all costs. There was no conflict, though. Her business with him was a personal matter between him and Mariel Tate.

His Danann assistant glanced up and paused at her typing. She placed a trembling hand on the desk blotter near the phone. “Can I help you?”

“Mariel Tate to see the Guildmaster,” she said.

The Danann paused, a professional smile on her face. “The Guildmaster says you should coordinate communications through his lawyer. Would you . . .”

Lifting her hand as if she were brushing her hair back, Laura tapped the ambient essence in the air. “Sleep.”

The assistant froze in midsentence. Laura opened the office door. In irritation, Rhys turned in his seat at the sound of her entrance. He drew a subtle charge of essence into his hands when he saw her but didn’t activate his body shield. She sensed that his body essence was damaged from her blast. Even a short burst of essence without his shields would kill him. She wasn’t sorry he was alive, but at that moment, she wished she had put him in the hospital

“Nervous about something, Rhys?” she asked.

“I had you banned from this building,” he said.

She stopped in front of his desk. “Indeed. Yet here I am. Keep that in mind for the future.”

“Security is on its way,” he said.

She withdrew papers from her jacket and dropped them in front of him. “I won’t be long.”

He glanced at the top sheet, empty except for rows of numbers. “What is this?”

She leaned her hands on the front of his desk. “Financial transactions. InterSec tracked down the original sources of a significant amount of money. Funds moving from you personally to Legacy to fund the kidnapping of Cress Leanansidhe.”

He chuckled. “You’ll have a hard time proving that.”

“And you will have a hard time defending yourself against conspiracy charges as well as attempted murder,” she said.

With a smug look, he extinguished the essence in his hands. “Shall I point out the flaw in your amusing little plan, dear? As High Queen Maeve’s representative, I have complete diplomatic immunity. You won’t be able to file charges on your rather creative claim.”

Laura straightened. “That doesn’t mean you won’t be deported from the U.S. Once the evidence is made public, no government will grant you credentials again. You’ll be trapped in Ireland for the rest of your illustrious career . . . dear.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, a feeble light flickering in them. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

She gave him the coldest smile she knew how. “Oh, it’s much worse than that, Rhys. I don’t
care
what I’m doing. I’ll be watching. Have a nice day.”

As she strode through the anteroom, she withdrew the sleep spell on the assistant. “. . . like to make an appointment?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Laura said.

On the sidewalk in front of the Guildhouse, she paused. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The warmth felt good on her skin. She filtered out the traffic noise and focused on the soft sounds of the birds across the street. She could shut things out. She could do it. She had thought she could, but she hadn’t given herself a reason to in a long time.

She opened her eyes, the whir of the city reasserting itself around her. She strode up the sidewalk to where a black car waited. The driver opened the door, and she slid into the backseat. As they pulled away from the curb, she opened her cell phone.

“It’s me,” she said, when Jono answered.

“Who you?” She heard the smile in his voice.

She watched the decimated Mall slip past the window. “Just me. How’d you like to pack your bags and go away with me for the weekend?”

“I’d like that very much,” he said.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said.

She disconnected the call and settled back in the seat. She had done it, said her piece no matter the consequences. She had been honest about what she thought with people who didn’t want to hear. A sense of calm satisfaction spread over her, and she smiled. Then she laughed, anxious to see Sinclair.