Skin Deep (16 page)

Laura clenched her jaw. “I’ll have to coordinate this with the committee, Senator. At such short notice . . .”

He cut her off. “At such short notice, I’m sure Blume will have a speech written and prepared. I suggest the planning committee move quickly, too. It was a pleasure speaking with you as always, Laura.”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted his briefcase and walked away. Laura retained her composure. “This is a problem, Resha.”

“I don’t understand your resistance,” he said.

“It’s not just me, Resha. Rhys doesn’t want him there. Hornbeck would like nothing better than to hijack the ceremony for his own agenda. Don’t think it’s a coincidence that a U.S. senator is supporting a highly connected elven businessman. The U.S. wants to keep the Consortium as happy as the Guild.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing, playing them against each other?” he asked.

She glared at him. “Of course, Resha. And a Guild director shouldn’t be trying to level the playing field for the other side.”

Her tone wounded him more than she intended. Resha remained popular among the solitary fey because of his desire to treat everyone fairly, which was why they voted for him as their director on the Guild board so often. That attribute, though, often made him a lousy politician in Washington. Laura took a deep breath and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Resha. I know that sounded cynical, but I’m trying to honor Rhys’s wishes. I’ll talk to him.”

Resha nodded. “Yes, well, I didn’t think offering to let Blume speak would be such a problem. I suppose the Guildmaster will have a real reason to be angry with me now.”

Curious, Laura tilted her head. “Rhys is angry with you?”

He sighed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. I admired the humidor in his office not long ago. Apparently, it went missing, and Orrin thinks I took it.”

The idea was so absurd, Laura chuckled. “Did you?”

Equally amused, Resha shook his head. “No. He’s embarrassed me terribly. I hope my little faux pas here won’t make things uncomfortable for him.”

Laura’s jaw dropped. The emotional resonance in his voice was clear. “Resha! You did this on purpose.”

He grinned, for once the natural predatory appearance of a merrow conveying his intent. “Oh, let’s not speak of this anymore. I think Hornbeck has wasted enough of our time. I have a car waiting. Do you need a lift?”

Laura gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I’m all set, thanks. Nicely played, Resha. You’ve given me a headache, but nicely played.”

She shook her head as he sauntered down the aisle. She caught sight of Hornbeck talking to Tylo Blume at the side of the room. As Laura Blackstone, she had not met Blume in person and had no desire to. She casually mingled with the crowd leaving the room to avoid being seen.

Simultaneously, she watched in her peripheral vision as Sinclair angled along the side of the room toward the door. They made eye contact, and a small smile slipped onto his face before he nonchalantly looked away. She smiled when he wasn’t looking. The man was flirting with her and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was timing his exit to coincide with hers. It had been a long time since someone whom she didn’t find annoying acted like that around her. She slowed her pace to see if he intended to say anything.

She wanted to kick herself when she sensed the elven essence coming up behind her. By letting Sinclair distract her, she had fumbled her escape from the room.

“Ms. Blackstone?” Tylo Blume said to her back.

She turned nonchalantly. “Mr. Blume, it’s nice to finally meet you. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the senator.”

Blume’s eyes glittered like sapphire crystals. “I wanted to introduce myself and tell you how honored I am that the Guild chose Triad for the Archives project.”

She shook his hand without enthusiasm. “I can’t tell you how pleased everyone is, Mr. Blume.

He nodded modestly. “I understand from the senator that I’ve been asked to say a few words at the ceremony. I am flattered by the opportunity.”

Laura didn’t know whom she wanted to strangle more, Hornbeck or Resha Dunne. She keep her tone civil. “Yes, well, the logistics will need to be worked out.”

“If there’s anything my people can do to help, let me know. And do call me Tylo,” he said.

Laura smiled with a pleasure she didn’t feel. “It’s Laura, then. Regardless, I look forward to seeing you at the ceremony.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Blume said, and continued out the door.

Laura watched him leave, trying to figure his intentions. His power didn’t intimidate her in the least. She had worked with Terryn and other fey with formidable abilities so long and often that physical power didn’t impress her. Blume wanted to speak in public and needed to ingratiate himself with Laura—and the Guild—for the opportunity. Words had a power of their own, and the only thing more powerful than words was deciding who got to speak. The realization struck her that through circumstances, that made her more powerful than Tylo Blume at the moment.

Sinclair left the room with Foyle. Laura paused on the threshold and spotted them in the hallway with Hornbeck. Sinclair nodded as Foyle spoke, but his attention was focused on the door to the hearing room. As they made eye contact again, Sinclair gave the slightest shrug, as if to say he couldn’t help the missed chance to speak with her. Laura made sure he saw her smile as she walked toward the elevator. A little innocent flirting couldn’t hurt.

She called her brownie driver to pick her up. As much as the often servile nature of brownies disturbed her sometimes, it had its advantages. The driver would make every effort to do as she asked without requiring details or explanations.

She waited across the street from the building, trying to come up with a plan to disappoint Blume. Foyle and Sinclair exited the building. Sinclair gave no indication this time that he saw her as they walked in the opposite direction. Fine, she thought. While the flirting was fun, she didn’t want any more distractions.

A few minutes later, Tylo Blume left the building and stood at the curb. As he waited for his own transportation, a male Inverni fairy walked up to him. They exchanged words that became increasingly heated. Blume looked angry. They were too far away for her to read their lips. Nonchalantly, Laura snapped a picture with her cell phone. Incredibly, right in front of the Senate building, Blume called up a spark of deep green essence. He thrust his hand out toward the Inverni, who raised his own hands and backed away. Security guards from the building ran toward them with guns drawn, but the Inverni shot into the air and flew out of sight.

The security guards swarmed Blume, and he extinguished the essence. As he talked to the guards, he gestured up the street in one direction, then into the air where the Inverni had fled. Moments later, a black car arrived. Blume slipped into the backseat, and the car drove off.

As his car drove away, she zoomed in on the picture on her cell. A chill went through her. She recognized the Inverni as the one who had escaped during the drug raid. She rushed into the street, searching the sky. A car horn wailed, and she jumped back, swearing under her breath. Her car arrived. Frustrated, she settled in the back and sent the picture to Terryn. Given his other life, he knew most of the Inverni fairies in the city. Maybe he knew the one who had tried to kill her.

CHAPTER 14

LAURA PACED IN
front of Terryn’s desk. She didn’t like not understanding what was going on, when events ran a course she couldn’t predict. One small decision could change everything, one wrong move cause disaster. The creation of a simple glamour to infiltrate the local SWAT team, so mundane at the time, a routine information-gathering task, had set in motion a strange path of overlapping agendas among unlikely players.

She threw herself in the guest chair for the fourth or fifth time. Terryn’s office was Terryn. Photographs lined the walls, landscapes of his ancestral home in Ireland, including a shot of a depressed city. He told her once that the city had grown up over a battlefield that was once a place of beauty and sadness. He wanted to remind himself that the future doesn’t always improve on the past. She didn’t like the idea.

Terryn’s body signature preceded him into the room, and she jumped to her feet. “Dammit, Terryn, I’ve been calling you for hours. Who the hell is that guy in the photo I sent you?” she asked.

He dropped a messenger bag on one of the side chairs and a stack of files on his desk. “Simon Alfrey. I knew him long ago,” he said.

She stood in front of his desk with her arms crossed. “He’s the Inverni from the drug raid. What the hell does this mean, Terryn?”

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I don’t know. He’s been in Maeve’s service since Convergence. The Alfreys submitted to the Seelie Court before any of the other Inverni clans. Simon likes to style himself as Maeve’s loyal servant, despite any political differences he has with her.”

“By running drugs and trying to kill me?”

Terryn’s brow twitched in thought. “I agree it doesn’t make sense. Maybe this is part of a Guild mission that InterSec doesn’t know about.”

Laura jabbed her finger against the desktop. “He tried to kill me, Terryn, and nearly provoked an essence fight with Bloom in front of the Russell Senate Building. That’s one helluva mission directive.”

Terryn continued unperturbed. “I’m speculating, Laura. I know Maeve manipulates him, and he her. It wouldn’t surprise me if the High Queen is using him to stir up trouble somewhere. She’s done it before. Simon likes to be involved in things that may backfire on Maeve,” he said.

Laura realized she was leaning over Terryn as if he were somehow at fault. She stepped back and sat. “Isn’t that the question? What is he involved in? Who’s really involved here? What are they doing that they are willing to kill FBI agents and police officers? It can’t be drugs. Not at this level,” Laura said.

He shook his head. “You’re right. It’s not drugs. I’ve penetrated the spell on the USB drive you recovered. The data was degraded, but the apartment complex was a makeshift communications center. You stumbled on some kind of shadow network.”

Laura sank into the guest chair. “Okay, this sounds ominous.”

He gestured at the files on his desk. “There’s data relating to manufacturing operations and financial resources. An odd collection of people are either involved or at least targeted for research. There’s information about Blume’s operations, several human businessmen and politicians in the U.S., an unusual assortment of Celtic fey. I don’t know what to make of it yet. I also found several itineraries—including this week’s schedule for the president and Hornbeck,” he said.

She leaned forward. “Both Hornbeck and the president are going to be at the Archives this week. Should we consider canceling the ceremony?”

Terryn divided the files into different stacks. “Rhys and the president don’t like impulsive reactions to these things. I don’t want to look foolish if it’s something else. There are several high-profile itineraries in here. Based on what I’m seeing, it could be anything from money laundering to blackmail. There’s also a manifesto of sorts on the drive.”

“Manifesto? Like crazy manifesto?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Is there any other kind?”

Laura looked at the files. “I’d like to see it.”

Terryn pulled a thick, bound report out of the top folder and tossed it to the edge of his desk. “I made you a copy. There’s a profile of Alfrey in there, too.”

Laura started flipping through it. “We have two days to figure out if the Archives ceremony is related. I’m betting it is. You’re naming too many people in that file who are going to be at the ceremony. I don’t like coincidences.”

“I’m putting some of it in channels so we can see what the other agencies think,” he said.

She gathered her things and stood at the door. “Blume just got himself invited to the ceremony this afternoon, Terryn. I’m going to see if I can get rid of him. Keep me updated.”

With normal business hours almost over, Laura didn’t want to return to the public-relations department and get sucked into a last-minute project or crisis. She rode the elevator to the garage instead and jumped in her Mercedes. At first she drove with no direction, even no thought, just listening to music and going through the motions of driving. Eventually, rush hour reared its head, and the pleasure and distraction of driving vanished.

She had no desire to return to one of her persona apartments—even her so-called real one in Alexandria. All of them had a work connotation that would intrude on her in distracting ways. Jumping among three personas was tiring, and she didn’t want to feel like she was Mariel or Janice or even Laura, the public-relations staffer.

She parked on the opposite end of town near the Congressional Cemetery. No one she knew would stumble across her in that out of the way corner of the city. The cemetery was not on the major tour routes and had few visitors late in the day. She roamed the graves until she reached the far end away from the road, a shallow depression with tumbled grave markers. Earthmoving machinery was in evidence, and she idly wondered if the landscaping was being repaired or redesigned. She found a low retaining wall to sit on and pulled out the Alfrey profile.

Simon Alfrey was an opportunist, that much was clear. Terryn had collated a laundry list of shady financial dealings, real estate transactions, and political maneuverings that stretched back almost a century. Connections to the Seelie Court were evident, but no firm link existed between him and high-level court officials. As she went deeper into the report, she saw why. The Seelie Court might enjoy using him, but they didn’t trust him.

The Alfrey clan had a history of politically opposing Terryn’s clan for the rule of the Inverni fairies. The macCullens had even ruled the Seelie Court before their defeat by the Danann fairies. As former enemies, Terryn’s family walked a delicate balance between keeping their kindred united while at the same time not overtly threatening the rule of the Seelie Court. The Dananns had numbers on their side, and when Convergence happened, the major clans united around Maeve to protect them in the strange modern world. Except the Inverni. With the instigation of the Alfrey clan, the Invernis made an attempt to win the throne during the confusing early days of Convergence. Terryn’s father, Aubry macCullen, led the effort against Maeve and lost his life when the revolt failed. The Inverni submitted to the crown, but not before blood had been shed and alliances were broken. The Alfrey clan had seen the inevitable and blamed the insurgence on the macCullens.