CHAPTER 19
IN ORDER TO gain more
time in her day, Laura had spent the night in Mariel Tate’s
corporate suite a few blocks away. Skipping the commute from
Alexandria saved her at least an hour. The elevator arrived
blessedly empty in the parking garage. An empty elevator meant no
curious stares from other passengers when she got off on the
seldom-used back hall of the Guild accounting department. When the
doors opened, she crossed the small elevator lobby to the door that
led to her private room. She dropped the folders on the bed, making
a mental note to retrieve them later. As she shifted out of her
glamour, Mariel’s long dark hair swirled up and away back to
Laura’s natural blond. She changed out of her gray suit. Mixing
clothing between Mariel and Laura had been one of the ways Saffin
pieced together her undercover work. She didn’t want to make that
mistake again.
She sorted through the ranks of shoes along one
wall and caught herself muttering. While the macCullen brothers’
demeaning references to Cress justified her anger, she realized she
was also angry with herself. She understood their fears. Leanansidhes were dangerous. She had seen Cress’s
power, and, yes, she feared it herself. The only thing keeping
Cress from submitting to her inherent nature was force of will and
the steadfast support of Terryn. Without both of those, none of
them knew what would happen. Despite that, if she could try to put
aside her deep-seated fears as she’d told Cress, so could the
macCullens.
She slipped on her shoes and checked the outfit in
the mirror. As Laura Blackstone, she always looked the consummate
businesswoman, stylish and no-nonsense. In control. She had to be
to maintain her public personas. Like Cress. But she also knew
cracks were forming in the masks she presented to the world. She
didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t know what that meant
anymore.
If Cress let herself be herself, she would be
draining the living essence from anything she could get her hands
on, people in particular. She would be a serial killer, plain and
simple. Or she could continue as she was now, keeping focused on
assimilating into society without resorting to killing to survive.
It wasn’t a choice, not for someone with any kind of conscience.
And if Laura was feeling the stress of constantly presenting a
façade to the world, what did that mean for Cress? What would
happen to her if Terryn’s love and support were removed?
As she slipped through the closet into her
public-relations office, Laura wondered if the situation made Cress
more dangerous or less, and maybe Aran macCullen was right to
advocate that Terryn move on with his life without a leanansidhe as a life mate. And that made her feel
angry again, only this time at herself for betraying the best
interest of one friend over another.
Laura made herself comfortable in her desk chair
and not a moment too soon as Resha Dunne marched into her office.
He stopped short in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
She rolled her eyes innocently. “Upstate New York.
My father bought a small farm there.”
Confusion crossed his face. “What?”
Laura relaxed her face into a natural smile. “It
was a joke, Resha. I just got back from a meeting.”
She sensed Saffin at her desk outside the door.
How long has Resha been here? she
sent.
How the heck did you get past
me? Saffin responded.
The door was locked. I came in
the window, Laura sent.
Really?
It was a joke, Saf. What was
Resha doing out there?
He was on the phone.
“But I didn’t see you,” he said.
“You seemed very involved in your phone
conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt. What’s up?”
Resha frowned in deeper confusion, an expression
which, on a merrow, tended to look more like anger. “You walked
past me?”
Laura drew her eyebrows together in concern. “Are
you all right, Resha?”
His eyes shifted in thought as he stared at the
floor. He shrugged. “I must have been woolgathering. I stopped by
for your advice. The Legacy Foundation rejected our
donation.”
That surprised and didn’t surprise her.
Organizations rarely refused unsolicited monies that had no strings
attached. In this case, though, Legacy was smart enough to know “no
strings” meant “invisible strings,” but rejecting it outright was
surprising. “Did they say why?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell your Guildmaster his
guilt money won’t pay for the lives lost at the Archives.’”
“Who said?” she asked.
“Adam DeWinter. He’s the president of the
board.”
Laura showed no sign to Resha that she knew
DeWinter. She hated when her persona interactions crossed over. It
sometimes made things difficult to keep separate. “While not
exactly out of character, that’s still odd. Why do you think he
rejected it?”
Resha eased himself into the guest chair, which was
too small for his lanky frame. “I’m not sure. He seemed to be
enjoying the reception. Senator Hornbeck introduced me. When I
mentioned the Guild’s donation, he started lecturing me about the
dangers of unchecked power among the fey and said the Archives
incident was a major example.”
Laura tapped her pen against a pad. “Hmmm. I’m
going with Hornbeck set him off. DeWinter used you, Resha. Don’t
forget—Legacy is an antimonarchial group looking for political
favor. DeWinter used you to establish his credentials with
Hornbeck.”
Resha straightened in surprise. “Well, that was
rather rude.”
“Didn’t you notice any animosity from the other
attendees?”
He rolled his claw-tipped hands open on his lap.
“Of course. I feel that wherever I go, Laura.”
His comment reminded Laura again of the race issues
so many solitaries struggled with. On a day-to-day basis, she
didn’t notice he was a merrow, but when he made a point of saying
it, Laura cataloged the characteristics that gave humans pause—the
white skin shaded blue and gray, the vertical ridge in his
forehead, the sharp predatory teeth, and, of course, those small
claws instead of nails on each finger. People who were not fey
stared at Resha. He frightened them by existing. Like Cress did to
the fey.
Laura softened her tone. “I’m sorry, Resha. I
didn’t mean to sound like I was faulting you for anything. I’m
frustrated because I thought the donation might quiet them down for
a bit.”
Resha nodded in understanding. “Yes, I can imagine
we don’t need anyone speaking ill of the fey with the Inverni in
town.”
“True,” said Laura. Resha was no fool. Despite the
Guildmaster’s contempt, Resha saw more than he let on. That he
didn’t always exploit those things to the best advantage of the
Guild was beside the point. He hadn’t gotten to be a Guild director
because he was a total fool.
“Rhys will be upset with me. I was hoping you could
advise me,” he said.
She considered the options. They needed Legacy to
back off on criticism of the Guild in the short and long term. The
last thing she wanted was the Guild complicating her InterSec
investigation. “Does DeWinter work out of Legacy’s offices in
Crystal City?”
“I believe so,” said Resha.
She smiled. “Invite him to the reception for
Draigen. Legacy doesn’t like the current president. Drop hints that
the president might not see the Inverni. DeWinter will like being
seen with fey who don’t like the president or the Seelie Court.
He’ll bite.”
“How will that play in the media?”
Laura shrugged. “It’s a closed reception. We can
spin it in our favor.”
She watched as Resha let the idea sink in. She
wasn’t convinced it was the best solution, but DeWinter would have
a harder time distancing himself from the Guild while he was
sipping champagne. Resha stood. “Thank you, Laura. Your advice is
sound as always. I will let you know how things proceed.”
“No problem, Resha,” she said. She let out a sigh
of relief when he left.
A moment later, Saffin walked in, folders clutched
to her chest and an avid smile on her face. Her gaze shifted around
the room. “I missed you coming in.”
“I was in a rush,” Laura said.
They faced each other for a pregnant moment. While
Saffin knew about Laura’s undercover work, she had kept the
knowledge to herself for years—not telling Laura she knew. At
first, Laura was horrified to have been detected, but after some
thought, Saffin’s awareness came as a relief. She didn’t have to
sneak around her anymore, sending her on pointless errands or
excusing cryptic phone calls. At the same time, no one at InterSec
was aware of Saffin. After Terryn’s reaction to Sinclair’s knowing
about her double life, Laura wanted to keep quiet about Saffin’s
knowledge. and one way to do that was to keep Saffin on a strictly
need-to-know basis. Saffin’s obvious curiosity about how Laura had
arrived at least confirmed that she didn’t know about the hidden
room, too.
Saffin dropped the folders in Laura’s in-box. “The
usual divisions. I’m handling the media inquiries about the
reception. The music is all set. One of the flutists asked me out,
and the flowers are on order. The Guildmaster wants to meet with
you regarding his welcome speech, and I replaced all your office
plants because they don’t bloom in this light. In case you didn’t
notice, the old ones were dead, and the new ones are lovely.”
Brownies’ inherent organizational skills gave them
an ability to multitask on a level most people found exhausting.
Saffin’s launch into the catalog of tasks brought Laura relief.
Saffin wasn’t going to push the issue and ask too many questions.
Laura gave her a sly grin. “A flutist? I didn’t know you were such
a music enthusiast.”
Saffin smirked. “I’ve been told by credible sources
he has a very nice flute.”
Laura shook her head. “I don’t know how you keep
everything together, Saf.”
She shrugged. “I decide what’s important, keep
focused, and make sure everyone around me knows where they stand on
the list. Oh! And I cry myself to sleep every night.”
“Saf!”
She exaggerated the sway of her shoulders as she
left the room. “Just kidding. I don’t sleep.”