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.”