CHAPTER 37
LAURA WAITED IN the dark
of the Holy Rood Cemetery, old granite tombstones pale and silent
around her. Terryn had given her the location in a sending, and she
passed it on to Sinclair. In the distance, the Washington Monument
glowed like a white spike against the deep azure sky. The graveyard
had fallen into disrepair long ago, its occupants ancient and
forgotten. No living descendants of the interred had visited in
decades. Despite its proximity to Logan Circle, the place wasn’t
high-profile or likely to draw attention. Which was what made it a
convenient meeting place.
Sinclair arrived first, his tall silhouette
recognizable as he strode up the hill from the street. Laura
lingered in the shadows, watching. He avoided direct lighting and,
once in the graveyard proper, moved along the darkened perimeter.
His casual gait appeared to be that of a someone out for a
late-night walk. She knew the moment he sensed her by a subtle
shift in the angle of his path.
“You sensed me from a pretty good distance,” she
said.
He smiled down at her. “Always checking out my
abilities, aren’t you?”
She pursed her lips in pleasure. “Always
questioning my motives, aren’t you?”
He playfully flicked a strand of hair off her
cheek. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Anytime you want to check out my
abilities, you let me know.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re calling that
‘abilities’ now?”
He handed her something small, and said, “Skills,
then. I brought you something.”
Foil wrapping caught the light. “How’d you know I
like dark chocolate?”
“I saw the wrapper in your trash the night we had
pizza,” he said.
She slipped the candy into her mouth.
“Thanks.”
He snorted. “What? No ‘how dare you look in my
trash’? Or where else was I snooping?”
She crumpled the wrapper and poked him in the
shoulder. “I’m not that bad.”
He leaned closer. “You’re badder.”
She laughed. “You don’t give up.”
“Are you telling me to?” he asked.
She pursed her lips through a smile. “I’m not
telling you anything.”
They stood in amused, almost bashful silence. Laura
broke eye contact and glanced down toward the street. As she faced
him again, he put his hands on her waist and lowered his lips to
hers. She closed her eyes. His lips covered hers, a warm, soft
pressure that didn’t push for more. She returned the kiss, then
eased away. She glanced over his shoulder as a faint dark blue spot
appeared in the sky. “He’s coming.”
They watched as Terryn dropped out of the sky,
landing effortlessly next to them. Laura felt uneasy as Terryn’s
gaze shifted back and forth between them, as if he wasn’t approving
of something. “My apologies for being late. There were some
last-minute details on security for Cress.”
“No problem. We were necking while we were
waiting,” Sinclair said.
In the long pause after he spoke, Laura fought
feeling self-conscious. Even though by now Terryn knew he said
things to provoke reaction, she knew that Terryn wasn’t a fool. He
had to know she was interested in Sinclair. “Why are we meeting
here, Laura?” he asked.
She looked toward downtown. “Privacy. Too many eyes
are on you right now, Terryn. From here, I was able to watch if you
were followed.”
“And why would that be a concern?”
She hesitated. Coming right out and saying what she
was thinking was going to be difficult. She decided to avoid it for
the moment. “I’m close to accessing the files at Legacy.”
Terryn ignored Sinclair. “Is Genda monitoring the
case?”
She shook her head. “She thinks I’m closing it
down. She wants me to focus on Draigen.”
“Has she made any unusual requests?” he
asked.
“Not particularly, although she’s complained that
you don’t keep very good files.”
Terryn considered. “We need to keep her distracted
until I return.”
“How’s the vacation going?” Sinclair asked.
Terryn’s body signature shifted, a flash of essence
that Laura knew meant anger. Terryn leveled a cool gaze at
Sinclair. “I begin to tire of your disrespect, Sinclair. Don’t push
me further.”
Sinclair slid his hands in his pockets. “Or what?
You’ll tell Rhys you’re doing an end run around the successor he
had them pick for you? Or that you’ve been employing agents off the
books? Or that you’re running your own op outside channels?”
Terryn stepped toward Sinclair. Sinclair dropped
the cocky grin. “Come on, big guy. Take a shot. Just remember,
you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your
life.”
Laura held her hand on Terryn’s chest. “He’s
immortal, Jono.”
Sinclair shifted his eyes toward her, then back at
Terryn. “Fine. The rest of my life.”
“Are you boys done? Because I have work to do,”
Laura said.
Terryn moved away. “What’s your report,
Sinclair?”
Sinclair glowered, not speaking. Laura elbowed him
gently. “They have a crew doing urban-assault exercises,” he said.
“There’s an old warehouse complex about fifty miles west of the
city. They’re training us for something but haven’t said
what.”
“How many?” Terryn asked.
“Several dozen. Maybe a hundred people
total.”
“Fey or human?”
“All human,” he said.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Laura said.
“Bullets work very well against the fey,” Terryn
said.
She paced in thought. “Even so, they’ve got to know
we’re on high alert. If they’re planning another assault against
Draigen, men with guns against Inverni Guardians is a big tactical
disadvantage. We’re missing something.”
“I agree. The answer might be in the Legacy files.
How soon can you acquire them?” Terryn asked.
She had hoped Moor would come through with the
information when she calmed down. She hadn’t. An idea drifted
through her thoughts, one that she had threatened Fallon Moor with.
She had bluffed about seducing the information out of DeWinter. It
could be a shortcut, one she didn’t want to take. She avoided
looking at Sinclair, as if he could read her thoughts. “I’ll speed
up the timetable as best I can.”
“My back channels tell me that whatever they’re
planning, it will happen soon. Draigen’s here for a few more days,
then we can relax,” he said.
Laura snorted. “Yeah, that happens.”
Terryn frowned at her. “Don’t let Sinclair rub off
on you.”
“I’ll rub whoever I want, thank you,” Sinclair
said.
She glared at Sinclair, annoyed as much at herself
as at him. Terryn was wound tight. It was bad enough she was about
to add to it. She didn’t want him to think she was being frivolous.
She took a deep breath. “Terryn, the real reason I didn’t want to
meet at the Guildhouse is because I’m concerned something’s going
on with your family.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Such as?”
She steeled herself to say what she had been
thinking. “A cover-up, Terryn. Between Brinen seeming to hide
something and Aran letting his people be overly aggressive at the
hotel, it’s almost like they don’t want to know what
happened.”
“The Inverni—and my family in particular—can be . .
. protective of their own,” he said.
“How much more ‘their own’ can Draigen be?” she
asked.
“It’s not a matter of hiding the truth as much as
it is keeping it within the clan. Trust me. They are all concerned
about what happened,” he said.
“I’m beginning to think they’re obstructing the
investigation,” she said.
He shook his head. “Whatever the disagreements
within my family, Laura, they do not extend to murder.”
Sinclair let out a loud sigh. “Makes you rethink
that whole looking at all the angles thing when it strikes close to
home, doesn’t it?”
Terryn glared at him. “I don’t believe I said I am
making an excuse to dismiss.”
Sinclair didn’t react. “You’re right. There goes my
bad again.”
“I think we should rerun background checks on
Aran’s staff. Brinen’s, too. Aran thinks he’s being set up by
Brinen,” Laura said.
“Run the checks. Tell no one. Is there anything
else?” Terryn asked.
Laura crossed her arms. “Anything else? For Danu’s
sake, Terryn, Cress is under guard, and you’ve been suspended. What
the hell is going on?”
“It’s all part of Rhys’s plan to discredit the
Inverni cause. How better to make people suspect our motives than
to point out that the heir to the clan consorts with a demon
fey?”
“I’m going to say something to him,” she
said.
“I think that’s a bad idea,” said Sinclair.
Laura whirled toward him. “Really? Since you know
nothing about Guild politics, why don’t you share your
wisdom?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m only pointing out
that if Rhys finds out Laura Blackstone works for Terryn and
InterSec, it will look like you’re a spy. A spy for an Inverni.
Which, frankly, you kinda are, now that I think about it.”
She flushed with embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That’s a
good point.”
“Apology accepted.” Sensing honest truth, she
glanced at him. He wasn’t being smug, which made her feel worse for
snapping at him.
Terryn made her feel worse when he agreed. “It is
an excellent point. This will pass, Laura. It’s a skirmish in a
very old fight.”
“But what about Cress? She thinks she’s
fired.”
Terryn sighed. “What’s happening to her is
unfortunate. She found a place at InterSec once. She’ll find
another there or somewhere else. Not everyone is as thickheaded as
Rhys. We’ll get through this, Laura.”
She crossed her arms and hugged them to her chest.
“I hope so.”
“Thank you. For everything, Laura. I mean that,” he
said. A mauve light swirled through his wings, and he lifted off
the ground. He hovered, staring down at Sinclair, making his
annoyance obvious. Sinclair waggled his fingers in a sarcastic
wave. Terryn’s wings blazed brighter, and he flew off.
Laura placed her hands on her hips. “You have got
to stop doing that.”
Sinclair walked away. “Yeah, I noticed you telling
him the same thing.”
She strode after him and grabbed his arm. “What’s
gotten into you, Jono? With everything going on with him, I thought
you agreed to lay off?”
He pulled away. “Lay off? What about him, Laura?
Poor, poor Terryn, threatened from every side. What about me? I’m
being threatened by one person and one person alone: Terryn
macCullen. Do you have any idea what it’s been like being told that
one wrong move, and you’re dead? Or being told everyone else’s life
is more important than yours? And then being told to put your life
in danger to prove you are worthy of the great Terryn macCullen’s
approval? Am I wrong about who I think you are, or are you just not
getting it?”
Stunned, she blinked rapidly, letting what he said
sink in. The smug looks he had thrown at Terryn were gone, replaced
by utter frustration. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He thrust his hands up. “Thank you. And I’m sorry
if the only recourse I’ve had from all this is to break his balls,
but too damned bad.”
He started down the hill, and she hurried to catch
up with his long strides. “Jono, you’re right. If this is the way
you need to handle it, then go ahead. The only thing I ask is that
you don’t let it get physical.”
“I can’t promise that,” he said.
She tugged at the lapels of his jacket. “He can
kill you without breaking a sweat, Jono. Please be careful.”
His face softened. “I think you care about
me.”
She shoved him lightly and danced away. “Yeah, even
when you’re impossible.”
He sauntered after her. “I think I’m entirely
possible.”
She slipped her hand into his, but he pretended to
shake it off in annoyance. She caught it again and laughed as their
fingers struggled against each other. They left the cemetery hand
in hand until they reached the edge of the pool of light from a
streetlamp. Sinclair lifted her hands and kissed them.
“Be careful walking to your car,” he said.
She smirked. “Be careful with the urban-assault
training.”
He chuckled, the deep chest chuckle she no longer
denied liking.