Skin Deep (27 page)

Alfrey’s body signature trailed left toward Blume’s office. As the runes dissipated in front of her, she decided against her initial plan to disable the cameras. Doing so would raise an alert and decrease her already limited time. Instead, she activated her body shield and tuned it to reflect her surroundings. Her body faded from view, not disappearing, but taking on the colors and patterns of the environment around her. The spell worked much like a glamour, but rather than a fixed template in stone, it fluctuated like a reflective veil.

She moved into the hall, her silhouette a rippled distortion against the wall, and followed Alfrey’s essence path to Blume’s office. Residual essence pooled in the air outside the door, layered over her own from her earlier visit as well as Gianni’s and Blume’s. Alfrey’s essence continued farther up the hall, a single sinuous line that meant he hadn’t returned. Yet. Either he’d left by another exit, or he was on the floor still.

She froze as an angry voice penetrated the quiet.

“Of course she knows something. Why do you think she’s here?” Blume was in his office. A lower, indecipherable response revealed someone in the room with him.

“Then find out,” said Blume. “I want to know what connections she’s making and who she’s talking to.”

More murmuring, then: “With Sinclair? So what. Of course, there’s more. You people are so damned short-sighted.”

She leaned closer, trying to hear the other voice, but the soft reverberation told her only that the speaker was male.

“Then do it. I want it taken care of,” said Blume.

The elevator signal chimed behind her, followed by the scraping sound of the doors closing. At close range, her spelled veil would not fool anyone. She hurried from Blume’s office in the opposite direction. As she reached the far end of the hall, the elevator chimed again. She ducked around a corner when she heard footsteps coming nearer.

She reached a brightly lit elevator lobby and hit the call button. When an elevator arrived, she rushed in and slammed the DOOR CLOSE button. The door slid slowly together as the sharp sound of footsteps rang in the lobby. A shadow appeared on the floor. The doors closed. She leaned against the wall and laughed as the elevator descended.

The elevator opened onto the main lobby for Blume’s building. Laura moved quietly within the area behind security. The two guards on duty didn’t even look to see if anyone exited the elevator behind them. She rounded a corner and faced a set of doors. A burst of voices and music greeted her when she opened the door to yet another corridor, the one that led to the rear of the Vault. She shed her masking veil and walked toward the bar.

As she reached the private elevator, it opened, and Gianni stepped out. He frowned when he saw her. “What are you doing away from your post?”

Laura threw an annoyed look at the nearby restrooms. “I needed to take a break.”

Gianni glanced at the restrooms and back at her. He gave her an insincere smile. “Your shift’s over anyway. Let’s have a drink.”

Instead of taking her to the bar, he unlocked a nearby door, and they entered a small, cluttered office, no closets, a sealed window. In the small space, she sensed no one else—no Inverni fairy masking himself from view. To be on the safe side, she activated her body shield. The room had no exits. Laura hesitated on the threshold. Being alone with the man who’d tried to shoot her wasn’t high on her list.

Gianni eased himself into the desk chair. “Don’t just stand there, sit. You did okay tonight.”

She gave him a tight smile and eased into the guest chair. “Thanks.”

A knock sounded, and a bar server in her early thirties came in with two drinks on a tray. She smiled. “Hey, Sal. Starting earlier tonight?”

Gianni laughed too much. “I never stop. When you getting off?”

Still smiling, she shook her head. “When my husband comes to pick me up. You need anything else?”

He grinned. “Sure. Tell your husband I’ll drive you home if you want.”

She laughed at that and tapped Laura on the shoulder as she left. “You watch that one, hon. He’s not as nice as he seems.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Laura said, unable to keep the dry tone out of her voice.

Gianni held one of the glasses in the air, waiting for Laura to pick up hers. He tapped her glass. “Blume sends his compliments and thanks. Me, too.”

She nodded and sniffed the drink. Mead. A nice one if she wasn’t mistaken.

“We got off to a bad start,” he said.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Gianni leaned back with his glass. “Yeah. The whole Sanchez thing had me bad. I couldn’t help thinking if it was me instead of you, he’d be alive.”

His vocalization dripped with falsehoods. “It wasn’t my fault, Gianni.”

He nodded vigorously. “I know, I know. Like I said, the Sanchez thing screwed with me. We were tight.”

“Why the change of heart?” she said, echoing Blume’s words to her.

He shrugged. “I thought I’d clear the air since you’re going to be working here.”

“Then I get a steady gig?”

Gianni nodded. “Until Blume says otherwise.” He rocked his head from side to side. “Yeah, Sanchez was a good guy. You know?”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t with you guys last time I worked with the SWAT team.”

His look of realization was on the overboard side. “Oh, right. Good guy, though. So you didn’t get to talk to him much?”

She sipped the mead. “No more than you and me.”

He gave a long, considering look. “Anyway. I have something else to take care of, so you’re good for tonight.”

“Already?” she asked.

He stood. “Policy. New employees are monitored until background checks are complete. I have something else to do now and can’t watch you.”

She furrowed her brow. “You run a background check on an InterSec staffer who works for the SWAT team?”

Gianni held out his glass. “This isn’t Little League in here. Bottoms up.”

She tapped glasses with him again. They finished the mead. Gianni walked her back to the bar. “See you next Tuesday,” he said.

Laura pursed her lips as he walked away. His voice had been modulating in the false spectrum when he said good-bye.

I’m leaving. Watch for Alfrey,
she sent to Sinclair.

Everything okay?
he asked.

Yes. I’ll wait for you outside,
she sent.

She made one more visual check of the bar. Gianni was gone. No sign of Alfrey. Not engaging Blume too quickly was acceptable. The key to gaining confidence was not looking eager, but given the overheard conversation, she thought she might have tipped her hand. She considered that Alfrey might have been the one with Blume, though given Gianni’s odd behavior, she surmised his was the muffled voice. She had no doubt the overheard conversation was about her. How—and if—it connected to the drug lab was one question. She was more interested in the strange exchange she had witnessed on the street between Blume and Alfrey.

Whomever he was talking to, she was sure of one thing. Blume was afraid of something.

CHAPTER 28

LAURA JUMPED AT
the blare of a car horn, surprised she had wandered into the crosswalk not far from the entrance to the Vault. Too much in your head again, she thought, annoyed. She had stamina, but the physical toll on her was affecting her mentally and emotionally as well. She was letting herself get distracted, and in her line of work, that could be fatal. Even Gianni had said as much when she questioned him about Sanchez. Every error, even small ones, had consequences.

She approached the SUV with her keys already out. As she played with the ring to separate the ignition key, it slipped from her hand. A wave of dizziness swept over her when she bent to pick up the ring. Light-headed, she leaned a hand against the SUV. The mead had been strong, but it was only one drink. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, annoyed that Terryn was right. She was overextending herself. Running multiple personas was possible, but not without enough sleep.

She slid into the driver’s seat and watched the front door of the Vault. Her mind wandered to Sinclair. Again. Either he was playing her well, or he was genuinely interested in her. She was letting Sinclair get to her, and damned if she could come up with a good reason why not. People hit on her—it was part of the Washington scene whether or not anyone admitted it—but Sinclair had something sincere about him that attracted her, despite the fact that he lived a lie, pretending to be a human normal. She could understand that, too. It only served to enhance his appeal. He could have hidden in any number of occupations, unseen, undetected, but he chose law enforcement. That said a lot about him as far as she was concerned.

The night reached its tipping point, and people left the club in larger numbers. Black cars and limos pulled up, and a series of businesspeople departed with their security guards. At closing, a cluster of patrons spilled out, followed by security staff. A flurry of waitstaff left in the final wave. The outside door of the Vault closed for the last time. A lone light remained on as the club closed for the night. Still no sign of Alfrey.

You still there?
Laura sent Sinclair.

Yes.

Did you see Alfrey?

No. Gianni’s gone, too.

She tapped the steering wheel. Gianni hadn’t left in his truck, so he must have left another way. She scanned the floors above street level. A few lights were on, but no one moved in the windows. Either Alfrey had settled in for the night, or he’d left another way. Fairies thought nothing of hopping out windows.

I’m going to the apartment. Send if you need anything.

She pulled in to traffic. A car horn beeped. She looked up at the red traffic light. She hit the brakes in the middle of the intersection. Swearing under her breath, she realized she was on the wrong street. She turned wide at the next corner and wrenched the steering wheel back to compensate. The SUV swayed. Nausea welled up in her stomach.

At the next red traffic light, she closed her eyes against the glare of an oncoming car. Her eyes felt sore and gritty from too little sleep. A car horn sounded, and she realized she had driven over the center line. She jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. Sweat blossomed on her forehead. She was blocks away from the traffic light where she’d closed her eyes.

A buzz filled her head, a static, crackling hiss. She cast out around her and felt nothing. She was head-blind again. She reached out to the dashboard to call Terryn when something jolted the SUV. The stench of essence-fire on metal surrounded her. She called up her body shield, straining with the effort. She blacked out.

Consciousness returned in a flash of headlights and careening cars. Panicked, Laura swerved. The SUV jumped the curb and scraped a mailbox. She lurched to a stop, and she took a deep breath. Drugged. The sluggish thought drifted up. Something in the mead. It was too fast, too sudden to be anything but a drug. Gianni. He had to know it would be obvious to her that he did it. Which meant he didn’t care if she knew.

She gathered a burst of essence for a sending, but it shredded and dissipated. She was head-blind. She had the uneasy sense that she’d known that already. She tried to call Terryn from the dashboard system, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. Leaning across the seat, she fumbled in her handbag for her cell phone. The smooth case felt slick in her hand and her fingers slipped off its edges. As she opened it, she lost her grip and dropped it. Leaning forward, another wave of nausea hit. She groped along her sleeve for her InterSec transmitter, then swore aloud. Her fingers felt thick and numb, and she couldn’t find it on her skin.

Twisting in the seat, she attempted to climb in back for her duffel bag to get the secondary transmitter she kept in it. She slumped sideways when she released the seat belt, the sudden motion unsettling her. As she crawled between the seats, her stomach undulated violently. For a moment, her head cleared, and her stomach lost its cramped grip. Digging in the duffel, her hand closed on the transmitter.

She awoke twisted between the front seats with her head toward the back. Her body shield was activated. Someone yanked on the passenger-door handle, a male voice shouting. He sounded far, far away. Not friendly. With a limp hand, she shot essence in the direction of the voice. White light danced and ricocheted through the car. She passed out again, street noise and warm air rushing over her.

Her eyelids, thick and sluggish, resisted opening. An incessant static buzzed in her head. A shudder ran through her as feeling returned to her body. She hadn’t realized she was numb. She shifted out of an awkward position and felt the SUV moving. She struggled to open her eyes. The street scape tore by the windows in a blur of lights, smears of red and yellow against the darkness.

Terryn was at the wheel. His face was grim as he looked over his shoulder at her. “Can you hear me?” he asked.
Can . . . hear . . . ?
he sent.

“Head-blind,” she said. She thought she said it. She wasn’t sure her lips moved.

She blacked out again. Something burned in her chest. A deep warmth, not painful, a glowing ember of soothing essence. She wasn’t moving. The SUV wasn’t moving. She smelled cool, dank air, the bitter odor of exhaust and oil, and the flinty edge of stone. Hands moved on her chest, and the warmth spread. Sharp pains spiked through her rib cage, and she lurched forward with a gasp.

She opened her eyes to find herself splayed on the backseat, one leg hanging out of the rear passenger door, her calf cramping against the cold, hard edge of the door-frame. The other leg twisted under her. She hung sideways in the seat, with the armrest thrusting her back into an arch.

Cress crouched over her, her fingers clamped onto Laura’s shoulders, whiteless eyes showing no emotion. She panted, baring her teeth, faintly blue-tinged teeth glossy with saliva.
Let me in, Laura. You must let me in,
she sent.

The words echoed in Laura’s mind as if from someplace far away. Her mouth stretched open as she tried to shout. Daggers of bitter violet essence stabbing at her body essence. Cress was trying to get inside her. Panic rose at the violation, at the wrongness of the
leanansidhe
essence, and the hunger behind it.