He rubbed at his mouth. “I need a drink of water.”
Laura straightened his tie. “This is nice. Hermиs?” she asked.
He gave her look of utter bafflement as she walked away.
Sinclair grabbed her arm. “We have a problem.”
She followed the direction of his nod. Foyle stood near the gate entrance to the main floor. “That’s not Foyle.”
Laura narrowed her eyes at the man. He was too far away for her sensing field. “What do you mean?”
“I know Foyle’s shape. That’s not him. Besides, he was too wounded to stand,” Sinclair said.
Laura moved closer, saw there was no blood on Foyle anymore. Sinclair was right. Foyle’s essence hummed with power. Not human. It wasn’t Foyle. The man turned away from the scene and walked toward the exit. Laura ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. “Hold it!”
Foyle yanked away from her. “Unhand me!”
She blocked his way. “I don’t think so.”
He drew himself up. “I am Captain Aaron Foyle. Get out of my way.”
Laura wrenched the man’s shirt open to reveal a small gem on a gold chain. She tore the glamour off him. Foyle’s face shifted and blurred away as narrow, indigo wings swept upward. Laura fashioned a blade of essence in her hand.
“You’re not getting away this time, asshole.”
She plunged the blade into Alfrey’s head, and he dropped like a stone.
CHAPTER 39
LAURA WATCHED ALFREY through the glass window. He remained poised as he reclined in his chair surrounded by tall obelisks of quartz that dampened his fey abilities. Terryn sat outside the wards, equally calm, as if they were discussing the weather. She searched Alfrey’s face for some remorse for the twenty-seven deaths at the Archives. She saw none. She felt a small satisfaction at the swollen bruise from his left ear to his chin and the way he forced air through the wired jaw.
“You are not like your father,” Alfrey said.
Indifference flitted across Terryn’s brow. “Unfortunately, you are much like yours.”
“Your father would be disappointed to see you now,” he said.
“Do not speak of my father again, Alfrey. I may forget myself,” said Terryn.
Alfrey snorted. “You forgot yourself a long time ago when you aligned yourself with the Danann scum.”
“I will not be distracted. Who are your allies?” asked Terryn.
Alfrey smirked. “My allies? My allies are who they’ve always been. The fey who resist the domination of the Danann usurpers. The Elvenking’s slaves. The humans who do not fear us.” He leaned forward. “And the true Inverni whose leaders failed them. Those are my allies, macCullen, and they grow in number with each passing day.”
Terryn stood. “I see we are done for another day.”
Alfrey chuckled. “Pray, do me a favor macCullen? When you see Tylo, tell him he, too, has fallen from the path of redemption. Tell him Triad was never his, and we shall prevail where he fails.”
Terryn didn’t respond. Laura fell in step with him as he left the room and walked to the elevator.
“How’s Cress?” she asked.
“Better. Recovering. She will survive,” he said.
They stepped into an empty elevator. “She was amazing, Terryn. She saved us.”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve read the reports.”
“Is Blume cooperating?” she asked.
Terryn hit two buttons on the elevator panel. “At the moment, yes. I am playing on his gratitude for pulling him out of the Rotunda before Alfrey’s men trapped everyone else. He has been quite instrumental in identifying people for us.”
Laura stopped the elevator. Terryn arched a single eyebrow at her. “What’s going on with Alfrey is more than bad, isn’t it?”
“It will get worse,” he said.
“Can this really cause a war between the Dananns and the Inverni?”
He crossed his arms and stared at the floor. “The Seelie Court lied. The Treaty says what it says. Maeve has much to answer for, as do the U.S. and Britain. It may lead to something more than a civil war among the fairy clans.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know. I walked away from all that years ago.”
Laura reached out and held his arm, a familiar gesture that felt awkward. “I will stand by you, Terryn. Whatever you need. Just ask.”
He started the elevator. “Thank you.”
At the seventh floor, she left him and returned to the public-relations department. Laura sat down to a stack of pink message slips. Hornbeck had called twice. She stared at the number, then dialed. He startled her by picking up himself. She didn’t realize it was his personal cell.
“How are you, Senator?” she asked.
“Better than some. I was happy to hear you made it out of there all right,” he said.
“Thank you. How can I help you?” she asked.
He chuckled. “After what happened last time I asked you for something, I’m surprised you would offer. No, I called to apologize personally for my role in the recent affair. If I hadn’t insisted on using Blume’s people, none of this would have happened.”
“There’s no need to apologize, Senator. The Triad sleeper agents were deeply embedded. Alfrey was planning this for years. If not the Archives ceremony, it would have been something else.”
He sighed on the other end of the line. “I can’t help feeling somewhat responsible. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know.”
Laura smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a little support in the Senate now and then.”
Hornbeck chuckled again. “Yes, well, wouldn’t we all. Keep in touch.” He hung up.
Saffin entered with another stack of mail. Laura winced at the sight of the healing cuts and bruises on her face and arms. Saffin, however, smiled as she filled the in-box. “I sorted these by priority as best I could.”
Laura looked up at her with a grateful smile. “Thanks. Could you close the door and have a seat?” Curious, Saffin tilted her head and did as asked. “Are you all right?” Laura asked.
Saffin nodded, self-consciously holding her hand over bandaged fingers. “My healer sent me home with an amazing potion. I slept for three days. I’m fine.”
“No-I mean, good, of course-what I meant, though, is, how are you about what happened?”
Saffin met her eyes with a frank stare. “I’m a brownie, Laura. I become a boggart. They’re both who and what I am.”
Laura looked away. “I wish I could be so comfortable with myself.”
“It’s my nature,” Saffin said. “There’s no sense in fighting it. I came to terms with it a long time ago. I have faith that when I go boggart, the Wheel of the World has a purpose that makes sense for me.”
Laura fidgeted with a pen. “How long have you known?”
Saffin frowned. “Known what?”
Laura met her eyes. “At the Archives, when Mariel Tate found you, you called her Laura. Me. You called me Laura. How long have you known?”
Guilt crept across Saffin’s face. “A few years.”
Laura dropped back in her chair, letting her surprise show for once. “Years! How did you find out?”
The guilt turned to amused embarrassment. “Your brown suede Gucci pumps were scuffed.”
“What?”
Saffin smiled pertly. “Mariel Tate wore the same pair with the same scuffs.”
Laura leaned back. “That’s it? You concluded I was wearing a glamour because of a pair of shoes?”
Saffin rocked her head back and forth. “Well, that was the first clue. Then I noticed Audra Henley had the same loose stitch on a jacket, Sylva Wentworth had the same ink stain on her Prada jeans, and whenever you sent me to Candace Burke, I found Terryn macCullen’s number on the caller ID, then you would disappear.”
“I have an ink stain on my Prada jeans?”
Saffin held her index finger and thumb about a quarter inch apart.
“Just a little one outside the right knee.”
Laura covered her face with her hands and laughed. “I can’t believe I was that sloppy.”
Saffin shook her head. “Well, unless you have other assistants like me, I doubt it. I love your wardrobe.”
Laura regained control of herself. “Who have you told?”
Saffin’s eyes went wide. “No one! I figured if you didn’t tell me, it had to be heavy-duty undercover work.”
Laura shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
Saffin nervously rubbed at her bandaged hand. “Am I in trouble?”
Laura considered the ramifications. Saffin had known for years and never said a word. “Of course not. In fact, it’s a relief. Tell you what: Let’s keep this between us. No one has to know.”
Relief swept over Saffin’s face. “That sounds easy.”
“Good. Now, I have a ton of stuff to get off my desk before my flight tonight. Don’t put any more calls through,” said Laura.
Saffin opened the door. “That reminds me, I got you upgraded on the final leg to St. Barts.”
“Thanks, Saf. I can never thank you enough for everything.”
Laura shook her head in disbelief. Shoes. Outside the door, she heard Saffin gasp. A moment later, she scurried in carrying a vase of long-stemmed red roses. “I bet I know who these are from!” she said.
Laura opened the note card. The message was a phone number with “Jono” written under it.
“The big guy from the Archives?” Saffin asked.
“The big guy from the Archives,” Laura said. Saffin strutted out with a smug look.
Laura called the number.
“Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a few days,” Sinclair said.
“It’s been crazy,” she said.
“I thought since you still have the key to my apartment, you should probably have my new cell number.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll return the key,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I trust you. Are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked.
She rubbed the card between her fingers. “I told you, Jono. I don’t date colleagues.”
“What colleague? I met this woman at an exhibit the other night. It was like fireworks. I don’t work with anyone like that,” he said.
Laura allowed herself a grudging smile. He wasn’t going to stop. “What do you think of Caribbean food?”
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Skin Deep lb-1 Page 28
