by Clara Martin
Just a paranoid feeling, I told myself firmly. I grabbed my lunch from the passenger seat and resolutely jumped out. Nothing to worry about.
I jogged back to the building, stopping at the door and sighing. I knocked, eyeing the blue surrounding the door with disfavor. The door opened. Charles stood there.
“Come in, Eileen,” he murmured, opening the door fully. The murmur sounded strangely intimate. I walked in, ignoring it.
“Thank you, Charles,” I said, holding my keys close and my lunch in the other hand. If he attacked, I could punch him with the keys.
He seemed to know which way my thoughts were headed. His eyes crinkled and he stepped back, bowing again and gesturing toward the conference room door. “Please,” he said formally. “After you.”
I smiled frostily and swept ahead of him, walking steadily toward the conference room. At the door, I leaned in. “Unicorn,” I whispered. The door opened.
“Don’t forget to close the door behind you,” Charles’s voice sounded behind me. I turned around, one hand on the door. He winked at me. “You never know who’s on the prowl.”
I sighed. “Thank you for the advice,” I said, voice still frosty. I closed the door firmly.
I walked to the War Room, wondering about Charles. I’d run into his type back in the military—a wandering eye, a handsome face, and a quick tongue made for a dangerous combination for some women. Not me, I thought firmly, whispering to the War Room. It opened smoothly, and I walked back in.
“Ah, Eileen,” Anna said distractedly. It looked as though she hadn’t moved. “Let’s eat and talk. Or you eat and I’ll talk.”
“Did you not bring lunch? I can give you half my sandwich,” I offered.
Resolutely, Anna shook her head. “No, thanks—it’ll remind me to bring my lunch next time. Now, let’s chat.” She pushed the list of supplies to me. “I added a few we might need. What do you think?”
The day went by swiftly after that; after about an hour, I went to Phillip’s station at the BFT, and he taught me how to work it.
“It’s not so different from what you had in the army,” he said, clicking with the mouse. “We just rely more on magic than the army did. Must be nice,” he said wistfully, “to have satellite access.”
Anna sent me home at five o’clock. “You’ll have enough late nights,” she said. “Get out at a reasonable time while you still can.” I smiled, walking to the door. Charles was gone. I felt a small twinge and dismissed it at once. It couldn’t possibly be disappointment.
Chapter 4
Over the next week, my days fell into a routine. I’d go in, mission plan with Anna, work with Phillip on the BFT, and trade snarky comments with Charles in the conference room. He always seemed to be there, though he’d moved on to a new book.
“Von Clausewitz?” I asked, as he showed me the title. “I read that. Clunky. Dull.” I paused. “Irrelevant,” I said wickedly.
“I’d disagree with you there,” Charles said, smiling. Each time we locked eyes, his seemed to soften. “Clunky, yes. Dull, yes. Irrelevant? No.” He paused. “War changes because of technological and magical innovation, but the fundamental truths don’t.”
I pulled out a chair and sprawled into it. “I’d argue that those technological and magical innovations do change those very fundamentals. Look at World War II. The Poles managed to hold their own because of their magical genius.”
“They were eventually overrun by superior forces,” Charles countered, putting his hand on the table for emphasis.
“Only because the fae—with their far superior magical sophistication—joined the Germans.”
“But you just made my point. Magical superiority is superiority of arms. A fundamental truth of war is that he who has them, wins.”
We debated for a while, until I happened to catch a glimpse of my watch. It was six thirty. I’d sat there and talked with Charles for an hour and a half. “I have to go,” I said quickly, jumping to my feet.
“Of course,” Charles said easily, sprawled back in his chair, his eyes still soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” I said, straightening my back and grabbing my purse.
“Eileen.” His voice stopped me as I began to turn away. It was low, rumbling. “Do you carry pepper spray?”
“Yes,” I said, frowning.
“Good. You might want to get a gun, as well.”
My back stiffened. “I can’t buy a gun,” I snapped. “I was involuntarily committed to a mental hospital.” Let him chew on that.
He laughed, soft and low. “You are such a law-abiding citizen, Eileen.” I heard his chair push back as he prowled up behind me. “Leave it to me,” he whispered in my ear. I jumped. He laughed again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He moved back and to the side, standing next to me. He gave a slight bow, extending his arm toward the door.
Wordless, I swept to the door, fumbling with the knob. Charles leaned over and gently pushed it open. “Thank you,” I said stiffly. I marched through. I could feel the spot on my shoulder, the place Faolain had caught me with his magic, burning.
Charles’s hand caught my shoulder and swung me around. He grabbed my other shoulder, holding me at an arm’s length as he gazed sharply at the spot. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes went hard.
“When did that happen?” he rasped, his grip tightening.
I shifted, wondering if I should punch him. “When I fought with Faolain,” I said, voice tight. “He caught me with some kind of magic.”
Charles frowned. “Did you feel a wave of heat sweep through you?”
I frowned back. “I did.”
Charles’s grip got tighter. “Well then,” he said, his voice deeper and lower, “you really need that gun.” He released me suddenly. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“I don’t need an escort,” I snapped. He smiled at me, eyes crinkling, still hard. They looked cold, I noticed, cold and dangerous.
“You do,” he replied simply, putting his hand on the small of my back and urging me forward. “Let’s go.”
There was clearly no reasoning with him. I marched forward, shoulders up and spine straight. Charles chuckled.
“You look like a lieutenant on a parade ground,” he murmured. I glared at him. He smiled at me.
Silent, we walked out of the building. We ran into Jenny at the door, who glanced from me to Charles. Her mouth tightened.
“Charles,” she said, voice dropping low, “are you still going to help me with the operations order?”
“Of course, Jenny,” Charles replied, walking past her, hand still on the small of my back. Jenny scowled at me.
We walked to my car together. I took out my keys, unlocking it. Charles grabbed the door handle and opened it, gesturing to the driver’s seat. “Please,” he said politely.
“I can open a door myself,” I snapped, swinging myself in and putting the keys in the ignition.”
He chuckled. “Of course you can, Eileen. But you don’t have to.” He gestured. “Seat belt,” he said pointedly.
I glared at him, snapping the seatbelt into the buckle. “Satisfied?” I asked.
“Not really. But it’ll do for now.” He closed the door.
I jerked the car into reverse, checking to make sure he was out of the way. He stood well off to the side, smiling benignly, eyes still hard. I waved, surprising myself. He blinked, then raised his hand. I peeled off into the road, gripping the wheel tightly.
What on earth was I thinking? He was trouble—lots of it, if I was any judge. Better to leave him to Jenny, I thought, giving the wheel a vicious tug. He’d get tired with me before long and move on.
Besides. I couldn’t forget who I was. I was a damaged, schizophrenic former lieutenant. I couldn’t see any relationship working for long, not before he got tired of my constant paranoia, occ
asional hallucinations, and inability to do magic.
I breathed deeply, deliberately releasing my death grip on the steering wheel. It was for the best to stay away, I told myself firmly. There was no future. There was no potential. No matter how charming his smile or compelling his eyes, they were not for me.
I sighed. I often cursed my condition, remembering who and what I was before the fight that had cost me my magic. I’d been a top caster of battle spells, slated for deployment to the Northern Wilds. I’d hoped to be one of the first female Rangers—my battle spells were certainly up to muster. I’d been working on my run and my pull-ups, focusing on getting my physical strength up to par, when disaster had struck.
I couldn’t think about it. Gnawing on my lip, I guided my car down the freeway. It had happened three years ago. It might as well have happened yesterday. I gripped the steering wheel again, fighting the flood of memories.
Worthless, a voice whispered to me. Joe, I recognized, feeling dismal. What use are you?
“Shut up,” I said, punching one hand into the steering wheel. The horn blared, and the driver next to me scowled at me and flipped me off. I gritted my teeth and reached over to my radio, turning it on. I found a classical station and focused. They were playing Chopin.
I made it home, walked through the front door. Both Nate and my mother were there, putting away groceries.
“Hey there, Eileen,” Nate said, holding a pack of cookies. “Want one?” He tossed me the pack.
“I could use some chocolate,” I said, taking one out. Chocolate chip. My favorite. I walked over to the cabinet, putting the cookies away. “How was your day, Nate?”
“Good. The president called me from the football match. They’re having a grand old time, but your friends took off. Said something about a family emergency.” Nate looked at me sharply. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said absently.
“Was it really a family emergency?”
I sighed. “I can’t answer that.”
Nate nodded. “I thought so.” He bent down and pulled out a can of coffee. “We ran out of coffee.”
“And creamer,” my mother added from the refrigerator. She looked at me. “We do use a lot of both.”
I laughed. “That we do. Nate’s basically nocturnal and I’m tired all the time—and you deal with children. Between all of us, it’s no surprise.” I bent down to a bag and pulled out toothpaste. “I’m going to run this upstairs,” I said, backing out of the kitchen. My mother nodded absently as she tried to fit a jar of jalapeño peppers in the refrigerator.
I headed up the stairs to the bathroom, putting the toothpaste next to the sink. I looked in the mirror. My brown eyes were wide and staring. I sighed and splashed my face with water. That felt better.
“Eileen,” a voice behind me spoke. I jumped and whirled. A Sending cloud sparkled behind me. The voice was dark and heavy. I felt myself pale, recognizing Prince Faolain.
“Eileen O’Donnell,” the voice continued. “We need to talk.” It paused. “I guarantee you safety and safe passage to the Northern Sun embassy in Washington, DC. Come tonight.” The sending cloud sparkled again, then disappeared, collapsing in on itself in a rush.
I stood there, terrified. Did he think me a fool? To go to the embassy? I pulled out my cell phone and punched the contact for Anna. She picked up on the third ring.
“Eileen? What’s wrong?” I thought I heard Charles in the background, muttering. “No, Charles,” Anna said sharply.
“Anna—I just heard from Prince Faolain. He sent a Sending.” I took a deep breath. “He guaranteed me safe passage to meet with him in the embassy tonight.”
“Hmm. Interesting.” There was a sudden noise, and Charles was on the line.
“Eileen,” he said urgently, “Don’t go.” There was another scuffle, and Anna was back.
“It might,” she said slowly, “be a good idea to go. You say he guaranteed you safe passage?”
I nodded before realizing she couldn’t see me. “Yes,” I said. “He did.”
She made a thoughtful noise. “He won’t break his word. It’s sacrosanct to the fae.” She paused. “Go,” she said decisively. I heard a roar in the background, then muffled words. “Calm down, Charles,” Anna said. “I’m not sending her alone. Eileen, come back to base. We need to fit you with a wire. Then we’ll have a car follow you.” More mumbled speech. “Not you, Charles,” Anna said impatiently. “You’re too close to this.” She paused. “Head back in, Eileen.”
“Roger,” I said. I hung up the phone and went back downstairs. My mother and Nate had finished putting away the groceries and were sitting in the living room, both reading. “I need to go back to the NVRA, I said slowly. “They need me for a mission.”
My mother closed the book with a snap. “They need you,” she said flatly, “for a mission.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes.”
She stared at me. “You have no magic.”
I nodded. “I’m the only one who can do it.”
“Well.” She gestured at Nate, who shut his book as well. “We’ll be following along.” She crossed her arms, daring me to argue.
I threw my hands up in the air. “Fine,” I said, knowing better than to argue. “But they’re sending a car as well. It’ll be like a convoy, going around Washington, DC.” I grabbed my keys. “Let’s go.”
I drove back to the NVRA, radio blaring—this time pop. I felt myself tense, the familiar sense of readiness and adrenaline flowing through me. It was Go time. I wanted to confront Faolain. I wanted to look into his eyes and make him regret ever having chased Sarah and Tara, ever having fought me.
I parked. Nate and my mother drew up next to me, my mother waving at me to go inside. I walked to the door, knocking. Charles opened it, looking grim.
“Who’re they?” he asked, waving at the car.
“My mother and brother,” I said with a sigh.
Charles nodded, eyes bright and hard, mouth in a grim line. “It’ll be a family affair, then. I’m coming too.”
I frowned at him. “First of all, I heard Anna tell you no. Second, you’re not family.”
His expression didn’t change. “I’m coming too.” He led me to the conference room, whispering to it and courteously holding it open.
“I thought you didn’t let anyone in after you,” I joked, walking through.
“That sounds like Garrett,” he said dismissively. He placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the conference room. He whispered to the War Room, opening the door and holding it for me. “Go ahead,” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting right here.”
I walked in, momentarily missing the comforting presence at my shoulder. I shook myself, deliberately willing the feeling away. Anna, Garrett, and Jenny stood in the War Room, clustered around the Sending station.
“Ah, Eileen,” Garrett said, sounding distracted. One hand was on the Sending station, sending pulsing light into it. Jenny stood in front of it, speaking into it.
“You will rendezvous here in fifteen minutes,” she concluded, stepping away. She nodded to Garrett, and the pulsing light stopped.
“Now,” she said, stepping over to me and holding out her hand, “your wire.”
It was small and black, pulsing with magic. “I’ve never worn a wire before,” I said, fingering it.
Jenny sighed, impatient. “I’ll help you put it on,” she said, businesslike. Anna nodded behind her, eyes watchful. “Garrett, turn around.”
Garrett obediently turned around. Jenny lifted my shirt and slapped her hand down, perhaps a little harder than necessary. I winced as the wire sparked, attaching itself to my skin.
“Test it, Garrett,” Jenny barked.
Garrett’s face showed no emotion, but I had the sense he was displeased. He waved his hand. “It’s working, m
a’am,” he said after a moment.
“Good,” Jenny said, looking pleased. She looked at me. “Your escort is outside.” She frowned. “It’s very unprofessional to have your mother and brother following you, as well.” Anna sighed but said nothing.
“I’m the one going to talk with Prince Faolain,” I said firmly. “I should get to say who goes.”
Jenny sighed. “Fine. As long as Charles doesn’t go too.” She shot me a hard look.
I smiled innocently at her. “I can’t control him,” I said, voice sweet.
She glared. “Go, then,” she said, voice poisonous.
Anna stepped forward. “Jenny, wait. She needs a briefing.”
“You do it, then. You’re the expert on all things Faolain.” Jenny gave her a smile. Anna’s face momentarily registered deep pain before she visibly pulled herself together.
“All right, Eileen,” she said after a moment. “You know that Faolain is the prince of Northern Sun. That, of course, is the northern territory in the Midwest. And you know that his father is Lugh, the king.” She took a deep breath and handed me a folder.
“This is all we know of Faolain, Eileen. It’s not much.” I flipped through the folder. The first page was a picture—clearly a surveillance photo. Faolain was dressed in a suit, entering a building. It looked like a Congressional office. I felt a chill bolt through me, and my shoulder tingled. I clapped a hand on it. Jenny’s eyes lingered on the spot.
I flipped to the next page. It was a dossier. I skimmed it, frowning at parts. “So,” I said slowly, “He’s his father’s hatchet man.”
“Correct,” Anna said. “He’s the one who usually hunts down slaves if they make it to the city. The times we lose people or safe houses, it’s usually to him.”
“But the dossier says he has no personal slaves himself.”
“He uses family slaves,” Anna said, “but no, he has no personal slaves. Most unusual for a nobleman.” She sighed. “We had hoped, when he came to DC, that he might prove an ally of sorts, based on that. We were dead wrong.”
I nodded, shutting the dossier. “All right,” I said, handing the folder back. “Let’s move.”
