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.”
CHAPTER 23
THREE ANXIOUS HOURS later, Laura flipped through index cards in the room behind the Guildhouse conference room. A press conference had been hastily arranged while she waited for Draigen to conclude business at the White House. Brinen had refused to leave, insisting his wounds could wait until his sister was within the protective walls of the Guildhouse. Security for Draigen had been tripled while she met with the president, and, despite her protests, she was returned to the Guildhouse through the garage entrance.
Laura pushed aside those thoughts as she planned her opening remarks. The noise volume from the next room didn’t surprise her. The usual group of media people who showed for briefings had been joined by several more people excited about the assassination attempt. News was news, even when it wasn’t good.
Someone fiddled with her hair as she reviewed her agenda. Rhys was furious with her—with Laura Blackstone—for being unreachable during an unfolding crisis. Saffin had assumed—rightly, of course—that Laura was with the Inverni and did everything she could to cover for her. A few minutes’ delay was excusable, but Rhys wasn’t satisfied with the story that her cell phone had been in a dead zone for over an hour. It was a plausible excuse in D.C., with all the signal-jamming tech in use across town; but reason and reality did not always matter when the Guildmaster was angry.
“They’re ready,” someone said.
The door to the conference room opened. Laura stacked her notes and entered the room. The attending reporters shifted attention to the front of the room. Conversations died off as the whir of cameras replaced them. Local and national television stations crowded in a corner at the back, their techs adjusting the light and sound instruments.
Laura stepped up to the podium, calm and assured as if the situation were routine.
She arranged her cards as the room settled. When she had full quiet, she raised her head with a practiced face of concern, yet unworried. “Good afternoon. Before we get started, I have a few schedule announcements. The Guildmaster will be participating in a briefing regarding today’s events later today. We’ll set the time within the hour. New security measures are being implemented in the wake of today’s events. My assistant, Saffin Corrill, has handouts for everyone regarding same. The Regent Draigen macCullen sends her regards and thanks all for their concern.”
She pushed a set of cards aside. “As you are aware, an attempt on the life of the Inverni regent occurred this morning at approximately 11:40 A.M. The regent was uninjured and continued on to her scheduled meeting with the president of the United States. Lord Guardian Brinen macCullen received non-life-threatening injuries during the attack. He was treated at the White House and has already returned to his duties.”
She moved more cards. “At this morning’s incident, it appears that at least three gunshots were fired, none of which hit an individual. Lord Guardian macCullen’s injury appears at this time to be related to a ricochet from the ground. Preliminary investigation indicates that the shots were fired from an office building on Pennsylvania Avenue. A body has been recovered, and the investigation, of course, is ongoing. My office will be keeping you apprised as more information unfolds.”
She stacked the cards and spread more general notes in front of her. “I’ll take a few questions now. Saffin will continue to respond to further inquiries. Dave?”
The reporter from the Washington Post flipped through his notes. “Can you respond to information being received that the shooter has been identified as a member of the Inverni Guardians and, if so, which agencies are taking the lead in the investigation.”
She slid a card across the podium. “I can confirm a tentative identification has been made but is not being released, pending further investigation. At this time, the jurisdictional issues are being discussed and will be resolved by this evening.”
“Is there any truth to the rumor that the Guild had received reports that an assassination threat had been received and did not relay that information to the Inverni staff?” he asked.
Laura shook her head. “That’s not accurate. Information is freely shared among Guild members. The Inverni, of course, are included in these briefings. Jenna?”
Jenna Dahl covered the Guild for the major local television station. “Do we have a statement from the Seelie Court or the High Queen Maeve personally regarding today’s events?”
“The High Queen has not made a public statement as yet, though she has been in direct contact with the Inverni regent to express her relief at her well-being,” Laura said.
“But no public statement?” Jenna asked.
Laura doodled on one of the cards as if she needed to remind herself of something. “I do not want to get out ahead of the Guildmaster, but he will be addressing that issue later today.” She hoped. She had pressed Rhys for that same information, but he wouldn’t answer.
“What about the Guildmaster? Any direct comment from him?” asked Jenna.
“As I said, Jenna, he will be speaking later today. Fionn?”
The dapper brownie from the online fey newsgroup sprang to his feet. “Good day, Ms. Blackstone. Can you comment on the fact that only Inverni were involved in the security of the regent and what that says about the level of security oversight at the Guild?”
“Security is handled as an interagency issue. The on-the-ground staff is selected for personnel appropriate for a given situation. The Guild is involved in all such issues,” she said.
She glanced down at the watch she kept on the podium. A few minutes in, and questions about the Guild’s attention to the Inverni were causing her to dance. She had warned Rhys that people would notice.
“Will the reception for the regent be canceled as a result of today’s assassination attempt?” Fionn asked.
Laura shook her head. “The Guild has always taken the position that violence will not change the way it functions. The reception is proceeding as planned.”
“With heightened security?” someone in back called out.
The television lights prevented her from seeing who spoke. “That’s a natural consequence. We have no concerns about the event.”
Publicly, she thought. The heightened security was going to happen, but any visible increase would pale in comparison to the backroom anxiety. The reaction was natural, as she said, but it did cause headaches as everyone scrambled to ensure a security breach would be someone else’s fault.
The questions continued, the same questions couched in different terms. It was only a few hours after the shooting, and everyone in the room was sifting for the right turn of phrase, perhaps the perfect word to expose what was being withheld. The reporters were professionals. They knew they would get only the minimal details until the Guild and the White House had determined the spin they wanted to be broadcast to the mainstream media.
Laura knew she was part of the game. Her job at the moment was to remain calm and confident and relay the barest of details while looking like she was as frustrated by the lack of information as everyone else in the room. She moved the cards around on her podium, a small act that implied to observers that she had important additional facts to be shared if only they asked the right questions. Of course, she knew more than she was telling. That the shooter was Inverni. That he was found
dead of an essence wound. That no one on the security teams had admitted to the kill shot. That, that, that.
It was a game. Everyone knew it. At that moment, it was a game she didn’t want to play. She had been at the scene and participated in it. Someone under her watch had been shot at and almost killed. She did not want to be standing in a room answering questions. She wanted to be elsewhere, gathering real information to understand what had happened, not answering others’ questions with scripted avoidance.
Even when she left the room, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do what she wanted. Another question-and-answer session waited for Mariel Tate. You were there. What went wrong? Who is to blame? Who anticipated this and was ignored? You were there. What did you do? What should you have done? More questions for her, but at least the answers would be her decisions on what to say and how, not the Guildmaster’s or the Seelie Court’s. At least her answers, yes, but still time away from what mattered, which was ensuring that something like it didn’t happen again.
She glanced at the watch again. Thirty minutes had passed, probably twenty-five more than necessary to pass on the only information that was to be shared with the public. Time to tie things up, let people report and speculate while she took care of her next obligation.
Laura neatened the index cards into a stack, the visual cue she had trained people to recognize that she wasn’t just pretending to leave. “Thank you, everyone. We’ll be providing you with additional updates in memo form as necessary between now and the Guildmaster’s briefing.”
Without waiting for an interruption, she picked up the cards and walked toward the back room. Saffin waited by the door, her hand on the knob, ready to close it behind Laura. As their eyes met, Saffin’s gaze slid over Laura’s shoulder. She furrowed her eyebrow.
Behind you, she sent. She showed no fear or anxiety, so the comment didn’t alarm Laura. As she turned, she saw Jenna Dahl approaching. Protocol dictated that no one approach the stage or the podium. It was beyond doubt that no reporter went near the door to the back room. Since it was someone of Jenna’s stature, that made it intriguing, so Laura paused.
“Can I have one moment, Laura?” she asked as she neared.
“A moment is all I have, Jenna,” Laura replied. She let the oddity of the situation show by being pleasant yet curious.
Jenna had worked her way up to anchor quickly and was known for being fair and firm. People across the political spectrum criticized her for bias, so the joke was that she was doing something right. Not unaware of the public perception of female newscasters, she wore her hair to the shoulder, long enough to appear feminine but short enough to be no-nonsense. Laura thought she was probably the only person in the news business who had darkened her blond hair instead of highlighting it.
Jenna dropped her voice for Laura’s hearing alone. “I received a call at about 9 A.M. Someone told me to make sure we had someone at the Guildhouse and not just the White House.”
Laura wasn’t surprised. “All the stations were there.”
“I don’t think all of them were told to make sure they filmed continuously,” she said.
Laura pursed her lips. “Did you know the caller?”
“No,” she said.
Lie, thought Laura, a clear lie. “Do you have something on tape investigators should see?”
“Not that I can tell. We’re still reviewing.”
Laura smiled with professional detachment in case someone was watching them. “You know telling me this means I will have to inform InterSec. They’re gathering evidence.”
“Of course. That’s not why I am telling you. I’m curious why someone high-level suspected something, but nothing seems to have been done to prevent it.”
“High-level?” Laura said. She had to. Jenna made the slip—claiming she didn’t know the caller, then identifying it as someone high-level.
“I’m confirming that. I thought I’d let you know, though. I’d appreciate it if you would provide me with any information when you can,” she said.
A deal, Laura thought. Not a deal with the devil that the public might think. Jenna had told her something important, something she hadn’t reported and was letting Laura know that a two-way communication might benefit them both. It would, but neither of them could come right out and say that. “Of course, Jenna. I’m sure we’re all interested in the truth here.”
Jenna nodded. “Of course. It’s a question that needs answering.”
Laura gave her a brief friendly touch on the arm. “I’ll let you know.”
She walked into the back room, and Saffin closed the door behind her. “Everything all right?” she asked.
Laura sighed as she removed her wireless microphone. “It was nothing.”
Saffin worried enough about her. She didn’t need to add to it unnecessarily.
As Laura made her way to the elevator, she wondered who the high-level person was and where. Guild? American government? InterSec? Someone, indeed, knew something and hadn’t said anything. Jenna was right to wonder why. It was a good question.
First, she had to face other questions. As she rode up to Draigen’s floor, she knew that Mariel Tate’s day wasn’t going to get better.
CHAPTER 24
LAURA WASTED NO time getting upstairs. Under normal circumstances, she would never risk transitioning personas near a public area, but the macCullens were waiting for Mariel Tate. With no concern for courtesy, she forced two people out of an elevator and activated her glamour. When a failure in security happened, the last place she wanted to be was out of the room while others made their cases.
Draigen stood at the wide window of her suite, looking out across the Mall. Behind her, her brothers’ voices rose and fell as each made his points. Since the return from the White House meeting, they had argued over which of them had been in the best position to prevent the assassination attempt. Laura did not miss the subtle criticisms thrown her way as Aran and Brinen bickered. Neither did Terryn.
“Mariel has extensive experience in security, at this building in particular,” Terryn said.
“Then how did we become so easily exposed?” Brinen asked.
“I was presented with cleared staff,” Laura said. It was a statement that masked her own criticism. The sniper had been found before Draigen reached the White House. In the attic of an office building up the street from the Guildhouse, a dead man had been found with a recently fired rifle. The man—an Inverni fairy named Sean Carr who had been attached to Aran’s staff—had died from an essence-bolt to the chest.
“A plan destroyed by one man is a poor plan,” Aran said.
Laura maintained her composure. Despite her own feelings of doubt, she was not about to take the sole blame for what had happened. “I recommended an integrated staff consisting of InterSec, Guild, and Guardian officers. I was overruled.”
Draigen turned from the window, one eyebrow arched in threatened insult as she looked at Terryn. “Is she implying a question of loyalty with respect to our staff prior to this?”
Terryn shook his head. “We prefer to use integrated staff to keep units on alert. People unfamiliar with each other tend to be more observant of each other.”
“People unfamiliar with each other tend not to work well together,” Brinen said. He had insisted on a Guardian-only security force.
Draigen turned back to the window. “Interesting.”
Laura rubbed her forehead. “If I may, the team composition was a philosophical and strategic difference of opinion and is now a moot point. The question isn’t so much how it happened but why. Answering how merely fixes a flaw in procedure. Answering why might prevent any future attempts.”
Terryn craned his head toward Draigen. “Speaking of which, after what happened today, I would prefer you not stand at the window like that.”
Draigen tilted her head to observe something outside. “Cities never sleep. Sometimes I think when we moved from the country to the city, our priorities changed in an unfortunate way. We bega
n thinking less about our homes and started worrying more about what our neighbors were doing.”
“I’d worry more about the lack of security in this building,” Aran said.
Draigen chuckled as she withdrew from the window and took a seat on the empty sofa. “Aran, brother, the attack came from outside the building.”
Annoyed, Brinen glanced at his brother. “And I’d worry more about who is a friend and who is an enemy.”
“Your taunts tire me, Brinen. My people are as loyal as yours,” Aran said.
“Except Sean Carr, of course,” Brinen said.
Aran glared. Sean Carr had been found and identified within minutes of the attempt on Draigen’s life. “I cannot speak for the thoughts of one man, brother, but I will defend my people with every breath.”
Brinen grunted. “Yet I am the one with a bullet wound.”
“You should be resting,” Terryn said.
Brinen shrugged with a slight wince. “The bullet did not cause major damage and was easily removed. The healing spell is working.”
“What can you tell us about Sean Carr, Aran? Why would he do this?” Terryn asked.
Aran shook his head. “I don’t know. These are troubled times, brother. They breed troubled minds.”
“In some more than others,” Brinen said.
Aran pushed away from the table and stalked to the door. “There is a reason for what happened, and we will find it. Until that becomes the focus of discussion, I will not hear any more of these accusations.”
He slammed the door as he left. A bitter smile curled on Brinen’s lips. “I’m sure he’ll start with his own staff.”
“Enough, Brin,” Terryn said.
Draigen sighed. “Yes, enough. Pray, get some rest, Brinen. We have much to do in the next few days, and I would prefer you strong.”
Brinen stood and bowed. “As always, sister, I abide by your wishes.”
He favored a short bow to Terryn as well, then closed the door quietly behind him as if to distinguish himself from his brother.
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