Skin Deep lb-1

by Mark Del Franco

  “Let me repeat my question. Who did you give my paperweight to?” asked Laura.

  “Mariel, I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said.

  Laura tapped her inner essence until her eyes glittered with shots of white and gold. She slapped her hand on the desktop. The wood cracked. “Answer me!”

  Liam flinched. “He said his name was Sean Frye. He’s an Inverni that works for the Guildmaster’s office. I checked.”

  “What did he want?” she asked.

  Liam shifted his eyes between Laura and the security guard. “He said you had been implicated in acts against the Guild, and they needed a sample of your essence. I checked with the Guildmaster’s office, and they confirmed who he was.”

  “He lied, Liam. Sean Frye is a false name the Guildmaster’s office uses for undercover agents. You didn’t go through proper channels,” she said.

  Sweat broke out on Liam’s upper lip. “He came to my apartment, Mariel. He scared the hell out of me.”

  “What else did you give him?”

  “Your schedule. He said they needed to set up surveillance to see who you were passing information to.”

  Laura went cold with realization. “What schedule did you give him, Liam?”

  “Your appointments in Anacostia and the one at the FBI,” he said.

  She wanted to lash out in rage. “What else?”

  Liam shifted agitatedly. “Nothing. He called this morning. He wanted your updated schedule. I didn’t give it to him.”

  “How do you contact him?”

  “He gave me a phone number,” Liam said.

  Laura slid paper and a pen across the desk. “Write it down and give me your cell phone.” He did as she asked. When he placed the cell on her desk, Laura let the essence retreat from her eyes. “You should have gone through channels, Liam. You should have called Terryn macCullen.”

  Liam was on the verge of tears. “I was going to. After that bomb went off at the FBI, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid the Inverni had tried to kill you, and I was afraid you might have set it off to kill that agent. I was going to call Mr. macCullen today.”

  The fear and truth in his voice pained Laura. She slumped back in her chair. “You thought I set off a bomb that killed an FBI agent?”

  Still afraid, he became defensive. “I don’t know what the hell you do, Mariel. You disappear for days and weeks at a time. I never know where or why. You could be an assassin for all I know. I thought that guy checked out, but I screwed up.”

  She felt sick to her stomach. And angry. “Do you know what happened at the FBI building, Liam? Let me tell you…”

  “I heard about the bomb,” he said.

  Laura stood and trembled. She dropped her voice low and deadly. “Do not interrupt me. I’ll tell you want happened at the FBI, Liam. I was early for my appointment with Lawrence Scales, a husband and father of two young children. We talked and I left, Liam. You know what happened then? A package with essence radiating off it was delivered. I went to warn Scales, and the bomb blew. My essence triggered it, Liam. The bomber used my essence from this paperweight to set a trigger.”

  She slammed the crystal sphere on the desk. “A man is dead because you didn’t make the right fucking phone call.”

  Laura nodded to the agent. “Detain him until you hear from me.”

  The agent stepped forward, giving Liam the opportunity to stand on his own. Tears streaming down his face, Liam didn’t hesitate to join him. “I’m sorry, Mariel. If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I will.”

  He meant it. She didn’t care. Showing no emotion, she turned to her computer. “Get out.”

  The door closed behind them. They were gone. Laura’s fingers trembled as she reached for the keyboard. She had trusted Liam. She thought he liked her. She thought the Mariel persona was above suspicion for everyone, especially her own assistant. To think that someone so near found her so unknowable nauseated her. Had she become so lost in her personas that nothing of her true self showed? Had she become so shut off from her own self-awareness, she didn’t even recognize herself anymore?

  She brushed a tear off her cheek and thought of Sinclair. What was he seeing? Did he really want to get involved with someone like her? Why would he? Why would anyone? She shoved her fears aside and took a deep breath. She was Laura Blackstone. That much she knew. That she could hold on to. Laura Blackstone knew how to get a job done. She would worry about who she was later.

  If there was a later.

  CHAPTER 25

  FROM THE CHRONIC state of disarray in Laura’s InterSec office, it was obvious no assistant cleaned up after her. The desktop and two credenzas held stacks of reports she never got around to filing. Someone scanned major reports into the computer system anyway, giving her even less incentive to tidy up. Even the guest chair that Sinclair occupied had papers on it. He didn’t bother to remove them before he sat.

  Laura rubbed her finger along the edge of Blume’s business card as she waited for the number to connect. The simplicity of the card struck her again, the lack of need or desire to impress.

  “Officer Crawford,” Blume answered.

  Laura pursed her lips. She hadn’t given him Janice’s cell number. “Yeah, it’s me. I need some work.”

  “I believe you are on sick leave,” he said.

  “It’s a respiratory thing. I was wondering if you could use me for something that doesn’t involve running.” A trickle of essence came out of the phone. Blume didn’t hide his attempt to sense her location. She pushed back before his spell had time to take an imprint of her surroundings. She didn’t really care if it did, since the Guildhouse wouldn’t have surprised him, but she didn’t want to look sloppy when she was applying for a security job.

  “Why the change of heart?” he asked.

  She rolled her shoulders in a disinterested shrug. As Laura or Mariel, she didn’t use much body language on the phone. It felt right for Janice, though. “I don’t see any overtime in my future, and I need cash.”

  “I can offer you door security,” Blume said.

  Exactly what Janice had told him she didn’t want to do. If anything, Blume was a game player. “That’s fine. I’m free tonight and next Tuesday.”

  Amusement colored Blume’s voice. “Oh? I may not need you then.”

  Laura threw her hands up. “Whatever. You offered. I’ll look somewhere else if you don’t have anything.”

  “No, it’s fine. Let’s start you tonight and see how things work out. Nine o’clock.” He disconnected.

  Laura glanced at Sinclair. “He bit. I’m on the door tonight.”

  Sinclair stretched out his legs and knocked over a stack of journals. They both ignored it. “I’m working security for a meeting at seven. What’s the plan?”

  She walked around the desk. “Ingratiate. We get the lay of the land. I want to know if Blume is more connected to Alfrey. I’m getting coffee. Want any?”

  Sinclair grabbed her arm as she passed. “What’s up? You’ve been quiet since I got here.”

  She arched an eyebrow at his hand. “Let’s call it a bad day at the office.”

  He smirked. “Which office?”

  She shrugged out of his grasp. “Really, Jono. Not a joke.”

  His amusement faded. “Sorry. Cream and light on the sugar, please.”

  She returned and set a cup on the front of the desk as she circled to her chair. Sinclair picked up the cup and sipped. “Mmm. Better than the station.”

  Laura held a mug with both hands. “Cress brings in her own beans.”

  Sinclair propped his feet up on the corner of her desk. “You want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head as she swallowed. “It won’t change anything.”

  “Might change your mood,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I want to change my mood.”

  He nodded slowly and sipped his coffee. “I like a good wallow myself sometimes. I usually drink beer, though.”

&
nbsp; Laura snorted. “How many cops have I heard that from?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you looking to pick a fight? ’Cause we can do that if you want. I like a good tussle, too, ya know.”

  She stared into her mug. She did want to fight. Something. She wanted to exhaust the anger out of herself, hit something to make things right again. She wanted to go back in time and ask Liam where her paperweight was when she first noticed it missing. She wanted Lawrence Scales to be alive. “A man died because of me,” she said.

  Sinclair nodded. “Was he on the job?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Then it wasn’t because of you. It was because of the job. It’s what we sign up for. All of us,” he said.

  She put her mug down and crossed her arms. “Bullshit.”

  He shook his head. “No bullshit, and you know it, babe. I don’t carry a gun because I think no one else does. You don’t do your mojo because you think no one else will. When we get into this, we know the bad guys shoot back. It’s why we do it and why it sucks. Unless you pointed a gun or your finger at his head and pulled the trigger for no good reason, I’m not going to listen to any blame laying.”

  She ran a hand through her hair and stared at the ceiling. “I know. It doesn’t make it any easier. Don’t call me babe, by the way. I’m not your babe.”

  He affected surprise. “What? You don’t like nicknames?”

  “Not the sexist kind.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, it wasn’t sexist. Babe is short for baby, as in too immature to deal with grown-up stuff. I was being condescending.”

  She gave her eyes a derisive roll. “Do you really think you can bait me that easily?”

  He grinned. “Yep.”

  She shook her head. “Really, Jono, knock it off. You want to get to know me, not taking me seriously isn’t the way to go.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay. I’m sorry. Really. I’m just trying to figure out why a woman who threatened to kill me is suddenly having such a hard time because someone died.”

  She met his eyes. “Maybe I’m not who you think I am.”

  He shook his head. “I may not know who you are, but I know what you are. You’re human.”

  She chuckled derisively. “No. No, I’m not, Jono. I’m fey. I leave destruction in my wake. Isn’t that what the humans say?”

  He walked around the desk and crouched in front of her. She thought for a moment he was going to touch her. Instead, he clasped his hands and smiled up at her. “Skip the labels, babe. You’re human because of what you feel right now. Being human has nothing to do with race or essence ability.”

  She stared down at him. He meant what he said. “You called me babe, again.”

  He poked her in the knee. “I guess I did. Now, I’m going to leave and get ready for work. You are going to finish your coffee, take a hot shower, and remember you’re one of the good guys. Got it?”

  His sincerity touched her. “Got it.”

  He leaned on her knee as he stood. “I’ll see you later then.”

  She stared at the empty doorway long after he left. Intellectually, she knew he was right. Emotionally was harder. She spent so much time hiding her emotions from other people, it had become ingrained. Liam, whom she thought a friend, had proved it to her. Mariel was her most complete persona, and yet Liam had no idea whether to trust her. She’d thought he did. She thought she had created a personality for Mariel that no one would doubt. But somehow, she missed the wall she put up for the persona. She realized that wall was part of all her personas and had become a part of herself. It had become so natural, she didn’t even see she had walled off herself. That had to change. She couldn’t do it anymore.

  She sighed and dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling. A vacation was in order, maybe even a leave of absence to sort through her feelings. The world wouldn’t end without her. And if it did, a tropical beach wouldn’t be the worst place to be.

  CHAPTER 26

  IN THE VAULT’S lobby, Laura felt like an out-of-her-league naif waiting for a no-show date. The Janice persona’s plain-Jane business suit puckered at the waist and shoulders and screamed off-the-rack discount store. The appearance was intentional, of course. Laura had designed Janice to appear less than sophisticated and out of her depth. The Vault was the perfect place to emphasize it. Well-heeled customers filed past her without a second look.

  Businesspeople filtered in as the younger crowd moved elsewhere for the night. The bar area became quieter, though no less full as midlevel bureaucrats settled in to have a quiet drink with industry allies.

  Blume was late. She didn’t expect anything more from him. People of a certain power level worked their own schedule, skimming through their appointments with an unspoken hierarchy of importance. Everyone was on time for the president of the United States or a senator or certain CEOs. A police officer looking for side work was kept waiting.

  She watched the faces of the clientele and considered their emotional states. They hid their true feelings as much as she did, only instead of glamours, theirs were practiced facial expressions. The avid, interested look of a lobbyist hid contempt for the politician in front of her; the bright, friendly smile of an assistant director hid anxiety about his job status; the obvious upset of a congressman hid the cold calculation of strategic maneuvering. All masks of one kind or another, attempts to hide or betray the truth to further goals.

  Gianni arrived. Where Laura’s clothes hung loosely in all the wrong places, Gianni’s black suit stretched across his broad shoulders in as many wrong places. Buttons barely held the jacket closed. “Good, you’re on time. Blume likes punctual,” he said.

  “In other people, I guess,” she said.

  Gianni lowered his eyes at her. “I’d watch my mouth if you want the job. Let’s go.”

  He walked into the bar. “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer. She followed him to a corridor in back that led to a wood-paneled elevator door. Gianni inserted a key into the elevator’s floor panel inside the elevator. They rode in silence up one floor. An undercurrent of amusement colored Gianni’s body essence, but his face remained impassive. Laura ignored the intent to unsettle her.

  The doors opened onto a quiet office corridor lined with closed doors. Laura took note of the security camera tucked into the corner of the ceiling and another at the far end. She followed Gianni down the hall to where two men in black suits guarded a closed door. Gianni nodded at them and entered the room.

  The first thing that Laura noticed about Tylo Blume’s office was the odor. A musty burnt tang permeated the room, the aftereffect of burning incense. Laura detected the essence of juniper, cedar, and elm. Elves used incense in spells for protection from negative forces during chanting as well as for inspiration during meditation. Blume sat behind an antique desk, a mahogany Victorian. An Art Deco lamp illuminated a dull, worn leather surface that was clear of clutter. The elf read a document, its paper a brilliant white under the lamp. “Officer Crawford, I’m pleased you agreed to come.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Why I’m pleased or why you came?”

  Laura frowned. “Both.”

  “You came because you need money. I’m pleased because I need help. Your employment will solve both our problems,” he said.

  She sensed truth in his words but didn’t see the point. “Why do you need my help?”

  He peered at her from the dimness beyond the desk lamp. “I need a druid on staff.”

  “And Corman Deegan shot you down.”

  Blume nodded. “Yes. We did not have mutual needs.”

  “Why me?”

  Blume glanced at Gianni before answering. A flutter in the air meant he’d projected a sending to him. “I have heard about this mission you were on. I am impressed with your ability to think on your feet. From what I understand, you are no match for an Inverni fairy, yet you managed to survive his attack.”

  “So if I’m no match, what do you need me for? Hire so
meone with power.”

  He smiled. “That I can do. What I can’t do is be assured of someone’s fortitude, of the commitment to a task. I need someone who will put herself on the line and follow through despite personal jeopardy. You’ve proved you can do that.”

  She nodded. “For the right reason. Money isn’t always the right reason.”

  His lips quirked in amusement. “True. The reason has to come first, not the money. I can provide you with an opportunity to help me ensure a better future for the world.”

  “Sounds like political bullshit,” she said.

  He chuckled. “If this is an example of your interview skills, I am not surprised at your lack of work.”

  “I asked for a job, Blume, not a lecture. Give me a reason not to walk out of here.”

  He nodded. “I have many businesses and many friends. We hope to bring our abilities together to end the strife between human and fey, even between the Celtic and the Teutonic fey. Some of our ideas will be perceived as radical. We need protection from people who might seek aggressive means to stop us.”

  She forced herself to smirk. “You think you can accomplish what High Queen Maeve and the Elvenking have been trying to do for a hundred years?”

  He stared directly into her eyes. “Yes. Do you think that’s enough motivation to keep what you see and hear to yourself?”

  She suppressed a shiver. He believed he could do it. “Sure. More power to you.”

  He nodded. “You have a job.”

  “I have one condition,” she said.

  “Name it.”

  “I’m not a merc. I won’t kill someone on orders.”

  “I wouldn’t ask that,” he said.

  She had a moment of confusion. He wasn’t lying. Gianni was right by the door, and he had tried to kill her and probably Sanchez on someone’s orders. Either Blume hadn’t ordered it, or he was saying he wouldn’t use her in that way. Yet.