Skin Deep

CHAPTER 13

THE BLACK CAR dropped Laura off a block from the Russell Senate Office Building. The building contained administrative offices and hearing rooms for the Senate as well as senator’s offices and committee rooms. The Senate was known as the world’s most exclusive men’s club, and a stroll through the corridors confirmed it. Laura had been around long enough to remember when senators were all male and women were their secretaries. High-profile secretaries but still secretaries. More women worked in the building than ever before, but men still held the power. Interns in the building joked that they always knew a women was a senator because she didn’t carry files.

Laura had been a sensation in those days. A woman with the power of the Guildhouse behind her demanded-and received-respect. When she was recruited by the forerunner of InterSec, she’d let go of a rising career as a diplomat and was happy to move into public relations for the Guild. She received the exposure to the politics she enjoyed, without the frustrations of all the political backstabbing. She still dealt with those, but it was not her primary job responsibility.

She ducked into an empty restroom. As she washed and dried her hands, she reabsorbed the essence out of the Mariel glamour. Mariel’s face shifted and faded as Laura Blackstone reappeared. She adjusted her outfit, fixed her hair, and made her way to the elevator.

Despite the surprise, Laura didn’t react when the elevator opened and she saw Sinclair standing inside. In the full car, Sinclair rose head and shoulders above the others. The crowd of people edged back to make room for her. Of course, she ended up standing next to him. They bumped and smiled courteously. His essence spiked surprise, too, though he had never met her as Laura Blackstone. He projected an undercurrent of pleasure. She stared down at her shoes trying not to think about it. His emotion shifted, an edge of concern coloring his interest. She wondered what he was thinking but avoided making eye contact.

The doors opened, and they bumped again as they moved to exit.

“Excuse me.” He stepped back to let her go first.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said. It was. Even without the subtle emphasis he placed on the words, his attraction was evident. He paced a few feet behind her as she walked down the corridor. She resisted the urge to look back but became keenly aware of how she held herself.

When his essence receded behind her, she did look. As he entered a hearing room, her pleasure at his attention faded when the door closed. It was the room where Senator Hornbeck’s Fey Relations Committee was meeting. Confused but intrigued, she continued farther until she reached the hearing room for her fact-finding session on fey homeless shelters. Guildmaster Rhys considered the program one of his pet projects to enhance relations with the human population.

She stopped short. The hearing room was empty. A small sign on the open door announced the meeting had been canceled.

A young, earnest intern smiled at her. “Are you here for the meeting, ma’am?”

She glanced in the empty room again. “I was.”

“It’s being rescheduled for Tuesday. Are you Director Blackstone?”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

The intern handed her a note. “You were the only person we couldn’t reach. I was asked to give this to you.”

In a narrow spidery handwriting it read:

It’s a shame you won’t be able to speak publicly today. It’s unfortunate that you didn’t get the message. I would be flattered if you attended my committee meeting since you have an opening in your schedule.

It was signed S. Hornbeck.

Laura’s PDA vibrated. Despite the desire to, she didn’t crumple the paper. I got the message, you old fox, she thought. She pulled out her cell as she checked the PDA. An urgent message from Saffin flashed:

UR MTG CNCLD, CLL ME!!!

“Did you get my message?” Saffin asked when she answered the cell.

“Just now. What happened?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry. I just got it myself. Everyone canceled.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes. At the last minute, too. All of them. Maybe they went to a party and didn’t invite you,” Saffin said.

Laura glanced up the hall at the closed door to Hornbeck’s conference. “That’s okay. I’ve been invited to my own party.”

Saffin groaned. “It was Hornbeck, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was angry a second ago, but now I’m amused. I had to talk to him anyway. Don’t worry about it, Saf. It’s rescheduled for next Tuesday.”

“That’s the day I was going to take off. Do you want me to come in if you’re going to be there?”

“No. If we’re both out, then people will have to figure things out for themselves.”

Saffin chuckled. “This is why I like working for you.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” She disconnected.

She retraced her path down the corridor to Hornbeck’s hearing room. She entered with a pleasant expression fixed on her face. If she had learned one thing after decades of dealings with politicians, it was that the moment she lost her cool, she lost an argument. Besides, she had to admit that Hornbeck’s maneuver was nicely played. He’d disrupted her schedule, demonstrated some political muscle to do it, and gotten extra kicks with an innocently worded sarcastic note.

Laura found a seat near the rear of the crowded room. Hornbeck sat front and center. Six other senators sat on his committee, though only four of them were present. Hornbeck’s eyes flicked toward Laura when she crossed her legs in the aisle. Saffin was right about the red scarf and, given the shift in the direction of Hornbeck’s eyes, the legs. Hornbeck presided over the room, a reassuring senatorial image with his tousled white hair and masculine face. His family came from old Midwestern stock, the moneyed kind, and it showed in his dress and bearing. He was a man accustomed to control and getting his way. He was also on the right side of enough controversial issues to irritate both political parties and win reelection four times.

Her next surprise of the day was Aaron Foyle sitting to the left side of the room in civilian clothing. As a police liaison to the committee, his presence didn’t surprise Laura all that much, only that he had had time to change out of his uniform and beat her through traffic. Sinclair, on the other hand, stood near the rear on the same side. When she made eye contact with him, he smiled politely, then looked away as if he hadn’t been staring.

Resha Dunne sat in the second row of observers, which both surprised and didn’t surprise her. She knew his schedule and would have noticed if he’d planned on attending anything related to Hornbeck. She had expected him at her own hearing and suspected he had wandered down here when that meeting was canceled. The Guildmaster had conveyed to her in private his desire to keep tabs on Dunne and make sure he didn’t say the wrong thing in the wrong place.

I’m here, Resha, four rows back. Don’t turn around. What have I missed? She sighed when he turned around. Anyone watching knew they were communicating privately, which was poor etiquette at best.

Senator Hornbeck is upset about several recent incidents. Do we have information on a police action in Anacostia? Dunne sent back.

On your desk for two days, Laura thought. I’ll brief you later. I thought this hearing was about financial funding.

That was earlier. He’s using his closing remarks to make points, Resha sent.

Hornbeck droned on. Neither American political party had a corner on anti-fey sentiments. It was almost a necessary political requirement for election in most parts of the country. People feared the fey. They were foreign, answered to a queen, had misunderstood abilities. And some looked downright frightening. Tragedies and aberrant behavior made headlines, fueling the perception of menace. Hornbeck played on those fears and anxieties as much as possible while giving what Laura considered lip service to unity. Laura wondered how much of his antipathy was personal and how much was political. He certainly dropped issues when he managed to garner support for his own agendas.

Hornbeck gaveled the meeting closed. Laura remained in her seat while the other spectators hustled for the door. The journalists and photographers exited first and quickly, trying to give their media outlets an edge in timely reporting. Various political functionaries shifted and gathered, buttonholing targets as they moved toward the doors. Most of the committee members bolted, intent on getting on with other business, but Hornbeck stayed, listening and nodding as someone whispered in his ear.

Resha moved to the front of the room, waiting to speak to Hornbeck. A few straggling photographers snapped shots of the Guild director leaning against the paneled front of the speaker’s desk. Laura envisioned the shots-the pale, sharp-featured merrow leaning in toward the respectable senior senator. Hornbeck would love it.

Hornbeck spoke to Resha, whose wide face looked ominous as it bobbed toward the senator. Laura made a small prayer that the merrow would learn to be image-conscious about more than his skin color, or at least wait until photographers were not around before he looked like he was about to bite off the head of a human politician. Resha waved her over. She approached the committee dais with her patented professional smile.

“Laura, it’s good to see you,” Hornbeck said.

She shook his hand. “The pleasure is mine, Senator.”

“The senator was just telling me there seems to be some mix-up with the Archives ceremony,” said Resha.

Laura feigned surprise. “Oh? Is there something I can do?” Be careful, Resha. Rhys doesn’t want him interfering, she sent.

Hornbeck flashed a thin, cold smile. “My request for Tylo Blume to be on the program seems to have been misplaced.”

Laura nodded. “Oh, I see. Security concerns forced us to curtail the ceremony, Senator. It was decided to limit the number of speakers.”

Hornbeck pursed his lips sagely in the way authority figures do when they want to appear to be listening, but will have none of what they’re hearing. “Blume’s firm has done an enormous job.”

“Yes, the Guild has been very impressed with Triad.”

“I think they’ve earned a place at the podium. The work they’ve done coordinating the concerns of everyone is a fine example of the unity we’re trying to promote between the human and the fey,” he said.

Laura smiled to appear agreeable but had no intention of changing her mind. “I couldn’t agree more that projecting the right image is important. I think the feeling, Senator, was that it wasn’t a political event and that the historical nature of the relationships would be emphasized.”

Hornbeck leaned back in his chair in a staged relaxed pose. “I am a keen student of the history of human-fey relations, Laura,” Hornbeck said.

She nodded again. “I know, Senator. The Guild and the Archives have been flattered by the amount of attention the ceremony is receiving from interested parties.”

“Is the program so very tight?” Resha said.

Laura forced herself to look regretful instead of murderous. “I’m afraid so, Resha. We tried to accommodate everyone, but you know how these things go.”

“Yes, I do,” said Hornbeck. “You might reconsider, though. As an elf with connections to the Teutonic court, Blume will only add to the breadth of voices speaking. I am well aware of the delicate tensions between the Celtic and Teutonic fey.”

She marveled at the insinuation that his request would ease tension among the fey. Twenty years in the Senate earned arrogance points, she thought. “Yes, always a concern for the Guild. We prefer to handle such things as an internal matter.”

Be careful how you speak to him! an alarmed Resha sent.

I know what I’m doing, Resha, she sent. Unlike you, she didn’t add.

“We need to reach out to everyone we can to encourage cooperation, Laura. Even more so now, in these times of increased fey-related terrorist activity,” he said.

Laura compressed her lips. “Senator, you know every culture has its malcontents. This ceremony is about celebrating an alliance of cultures and its success. The Archives and the Guild want the focus to be on the documents and what they’ve achieved. Perhaps the Guild would be willing to develop a symposium to address the important issues you continue to raise?” Back me up here, Resha, she sent.

Resha startled as if he had dozed off. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could even bring representatives from the other Guildhouses to broaden the perspective.”

She didn’t love the idea, but getting the other Guildmas ters to participate would drive Resha to distraction, which Laura wouldn’t mind. She infused her face with animated excitement. “I like that. It would be a great opportunity to move beyond the problems and look to the future.”

“I agree,” said Hornbeck, “And the ceremony will be a perfect moment to announce the idea.” He gathered his papers. “Send my office a revised schedule, Laura. I will defer to Orrin Rhys’s decision as to when on the program Blume will speak.”

Laura clenched her jaw. “I’ll have to coordinate this with the committee, Senator. At such short notice…”

He cut her off. “At such short notice, I’m sure Blume will have a speech written and prepared. I suggest the planning committee move quickly, too. It was a pleasure speaking with you as always, Laura.”

Without waiting for a response, he lifted his briefcase and walked away. Laura retained her composure. “This is a problem, Resha.”

“I don’t understand your resistance,” he said.

“It’s not just me, Resha. Rhys doesn’t want him there. Hornbeck would like nothing better than to hijack the ceremony for his own agenda. Don’t think it’s a coincidence that a U.S. senator is supporting a highly connected elven businessman. The U.S. wants to keep the Consortium as happy as the Guild.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing, playing them against each other?” he asked.

She glared at him. “Of course, Resha. And a Guild director shouldn’t be trying to level the playing field for the other side.”

Her tone wounded him more than she intended. Resha remained popular among the solitary fey because of his desire to treat everyone fairly, which was why they voted for him as their director on the Guild board so often. That attribute, though, often made him a lousy politician in Washington. Laura took a deep breath and placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Resha. I know that sounded cynical, but I’m trying to honor Rhys’s wishes. I’ll talk to him.”

Resha nodded. “Yes, well, I didn’t think offering to let Blume speak would be such a problem. I suppose the Guildmaster will have a real reason to be angry with me now.”

Curious, Laura tilted her head. “Rhys is angry with you?”

He sighed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. I admired the humidor in his office not long ago. Apparently, it went missing, and Orrin thinks I took it.”

The idea was so absurd, Laura chuckled. “Did you?”

Equally amused, Resha shook his head. “No. He’s embarrassed me terribly. I hope my little faux pas here won’t make things uncomfortable for him.”

Laura’s jaw dropped. The emotional resonance in his voice was clear. “Resha! You did this on purpose.”

He grinned, for once the natural predatory appearance of a merrow conveying his intent. “Oh, let’s not speak of this anymore. I think Hornbeck has wasted enough of our time. I have a car waiting. Do you need a lift?”

Laura gave his arm a quick squeeze. “I’m all set, thanks. Nicely played, Resha. You’ve given me a headache, but nicely played.”

She shook her head as he sauntered down the aisle. She caught sight of Hornbeck talking to Tylo Blume at the side of the room. As Laura Blackstone, she had not met Blume in person and had no desire to. She casually mingled with the crowd leaving the room to avoid being seen.

Simultaneously, she watched in her peripheral vision as Sinclair angled along the side of the room toward the door. They made eye contact, and a small smile slipped onto his face before he nonchalantly looked away. She smiled when he wasn’t looking. The man was flirting with her and, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was timing his exit to coincide with hers. It had been a long time since someone whom she didn’t find annoying acted like that around her. She slowed her pace to see if he intended to say anything.

She wanted to kick herself when she sensed the elven essence coming up behind her. By letting Sinclair distract her, she had fumbled her escape from the room.

“Ms. Blackstone?” Tylo Blume said to her back.

She turned nonchalantly. “Mr. Blume, it’s nice to finally meet you. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the senator.”

Blume’s eyes glittered like sapphire crystals. “I wanted to introduce myself and tell you how honored I am that the Guild chose Triad for the Archives project.”

She shook his hand without enthusiasm. “I can’t tell you how pleased everyone is, Mr. Blume.

He nodded modestly. “I understand from the senator that I’ve been asked to say a few words at the ceremony. I am flattered by the opportunity.”

Laura didn’t know whom she wanted to strangle more, Hornbeck or Resha Dunne. She keep her tone civil. “Yes, well, the logistics will need to be worked out.”

“If there’s anything my people can do to help, let me know. And do call me Tylo,” he said.

Laura smiled with a pleasure she didn’t feel. “It’s Laura, then. Regardless, I look forward to seeing you at the ceremony.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Blume said, and continued out the door.

Laura watched him leave, trying to figure his intentions. His power didn’t intimidate her in the least. She had worked with Terryn and other fey with formidable abilities so long and often that physical power didn’t impress her. Blume wanted to speak in public and needed to ingratiate himself with Laura-and the Guild-for the opportunity. Words had a power of their own, and the only thing more powerful than words was deciding who got to speak. The realization struck her that through circumstances, that made her more powerful than Tylo Blume at the moment.

Sinclair left the room with Foyle. Laura paused on the threshold and spotted them in the hallway with Hornbeck. Sinclair nodded as Foyle spoke, but his attention was focused on the door to the hearing room. As they made eye contact again, Sinclair gave the slightest shrug, as if to say he couldn’t help the missed chance to speak with her. Laura made sure he saw her smile as she walked toward the elevator. A little innocent flirting couldn’t hurt.

She called her brownie driver to pick her up. As much as the often servile nature of brownies disturbed her sometimes, it had its advantages. The driver would make every effort to do as she asked without requiring details or explanations.

She waited across the street from the building, trying to come up with a plan to disappoint Blume. Foyle and Sinclair exited the building. Sinclair gave no indication this time that he saw her as they walked in the opposite direction. Fine, she thought. While the flirting was fun, she didn’t want any more distractions.

A few minutes later, Tylo Blume left the building and stood at the curb. As he waited for his own transportation, a male Inverni fairy walked up to him. They exchanged words that became increasingly heated. Blume looked angry. They were too far away for her to read their lips. Nonchalantly, Laura snapped a picture with her cell phone. Incredibly, right in front of the Senate building, Blume called up a spark of deep green essence. He thrust his hand out toward the Inverni, who raised his own hands and backed away. Security guards from the building ran toward them with guns drawn, but the Inverni shot into the air and flew out of sight.

The security guards swarmed Blume, and he extinguished the essence. As he talked to the guards, he gestured up the street in one direction, then into the air where the Inverni had fled. Moments later, a black car arrived. Blume slipped into the backseat, and the car drove off.

As his car drove away, she zoomed in on the picture on her cell. A chill went through her. She recognized the Inverni as the one who had escaped during the drug raid. She rushed into the street, searching the sky. A car horn wailed, and she jumped back, swearing under her breath. Her car arrived. Frustrated, she settled in the back and sent the picture to Terryn. Given his other life, he knew most of the Inverni fairies in the city. Maybe he knew the one who had tried to kill her.