Skin Deep

CHAPTER 21

WITH THICK CLOUDS of smoke billowing in the air, Laura didn’t need directions to the house fire in Anacostia. She parked her second SUV of the week in the middle of a road blocked by police cars and fire vehicles. She jogged up the street, weaving in and out of emergency support trucks until she reached the site.

Houses on three adjacent properties were on fire, the center one completely engulfed by flames, its upper floor and roof missing. They had blown off, not collapsed, evidence of more than a simple house fire. At either end of the block, local police kept neighbors and bystanders back. In contrast to what she had seen outside the FBI building, no one was panicked, security wasn’t running roughshod over anyone, and the professional responders were treating the fire as they normally would.

She spotted the SWAT-team van on the far end of the street, then Foyle as he came around a police car. He had a wary look about him, professional anger. “Are you sure you should be out of bed, Crawford?”

“I’m fine, sir. I heard you needed a spell senser, and I volunteered.”

Foyle didn’t answer. Laura hid her curiosity behind Janice’s look of discomfort. She nodded up the street to the fire watchers. “These people don’t look too upset.”

Foyle surveyed them with indifference. “No one’s going to cry for the guy who lives here. They’re probably better off without him.”

The two of them were alone except for a communications tech in the open van. “He was trouble?” she asked.

Foyle gave one curt nod. “A dealer. We knew him.”

And didn’t do anything about the drug dealing because he was supplying you with information, she thought. False information. No one was going to be crying about him at the station house either. “Was he inside when the bomb went off?”

Foyle narrowed his eyes at her. “What bomb?”

Janice shrugged. “I just assumed with the roof missing and what’s going on in the city…”

He shook his head. “There was an explosion, but I wouldn’t call it a bomb. Probably a meth lab or something. Neighbors said they saw him go in before the house went up. We won’t know for a while.”

Laura watched the roaring flames and thick smoke. She didn’t need her sensing ability to find survivors. Nothing short of a miracle could enable a person to live through the intensity of the flames. Neighbors were a better source of information anyway. In the immediate aftermath of any drama, people were too excited to keep quiet. If they saw the informant go in the house, he was in the house. And dead. Besides, whoever managed to pinpoint an attack on an office in a federal building would not be sloppy enough to miss the dealer.

Laura prodded Foyle. “InterSec said you needed a spell senser.”

“Yeah. Are you sensing anything?” he asked.

Anger, she thought. Something was irritating him, but she didn’t think it was her. “Nothing from here. I’d have to get closer, but it doesn’t look like a good idea yet.”

“Sinclair is securing the rear of the building. Check in with him,” said Foyle. He climbed into the van. Laura stared at his back for a moment. If Sinclair had told him who she was, it might explain Foyle’s abruptness. But he had been that way with her from the beginning of the mission, before Sinclair figured out her glamours. Whatever he was thinking, it wasn’t making him happy.

She threaded her way through more cars and into the yard of the first house next to the fire. Halfway down the driveway, the backyard came into view, open to the next block. She cut through it to find more police and another fire truck in case fire blew in that direction.

Sinclair walked behind her on the edge of her sensing range. She kept moving, making a show of searching for him. He paced her, tracking the edges of her body signature. Whether he did it out of habit or was demonstrating that he could do it, she couldn’t tell. He moved closer. She ignored him, letting his field overlap hers, testing whether his ability merely reacted to others around him or if he had to get some reaction.

“Who were you today?” he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “Shift’s almost over, and you didn’t report in.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Yeah, well, Foyle’s not the only one on my ass. InterSec has been picking apart my report all day.”

“Am I supposed to play this game, too?” he asked.

She frowned. “What game?”

“The Janice Crawford, SWAT-team officer, game.” She tapped at her headset. He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course, I wouldn’t talk with my channel open.”

She stared at the burning house. “I’m careful, Sinclair.”

He grinned. “I am, too. And you can call me Jono.”

“Thanks. You can call me Officer Crawford.”

He chuckled and jerked his head at the nearest burning house. “We need to shift positions. You’re with me.”

Despite having his weapon ready, he walked with a casual gait to a fence between the burning houses. They crouched and checked their sight lines.

“This looks like a bomb, like the ones downtown,” she said.

He glanced at her sideways. “Is that what InterSec thinks?”

She focused on a house across the street where someone watched the fire from an upper floor. “CNN, actually. They noticed the flames.”

“Well, that works in their favor,” he said.

“Whose favor?”

“Whoever intended to blow the house. You know who lived there, don’t you?” Sinclair asked.

She nodded. “That’s why I came down. Foyle wants me to go in and check for spell bombs.”

Sinclair peered over the hood of the car. “And you’ll find one.”

She gave him a sharp look. “How the hell do you know that?”

Sinclair ignored her, still scanning the area. “Foyle already had a spell senser come in. He made up an excuse to keep everyone away from the back of the buildings. I was in the tech bus. I guess they didn’t know one of the video feeds was already set up. An Inverni fairy went in. I went outside and stood close enough to the house when he came out. He hid his face, but I’ve seen the shape before at the Vault. Alfie, I think is his name. Nasty personality.”

Laura kept her eyes on the fire and not Sinclair. Alfrey, not Alfie, she thought. As far as she knew, InterSec and Foyle were the only people who knew about the Inverni. No one else knew he had been identified. She decided to keep it that way, and stayed silent about “Alfie’s” real name.

“I’m willing to bet if there’s a bomb in there, Alfie planted it. If they want you to go in there, someone wants you dead… Officer Crawford,” he said.

She smiled grimly. “Guess who’s my backup going in… Jono?”

He met Laura’s eyes with a flat stare. “I don’t think I want to work with you anymore.”

She shrugged. “And this is just the day job. Wait until we throw you some freelance work.”

He shifted on his haunches. “Looks like they’ve knocked the fire back.”

She shielded her eyes against the sun. The two side houses were no longer burning. Gray smoke billowed from the middle one, but no flames were visible. Without another word, Laura ran across the backyard to the burning house. The smoke lightened, steam mixing in with it as the fire trucks continued to shower water. Faint wisps of smoke came out the back windows. She dodged inside a door that led to a kitchen, out of sight from the rest of the SWAT-TEAM members and other police. Sinclair took up position at the entrance.

“I’m on the first floor. All clear,” she radioed for everyone to hear.

There’s an essence anomaly up ahead. It’s our trap, she sent to Sinclair.

“Check. Following into position,” Sinclair radioed. He joined her in the kitchen and signaled Laura to cut her radio. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s probably set to explode when it feels a body signature near it. I’m going to set a spell that should trigger the trap. I’ll put a delay on it. Then you’re going to save me from a medical emergency. Are you good with that?”

He nodded. “Where do you want me?”

“Right here. Don’t move. The timing’s going to be important,” she said.

“Got it,” he said.

She clicked her headset on. “Come again, Sinclair. I lost you.”

He turned on his headset. “Sinclair, here. I think there’s some interference. Reading you now.”

She moved deeper into the house. “I’m in a hall. I see a staircase. Still clear.”

The trap is in the middle of the staircase. It definitely has an essence trigger. When my field touches it, it’s going to go off, she sent.

“Coming in behind you,” Sinclair said.

“Negative. Hold position until I clear the stairs,” she radioed back.

Laura turned off her headset again. She cupped her hands and drew on her own body essence. Faint amber light welled up from her skin. It coalesced into a bright ball of orange light that hovered in the air. She tethered it to the essence of one hand and used the other hand to inscribe Celtic runes in the air. They glowed white as they danced around the amber ball and melted into it.

I’ll be right back, she sent to Sinclair.

She moved down the short hallway into more smoke and heat. At the staircase, she released the tether on the spell. The ball of light hung suspended at the bottom of the staircase. As she backed away, the activation delay initiated.

Dropping her body shield, she took a tentative breath. Acrid air burned the back of her throat. She said a short prayer, surprising herself. She still believed in honoring the Moon and the Lady, but had lapsed from real prayer long ago. She inhaled deeply and doubled over coughing. Tears sprang into her eyes, and her nose ran freely. She slapped on her headset and coughed loudly over the link. “Crawford 88. Repeat, 88.” She didn’t have to pretend that speaking was difficult as she transmitted the distress code.

“Crawford? Where are you?” Sinclair radioed.

She staggered to the kitchen. Sinclair stood silhouetted against the bright light of the open back door. She paused, as a memory bubbled up. A figure in SWAT-team gear surrounded by swirling smoke at the doorway in the warehouse. She tried to focus on his body, resolve the silhouette into someone she knew. The shadowed figure in her mind raised his gun, and the memory faded.

Sinclair rushed through the thinner smoke of the kitchen. She let him drape her arm around his shoulder. The air trembled and shuddered as Laura’s spell released up the hall, a short burst of her body essence expanding in a sphere. It touched the spell trap, and white light flashed as Sinclair yelled for a medic. He half carried, half supported Laura through the door as the staircase exploded. The force of the blast lifted them into the air, and they sprawled into the yard with debris raining down on them.

Laura landed roughly on her side, but her body shield absorbed the impact. She curled to her knees as coughing wracked her body again. The one inhalation had been enough for appearance sake. Oily soot smeared across her upper lip as she wiped at her running nose. Sinclair lay facedown about ten feet away.

You okay, Jono? she sent.

He stirred as her words touched his mind, raising himself to his knees. They faced each other in the same position, their faces covered with soot and scratches.

Okay, he sent back.

Emergency personnel rushed into the yard. Someone slapped an oxygen mask over Laura’s face. Two EMTs lifted her, one on either side, and carried her to the front of the house. In seconds, she was in an emergency van.

Foyle appeared. “Are you okay, Crawford?”

She nodded, letting the mask speak for itself. She watched Sinclair being led to another van behind Foyle. She pulled the mask down. “Too much smoke. I burned out my sensing ability.”

“Why the hell didn’t you use your mask?” Foyle said.

He confused her again. His concern was genuine. “I thought my body shield was good enough. I’m sorry.”

“Can you go back in?” Foyle asked.

She made a show of taking another hit of oxygen. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to get someone else.”

Over Foyle’s shoulder, Sinclair caught her eye. He nodded, impressed. Foyle was buying it. He believed she was overcome with smoke inhalation. She allowed herself a small inward smile. If there was one thing she was good at, it was appearances.