Skin Deep

CHAPTER 33

POLICE AND FIRE cordoned off the street at either end. The SUV sat like an exhausted beast, its air bags hanging out the doors like ruptured organs. In the surreal flicker of blue, red, and yellow emergency lights, Sinclair stood over Laura’s prone body, which was still glamoured as Janice Crawford. Two EMTs jumped out of a van with a gurney. They looked human, but their appearance didn’t match the essence fields Sinclair sensed. He recognized the shape of Cress’s essence.

Cress made no indication she knew him. “Step aside, sir.”

He moved back as they shifted Laura from the ground to the gurney. “Where are you taking her?”

They moved with a controlled urgency. “GW. You need attention?”

“No.”

Cress climbed in the emergency wagon, and the driver closed her in with Laura’s body. The van rocked as it pulled away. Cress stared at Sinclair’s dwindling figure through the rear door windows. “Is this wise?”

At the sound of Cress’s voice, Laura’s self-induced trance broke. She breathed deeply, stimulating her heartbeat. “Nothing is. Can I sit up?”

Cress checked Laura’s pulse. “Wait a few blocks. What happened?”

Laura rolled her head to stretch. “They came faster than expected and forced us out of the safe zone.”

Cress’s essence feathered over Laura’s body, tendrils curling along the edges of her body signature, sensing its strengths and weaknesses. As always, Laura felt the desire in the touch, the need for essence that Cress fought against. “You have some bruising. Do you want me to take care of it?”

Laura sat up, Cress helping her with gentle hands. “No. I’ll keep them unless I can’t function.”

On the other side of the van, a draped figure lay on a gurney. Laura removed her emerald stone, the Janice glamour blurring and shifting as it slid off her. She handed the necklace to Cress. “Can you charge it? I’m bone-dry.”

Cress pushed essence into the persona template in the stone. Folding down the sheet on the other gurney, she exposed the Inverni from Laura’s poison attack and slipped the chain around his neck. The glamour field spread over him, interacting with the almost vanished body signature of the dead body. His residual fairy essence shifted and faded beneath the druid signature on the stone, and his physical appearance warped and changed. Laura stared at an apparently dead Janice Crawford.

Cress caught her. “What’s wrong?”

Laura shook her head dismissively. “It’s always odd to see a glamour I’ve worn on someone else.”

Cress folded the sheet back over the Inverni. “Do you think Sinclair is up for this?”

Laura stared out the window as if she could see back to the accident site. “He’ll have to be.”

The van pulled to a stop, and Cress handed Laura a set of car keys. “Terryn’s waiting at the Guildhouse.”

“Thanks for everything, Cress.”

Laura hopped out, and the van resumed its trip to the hospital. Her Mercedes was parked at the curb. The music came on loudly when she started the engine. She leaned her head back. The plan had failed. Whoever had been in the black cars, it wasn’t Alfrey. The power levels would have been higher. He had help, that much was clear. He wouldn’t have sent Gianni after her, even if he thought she was minor league. If he’d come at her himself, he wouldn’t have used a car. No, she thought, he sent henchmen, which meant he had an organization. She reminded herself that the Inverni had threatened Blume in front of a government building. He had balls. Which made him more dangerous. At least no civilians had been injured, she thought. That would mitigate some repercussions.

She drove to the Guildhouse at normal speed. The lights of emergency vehicles up the street flickered in her rearview mirror as she pulled in to the garage. Between the attempted bombing and the mess out front, the Guildhouse was on high alert. It was indirectly her fault, her failure to prevent it. And now, another failed attempt. Doubt worried at her as she took the elevator. She didn’t like losing.

In the public-relations office, she walked through the closet to her private room. She spared a moment to wash her face before activating the Mariel glamour. The tepid water was insufficiently refreshing, but it helped her feel better. When she lifted her head, the calm, cool beauty of Mariel faced her in the mirror, with no sign of Laura’s underlying stress. This is my life, she thought, this is what I do. Hide my face to find comfort and hide myself to avoid problems.

She shook off the melancholy and returned to InterSec. She found Terryn monitoring the news on three stations in his office.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He closed his laptop. “You tried. It was worth the effort.”

“Can we protect Sinclair?” she asked.

He turned away from the screens. “I think so. We have inside help with the Capitol police. They’ve been alerted. He’s already making a convincing case to the responders that he has no idea why you were pursued.”

She dropped into the guest chair. “They were on us instantly, Terryn. They forced us away from the safe zone. We have a leak.”

He rubbed his eyes. “I know, but that has to go on the back burner. We have the assassination target.”

He handed her printouts, Homeland Security dispatches summarizing reports from various agencies. She skimmed them. Confirmation was coming in from several fronts.

Dropping the papers on her lap, she laughed in disbelief. “Hornbeck? It’s Hornbeck? I could kill him myself right now.”