Mark Del Franco - Face Off

Ask Moor for the password to the V directory, she sent to Terryn.

She glanced at the computer clock in the long pause waiting for response. DeWinter’s meeting time was getting near. She had no intention of attending without knowing what it was about, but she didn’t want him to come looking for her either.

She doesn’t know, he sent.

Laura pursed her lips. Without being present, she couldn’t test Moor’s truthfulness. I don’t believe her.

Neither do I, sent Terryn.

She didn’t dare guess the password. One failed attempt would be overlooked. Several would be noted—especially if Moor was supposed to have access.

I think we need this, Terryn. A password-protected directory is blood in the water for me, she sent.

He didn’t respond. She waited, not dwelling on what she had requested. Terryn was a powerful Inverni, if not the most powerful member of his species. She had seen him do things to wring information out of people that turned her stomach at first. He got results, though, and she had convinced herself the results were more important.

She’s going boggie, he sent.

“Dammit,” Laura said aloud.

“What’s wrong?” DeWinter asked.

She startled at the sound of his voice. I’ve got company, she sent.

She rubbed her forehead in annoyance. “What? Oh, nothing. I forgot a password.”

“For what?”

With an air of unconcern, she pushed the keyboard away and straightened papers on her desk. “V-drive stuff.”

“Are you nervous about something?”

She shrugged. “No. I wanted to review something. Speaking of which, you said you had something you wanted me to look at?”

“An interesting opportunity has come up that will ease our acquisition. It will cost, though,” he said.

She moved some paperwork on the desk. “Okay.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay?”

Situations like this made impersonating someone dicey. She didn’t know what he was talking about. Moor had said little about her interaction with DeWinter, an obvious attempt to trip her up. With a distracted air, Laura stood. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’ve got a lot on my mind. Let’s start over.”

“We need to move a substantial amount of funds,” he said.

“How much?”

“Nine, with three on reserve for contingencies.”

She arched an eyebrow. He meant millions of dollars. “That’s some ease of acquisition.”

He seemed pleased with himself. “It is. Do you think we can find a benefactor?”

She shrugged and took a gamble. “You might have better access to those kinds of benefactors.”

“I’ll need accounts access for transfers.”

She pursed her lips and stared out at the D.C. skyline. His comment seemed off. If he didn’t have access—and he was in charge—then Moor or whomever she worked for didn’t want to give it. He was testing her. “You find the benefactor, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

She didn’t look at him as he considered her response. “That’s fine.”

Relief swept over her. Truth. He was fine with her answers. She had bluffed her way through it. DeWinter came around the desk and kissed her on the temple. “You look particularly marvelous today.”

She slipped her hand into his. “Thank you. Now I need to get to work before you make me more distracted than I already am.”

“Call me when you’re ready,” he said. He hesitated at the door as if weighing a thought, then smiled and left without speaking.

Laura let out a relieved exhale.

Tell Moor she better not be boggie when I get back, she sent to Terryn.

LAURA STRODE THROUGHthe lower corridor of the Guildhouse that led to the InterSec holding rooms. She had switched glamours in the elevator lobby in the garage, shedding Fallon Moor and draping Mariel Tate over her like armor. Angry armor. Her long dark hair brushed from side to side against the back of her black jumpsuit, keeping rhythm with the punctuated staccato of her footsteps. Staffers moved out of her way.

She entered the anteroom to Moor’s cell. Arms crossed, Terryn stood at the viewing window, his wings sparking with flashes of indigo and white. Laura stopped beside him. Inside the glass-encased room, Moor prowled, her limbs elongated and bristling with blond hair. She stared back at them, snapping her long-hinged jaws, unable to see through the one-way glass but knowing they were there.

“How long has she been this way?” Laura asked.

“Since I pressed her for the password,” Terryn said.

“She doesn’t look too far into the boggart mania. Has she spoken?”

He shook his head. “Howled a few times.”

Laura grasped the doorknob. “I want answers.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Terryn asked her back.

“We’ll find out.”

She opened the door. Moor lunged as soon as she stepped inside. Laura activated her shields, a hardened layer of essence enveloping her body before Moor made it halfway across the room. As the brownie brought her claws forward, Laura swung an essence-charged fist at her chest and sent her flying into the wall. Moor hit with a loud grunt, then fell to the floor. She scrambled into a crouch, set to leap again.

Thrusting her hand out, Laura stunned her with a blast of essence. Dazed, Moor slumped to the floor. In two long strides, Laura reached her, grabbed her by the hair, and held her up. Biting off the sounds of a binding spell, she sent burning lines of orange essence spiraling out of her free hand and pinned Moor against the wall.

“Drop the act. We need to talk,” she said.

Moor threw back her head and howled in pain as the bindings dug into her.

Laura stepped in closer, heedless of Moor’s sharp teeth. “Do you think I know nothing about brownies? You’re forcing yourself boggie. Knock it off.”

Moor thrashed, the bindings pulling tighter with her movements. She howled again. Laura crossed her arms. “You know how the binding works. You move, it burns. You will calm down or stand there until you pass out from exhaustion, and the bindings sear your arms and legs. Your choice. Either way, I’m going to get what I want.”

Moor growled in her face.

“Keep it up, Moor. I may not be patient enough to wait for you to pass out.” Laura held her hand up and wrenched her fingers closed. The bindings bit in several places, drawing blood.

Moor banged her head back against the wall and screamed. With eyes squeezed shut, she panted, spittle running out of her mouth. Her breathing slowed as her limbs shortened, and her claws retracted. She groaned against the pain of the bindings as her normal brownie shape returned. Still breathing heavily, she glared at Laura through bloodshot eyes.

With a flick of her hand, Laura released the bindings. As Moor fell forward, Laura grabbed her and shoved her onto the metal folding chair. Moor wrapped her arms against her stomach and hunched forward. “I’m going to kill you when I get out of here,” she rasped.

Laura crouched so that Moor could watch essence well up in her eyes. “I’ll look forward to the attempt.”

Moor tried to hold her gaze and failed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Laura stood and paced to the table. “Good. Any damage I do to you will be more pleasurable that way. Tell me the access codes to the V drive.”

“That wasn’t part of our deal,” Moor said.

Laura folded her arms. “Our deal was cooperation. You want to draw a line? Go right ahead. I’ll get the information one way or another. You talk, and life will be easier for both of us.”

Moor tried to look her in the eye. “It’s financial data. You already have it. You showed me.”