Mark Del Franco - Face Off

As she slipped through the closet into her public-relations office, Laura wondered if the situation made Cress more dangerous or less, and maybe Aran macCullen was right to advocate that Terryn move on with his life without a leanansidhe as a life mate. And that made her feel angry again, only this time at herself for betraying the best interest of one friend over another.

Laura made herself comfortable in her desk chair and not a moment too soon as Resha Dunne marched into her office. He stopped short in surprise. “Where did you come from?”

She rolled her eyes innocently. “Upstate New York. My father bought a small farm there.”

Confusion crossed his face. “What?”

Laura relaxed her face into a natural smile. “It was a joke, Resha. I just got back from a meeting.”

She sensed Saffin at her desk outside the door. How long has Resha been here? she sent.

How the heck did you get past me? Saffin responded.

The door was locked. I came in the window, Laura sent.

Really?

It was a joke, Saf. What was Resha doing out there?

He was on the phone.

“But I didn’t see you,” he said.

“You seemed very involved in your phone conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt. What’s up?”

Resha frowned in deeper confusion, an expression which, on a merrow, tended to look more like anger. “You walked past me?”

Laura drew her eyebrows together in concern. “Are you all right, Resha?”

His eyes shifted in thought as he stared at the floor. He shrugged. “I must have been woolgathering. I stopped by for your advice. The Legacy Foundation rejected our donation.”

That surprised and didn’t surprise her. Organizations rarely refused unsolicited monies that had no strings attached. In this case, though, Legacy was smart enough to know “no strings” meant “invisible strings,” but rejecting it outright was surprising. “Did they say why?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Tell your Guildmaster his guilt money won’t pay for the lives lost at the Archives.’”

“Who said?” she asked.

“Adam DeWinter. He’s the president of the board.”

Laura showed no sign to Resha that she knew DeWinter. She hated when her persona interactions crossed over. It sometimes made things difficult to keep separate. “While not exactly out of character, that’s still odd. Why do you think he rejected it?”

Resha eased himself into the guest chair, which was too small for his lanky frame. “I’m not sure. He seemed to be enjoying the reception. Senator Hornbeck introduced me. When I mentioned the Guild’s donation, he started lecturing me about the dangers of unchecked power among the fey and said the Archives incident was a major example.”

Laura tapped her pen against a pad. “Hmmm. I’m going with Hornbeck set him off. DeWinter used you, Resha. Don’t forget—Legacy is an antimonarchial group looking for political favor. DeWinter used you to establish his credentials with Hornbeck.”

Resha straightened in surprise. “Well, that was rather rude.”

“Didn’t you notice any animosity from the other attendees?”

He rolled his claw-tipped hands open on his lap. “Of course. I feel that wherever I go, Laura.”

His comment reminded Laura again of the race issues so many solitaries struggled with. On a day-to-day basis, she didn’t notice he was a merrow, but when he made a point of saying it, Laura cataloged the characteristics that gave humans pause—the white skin shaded blue and gray, the vertical ridge in his forehead, the sharp predatory teeth, and, of course, those small claws instead of nails on each finger. People who were not fey stared at Resha. He frightened them by existing. Like Cress did to the fey.

Laura softened her tone. “I’m sorry, Resha. I didn’t mean to sound like I was faulting you for anything. I’m frustrated because I thought the donation might quiet them down for a bit.”

Resha nodded in understanding. “Yes, I can imagine we don’t need anyone speaking ill of the fey with the Inverni in town.”

“True,” said Laura. Resha was no fool. Despite the Guildmaster’s contempt, Resha saw more than he let on. That he didn’t always exploit those things to the best advantage of the Guild was beside the point. He hadn’t gotten to be a Guild director because he was a total fool.

“Rhys will be upset with me. I was hoping you could advise me,” he said.

She considered the options. They needed Legacy to back off on criticism of the Guild in the short and long term. The last thing she wanted was the Guild complicating her InterSec investigation. “Does DeWinter work out of Legacy’s offices in Crystal City?”

“I believe so,” said Resha.

She smiled. “Invite him to the reception for Draigen. Legacy doesn’t like the current president. Drop hints that the president might not see the Inverni. DeWinter will like being seen with fey who don’t like the president or the Seelie Court. He’ll bite.”

“How will that play in the media?”

Laura shrugged. “It’s a closed reception. We can spin it in our favor.”

She watched as Resha let the idea sink in. She wasn’t convinced it was the best solution, but DeWinter would have a harder time distancing himself from the Guild while he was sipping champagne. Resha stood. “Thank you, Laura. Your advice is sound as always. I will let you know how things proceed.”

“No problem, Resha,” she said. She let out a sigh of relief when he left.

A moment later, Saffin walked in, folders clutched to her chest and an avid smile on her face. Her gaze shifted around the room. “I missed you coming in.”

“I was in a rush,” Laura said.

They faced each other for a pregnant moment. While Saffin knew about Laura’s undercover work, she had kept the knowledge to herself for years—not telling Laura she knew. At first, Laura was horrified to have been detected, but after some thought, Saffin’s awareness came as a relief. She didn’t have to sneak around her anymore, sending her on pointless errands or excusing cryptic phone calls. At the same time, no one at InterSec was aware of Saffin. After Terryn’s reaction to Sinclair’s knowing about her double life, Laura wanted to keep quiet about Saffin’s knowledge. and one way to do that was to keep Saffin on a strictly need-to-know basis. Saffin’s obvious curiosity about how Laura had arrived at least confirmed that she didn’t know about the hidden room, too.

Saffin dropped the folders in Laura’s in-box. “The usual divisions. I’m handling the media inquiries about the reception. The music is all set. One of the flutists asked me out, and the flowers are on order. The Guildmaster wants to meet with you regarding his welcome speech, and I replaced all your office plants because they don’t bloom in this light. In case you didn’t notice, the old ones were dead, and the new ones are lovely.”

Brownies’ inherent organizational skills gave them an ability to multitask on a level most people found exhausting. Saffin’s launch into the catalog of tasks brought Laura relief. Saffin wasn’t going to push the issue and ask too many questions. Laura gave her a sly grin. “A flutist? I didn’t know you were such a music enthusiast.”

Saffin smirked. “I’ve been told by credible sources he has a very nice flute.”

Laura shook her head. “I don’t know how you keep everything together, Saf.”

She shrugged. “I decide what’s important, keep focused, and make sure everyone around me knows where they stand on the list. Oh! And I cry myself to sleep every night.”

“Saf!”

She exaggerated the sway of her shoulders as she left the room. “Just kidding. I don’t sleep.”