Mark Del Franco - Face Off

She draped her hand over the back of the couch and released a small burst of essence at the window. It hit with soft bang, and she pretended to be startled. The juice sloshed onto her dress as DeWinter pulled away. “What was that?”

She stood, brushing at her damp skirt. “I don’t know. Something hit the window. A bird maybe.”

With his head tilted down, he smiled at her. “Your outfit’s a mess. Maybe you should take it off.”

She laughed and tousled his hair. “Not here. Let me take care of this before a stain sets.”

She strolled away, letting him get a good look at the roll of her hips. At the door, she trailed her hand along the wall as she left the room. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She left him grinning on the couch. The upside to playing cloak-and-dagger games with people who played cloak-and-dagger games was that when someone disappeared on a moment’s notice, no one pushed for explanations unless deep doubts existed. If DeWinter had noticed small clues that something was different about Fallon Moor, Laura’s handling of the funds transfer had probably allayed those suspicions for the moment. Rather than risk being alone with him on his own turf, she decided to disappear for a bit. DeWinter was going to find himself waiting for nothing.

A FEW HOURSlater, Laura straightened up her desk and returned to her hidden room. As she zipped up the uniform jacket and shifted into the Mariel glamour, she cast a longing glance on the rumpled, unmade bed. The day had been long already, but she had more work to attend to. She checked her Mariel image—this time wearing the standard black uniform rather than the business suit. Cress had left word that she would be working late, so Laura took her usual route through the accounting department, then the elevator to the InterSec unit offices. Once through the locked entrance, she knocked on Cress’s office door and leaned in. “You left a message for me?”

From her work counter, Cress cocked her head over her shoulder. “Hello. Let me finish this, and I’ll be right with you.”

Laura leaned against the counter and watched as Cress used an eyedropper to add a clear fluid to a row of test tubes. “Am I interrupting anything?”

Cress shook her head. “Routine. A team brought in some soiled clothing to test. We’re trying to figure out where a murder victim has been.” She held up one of the tubes and watched as the liquids swirled around each other. Replacing the tube in the tray with the others, she loaded them into a centrifuge and turned it on.

From her desk, she collected a folder and handed it to Laura. “I received the results from your gloves.”

Laura reviewed the report, skipping over the technical analysis to the summary section. “The taggant is military?”

Cress tapped at a lined sheet covered with signatures in different hands. “All explosive hardware is inventoried and tagged by recipient. As it changes hands or locations, the information is updated.”

“The C-4 from the shop bombing was from Fort Bragg,” Laura read.

Cress placed a manifest in front of Laura. “That’s the last registered location. I’ve already checked the Department of Defense database. No C-4 reported used, missing, or stolen from that shipment.”

Laura glanced up. “Could they have not discovered it missing yet?”

“It’s possible. I opened channels for a discreet inquiry.”

“If it came from Bragg, it will be a bigger problem,” Laura said.

“Why?”

Laura flipped through the data analysis. “Special Forces train and operate there. It’s no secret a lot of black ops recruit out of training camps.”

Cress crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “Are you saying these attacks might have official U.S. sanction?”

Laura dropped the folder on the desk. “Maybe. When military hardware is involved, it usually means two things: official sanction or rogue operatives. Neither is comforting in my book.”

Cress rubbed at her forehead. “Gods, I’m so sick of all of this.”

Laura reached out and took her by the shoulder. “Have you talked to Terryn yet?”

Moisture pooled in her eyes, startling Laura. She had never seen such an obvious emotional response from Cress. The leanansidhe rubbed at her eyes and slipped onto a stool. “No. We haven’t had ten minutes awake together in the last few days. This never ends, does it? If it’s not some terrorist, it’s a government. Or some fey embezzling from humans. Or some plain-vanilla serial killer—which is more sick that I can call something like that plain vanilla. It never ends. It never ends and he . . .” She grimaced and shook her head. “These things pull at Terryn. He never rests, never lets things be. It’s always his responsibility. He never gives himself time for himself. For . . .” She stopped.

Laura’s chest felt heavy from the emotion pouring off Cress. “For what? For you?”

Cress dropped her head. “And now I am the cause of more problems.”

Laura brushed stray hairs back from Cress’s cheek and fixed it over her ear. “Is Rhys still making trouble for you?”

With a stricken look, she stared at the ceiling as if she could see through the floors above to the Guildmaster’s office. “I don’t know if it’s him, but I’ve been called into several meetings. They’re questioning me about the Archives.”

“Interrogating, you mean,” she said.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Laura sensed full truth, but it didn’t make her feel better. Cress knew she’d sense a lie if she had said no, so she was honest. But then she would shut down any further conversation. They didn’t pry into each other’s lives. Laura used to think that was the courtesy of friendship. Now she wondered if that said something about the friendship itself.

“Does Terryn know?”

She went to her desk and straightened some papers. “He’s busy with Draigen’s visit.”

Laura shook her head. “That’s not good enough, Cress. You almost died saving all those people at the Archives. You don’t deserve this.”

She hugged herself. “That was my fault. I was focused on venting off excess essence. I didn’t hold anything back for myself.”

Cress’s choice not to absorb essence from anyone without invitation made it harder for her to maintain her own essence. Even given that, Laura wanted to shake her for blaming herself for not protecting herself. “That’s ridiculous, Cress. Nothing was your fault. Rhys needs to know that, and Terryn should help you.”

Cress stared at her. “Is that going to matter in the end? I’m a leanansidhe , Laura.”

“Terryn—”

“Terryn”—she interrupted—“is one man, who takes on more than he should as it is. He’s worried about his family, about his clan. He’s worried about the balance of power between governments. Do you think he has the time to do anything about a Guildmaster who is afraid of what everyone else is afraid of?”

Laura shrugged slowly. “He’s Terryn macCullen.”

Cress’s jaw dropped. She snapped her mouth closed, then started laughing. “He’s Terryn macCullen. You’re right. And that’s why I can’t ask him, because he will try. And when someone tries to do too many things, nothing gets accomplished.”

Laura held her by the shoulders. “You matter, Cress.”

She closed her eyes. “I wish I could believe that. I know he loves me. I know I matter to him; but in the big picture, is it fair of me to want to matter more than anything?”

Laura did shake her then, but gently. “Yes. It is.”

Cress bowed her head. “Thank you for that.”

Laura hugged her. “Life sucks, Cress. You know that. The whole point of finding someone like Terryn is that you have someone to turn to when it really sucks.”