Mark Del Franco - Face Off

“Gap’s back,” Jono said in her ear.

Lord Guardian . . . Laura began. Something jumped across her vision, small and light-colored. She heard someone grunt as she looked down at a chip in the sidewalk. A small dark object blurred across her vision. A fragment of the sidewalk cement shot up, deflected by her body shield.

Sniper! she burst in a broadcast sending. Moving too fast for a human to track, Laura gripped Draigen by the shoulder and shoved her back and down. Aran jerked his head toward them for a visual check on Draigen, then spread his wings high and wide, hardening the essence in them. Brinen rushed in front of Laura, and their interacting body shields crackled. Laura perceived the movements as peripheral, instant confirmations of who and what moved in her immediate surroundings as other agents moved in to surround Draigen.

She gauged the trajectory of the gunshot and fired a streak of white-hot essence up the street toward the roofline of a building two blocks away. Aran went airborne, using the shot as a directional marker. In a whirl of color and speed, Brinen and Draigen disappeared into the darkness of the limousine. The door slammed shut, and a hardened essence barrier rippled into place around the car.

Inverni Guardians and Guild security swarmed the sidewalk. Laura pointed as more fairies joined Aran in the air. “Roofline, right side, two blocks down.”

She hurried to the car. A slivered gap opened in the protection barrier to let her in. She dove through it as the door opened, pulling it shut behind her. Exuding calm, Draigen sat on the rear seat, hands folded in her lap. Next to her, Brinen angled across the seat, craning his neck for a view out the back window. He held one hand against his chest.

“Are you secure, Lady Regent?” Laura asked.

Draigen shifted her gaze to the sidewalk as if the car had paused for her to admire the view. “Yes, thank you, Agent Tate. My brother has been shot, however.”

Sinclair’s voice came in low and urgent. “Are you okay, Laura?”

Agent Tate is fine. Radio off, she sent.

Laura peered out the window at the gathering agents on the sidewalk. “We’ll have a medic team in a moment.”

“They can follow us to the White House,” she said. The car started moving.

Startled, Laura arched an eyebrow. “Lady Regent, your brother . . .”

“I am fine,” Brinen said. He didn’t look fine. He held one wing open along the seat, puncture wounds visible near where it connected to his back. His voice vibrated with truth when he spoke, though. If he wasn’t fine, he at least believed he was.

Draigen gave her a cool stare. “Nothing will stop this meeting, Agent Tate.”

Laura settled into the seat, eyes on the passing sidewalk. She had to admit, the level of determination in Draigen’s voice impressed her. An assassination attempt and a wounded brother did not fluster the woman. Terryn had chosen well when he made his sister regent.

Police motorcycles shadowed them the few short blocks to the White House. At the gatehouse, Secret Service agents allowed them in without pause. Laura stared out the window as the car eased along the drive to the side entrance. She had not been in the Executive Mansion during the current president’s administration. The amount of security she was seeing impressed her. She glanced toward Brinen, who held his hand lightly against his chest wound. Times had changed. The security had become a necessary part of life in the capital.

The car stopped, and someone opened the door from the outside. Aran ducked his head in, his gaze first to Draigen, then his brother, then Laura. He held out a hand to Draigen. She took it and eased herself out, her wings unfolding with a sparkle of essence as news photographers jostled nearby.

Attend to my brother, please, Agent Tate, she sent to Laura.

The door closed. Brinen visibly relaxed against the seat. He dropped his hand, blood glistening with a pale red shimmer. He grimaced as he unbuttoned his tunic. “Clavicle is cracked or broken. I believe a bullet is lodged near my shoulder cap. No artery hit.”

“Oh, good. I was concerned it might be serious,” Laura said.

Brinen shot her an annoyed look, one that looked distinctly familiar from her experience with Terryn. Brinen changed his expression to a pained grin. “Terryn never mentioned you were funny.”

Amazed, she shook her head as blood welled out of the dark wound on his chest. “He never mentioned his entire family has balls of steel either.”

THREE ANXIOUS HOURSlater, Laura flipped through index cards in the room behind the Guildhouse conference room. A press conference had been hastily arranged while she waited for Draigen to conclude business at the White House. Brinen had refused to leave, insisting his wounds could wait until his sister was within the protective walls of the Guildhouse. Security for Draigen had been tripled while she met with the president, and, despite her protests, she was returned to the Guildhouse through the garage entrance.

Laura pushed aside those thoughts as she planned her opening remarks. The noise volume from the next room didn’t surprise her. The usual group of media people who showed for briefings had been joined by several more people excited about the assassination attempt. News was news, even when it wasn’t good.

Someone fiddled with her hair as she reviewed her agenda. Rhys was furious with her—with Laura Blackstone—for being unreachable during an unfolding crisis. Saffin had assumed—rightly, of course—that Laura was with the Inverni and did everything she could to cover for her. A few minutes’ delay was excusable, but Rhys wasn’t satisfied with the story that her cell phone had been in a dead zone for over an hour. It was a plausible excuse in D.C., with all the signal-jamming tech in use across town; but reason and reality did not always matter when the Guildmaster was angry.

“They’re ready,” someone said.

The door to the conference room opened. Laura stacked her notes and entered the room. The attending reporters shifted attention to the front of the room. Conversations died off as the whir of cameras replaced them. Local and national television stations crowded in a corner at the back, their techs adjusting the light and sound instruments.

Laura stepped up to the podium, calm and assured as if the situation were routine.

She arranged her cards as the room settled. When she had full quiet, she raised her head with a practiced face of concern, yet unworried. “Good afternoon. Before we get started, I have a few schedule announcements. The Guildmaster will be participating in a briefing regarding today’s events later today. We’ll set the time within the hour. New security measures are being implemented in the wake of today’s events. My assistant, Saffin Corrill, has handouts for everyone regarding same. The Regent Draigen macCullen sends her regards and thanks all for their concern.”

She pushed a set of cards aside. “As you are aware, an attempt on the life of the Inverni regent occurred this morning at approximately 11:40 A.M. The regent was uninjured and continued on to her scheduled meeting with the president of the United States. Lord Guardian Brinen macCullen received non-life-threatening injuries during the attack. He was treated at the White House and has already returned to his duties.”

She moved more cards. “At this morning’s incident, it appears that at least three gunshots were fired, none of which hit an individual. Lord Guardian macCullen’s injury appears at this time to be related to a ricochet from the ground. Preliminary investigation indicates that the shots were fired from an office building on Pennsylvania Avenue. A body has been recovered, and the investigation, of course, is ongoing. My office will be keeping you apprised as more information unfolds.”