Mark Del Franco - Face Off

“All well and good. In the meantime, I’m getting pressure from the media. They see your hand in this,” she said.

He grinned. “Do they?”

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. He was intent on staying in this mood. “Okay, I get it. You want them to know the Guild is behind it, but you want deniability. Can I ask why?”

He leaned forward. “It sends a message. The Inverni need to know that the Seelie Court will not be passive if they seek allies against it. And the public needs to know the decisions that the Inverni make. Letting a leanansidhe into the Guildhouse has upset many people, Laura. That thing was dangerous.”

“No, she isn’t,” she said. As soon as she said it, she bit her lip. It had been an impulsive reaction.

Rhys pulled his chin in, surprised. “How do you know that’s true or not?”

She shrugged. “She’s a solitary. Resha Dunne would tell us if there was a danger, wouldn’t he?”

Rhys scoffed. “Dunne wouldn’t know his ass from his back fin.”

Laura shook her head. “Still, Orrin, Resha knows how to cover that back fin. If he knew of a danger that might reflect on him, I think he’d do something about it.”

He leaned forward again. “How about this, then: I don’t like it. I don’t like that a leanansidhe was free to roam this building. I don’t like that it exists. You’re young, Laura. Here-born. You don’t know the damage those things have done here and back in Faerie.”

She closed her eyes a moment. She hated when an Old One invoked the past in Faerie. She couldn’t argue it. Never mind that the fey who did remember Faerie recalled only bits and pieces. That Rhys remembered a leanansidhe meant he had experienced them, and by all accounts, the leanansidhe did cause havoc. If what she had heard was any indication of the true reality, Cress’s sister leanansidhe —if not Cress herself—were formidable foes.

Nothing she could say at that point would change Rhys’s mind. She heard it in his voice and saw it in his body language. She entertained the idea that he was afraid of what Cress was capable of. He had watched her absorb an enormous amount of essence at the Archives, then destroy the roof of the building. That Cress did it to save lives was beside the point to him. That she could do it at all was the problem.

“Let’s let go of this discussion, Orrin. What’s done is done, and we need to address the ramifications for the Guild,” she said.

He leaned back again. “Good. Put something together that says we are surprised at the recent changes at InterSec and look forward to the release of their findings. Throw in something about regretting that such an esteemed member of the Inverni clan as Terryn macCullen decided to go on leave, and that it is an unfortunate loss at this time because his wisdom will be missed.”

His disingenuous tone set her teeth on edge, but she had pushed him as much as she could for one day. “I will. Can I have your word you’ll give me more of a heads-up than the day after you do something radical?”

He chuckled. “I will, but you know I won’t be able to keep it.”

“I know. It would be nice to hear you say it, though,” she said.

He tilted his head in a bow. “I shall try not to make your job harder than it is.”

She stood. “Thank you. I’ll get back to work, then.”

“Before you go, Laura, I want to say one more thing. After all these years and all you’ve seen, I admire your optimism. I hope you aren’t sorely disappointed when people turn out exactly as they are.”

She paused by the door. “Do you believe in redemption, Orrin?”

He seemed surprised at the question and paused before answering. “I do. But I don’t believe that acceptance always follows. Sometimes it shouldn’t.”

A sad smile slipped across her face as she left. She had to believe in redemption—and forgiveness. She had spent years doing some harsh things in the name of the greater good. She believed that someday she would be called to account for them, and she hoped whoever judged her showed more mercy than Orrin ap Rhys.

INTEL FROM THEassassination attempt had begun to flow into the InterSec unit before Laura had returned from the White House. In two days’ time, the volume of material had grown exponentially. Her acting as Mariel Tate for most of the previous day had pushed the public-relations department into critical mode as requests for interviews and statements from the Guildmaster swamped the office. Saffin had done her best—and her best was an understatement—to keep things moving.

With her dual roles slamming into each other, Laura gathered files from InterSec and took them up to public relations. She didn’t like mixing the duties of the two offices, but troubleshooting the media had become a nightmare she didn’t want to leave Saffin alone with. By late afternoon, the pressure had shifted course, and she had to address the preliminary investigation as Mariel. In a moment of desperation, she flat out told Saffin to keep visitors away while she plunged into the InterSec material.

Saffin took the news as if Laura had told her she was going to lunch. Keeping silent about her double life in front of Rhys and everyone else at the Guild was difficult, and knowing that Saffin could be trusted made life a little easier. A quick knock sounded at the door, and Saffin slipped in. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Resha is on his way up again.”

“Again?”

Saffin folded her arms. “Third time. He’s getting suspicious about your door being closed. He almost opened it last time.”

Laura looked down at her desk. Inverni Guardian schedules and notices were spread everywhere. On her monitor, surveillance video from the assassination attempt played. “I’ve been trying to find decent footage that shows the location from which Draigen’s sniper fired. How much time do I have?”

Saffin raised her eyebrows and twisted her lips. “Minutes.”

She jumped up. “Dammit.” She stacked papers together and shoved them in folders.

Saffin rushed to the desk. “Yikes. Don’t do that in front of me.”

Laura paused. “What?”

Saffin neatened the folders. “Make such a mess.”

Laura bit her lip as she watched Saffin, then checked her watch. “Saf, I have to take care of something and can’t let Resha chew up my time. Can you hide all this stuff and pretend you never saw it?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I do that all the time with crap I don’t want to do.”

Laura picked up her bag. “You’re kidding, right?”

Saffin rolled her eyes. “Yes, Laura. Of course I’m kidding. Get going.”

“You’re the best, Saf,” she said as she rushed out the door.

“I know,” Saffin called after her.

Laura took the elevator down to the parking garage. In the lower lobby, she sidled into a blind spot of the security camera and activated the Mariel glamour. It was an old trick, one she used sparingly in case an attentive security guard noticed anything on the monitors in the bowels of the building. Taking a moment to leave her bag in her InterSec SUV, she walked out the exit ramp to the sidewalk.

Barricades along the sidewalk stood like accusations of failure, the chipped sidewalk a testament that the shooting had not been prevented. Draigen was alive, Laura reminded herself. That was what was important. The regent of the macCullen clan was alive and the only person who had died was the shooter.

Laura didn’t think it was over. Despite the failed attempt and the heightened alerts, chatter among security-agency channels had not abated. Rumors abounded of a trial run, that the assassination was meant to fail. The conflicting information came in from disparate sources that had never acted in unison before. Local U.S. interest groups and European political cells were rattled and excited. Yet no one claimed responsibility.