"You are the balance, my child," he said. "The crux, and I hold you very dear."
She found herself admiring him even more, liking the way the dim light cast its shadow over his sharp features. He dressed her in a robe of white linen, and then stood before her holding out his hand. Beckoning for her to join him.
They walked from the room, and as they headed for the altar, Lucero wondered if perhaps Oscuro had planned the whole ordeal. She wondered if maybe he knew that the spot on her soul had become so dark during her blood orgy that she would be unable to return to the bridge. So he had planned her little attempt at redemption just to further his own designs.
She wondered just which thoughts in her head were her own and which had been placed there by Oscuro. Then there was no more time for wondering because they had entered the altar room, and it was time for her to return.
Like her master had said, there was so much work to be done.
31
Ryan sat next to Nadja in the Draco Foundation Mitsubishi Nightsky as they drove past the front of the Watergate Hotel. The area was surrounded by a huge crowd of people-tourists, mourners, media hounds, and even worshippers who considered Dunkelzahn a martyred saint. The blast crater was a massive hole in the center of the boulevard, blocked off by five-meter-tall hurricane fencing and protected by federal security agents.
Above the crater hovered a prismatic cloud that glowed with energy. It writhed and morphed, roiling like an undulating droplet of oil on water, sending out a rainbow of light that was visible even in the middle of the afternoon. Ryan knew that the fabric of physical space had been torn away here. When Dunkelzahn had died in the explosion, the barrier to astral space had been eliminated.
The limo continued its slow and arduous way, through the crowd and up the circle drive to the hotel doors. What a mess, thought Ryan. As gala events go, the intimate gathering at the hotel was a news coverage nightmare.
When the tridsnoops had found out that all press was barred from the gathering, they began spouting about freedom of the press. When that didn't get anywhere, they tried to infiltrate the private luncheon as everything from security personnel to wait staff.
Unfortunately for them, Carla Brooks was in rare form. She seemed to be everywhere at once, personally checking the staff and going over every detail with her hand-picked security squad. She was ruthless in weeding out anyone who didn't belong, and even snoops she'd worked with before, people who thought they might have some pull with her, found themselves shut out.
Jane-in-the-box had quashed three attempts by deckers to pirate the security-camera feed, sending some artistically nasty bits of IC back along the line to fry the runners as a warning. By one o'clock, the word was out. This party was off limits. If the news services were going to get anything, they would have to wait on the steps of the hotel like everyone else and take whatever prepared statements the party's attendants were willing to give.
Needless to say, this slotted off more than one self-important investigative news team, and the mood out in front of the hotel was getting ugly by the time Ryan and Nadja rolled up to the front door in the Draco Foundation Mitsubishi Nightsky.
Ryan stepped out first, immediately flanked by several of Carla's security personnel. Ryan caught sight of Matthews standing guard up near the double glass doors of the entrance. The old man gave him a secret grin.
Ryan never thought his disguise-complete with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and three glued-on datajacks on his temple-would fool anyone who knew him personally, but he still didn't like having his picture taken. The slight changes were enough to make a bystander pass over him without a glance, however.
To the tridsnoops lining the carpet that rolled up to the door, he was just another Draco Foundation heavy, guarding Miss Daviar. He wore a simple black tuxedo that fit him in a way that didn't let him pack any heavy hardware. The only concessions he'd made were the Walther PB-100 pistol strapped to his right calf and a miniature camera hidden in the third fake datajack. He was on a remote feed, straight to Jane, who would be monitoring him at all times.
As Ryan forcefully cleared a small space on the sidewalk, Nadja stepped out behind him. He could almost hear the collective gasp of the people back home watching. She had pulled out all the stops today. Dressed in a ruby red gown flown in from Paris, she was adorned at the neck and wrist with flowing strands of natural pearls.
The gleaming white beads tumbled between her breasts, casting a glow over her flesh that seemed almost translucent in the harsh lights of the camera crews. Her raven hair flowed down the bare part of her upper back, and as she moved, it seemed to caress her skin like a lover.
As Ryan stood amid the flashing glare of the cameras, Nadja stopped and spoke briefly with the reporters. She laughed at some questions one of them asked, and her brilliant white teeth flashed.
Oh-so-tridogenic, thought Ryan. It's no wonder the country's in love with her. He smiled. It's no wonder I'm in love with her.
"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she responded to the reporter. "If my country needs my services, I'll be more than happy to accept this nomination. However, if a more suitable candidate is found, I will give my full support."
She got misty-eyed, right on cue, her voice taking on a lilting, hypnotic tone. "Dunkelzahn would have wanted the vice president to be the best person for the job, someone who could do the most good for the country. Right now, I just feel honored that the citizens, and President Haeffner, think I might be right for the job."
A din of shouts followed this last comment, but Nadja simply held up her hand, and all went quiet. "No more questions, please. I'll hold a formal press conference tomorrow, but now is not the time for making statements."
With that, she swept through the double glass doors, following closely on Ryan's heels, leaving a strangely subdued crowd behind her. As Ryan stepped past Matthews, he could hear the old man whisper, "Frag, she's good."
Ryan smiled and gave him a wink.
They entered the hotel and waited for the security detail to clear an elevator. Then they were up to the penthouse suite. Ryan dropped the bodyguard role and drew up alongside Nadja as they walked.
The penthouse suite was as beautiful as it was cozy, providing a stunning view of the downtown cluster and the Potomac. A full bar provided refreshment, and the pool sparkled with reflected sun on the patio. Small tables, surrounded by comfortable chairs, had been carefully positioned so that intimate groups could congregate and talk with a relative feeling of privacy.
Damien Knight was already there when Ryan and Nadja made their entrance. As were President Haeffner and many members of Congress, all accompanied by their respective security entourages. One or two people in this room had had dealings with the infamous Quicksilver in the past, and Ryan was pleased by the sense of discomfort he felt flutter through the room as Nadja took his arm in intimate fashion.
She made whispering sounds in his ear, and on cue, he laughed softly. All their moves had been worked out beforehand, and like a veteran team, they executed them flawlessly.
They made a beautiful couple, and Ryan was acutely aware of the impact they had when together. In fact, he was counting on it.
With a kiss on his cheek, Nadja excused herself and began to mingle.
Ryan stepped up to the bar that was being tended by a big ork. To Ryan, the gnarled face screamed Secret Service, but that was to be expected. He hoped the poor man knew how to mix a drink, or everyone else would know just how thorough Brooks had been.