The chaos on her desk did its best to depress her, but she retaliated by remaining focused. The reception for Draigen macCullen produced layers of pressure that she hadn’t anticipated. Working for Guildmaster Orrin ap Rhys as his public-relations director and for Terryn macCullen as his top undercover agent created conflicts that were becoming harder to ignore. At this point, she recognized that Rhys was no fan of the Inverni—neither past nor present—and enjoyed fanning the flames of their disagreements. As a diplomatic extension of High Queen Maeve’s court, the Washington Guildhouse was playing a major role in discrediting the Inverni position—and Laura was finding her job as public-relations director bumping up against her moral and personal ethics as a friend and colleague of Terryn.
Regardless of her job title on the Guildhouse letterhead, Laura’s public-relations position had expanded over the years by a slow accretion of tasks and favors that had nothing to do with her primary job. Her inherent drive to get things done had clouded the fact that she had let things get out of control. Hiring Saffin Corrill as her assistant helped manage the unwieldy numbers of responsibilities, with the added benefit of finding someone she could trust. Where Laura didn’t want to say no to people, Saffin had no problem booting them to the curb.
To complicate things more, Rhys didn’t know she worked for InterSec. Terryn, of course, knew about her Guild work but made it a point never to ask her for inside information. Which made things harder, since the decision to reveal or not reveal was hers. Depending on the situation, she sometimes was forced to make a choice between Terryn and Rhys, something that did not always sit well depending on which job hat she wore.
Which all came down to why she had become more involved in Draigen macCullen’s reception than she would have otherwise. Rhys had assigned the lead responsibility to Resha Dunne, but Laura wanted Draigen’s meeting with the president of the United States to succeed. If Draigen succeeded, Laura wouldn’t have to draw a line in the sand with Rhys regarding how far she would go to discredit Terryn’s clan. If Draigen succeeded, Laura’s personal feelings for Terryn wouldn’t make her feel obligated to disclose Guild strategies against the Inverni to him. She didn’t want Draigen to succeed. She needed her to.
Saffin arrived with a stack of folders, which she laid out along the front edge of Laura’s desk. “This folder contains top-priority issues. This one has potential issues. This one has issues I don’t think are issues. And this one has issues that I know aren’t issues. Some people need to find better things to do with their time.”
Her efficiency amused and gratified Laura. She and Saffin had worked together for years, knew each other’s rhythms, and helped each other get their jobs done. Without Saffin, Laura’s double life would have been impossible. She had saved Laura’s reputation several times—once literally saved her life.
Brownies by nature were skilled organizational personalities with a knack for order and efficiency. Those talents came at a price. Stressed by an obstacle in their path to successful completion of a job, they transformed into boggarts—a manic version of their normal selves. She had seen the effect recently with Fallon Moor. The physical transformation was exhausting for brownies—and dangerous to the people around them. “Going boggie” had a range of behaviors from an annoying relentlessness to outright violent acts.
Without comment, Laura observed the healing cuts on Saffin’s face and arms. Saffin had been caught in the recent terrorist attack at the Archives and gone full boggart. Her body became a killing machine to save her life and the lives of others. While Laura knew it was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, she couldn’t help feeling responsible for what Saffin had done, especially since Laura had had to encourage it to save them. If Laura had prevented the attack in the first place, Saffin wouldn’t have been hurt—or hurt others. Saffin hadn’t blamed Laura. She didn’t dwell on what she had done but accepted it as the inevitable outcome of her nature. Laura wished she could be so comfortable in her own skin.
“How about I take the office complaint folder, and you take the reception one?” she asked.
Saffin flipped her wispy blond hair over her shoulders. “Sure. Of course, that means the reception hors d’oeuvres will be vegetarian, people will have to get their own, the music will be rockabilly, and I might consider some kind of role-playing party game to loosen everyone up.”
Laura shook her head. “You do not like rockabilly.”
Saffin smirked. “Neither do fairies. Everyone will leave early, and I’ll have enough leftovers to not cook for a week.”
“You convinced me. I’ll take the first folder,” Laura said.
Saffin sighed. “Have it your way. A Stray Cats reunion would have been awesome.”
Laura pulled the folder closer and flipped it open. “I won’t be in tomorrow, but text me if you need anything.”
“No problem.” Laura picked up a slight pause before the reply. Saffin was the only person outside InterSec who knew about Laura’s double life. She had figured it out on her own years ago. That she kept it to herself—not even discussing it with Laura until recent events exposed her knowledge—assured Laura that she could rely on Saffin to keep it a secret. From experience, she had no doubt that Saffin would have no problem running the office without her.
Saffin picked up the papers in the desk out-box. “I’m going for a mani and a pedi. Be back in an hour.”
“Should you be telling me you’re running personal errands on company time?” Laura said.
Saffin grinned as she walked out the door. “It’s for the reception. That makes it work-related and a tax write-off. Is this a groovy country or isn’t it?”
Laura chuckled. If there was one thing she could count on, it was Saffin Corrill not missing a detail. She spent a few minutes reviewing the folders and making notes. She checked her watch. She wanted to be gone before Saffin returned because she wasn’t, in reality, going to be gone. Despite Saffin’s knowing about her InterSec life, she didn’t want to become nonchalant about it.
She retrieved her handbag from under the desk and opened the closet door behind her. Pushing aside the coat and spare outfits, a warding spell keyed to Laura’s body signature made the back of the closet appear to be solid. Laura stepped through the wall and disappeared from her office.
CHAPTER10
ON THE OPPOSITE side of the closet from her office, Laura dropped her bag on the bed of her private room. A work space occupied one wall. Ranks of storage boxes lined the surfaces of two tables. Jewelry-making tools were scattered over the work spaces, everything she needed to make a glamour. Over the years, the wall above the tables had become covered with photographs—some of herself under glamour, some as reference for creating new ones. Her unmade bed filled most of the room, the remaining space crammed with a bewildering array of outfits, hats, and footwear. Throughout the city, various apartments held the clothes only for individual personas—like the nearby corporate suite for Mariel Tate or her condo in Alexandria.
The hidden room, though, was a refuge. No one else entered. Terryn had arranged for the office behind her own to “disappear” from the building’s floor plan. The only other person who knew about it was Cress, and that was on the off chance Laura had an emergency. Not even Saffin knew, or at least Laura thought she didn’t. But Saffin always surprised her with the things she picked up on.
Laura slipped into the chair at the worktable and opened a drawer in a small storage container. A collection of rubies shifted against each other, some polished enough to catch the light with a deep red wink, some dulled by long disuse. The storage container held dozens of gems, mostly rubies, diamonds, and emeralds. They worked well for persona templates and were common enough gemstones that they didn’t attract curiosity when she wore them. The dollar value of the collection was not something she thought about. InterSec had paid for some, but others, like the emerald for Mariel Tate, were her own. As with most fey, money became less of an issue as time went on.