Cress paused at her work space. “You need to rest, Laura. The physical aspect of the concussion is healed, but your body essence is working at near capacity to heal the rest.”
“I’ll deal with Blume in the evening. I can swing that. I don’t sleep much anyway,” she replied.
Cress stared with those inscrutable black pools she called eyes. She glanced at Terryn, and Laura felt the light flutter of a sending pass between them. They were worried about her. It was comforting-she was worried about herself-but she had continued working with worse injuries before.
“Have you remembered anything more?” Cress asked.
“Nothing helpful. You were right, though. It’s coming back,” Laura said.
Cress nodded. She picked up two sealed jars from the counter. She held up one with a thick solution in it, vibrant green. “Drink this when you get home. It’ll fortify your body essence and soothe the throat burn.” She handed Laura a smaller, opaque jar. “You have burn patches that aren’t much worse than a sunburn, but they’re still draining essence from you. Draw a bath when you get home and dissolve this in it. Your skin will heal faster.”
Laura held both jars, thinking she’d rather eat the paste than drink the vibrant green sludge. “You’re ordering me to take a bath?”
Cress smiled. “Exactly. You’ll smell better, too.”
Laura slipped the jars into her bag. “I have had a couple of stinky days.”
“Can we talk about Blume before you leave?” asked Terryn.
Cress pushed Laura toward the door. “No, she can’t. She needs to go home and take a bath and go to bed. Now.”
Laura made a show of resisting, but it was obvious she wanted to leave. She stopped by her InterSec office to pick up the rest of her things and took the elevator down to the garage as Laura Blackstone, working-late public-relations director. If Cress was so concerned about her comfort and health, the least Laura could do was drive her Mercedes home.
Realization hit her when she started the car. She couldn’t go home. She rested her head against the steering wheel listening to music, trying to drown out thoughts of anything else. At the end of the third song, she turned off the car and went back to the elevator lobby. In the blind spot of the security camera, she resumed the Crawford glamour.
She jumped in the SUV. Cress might have thought it best that Laura go home, but Janice still existed and now had the seeds of a private life. Under the circumstances, Janice couldn’t disappear for no established reason. Someone would notice. Whoever wanted her dead would notice and find it curious. Inspiring curiosity was something Laura avoided when it came to her glamours. It was how she had gotten into her newest persona tangle. She pulled out of the garage and drove to Sinclair’s apartment.
CHAPTER 23
SINCLAIR OPENED THE door the moment she knocked, his relief obvious. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Everything okay?”
Her first reaction was irritation. She barely answered to Terryn, never mind Sinclair. But she quickly bit back a barbed comment. His concern was genuine. She wasn’t used to that from someone she barely knew. Terryn and Cress often expressed concern for her welfare, but it always felt professional, never intimate. Emotional expression was something she avoided. She dropped her duffel on the floor by the door. “Sorry. I had an errand. You should give me a spare key.”
He stepped back, as if embarrassed by his concern, and she regretted not being as responsive. He glanced pointedly at the listening ward on the bookshelf. “Isn’t that rushing things a bit?”
She closed her eyes and examined the essence on the obelisk to confirm that the dampening field remained active. “It’s okay, Jono. The obelisk is jamming. We can talk freely.”
He looked innocent. “Oh. I was.”
She fished in her bag for the two jars from Cress. “You never let up, do you? Even if I was interested, I don’t date colleagues.”
“You went out with me for drinks twice already,” he said.
Laura put the jars on the coffee table and dropped into the armchair. “That was work.”
He grunted. “Really? I didn’t notice you breaking a sweat.”
She chuckled. “Speaking of drinks, do you have any vodka? I need to drink this thing from Cress, and I have a feeling I’m going to need a chaser.”
“Sure. Are you hungry? I can throw something in the microwave,” he asked.
She unscrewed the lid to the jar with the vibrant green liquid. “Not yet, thanks. I’m tired and need to take a bath.”
Sinclair wandered into the kitchen. Jeans and tight T-shirts must be his civilian uniform. Not that I’m complaining, she thought.
As she leaned forward to examine the open jar, she heard the bathwater go on. She sniffed the liquid and decided it might be palatable. Cress made an effort to make her potions inoffensive. Laura sipped it. Not bad, a bit grassy with some mint and menthol. Taking a deep breath, she downed it. It went down thick and slow, but it went down. She smacked her lips at the pasty aftertaste.
Sinclair returned with a beer for himself, handed her a mixed drink. He slid a key across the coffee table. Laura pocketed it without a word and nodded at her glass. “I put some lemonade in it,” he said.
She leaned back in the chair. “Thanks. How are you? Do you need Cress to do anything?”
He sat sideways, dangling his legs over the arm of the other armchair. “I’ve taken harder falls. I think I’ll pass on any more healing.”
She sipped her drink. The alcohol spread across her tongue, washing away whatever was making the sticky sensation in her mouth. “Why? Cress is an excellent healer.”
He exaggerated a shiver. “I appreciate that she took care of my ribs, but when she did it, I felt this sort of desire from her. Like a hunger. No offense if she’s a friend, but I thought it was creepy.”
“She’s a leanansidhe.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought they were dangerous.”
Laura didn’t want to admit her own occasional discomfort with Cress. “They are. Not Cress, though. She has her… needs under control.”
He took a swig of beer. “Hmm. Yeah, that sounds convincing.” He nudged the unopened jar on the table. “What’s this?”
“For the bath. Some kind of healing agent.”
He picked it up. “I’ll drop it in. Finish your drink.”
He was out of the chair before she could protest. It was a nice gesture, she decided, and she was too tired to make an issue of it. She retrieved her duffel and pulled out her overnight tote bag, a pair of sweatpants, and a T-shirt. One night of sleeping in her clothes was enough. She bumped into Sinclair at the door to the bathroom.
“All yours,” he said, and moved away quickly.
Bubbles filled the tub. Thick towels sat on a wicker hamper, and three lit candles gave a warm glow to the room. She smiled toward the living room. Only Sinclair’s bare feet were visible, propped over the end of the couch.
She closed the bathroom door and stripped out of her clothes. They fell to the floor in a rank heap. As she slipped into the hot water, she groaned with pleasure. Cress was right. It had been a long, smelly day.
Sinclair knocked on the door. “Are you under the bubbles?”
She leaned her head back. “Yes. Thank you. Could you call me in thirty minutes in case I fall asleep?”
Sinclair opened the door.
Surprised, Laura ducked deeper into the water. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He had his beer in one hand and her drink in the other. He set hers on the edge of the tub. Closing the lid on the toilet, he sat and propped his feet on the hamper. “You forgot your drink. I freshened it for you.”
Surrounded by bubbles, hot water, glowing candles, and a strong drink, she decided to be polite instead of annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He gulped some beer. “I wanted to. You saved my life today. I made you a bubble bath. Seems fair.”