When the political nuances of her career as Laura Blackstone exhausted her, the intellectual challenge of Mariel Tate’s position came as a welcome relief. Mariel played corporate politics like anyone else, but the nature of her diplomatic missions were more research-oriented and in-house consultancy. She advised, and other people took the matter from there. It was nice not to have final responsibility.
She separated out a number of white papers to read at home and collected the correspondence that needed responses. The rest of the mail she organized, returned to her in-box, and placed the paperweight on top of it.
She leaned back in her chair, scrolling through email. In the middle of everything, Terryn was passing Mariel Tate an invitation to a summit meeting of defense executives next month. He had a remarkable ability to compartmentalize projects. He mentioned hard-copy correspondence he had sent, and she pulled the in-box toward her.
As she reached for the paperweight, she paused, her hand hovering an inch away from the clear crystal. She dropped her hand beside the in-box and stared. Essence accumulated with repeated contact and dissipated with the lack of it. Since her sensing ability worked at all times-was effectively always “on”-she sensed the faint trace of Mariel’s body signature on the paperweight. Too faint, though. Crystals worked as essence capacitors, and she used the Mariel persona frequently enough for there to be significant buildup on the paperweight. There wasn’t. She boosted more essence into her sensing ability to fine focus and found only enough essence from moving the crystal moments before. It should have had more. Much more.
Her eyes shot to the door to her office. Liam’s comment on the phone earlier became clear. “I put it back,” she remembered him saying. Last time she was in the office, she hadn’t forgotten taking the paperweight to her room. She hadn’t taken it at all.
She picked up the phone. “This is Mariel Tate, Suite 835. I need a security agent.”
“Is there a problem?” the dispatch asked.
“No. But there will be in a moment.” She hung up.
“Liam, I need you,” she called. She watched him come around his desk. “Close the door and have a seat.”
He smiled at her seriousness and complied. “What’s up?”
She picked up the paperweight and placed it on the edge of the desk in front of him. “Explain.”
He paled. “What?”
“Are you going to tell me you didn’t take this from my office recently?” she asked.
He shifted in his seat and licked his lips. “Uh, no. I use it when you’re not here. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”
His words registered heavily as untrue. “That would be plausible if your essence was on it and mine wasn’t completely stripped. Neither is the case. You have no fey abilities to do that. Who did you give it to?”
A knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” Laura said.
A Danann security agent entered, his wings flared open and glowing white with charged essence. The Guild’s elite force wore black uniforms designed to intimidate and a chrome helmet that completely covered the head and hid identity. They were highly trained, faithful, and utterly discreet. If possible, Liam turned even more pale.
“Let me repeat my question. Who did you give my paperweight to?” asked Laura.
“Mariel, I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said.
Laura tapped her inner essence until her eyes glittered with shots of white and gold. She slapped her hand on the desktop. The wood cracked. “Answer me!”
Liam flinched. “He said his name was Sean Frye. He’s an Inverni that works for the Guildmaster’s office. I checked.”
“What did he want?” she asked.
Liam shifted his eyes between Laura and the security guard. “He said you had been implicated in acts against the Guild, and they needed a sample of your essence. I checked with the Guildmaster’s office, and they confirmed who he was.”
“He lied, Liam. Sean Frye is a false name the Guildmaster’s office uses for undercover agents. You didn’t go through proper channels,” she said.
Sweat broke out on Liam’s upper lip. “He came to my apartment, Mariel. He scared the hell out of me.”
“What else did you give him?”
“Your schedule. He said they needed to set up surveillance to see who you were passing information to.”
Laura went cold with realization. “What schedule did you give him, Liam?”
“Your appointments in Anacostia and the one at the FBI,” he said.
She wanted to lash out in rage. “What else?”
Liam shifted agitatedly. “Nothing. He called this morning. He wanted your updated schedule. I didn’t give it to him.”
“How do you contact him?”
“He gave me a phone number,” Liam said.
Laura slid paper and a pen across the desk. “Write it down and give me your cell phone.” He did as she asked. When he placed the cell on her desk, Laura let the essence retreat from her eyes. “You should have gone through channels, Liam. You should have called Terryn macCullen.”
Liam was on the verge of tears. “I was going to. After that bomb went off at the FBI, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid the Inverni had tried to kill you, and I was afraid you might have set it off to kill that agent. I was going to call Mr. macCullen today.”
The fear and truth in his voice pained Laura. She slumped back in her chair. “You thought I set off a bomb that killed an FBI agent?”
Still afraid, he became defensive. “I don’t know what the hell you do, Mariel. You disappear for days and weeks at a time. I never know where or why. You could be an assassin for all I know. I thought that guy checked out, but I screwed up.”
She felt sick to her stomach. And angry. “Do you know what happened at the FBI building, Liam? Let me tell you…”
“I heard about the bomb,” he said.
Laura stood and trembled. She dropped her voice low and deadly. “Do not interrupt me. I’ll tell you want happened at the FBI, Liam. I was early for my appointment with Lawrence Scales, a husband and father of two young children. We talked and I left, Liam. You know what happened then? A package with essence radiating off it was delivered. I went to warn Scales, and the bomb blew. My essence triggered it, Liam. The bomber used my essence from this paperweight to set a trigger.”
She slammed the crystal sphere on the desk. “A man is dead because you didn’t make the right fucking phone call.”
Laura nodded to the agent. “Detain him until you hear from me.”
The agent stepped forward, giving Liam the opportunity to stand on his own. Tears streaming down his face, Liam didn’t hesitate to join him. “I’m sorry, Mariel. If there’s anything I can do to make up for it, I will.”
He meant it. She didn’t care. Showing no emotion, she turned to her computer. “Get out.”
The door closed behind them. They were gone. Laura’s fingers trembled as she reached for the keyboard. She had trusted Liam. She thought he liked her. She thought the Mariel persona was above suspicion for everyone, especially her own assistant. To think that someone so near found her so unknowable nauseated her. Had she become so lost in her personas that nothing of her true self showed? Had she become so shut off from her own self-awareness, she didn’t even recognize herself anymore?
She brushed a tear off her cheek and thought of Sinclair. What was he seeing? Did he really want to get involved with someone like her? Why would he? Why would anyone? She shoved her fears aside and took a deep breath. She was Laura Blackstone. That much she knew. That she could hold on to. Laura Blackstone knew how to get a job done. She would worry about who she was later.
If there was a later.
CHAPTER 25
FROM THE CHRONIC state of disarray in Laura’s InterSec office, it was obvious no assistant cleaned up after her. The desktop and two credenzas held stacks of reports she never got around to filing. Someone scanned major reports into the computer system anyway, giving her even less incentive to tidy up. Even the guest chair that Sinclair occupied had papers on it. He didn’t bother to remove them before he sat.