CHAPTER 28
LAU RA JUMPED AT the blare of a car horn, surprised she had wandered into the crosswalk not far from the entrance to the Vault. Too much in your head again, she thought, annoyed. She had stamina, but the physical toll on her was affecting her mentally and emotionally as well. She was letting herself get distracted, and in her line of work, that could be fatal. Even Gianni had said as much when she questioned him about Sanchez. Every error, even small ones, had consequences.
She approached the SUV with her keys already out. As she played with the ring to separate the ignition key, it slipped from her hand. A wave of dizziness swept over her when she bent to pick up the ring. Light-headed, she leaned a hand against the SUV. The mead had been strong, but it was only one drink. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, annoyed that Terryn was right. She was overextending herself. Running multiple personas was possible, but not without enough sleep.
She slid into the driver’s seat and watched the front door of the Vault. Her mind wandered to Sinclair. Again. Either he was playing her well, or he was genuinely interested in her. She was letting Sinclair get to her, and damned if she could come up with a good reason why not. People hit on her-it was part of the Washington scene whether or not anyone admitted it-but Sinclair had something sincere about him that attracted her, despite the fact that he lived a lie, pretending to be a human normal. She could understand that, too. It only served to enhance his appeal. He could have hidden in any number of occupations, unseen, undetected, but he chose law enforcement. That said a lot about him as far as she was concerned.
The night reached its tipping point, and people left the club in larger numbers. Black cars and limos pulled up, and a series of businesspeople departed with their security guards. At closing, a cluster of patrons spilled out, followed by security staff. A flurry of waitstaff left in the final wave. The outside door of the Vault closed for the last time. A lone light remained on as the club closed for the night. Still no sign of Alfrey.
You still there? Laura sent Sinclair.
Yes.
Did you see Alfrey?
No. Gianni’s gone, too.
She tapped the steering wheel. Gianni hadn’t left in his truck, so he must have left another way. She scanned the floors above street level. A few lights were on, but no one moved in the windows. Either Alfrey had settled in for the night, or he’d left another way. Fairies thought nothing of hopping out windows.
I’m going to the apartment. Send if you need anything.
She pulled in to traffic. A car horn beeped. She looked up at the red traffic light. She hit the brakes in the middle of the intersection. Swearing under her breath, she realized she was on the wrong street. She turned wide at the next corner and wrenched the steering wheel back to compensate. The SUV swayed. Nausea welled up in her stomach.
At the next red traffic light, she closed her eyes against the glare of an oncoming car. Her eyes felt sore and gritty from too little sleep. A car horn sounded, and she realized she had driven over the center line. She jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. Sweat blossomed on her forehead. She was blocks away from the traffic light where she’d closed her eyes.
A buzz filled her head, a static, crackling hiss. She cast out around her and felt nothing. She was head-blind again. She reached out to the dashboard to call Terryn when something jolted the SUV. The stench of essence-fire on metal surrounded her. She called up her body shield, straining with the effort. She blacked out.
Consciousness returned in a flash of headlights and careening cars. Panicked, Laura swerved. The SUV jumped the curb and scraped a mailbox. She lurched to a stop, and she took a deep breath. Drugged. The sluggish thought drifted up. Something in the mead. It was too fast, too sudden to be anything but a drug. Gianni. He had to know it would be obvious to her that he did it. Which meant he didn’t care if she knew.
She gathered a burst of essence for a sending, but it shredded and dissipated. She was head-blind. She had the uneasy sense that she’d known that already. She tried to call Terryn from the dashboard system, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. Leaning across the seat, she fumbled in her handbag for her cell phone. The smooth case felt slick in her hand and her fingers slipped off its edges. As she opened it, she lost her grip and dropped it. Leaning forward, another wave of nausea hit. She groped along her sleeve for her InterSec transmitter, then swore aloud. Her fingers felt thick and numb, and she couldn’t find it on her skin.
Twisting in the seat, she attempted to climb in back for her duffel bag to get the secondary transmitter she kept in it. She slumped sideways when she released the seat belt, the sudden motion unsettling her. As she crawled between the seats, her stomach undulated violently. For a moment, her head cleared, and her stomach lost its cramped grip. Digging in the duffel, her hand closed on the transmitter.
She awoke twisted between the front seats with her head toward the back. Her body shield was activated. Someone yanked on the passenger-door handle, a male voice shouting. He sounded far, far away. Not friendly. With a limp hand, she shot essence in the direction of the voice. White light danced and ricocheted through the car. She passed out again, street noise and warm air rushing over her.
Her eyelids, thick and sluggish, resisted opening. An incessant static buzzed in her head. A shudder ran through her as feeling returned to her body. She hadn’t realized she was numb. She shifted out of an awkward position and felt the SUV moving. She struggled to open her eyes. The street scape tore by the windows in a blur of lights, smears of red and yellow against the darkness.
Terryn was at the wheel. His face was grim as he looked over his shoulder at her. “Can you hear me?” he asked. Can… hear…? he sent.
“Head-blind,” she said. She thought she said it. She wasn’t sure her lips moved.
She blacked out again. Something burned in her chest. A deep warmth, not painful, a glowing ember of soothing essence. She wasn’t moving. The SUV wasn’t moving. She smelled cool, dank air, the bitter odor of exhaust and oil, and the flinty edge of stone. Hands moved on her chest, and the warmth spread. Sharp pains spiked through her rib cage, and she lurched forward with a gasp.
She opened her eyes to find herself splayed on the backseat, one leg hanging out of the rear passenger door, her calf cramping against the cold, hard edge of the door-frame. The other leg twisted under her. She hung sideways in the seat, with the armrest thrusting her back into an arch.
Cress crouched over her, her fingers clamped onto Laura’s shoulders, whiteless eyes showing no emotion. She panted, baring her teeth, faintly blue-tinged teeth glossy with saliva. Let me in, Laura. You must let me in, she sent.
The words echoed in Laura’s mind as if from someplace far away. Her mouth stretched open as she tried to shout. Daggers of bitter violet essence stabbing at her body essence. Cress was trying to get inside her. Panic rose at the violation, at the wrongness of the leanansidhe essence, and the hunger behind it.
Let me in. It won’t hurt if you let me, Cress sent. Softer, farther away. Was she leaving? Laura wondered. Or am I? A dagger of light pierced something inside her, and she felt Cress, felt her presence like no one she had ever sensed. She screamed.
Don’t fight me. It’s Cress, Laura. Cress.
Another voice joined hers. You’re safe, Laura. Let Cress in. You’re safe. Terryn. Cress and Terryn. Friends. They were friends. She knew them. Friends. She let go, stopped fighting the strange essence, fought the panic she was feeling. The daggers lost their edge, became thick feathers, bending and weaving inside her. Something shifted, as if she moved beside herself, a new angle of perspective opening in her mind. Cress’s perspective. She rode along with Cress, looking at her own body essence as if it were someone else’s.