Terryn stood at an inside door that led to the main section of the house. She got out of the car and gestured to Sinclair. “Would you do the honors?”
He raised an eyebrow when he saw the passenger. “What happened?”
She told him as he lifted Sinclair from the car. Terryn led her into the house and down into the basement. Not the typical finished basement of a colonial house. A warren of rooms had been constructed, incongruous holding cells with iron and glass walls. Terryn shifted Sinclair across one shoulder, passed through a small anteroom with a viewing window to a larger iron-lined room that contained a table and four chairs. He placed Sinclair upright in one of the chairs.
Terryn’s hands rested on his hips. “Assault and battery on a police officer and kidnapping. You crossed state lines, too. I think that makes it worse if I remember correctly. Anything else I should be worried about?”
She tried an ingratiating smile. “No, my car’s fine.”
Laura released the binding and sleep spells. Sinclair slumped forward but caught himself before his face hit the table. He shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. “Where am I?”
Laura pulled her chair closer. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to ask you again, who are you other than Jonathon Sinclair?”
He stretched with care, wincing at the pain from his ribs. “That’s who am I.”
Laura leaned forward. “Jonathon Sinclair is a human. You detected four fairy sentries I didn’t sense at all. That’s fey ability. Who are you?”
He held his arm across his torso, glaring at them. “I am a police officer with the Washington, D.C., police.”
Terryn unfolded his wings up and out, the dark indigo points curving toward each other. “Let me explain what is at stake, Mr. Sinclair. At this moment, you are a security threat. I can make the case that you are technically no longer on U.S. soil. It will take some time to sort that out. You can either start answering questions or leave your loved ones wondering what happened to you.”
Sinclair gave him a cocky grin that hid the anger and anxiety Laura sensed. “I want a lawyer.”
Terryn inclined his head. “If one should find his way in here, I will recommend him to you.”
Sinclair’s confidence slipped.
“Who are you, Jono?” Laura asked, her voice pitched low.
“I told you.”
She laid her hands flat on the table. “I know what you said. I think you’re someone else, too.”
“I’m not the one pretending to be someone I’m not,” he said.
“That’s what I mean. What do you think you know about Janice Crawford or Mariel Tate?” she asked.
“All three of you are the same woman. I was pretty sure before. Now I’m positive,” he said.
“Why is that?” asked Terryn.
He flicked an annoyed glance at Terryn. “Locking me in a basement has something to do with it.”
Laura changed the direction of the conversation. “I didn’t sense you come up behind me in the alley. How is a human able to do that?”
“Your essence field is weak. When you pulled your body essence in to hide your signature, I slipped into the blank spot left behind.”
Only someone fey can do that, Laura. He’s not human. Terryn sent.
We’re missing something, she replied. The only species the fey couldn’t glamour well was human. A glamour can make someone look human, but it was, for all practical purposes, impossible to hide the fey essence underneath. Sinclair didn’t read fey to her at all. In fact, he still felt vaguely null.
“How do you know how to do that?” Laura asked Sinclair.
“I would be risking my life if I answered that,” he said.
A cold white light flickered in Laura’s eyes. “You’re already at risk, Jono. We can’t let you go if we don’t believe we can trust you. You have to tell us how a human can read essence as if he is fey.”
Sinclair considered for a moment, then reached for his collar. Terryn shot his hands out, sparking them with blue-lit essence. “Stop.”
Sinclair froze. He wasn’t afraid, but he recognized power when he saw it. “I have a sort of glamour on. It makes me read human to the fey.”
Terryn reached across and fished a neck chain from beneath Sinclair’s T-shirt. A small flat medallion of a sun with three Teutonic runes inscribed on it hung from a simple gold chain. Laura sensed a deadening field radiating around it, devoid of any essence at all. “Take it off,” she said.
Sinclair pulled the chain over his head and dropped it on the table. His body essence flared brighter, human, but stronger than any Laura had encountered. She played her sensing ability over it, then thrilled as she probed deeper. His human signature had the distinct edge of fey about it. Stunned, she rocked back in her chair. “Danu’s blood, Terryn, he’s a human-fey hybrid.”
“You make it sound like I’m some kind of experiment,” Sinclair said.
“Are you?” Terryn asked.
“My grandfather was fey,” he said.
Laura and Terryn exchanged glances. The fey and humans did not crossbreed well. Their children usually didn’t make it to term, and when then did, they suffered from mental and physical disabilities. Few survived with no discernible effects. It happened, but it was rare. “Who was he?” Laura asked.
“That’s all you’re getting,” he said.
“What species was he?” asked Terryn. Sinclair wouldn’t answer.
Laura closed her eyes and focused. Sinclair’s signature was unlike any she had known, more human than not. Technically, she would call him a solitary fey, something unique, yet fey. She probed deeper. A faint image burned within him, like a ghost pattern within his human body signature. She pushed harder, mentally discarding the human essence to expose what lay beneath.
Her eyes flew open. “Jotunn!”
Terryn looked dubious. “Are you sure? The giants hardly breed among themselves, Laura.”
Laura nodded. “Positive. I can even tell you more precisely-he’s logi-jotunn. I’ve met one before.”
Terryn peered at Sinclair. “A fire giant? Does he have any ability?”
Laura assessed the strange body signature. “The essence doesn’t look active.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m a specimen on a slide. I’m sitting right here,” Sinclair snapped.
I think he would have done something by now if he could, she finished in a sending.
“You can do sendings,” said Laura.
He nodded. “Not well. They exhaust me.”
Terryn subtly raised his body essence. “If you have such limited abilities, explain how you sensed Laura’s essence. I don’t know anyone who can see through a glamour without special means.”
Sinclair shrugged. “Neither did my grandfather. I don’t sense essence. I sense its shape. Everyone’s shape is unique. Glamours don’t change that. I can’t tell your species, but I sense the difference in the shapes of your body signatures. When I met Mariel Tate, I was surprised that the shape of her body signature matched Janice Crawford’s. I was trying to figure out which one was wearing a glamour. Then I met Laura Blackstone.”
“That’s why you said hello to me at the Senate building,” Laura said.
He shook his head. “That was coincidence. I have to actively use my ability. When I’m around a lot of people, it’s exhausting. I told you the truth about why I wanted to know your name. I didn’t match your essence until tonight.”
Realization dawned on Laura. “You’re the one I’ve been sensing!”
“Could you clarify that?” Terryn asked.
Laura shook her head. “I thought someone was following me. At the drug den and at the Vault. Someone came to the edge of my sensing range and backed off. Someone with an ability to sense the shape of my body signature, isn’t that right, Jono?”
He nodded. “I had to know if I could trust Janice, so I imprinted on her. I was watching Gianni tonight, too, when I saw you park. I thought you were scoping out Blume’s meeting, but when you followed Gianni, I followed you.”