Skin Deep

“And speaking of the speeches, have you heard the news?” said Laura. “Hornbeck got what he wanted. Tylo Blume’s in. The chief archivist is going on first, so let’s stick Blume right after him. He gets five minutes. With any luck, everyone will have forgotten he was there by the time the president arrives.”

Saffin gri

Laura scrunched her nose. “I hate all the gamesmanship, but it’s part of the, um, game in this town.”

“I’m going to go to the Archives this afternoon for an event run-through. Anything you want me to focus on?” Saffin asked.

Laura shook her head. “Use your judgment. You probably know more than I do at this point.”

“Can I have a company car?” Saffin asked.

Amused, Laura shook her head. “No. It’s five blocks.”

Saffin giggled as she left. With a touch of envy, Laura watched her leave. Despite all the evident frustrations of dealing with Laura’s odd schedule, Saffin loved her job-the big personalities, the complicated schedules, the politics and drama, even the mysteries of her boss’s unexplained absences. Laura wouldn’t trade her as an assistant for anything.

She finished up her email and checked her watch. Time to put in one last glamoured visit at the Guildhouse before focusing on other matters. She closed down her computer and retrieved her overnight bag. Down in the parking garage, she stepped into the security-camera blind spot and activated the Janice glamour, walked to the SUV, and left the bag in the back. Returning to the elevator, she hit the blind spot, swapped Janice for Mariel, and went back up to InterSec.

Liam jumped up when she entered the anteroom. “You just missed Janice Crawford.”

Laura frowned as she checked the time and continued into her office. She kept up the a

“About twenty minutes ago,” he said from the doorway.

She pulled her chair up to the desk and started her computer. “Call her and get her back in here. If you get her voicemail, give her my work cell and tell her she’s to call immediately.”

“Got it,” he said.

Janice Crawford’s cell phone vibrated. Laura checked the number to confirm it was Liam. With that out of the way, she removed the crystal-sphere paperweight from a pile of mail and sorted through correspondence.

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 Dana

“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 i

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 cha

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 cha

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.”