Skin Deep (33 page)

The lower level was closed to the public for the evening. Security staffers challenged her as soon as she stepped into the theater lobby. She lifted her Mariel Tate ID. “I need to do a last-minute review in the vault.”

Two guards confirmed the ID badge before letting her approach the locked area. She slid the ID through a scanner and entered the hallway leading to the vault. She sensed a residual trail of Saffin’s essence, but there was no way to tell which direction she had gone. At a T-shaped intersection, she met two Capitol police officers. The badge went up again. “Last-minute review.”

They let her through without question. Turning right, she reached the vault area beneath the Rotunda. The open round room held the mechanism that raised the documents for display upstairs. The Bill of Rights was off the mechanism and secured to one side, flanked by two guards. The Treaty of London had taken its place on the mechanical system to be raised at the moment Guildmaster Rhys gave the formal unveiling speech.

“I was told a Guild staffer named Saffin Corril was down here,” she said to the nearest guard.

“She reviewed security on the Treaty about an hour ago.” His voice spoke truth to her.

Laura sensed a residual echo of Saffin’s essence on the document casement. Within the elaborate bronze frame, the black text of the Treaty stood out from the pristine white parchment as if it had been written yesterday. At the end of the second page, crisp signatures finalized the agreement—Wilson’s tidy, slanted hand first, Asquith’s sinuous swirl lower and to the right, and Maeve’s elaborate spider scrawl to the left on the bottom. She wondered if the progressively chaotic signature styles reflected the progressively complex issues for each of the signing parties.

Three original copies existed, held by the governments of the original signatories. The American copy had been preserved the same way as the founding documents of the U.S. and resided in its original helium-filled casement. Given its more recent vintage, the encasement had not been upgraded during the renovation of the Archive, a subject of controversy in some quarters. It didn’t need to be. Fey craftsmen had assisted with the Treaty and applied several layers of spelled preservation. Active druidic and fairy spells vibrated against Laura’s sensing ability.

Satisfied that the Treaty was secure, she turned to leave. A flicker of essence in the casement caught her eye. She looked back but saw nothing amiss. Taking care not to arouse interest from the guards, she focused her ability on the casement. Essence lit in her vision, swirls of red, yellow, and green in tangled protection patterns. Nothing unexpected or unusual. She moved slightly, and the flicker came again.

She held still, waiting, as essence trembled on the edge of a blank space in the document. She pushed more body essence into her sensing ability and a subtle change rippled across the white space in a dull blue haze.

Terryn, I need you to see something in the basement vault. Bring Cress,
she sent.

On our way,
he sent back.

She roamed away from the Treaty to look at the mechanism that raised and lowered it. If the electronic system failed, it had a manual override. The guards watched her in a bored way.

When Terryn and Cress arrived, she muttered a sleep spell in Gaelic. A curtain of essence fluttered across the room and settled over the four guards. They froze, eyes staring forward with no sign of awareness.

Laura waved Terryn and Cress over to the Treaty. She pointed to the blank space. “Cress, there’s something here. It feels like a fairy spell, but I don’t recognize its type.”

Cress directed her black, dark stare at the Treaty. Laura watched her probe the case gently with delicate tendrils of essence. The strands twined their way through the security bindings without touching or triggering them. Apparently, whoever had created the spells had not taken into account the refined skills of a
leanansidhe
.

“It’s a masking spell,” she said, her voice low and flat.

“Can you get through it without stripping it?” Laura asked.

She extended more tendrils from her body essence. “It maintains itself with ambient essence, making it likely a Danann spell. A newer security spell is layered over it and causing interference. I can absorb the essence from the casing without altering the template of the security spells. I won’t be able to hold it long without the template degrading and the alarms triggering.”

“Do it,” said Laura.

Cress closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The essence in the surrounding air changed, fading from sight as it flowed into Cress. The patterns of the protection spells glistened as they bled off, Cress absorbing each spark of their essence. The ghost of the spell framework remained behind. She burrowed through the spells, moving faster as if each step relieved pressure on the next. She reached the final, strange blue haze. As essence leached off the spell, words materialized in the blank white space.

A sharp intake of breath from Terryn grabbed Laura’s attention. She didn’t know what surprised her more—the hidden paragraph or Terryn’s reaction. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said.

Laura scanned the new paragraph. “Aid against Seditious Elements . . .” she read aloud. She finished the rest in silence. “Danu’s blood, Terryn, does that mean what I think it means?”

“The spell’s degrading,” Cress interrupted.

Terryn recovered from his surprise. “Release the essence, Cress. We don’t want attention.”

Cress exhaled with a soft rasp, the violet tendrils of her essence expelling softer red-lit essence as it retreated. As she withdrew, the spell on the casement glowed with renewed energy. Cress swayed at the final disengaging of her essence. Terryn wrapped his hand around her waist. Laura averted her eyes as she siphoned some of his fairy essence.

“What the hell is going on, Terryn?” Laura asked.

“Wake the guards before they realize how much time has passed,” he said. Terryn and Cress moved to where they were when Laura had executed the binding spell, while she took position again by the manual override. With the muttering of a cantrip, the binding released. The guards shifted in place, their muscles reacting to the sudden freedom.

Will you please tell me what this means, Terryn?
Laura sent.

She shuddered at the wave of anger that preceded his response.

War.

CHAPTER 36

TERRYN AND CRESS
followed Laura down the long hall, mental sendings flying among them. They passed the two Capitol police guards at the turn in the hall and went out to the theater lobby.

What do you mean, war?
Laura asked.

The Seditious Acts targeted the Inverni opposition to Maeve. It makes us criminals if we object to Maeve’s rule. That is what my father died to prevent. Maeve did it anyway. They all lied, Laura. The Inverni will declare war over this.

Laura considered the implications, her mind racing as she tried to understand how the hidden agreement factored into an assassination threat against Hornbeck. She couldn’t see a connection. Her thoughts jumped to Blume. Triad had added security spells to the Treaty casement. They had to have noticed the interference between their security spell and the Treaty’s masking spell like she did. She grabbed Terryn’s arm. “He knows about the clause.”

“Who does?”

“Blume,” she said. She remembered the nearby guards in the lobby and switched to sendings.
Hornbeck’s not the target, Terryn. Orrin ap Rhys helped write the Treaty. He’s the real target. Blume’s going to try to provoke war between the Inverni and Dananns. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He wants to weaken the Celtic fey with a fairy war. We need to shift the alert to Rhys and detain Blume.

She felt several strong flutterings from Terryn.
I agree with the assessment. I’ve shifted security. I’ll deal with Blume personally.

I’ll join you in a moment,
she sent.

Where are you going?
Terryn asked.

Saffin’s down here, and she better not be dead,
Laura sent back. She opened the door to the theater lobby, and Terryn and Cress slipped through. Laura returned to the junction in the hallway. In the brief space of time, the guards had changed. The Capitol police had been replaced by Invernis in dark green fatigues. She didn’t recognize them until they turned toward her. She stopped. The Triad logo emblazoned their breast pockets—block capital letters except for the “A,” which was replaced with a bright red triangle.

A memory thrust itself into her awareness: Sanchez scraping lines in the blood on her hand, turning the hand so Laura could see it. One of her guesses about the lines in his blood was right—it had been an “A,” but not for Aaron. The “A” in a logo replaced by a red triangle. Sanchez hadn’t said “stop” and “try.” He’d said “Stop Triad.”

Terryn, Triad’s down here. Repeat: Triad has infiltrated the Archives. We need Guild agents here immediately,
she sent.

On my way,
he sent back. He didn’t ask her to elaborate.

She walked toward the guards as if nothing were wrong. “I’m looking for a brownie from the Guildhouse. I was told she was down here.”

The two guards exchanged glances.

“She was here earlier, but she left,” one of them said.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Over an hour,” the same one said.

She tilted her head. “That long? Did you see which way she went?”

He shrugged. “Upstairs.”

Laura didn’t need any ability to see he was lying. They hadn’t been there five minutes earlier, so they definitely weren’t there an hour earlier. She was about to challenge them when she heard a door close. Another Triad guard appeared at the end of the hall. He disappeared around a far corner in the opposite direction of the basement vault.

Laura stepped away from the guards to follow the other. “Maybe he saw her.”

The guard who spoke moved into her path, his hands flickering with indigo light. “Ma’am, that’s a restricted area.”

Laura arched an eyebrow at his primed essence. “I have all access.”

The other guard joined the first. “Not down here.”

Laura glanced up the hall, then back to the guards. “The most sensitive material is in the vault. What could possibly be down there?”

His face set with determination, the first guard stepped closer. “You have to leave now, ma’am.”

They drew in more essence, their hands burning brighter. In a blur of motion, sparks of essence flew from Laura’s hands. “Sleep,” she said. They crumpled to the floor.

She rushed down the hall. Outside a locked door, she found a concentration of Saffin’s essence. Laura grasped the doorknob and sent a surge of essence into it, the metal resisting. She pushed back, the tumblers inside moving grudgingly as she forced them with essence. The door swung open.

The musty odor of old cleaning materials wafted out. Saffin’s essence blazed in green flames on the floor. Laura hit the light switch and gasped. Bound with rope, gagged, and blindfolded, Saffin huddled. Her body trembled in spasmodic pulses as she screamed against the gag. Long claws flexed at the ends of even longer fingers. She had gone boggart.

Laura crouched in front of her, holding her hands wide to cast a soothing spell. “Shhh. It’s okay, Saffin. You’re safe now.”

She stroked the air, chanting essence into the spell. Saffin shimmied back with a growl. Laura darted her hand in and pulled off the filthy gag. Saffin threw her head back and shrieked.

She struggled against the ropes. “Bomb, bomb, bomb,” she chanted.

Laura interrupted the spell. “A bomb?”

Saffin’s face suffused with anger. “Bomb, bomb, bomb.”

Laura activated her body shield. In her boggart state, Saffin could be extremely dangerous. “My name is Mariel. I’m going to take off the blindfold, Saffin. You are safe. Safe. Do you understand me?”

Laura feared she was too buried in the boggart shape to understand, but, amazingly, Saffin nodded. Laura grabbed the blindfold and lifted. As soon as her eyes were freed, Saffin lunged at Laura. Laura leaned away and brought her hands up again with the soothing spell. “Safe, Saffin. You are safe. You need to relax. If you relax, I can get these ropes off you.”

Saffin’s eyes bulged as her jaw dropped open to reveal long, jagged teeth. As the soothing spell took effect, some of the fierce green light in Saffin’s eyes dimmed. Her swollen skin remained, the ropes biting her flesh. “Bomb spell,” she rasped.

“Where, Saffin?”

“Stop. Stop. Bomb,” she said.

Laura held her shoulders. “Where is it, Saffin?”

“Stop. Stop,” she said.

Laura wanted to shake her, but knew it would make things worse. Saffin had come to check security, and someone had not only stopped her but prevented her from doing her job, which triggered her boggart mania. She wouldn’t revert to her normal state until she completed her task.

“I will help you, Saffin. Tell me where the bomb is,” she said.

“Treaty. Treaty. Bomb,” she said.

“I’m going to get the ropes off, Saffin. You have to tell me where the bomb is,” said Laura.

She nodded. “Treaty. Laura. Treaty.”

Laura struggled with the intricate knotting on the ropes. “Yes, Saffin. We will find Laura and tell her about the bomb. Tell me where the bomb is. Tell Mariel.”

“Treaty. Treaty. Treaty,” she said. Her frustration rose, and her skin pulsed.

Laura paused. “It’s the Treaty, Saffin? Is that what you’re saying? The bomb spell is on the Treaty?”

Excitement lit Saffin’s face. “Yesyesyesyesyesyes. Stop. Stop.”

Laura pulled at the rope knots. Saffin bent her arm at an unnatural angle and yanked it free. She shoved Laura away and slashed the remaining rope to shreds. She loomed over Laura with a feral grin, her limbs long and flexible. “Bomb. Bomb. Bomb.”

Laura backed away. Cornering a boggart was never a good idea. She backed into the hallway. Saffin’s eyes bulged wider.
Behind you, Laura!
she sent.

Laura dropped and spun, kicking out behind her. She struck someone—a man—who fell, then rolled away. Laura jumped to her feet. Gianni lay faceup on the floor. He pointed his gun in her face. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Agent Tate.”