Deena Riordan: Indelible Ink Part 20

"Did you talk about the bugs and the dead guys yet?"

Garrett cringed at his partner blurting out the two main things Garrett wanted to keep quiet, or at least ease into with Deena. "No. No. We haven't gotten to that yet."

Pel took a sip and looked over at their prisoner. "Here's the thing. We have it on good authority that your powers don't come from any sort of magic. They come from something else. Possibly weird insects."

"Is she serious?" Deena asked.

Garrett felt himself blushing at the stupidity of what they were trying to convey to the young woman. "Well, that's kind of a working theory, we can't really prove it. And they're probably not insects. It could be..." Garrett wasn't surprised when Deena turned and vomited.

56.

Deena at 19, the first time around The lights outside the Piedmont Hotel were dazzling. They'd been arrayed in a number of colors-pink, yellow and white-to attract as much attention as possible for the charity event that night. They were honoring community leaders or raising money for the less fortunate in some other country or something, Deena wasn't too clear. But it was beautiful. From the lobby of the hotel across the street, she stared at the spotlights as they scanned the skies and drew more of the city's elite and wealthy to the event.

"One more time," Morgan said from behind her.

"We've been over it," Deena sighed.

"That's all part of the process. It helps you get prepared. Keeps the surprises from popping up. You have to talk it through in your head every time when you're alone, so let's talk it through out loud once again."

"Come on, Deena. Just do it so you don't screw something up," Harper's voice came across their earpieces. She was on the roof of the smaller building next door, keeping an eye out for the target.

Morgan keyed his mic. "You're here as a spotter. So shut up and do your job. You're not to speak until you see them approach. That's it. No other chatter. You'll get your turn soon enough. We need quiet so we can concentrate."

Deena wanted to stick her tongue out at her sister and laugh. It would be a natural reaction for the sisters if it weren't for the situation they were in. There was no way to explain, even to herself, why she felt so confident in her ability to stroll into an event uninvited, track down a woman she didn't know and kill her in the midst of hundreds of other people. Nothing in her mind made her question the possibility of a successful outcome. Not now, anyway. In the wee hours of the previous morning, as she sat awake in her bed and began to nod off, the surge that she felt every morning left her and she was suddenly aware of everything she'd done and what she was to do the next day. Her chest hurt and she began to cry. She was puzzled why she never thought that way before, how she could kill Mike and never bat an eye. She'd listened to her sister cry herself to sleep night after night over that, and out of fear for what was happening at Marsh's organization, but nothing in her own mind would allow her to feel remorse until that night.

When she woke in the morning, she lay with her eyes open and thought about those feelings but then her morning routine kicked in. There was a pulse in her mind and her thoughts were obscured. It was like shining a light in someone's eyes in the dark, the overload was too much and she stopped trying to think about it.

Another limousine arrived in the line and pulled up to the curb to wait its turn.

"Start," Morgan said.

Deena sighed. "Fine. The target is Lianne Hauk. Former councilwoman and potential Mayoral candidate. She is five foot, six inches tall and has shoulder-length brown hair. According to the papers, she'll be wearing a red sequined dress with spaghetti straps designed by Ester Lamont especially for the event."

"Good. She has blue eyes," Morgan said.

"I know that." Why the h.e.l.l did she need to know the woman had blue eyes, when she had several good pictures of the woman and would now know her on sight?

"Then say that."

"She has blue eyes."

Morgan nodded. "Good. Details, girl. Details. Go on."

They'd done this exact thing a dozen times the night before. With maps and graphs and charts and weather forecasts and wind speeds and other s.h.i.t that Deena saw as completely irrelevant to putting an end to a woman's life with a steak knife in the ladies' room.

"I'll be in constant contact with you if anything goes wrong, but if we lose communication for some reason, you need to be able to fend for yourself."

"I know."

"So let's have it," Morgan said.

I'd like to let you have it. Deena thought. "Harper will signal when the limo approaches, and I'll walk out to the curb and cross the street. Careful to use the crosswalk, with the traffic signal, so as not to attract attention to myself." That was one of Morgan's big things-he needed Deena to blend in. To become a part of the scenery and look like everyone one else.

"Then, enter through the front door, just like the rest of them." That was the part of the plan that Deena and even Harper had questioned. It was one thing to blend in and act like everyone else, but there were cameras and guards at the front door that would take Deena's picture and remember her from the moment she walked in. They'd know her, or at least have a picture of her if questions were asked later. She wondered if it was part of a plan to get something on her, to have something to hold over her head if they needed a scapegoat later. Morgan said to stick to the plan without a bunch of questions. He was the expert.

"Once I get inside, I..." She stopped as another limo approached and parked behind the others. "I then make my way..." something about the car that had pulled up caught her attention. As the rear door opened, Lianne Hauk stepped out onto the sidewalk, her head and shoulders visible over the top of the car.

"She's here."

Morgan turned. "What?"

"Right there." She pointed to the car.

"f.u.c.k, that's her all right." He touched his mic. "Harper, what the h.e.l.l? Where are you?"

"That's not the car we talked about." Deena heard her sister's voice over the earpiece.

"That's exactly the f.u.c.king car we talked about."

Deena moved toward the lobby doors. "I'm going."

"Stay casual," Morgan said.

Sure. Be casual about killing someone. Not a problem. She keyed her mic before she opened the door. "Harper? You're a dumba.s.s."

She walked through the door, pulled her earpiece out and tossed the entire thing, microphone and all into the trash can at the curb. She looked both ways as she ran out into the middle of the street and then cut between two parked limos. She knew Morgan was watching and was sure he was pulling his hair out over what she was doing. She put one hand behind her back and gave him the finger, hoping he could see it through his spotting scope.

The red carpet was roped off and she found herself stepping into a crowd of gawkers and media that were watching the arrival of sports figures, actors and politicos to support whatever the cause of the day was. She carefully worked her way into the heart of the crowd, pushing and wiggling past the ama.s.sed idiots with their autograph books and cell phone cameras at the ready.

She didn't manage to make it up to the ropes, but got a good view from behind two excited girls wearing Twilight t-shirts who couldn't stop moving. It was like they were high on caffeine or something, they were so wired that they couldn't stop vibrating.

Deena spotted Lianne Hauk still standing near her limo. She'd been met by a half-dozen men in black suits with visible wires coming from their ears. They were the security that Morgan had babbled on about during the planning sessions. Most likely off-duty cops from the Los Angeles police force, though they could be private security. Not that there weren't plenty of the city's finest; uniformed policemen lined the sidewalks and were posted at intervals along the red carpet. The security men surrounded Hauk as they waited their turn on the carpet.

"Are you guys here to get the councilwoman's autograph too?" Deena asked, leaning over the girls' shoulders. They scrunched up their noses and then turned away, vibrating slightly less. Deena couldn't recall ever having a weird crush like that on a movie star or musician. Harper had John Mayer posters on her wall and crushed on him big time in middle school. She had posters, downloads and concert DVDs and anything else Mom let her get her hands on. Deena never understood it.

The procession surrounding Hauk started moving closer to the carpet and Deena began to wonder whether there was a way to take her out before she even made it inside. Morgan's stupid, elaborate plan was out the window, so she was trying to formulate a new one on the fly. The change in plan had nothing to do with Harper's little flub. Truth was, Deena had no designs on doing what Morgan said in the first place.

She looked at the pens that the girls were holding for their autographs and wondered if she could turn them into a weapon somehow and stab the woman to death. She dismissed it as a dumb idea, as she would have to get really close and then she'd have to try to escape through the wild crowds of people and law enforcement on either side of the carpet. It p.i.s.sed her off that Morgan didn't just shoot her. That was his thing-he shot people from a distance and he was good at it. Apparently this was "the only way she'd learn," according to Morgan.

With only a small purse at her side, Deena moved in closer, pushing through the people in the crowd. The girls resisted, the men let her move freely. It was most likely because the men were confused by her cleavage and the women were reluctant to give up their spots so close to the red carpet. When their celebrity crushes showed up, the girls wanted to be able to paw them freely.

"Watch it, b.i.t.c.h," a blonde spectator in a sparkly t-shirt shoved Deena backward. "Get back there with the rest of the s.k.a.n.ks."

She had been in high school the last time Deena heard anyone called a s.k.a.n.k, let alone herself. She looked at the girl with the bad dye job and tacky shirt and saw an opportunity. She sized up another girl on the other side of them and figured that girl was just as rabid a fangirl. Same sort of shirt, same look of breathless antic.i.p.ation. Same fan, just darker hair.

"s.k.a.n.k? You b.i.t.c.h, take your hands off of me." Deena grabbed the blonde and swung her into the dark haired fan, knocking them both to the ground. When the brunette started getting up, Deena blamed the blonde. "Jesus, watch what you're doing."

The brunette shoved the blonde off of her. "Yeah, dammit."

The blonde shoved back and the two quickly squared off in a way that suggested they weren't used to fighting. Deena decided to help things along by punching the blonde in the stomach and pushing her back toward the brunette before backing away. People began to crowd around, reaching out to pull the girls apart. There were shouts to break it up from security manning the ropes. A few of the officers crossed into the crowd to see what the commotion was.

Deena extricated herself and moved to the head of the line. There were still officers there, but they were distracted by the fight, which had somehow grown rather than diminished with the presence of law enforcement. She looked down the red carpet to see the councilwoman approaching, shaking hands and wearing a big unnatural smile as she went. Two men in suits walked on either side of her with white ear buds prominently sticking out of their ears.

As Hauk got closer, Deena put on a fake smile of her own and stuck her hand out. The councilwoman made eye contact and put her hand in Deena's. What started as a quick, surface greeting went a little longer as Deena leaned in. "I'm so happy with everything you're doing since you took over your position." Deena yelled to be heard, but not quite loud enough. As Hauk leaned in to hear her, Deena let a long sliver of Shadow Energy slip from her finger into the councilwoman's side. It went in and withdrew so quickly, that no one around them could have seen it. Judging by the look on the councilwoman's face, she had no idea what had happened either. There was just the vague impression that she knew something was wrong. She actually kept walking for a few more steps and Deena waited until security had pa.s.sed her before slowly moving back into the crowd.

When there were shouts that Hauk needed a doctor, people moved forward like a tide, leaving Deena beached on the sidewalk. She walked slowly and calmly to a nearby building and began following her preplanned escape route that she'd gone over and over with Morgan. She left the building, moved up a filthy alley and ascended the stairway of a parking garage on the next block. She would climb to the third level, meet her sister and Morgan in an old brown Ford Bronco and they would take a zig-zag route across town to a safe house where they would wait for the all clear signal from another of Marsh's a.s.sociates.

Halfway up the stairs, Deena was interrupted by a voice from higher up. "What the h.e.l.l was that?" As she got up a few more stairs, she saw Morgan and Harper standing in the concrete stairwell, in front of the 'L2' sign. "I had that thing planned to the letter for you. How did you end up with that mess?"

Deena opened her mouth to answer, but Morgan continued. "You were in a high profile area. Do you have any idea how many photographers were there to take pictures of celebrities and politicians? Do you know how many of them accidentally got your face in their shots? Holy Christ."

"I got it done." Deena was indignant now. She was there to learn from Morgan, sure, but she had an internal compa.s.s that seemed to guide her forward as she worked. It wasn't an elegant hit by any means, but she got it done. Marsh would surely be happy with that part of it at least.

"When you start working with a handler, they need to know they can trust you to do the work. They have to know you aren't going to f.u.c.k them over because you think you can do better than the plan they come up with," Morgan said.

Deena was still defiant, but waved her arms to placate the man. "I'll do better when we're in the field. I just panicked that's all."

"We're in the field? That's a joke. No chance will we ever work together again," Morgan started up the stairs and Harper followed closely, leaving Deena on the landing by herself. "I have no idea what's going on in that head of yours. It's like you can't control your impulses. It's not just this time, it's every time. When we met in the woods? Tell me you were thinking and not just reacting and doing whatever you wanted."

There was a flash in Deena's mind at that moment that suggested maybe he was right. Her head ached as she tried to remember what led her to deviate from Morgan's plan. But it was like being in a car accident: Every time she got near a coherent reason, a sudden force tugged her back, like a seat belt keeping her from going through a windshield. "f.u.c.k you, Morgan. Job's done." She forgot what she was thinking about and the ache in her head went away.

57.

In the little town square, Deena stood near a bed of beautifully arranged flowers and waved the agents off. She'd stopped heaving and convulsing after a few minutes and walked away from Garrett and Pel. Her stomach was under control, but not the rest of her body, not her mind. All these years of practicing magic that wasn't magic. Thinking she'd figured out some kind of key to casting her own limited spells and guiding some tremendous power, when deep inside there was a creature feeding off of her. Her body was wracked with revulsion. She looked at the blotch on her arm. It looked like an ordinary blemish at the moment and she wanted it out. Deena tore at it with her nails; slicing, sc.r.a.ping, she began to draw blood almost immediately. But it was nothing but blood, no black fluid or whatever it was.

"Jesus, Deena stop," Garrett said. He'd moved up next to her without her noticing.

"I want it out." Deena was angry with herself and whatever it was inside of her. She should have been able to figure out that she was being used all that time. "I need it out of me, now."

Pel was at Deena's side as well. "They're working on how to remove these things. They just aren't quite sure how to go about it yet."

"But tearing it out of your arm with your fingernails certainly isn't going to work." Garrett grabbed her by the wrist and held it firmly.

Deena was aware the agents knew what they were talking about, but it didn't lessen her dread of the thing insider her. And as she calmed down, the blood spilling over her wrist began to come out black. Instead of dripping down onto the bricks of the sidewalk, it turned to a tar-like substance before reversing itself and pulling back into the wound. In less than a minute, there was just a trio of scratch lines down Deena's forearm. Worms. Snakes. Spiders seemed to be running just under her skin. She couldn't let herself panic again, as much as she wanted to. She took deep breaths and closed her eyes as tight as she could. Her sister was still in danger, and Deena had ignored Harper for far too long. "Can we get out of here and get on with it? Let's get going." She could see the uncertainty in the eyes of both agents. "I'll be OK. Let me get something in my stomach while we drive the last bit and I'll be fine. My sister is waiting."

"We'll call our superiors at the Index and outline what we want to do and the ideas we have for you," Garrett said. "You need to pay attention and this call needs to go well."

"Let us do most of the talking." Pel still looked worried that Deena was going to implode at any minute. The agent helped Deena to the car. Deena let herself melt into the backseat. As they hit the road, Pel dialed her phone and put it on speaker. They had a conversation with two other agents called Rivers and Rice. It was all a little fuzzy and Deena felt slightly drunk as she identified herself and said yes at what seemed like all the right moments.

It was a short conversation that included some moments where Garrett took it off speaker and talked to the men on the other end semi-privately. She tried to keep her eyes open, but it was impossible. She was still exhausted, coffee or no coffee. As the call came to an end, Deena fell asleep again. It was like her mind just shut off.

Twenty minutes later, Deena woke up in the back of the car, with the agents talking about whether this was a good idea.

"Let's just go," Deena said. She stepped out of the car and walked around to the back b.u.mper. The license plate, "WERKIT," failed to inspire her.

The three of them stared at the building as they sat in the car. Deena had been in the building numerous times and had never given it a second thought. Now, it seemed like a dark tower that reached into the clouds. Somewhere inside, Harper was probably sitting with a gun to her head. "Let's just get moving," Deena said. "Let's go find my sister."

"All right," Garrett said. "We can go in the loading dock, where they make deliveries. Probably less security. From there we can take the back stairs, all the way up. I doubt anyone would even blink if they saw us."

"You want to run up thirty-two flights of stairs and hope no one notices us?" Pel asked. "That's a h.e.l.l of a lot of walking."

"I don't want to risk taking the elevator. We could easily get locked in there, or have the doors open onto a floor full of gunmen. The stairs are the best way of doing it without getting trapped so easily."

"Yes," Deena said. "You're absolutely right. You guys should take the stairs. I'll walk in the front door and take the main elevator up. They'll focus on me and ignore you. There's no way they could antic.i.p.ate me showing up with the FBI."

"'E'. FEI." Garrett was becoming paranoid about the name. "The Index actually has a nicer ring to it."

Deena glared at the man.

The pa.s.senger door opened and Deena stepped onto the sidewalk. "I'll go in first and draw everyone's attention to me. You guys circle around to the loading docks and stay out of sight as much as you can."

"We'll meet you on Marsh's floor? What's to stop him from killing you on sight?" Pel opened her door and took a step out. "You know that's his plan here, right?"

"Yes," Deena said. "I have to guess he wouldn't do it here. And he wouldn't do it himself." Deena thought about it for a second and hoped her logic was correct. "And if he does, then you guys should have a solid case against him. Right?"

Neither of the agents seemed happy with that explanation.

"So, I guess you better get up there before that happens, right?"

"You don't think he's going to just hug you and let the whole thing slide, do you? I know you're joking, but the potential danger here is very real," Garrett said.

Deena finished getting out and leaned in the open window. "Potential danger. We're talking about Marsh here; you can drop the 'potential' part. I know what's happening here." They had discussed the plan, such as it was, and other contingencies on the ride to L.A. but Deena had left out a few things. She'd left out the part of Marsh's call where he said he'd let Harper go if Deena came back and worked for him. She was sure it was bulls.h.i.t, but if it turned out to be the only way to get Harper out, she'd have to seriously consider it. "I'll take my time, but I think you'd better move it, if you plan on getting up those stairs." She slammed the car door and bounded across the street while the traffic was clear, just before the onrush of cars, so she couldn't hear if anyone responded.

She'd really never come through the front doors much, only when she took taxis or a car service. Usually, she came in through the underground parking garage and took the private elevator, but she'd used the front entrance enough to be able to get a nod of recognition from the large dark-haired man in the navy jacket at the front security desk and another from the almost identical man that stood near the bank of elevators with his hands behind his back. She continued past the elevators, followed the signs for the lobby restrooms and shoved the door to the ladies' room open. She took a moment to walk up and down the restroom stalls, making sure she was alone. The water from the sink was tepid, but she still splashed some on her face to wake up. She was right back where she'd been after the airplane job: feeling sick to her stomach in a strange bathroom. Her body still ached, her stomach was a mess and she still felt like an idiot teenager. The big difference was that she didn't really appear like one anymore. She looked in the mirror and watched the water drip off of her nose. The face was pretty close to normal for her correct age anyway. She felt thicker, slower, more aware of herself and her physique. At least she had that going for her.

There was another difference that cropped up in the last few hours. The magic that she'd guided and worked to control and employed to do her bidding was not actually magic. It was some sort of living thing feeding off her. The reality was, it had controlled her. It had taken her conscience, taken her will to choose her own path, destroyed her ability to tell between right and wrong, sucked her soul dry. Her power had been using her, not the other way around. Maybe she shouldn't have called it Shadow Energy, but a Shadow Ent.i.ty instead. She stared at herself in the mirror and wanted to cut deep into her body with a steak knife and sc.r.a.pe around until she found it.

She looked at her arm and saw the blemish had become a squiggly line that looked like a black wave. She stared at it and thought of the beach. Slowly the wave started to roll, like water onto the sh.o.r.e. She wasn't cutting into herself until she got her sister out.

Deena left the restroom and walked back to the elevator bank, thinking she'd given Marsh's men enough time to be made aware of her arrival and react appropriately. She approached the elevators, seeing two burly men standing there, looking up at the numbers as if they were waiting for the next car. She a.s.sumed they were there to make sure she got to Marsh's floor without incident. Deena confidently punched the up b.u.t.ton and then stared at the numbers over the three elevators as well, to see which one was going to arrive first. One of the men grunted after thirty seconds of waiting and began jabbing the already-lit b.u.t.ton repeatedly with his forefinger.

"You saw me push that, right?" Deena asked.