She laughed at that and tapped Laura on the shoulder as she left. “You watch that one, hon. He’s not as nice as he seems.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Laura said, unable to keep the dry tone out of her voice.

Gianni held one of the glasses in the air, waiting for Laura to pick up hers. He tapped her glass. “Blume sends his compliments and thanks. Me, too.”

She nodded and sniffed the drink. Mead. A nice one if she wasn’t mistaken.

“We got off to a bad start,” he said.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Gianni leaned back with his glass. “Yeah. The whole Sanchez thing had me bad. I couldn’t help thinking if it was me instead of you, he’d be alive.”

His vocalization dripped with falsehoods. “It wasn’t my fault, Gianni.”

He nodded vigorously. “I know, I know. Like I said, the Sanchez thing screwed with me. We were tight.”

“Why the change of heart?” she said, echoing Blume’s words to her.

He shrugged. “I thought I’d clear the air since you’re going to be working here.”

“Then I get a steady gig?”

Gianni nodded. “Until Blume says otherwise.” He rocked his head from side to side. “Yeah, Sanchez was a good guy. You know?”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t with you guys last time I worked with the SWAT team.”

His look of realization was on the overboard side. “Oh, right. Good guy, though. So you didn’t get to talk to him much?”

She sipped the mead. “No more than you and me.”

He gave a long, considering look. “Anyway. I have something else to take care of, so you’re good for tonight.”

“Already?” she asked.

He stood. “Policy. New employees are monitored until background checks are complete. I have something else to do now and can’t watch you.”

She furrowed her brow. “You run a background check on an InterSec staffer who works for the SWAT team?”

Gianni held out his glass. “This isn’t Little League in here. Bottoms up.”

She tapped glasses with him again. They finished the mead. Gianni walked her back to the bar. “See you next Tuesday,” he said.

Laura pursed her lips as he walked away. His voice had been modulating in the false spectrum when he said good-bye.

I’m leaving. Watch for Alfrey, she sent to Sinclair.

Everything okay? he asked.

Yes. I’ll wait for you outside, she sent.

She made one more visual check of the bar. Gianni was gone. No sign of Alfrey. Not engaging Blume too quickly was acceptable. The key to gaining confidence was not looking eager, but given the overheard conversation, she thought she might have tipped her hand. She considered that Alfrey might have been the one with Blume, though given Gianni’s odd behavior, she surmised his was the muffled voice. She had no doubt the overheard conversation was about her. How-and if-it connected to the drug lab was one question. She was more interested in the strange exchange she had witnessed on the street between Blume and Alfrey.

Whomever he was talking to, she was sure of one thing. Blume was afraid of something.

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.