“We need to bring her around first, then you’re going to get this tonic into her. All of it. Quick.”
Fallon pushed the small bottle at Tonia, then laid a hand on Hannah’s heart, another on her forehead.
When Hannah’s lashes fluttered, when she moaned, Fallon snapped, “Get it into her.”
Hannah swallowed reflexively, choked a little, sputtered, then managed, “What the hell happened?”
“I pulled you through with me, through the crystal. It’s stronger than a flash, and you weren’t prepared.”
And not steady yet, Fallon determined, as Hannah’s pupils turned her eyes to dark moons.
“Stay down for another minute. I couldn’t risk a flash,” Fallon continued. “They’ll have shields either conjured by DUs or magickals they forced or coerced. I needed to get through them without setting off any alerts or leaving any trace.”
She sat back on her heels. “We’re going to have to hope that covers both of you.”
As she helped Hannah sit up, kept an arm cradled around her, Tonia looked around the room. “Jesus. Are we where I think we are?”
“The White House. Oval Office.”
“In the now?”
“In the right now. They lost the Capitol, but they’ve fortified and shielded the White House. They’re running nearly everything out of this location, according to Chuck’s intel.”
“Where’s that pissant bastard Hargrove?”
“In the Residence. They’ve got easily a thousand military and civilian guards in and around the building, from what I’ve seen through the crystal. They’ve built a military base in what I think used to be the Rose Garden. Everything magickally shielded. From the outside.”
Tonia stopped gawking, shifted her gaze to Fallon. “And we’re inside.”
“That’s right.”
“Are we going to take Hargrove?”
“Not this time. No trace,” she repeated before Tonia could argue. “But before we take him, take D.C., we’re going to know their moves, their plans, their numbers, and if the goddess shines, the locations of all their containment centers. I conjured listening devices.”
“Bugs. No, I’m okay.” Hannah patted Tonia aside. “Maybe just feel a little buzzed, but okay. Bugs,” she repeated. “Wouldn’t they sweep for those, routinely?”
“They won’t find these. I’ve picked what I feel are the most strategic locations for them, starting here.”
“The Oval freaking Office,” Hannah said in amazement. “It looks more like a throne room than an office.”
Buzzed or not, Fallon thought, Hannah’s observation hit the mark. She turned, looked at the luxurious gold drapes—enough material to make clothes, blankets for a dozen people—the rug bearing the presidential seal for a man no one had elected. All the furnishings of glossy, polished wood, silky fabrics. The art in ornate frames.
No different in her mind from the hoarding of beauty and luxury she’d found in Arlington. Only more of the same, and for one man’s ego and ambition.
He wouldn’t hold it, she vowed. Not after January second.
“We’re going to move fast, and quiet. If there’s any trouble, any, Tonia, you flash back with Hannah.”
“We don’t leave you,” Hannah said.
“I’ll go back the way we came, through the glass. Take all of us if possible. We don’t risk January second.”
“I see cameras,” Tonia pointed out. “They’ve got security in here.”
“I took care of those,” Fallon told her. “We focus on one area at a time. Plant the device, move to the next.”
She opened her pouch, took out a long, slender leaf.
Tonia eyed it. “Seriously?”
“He keeps two plants, see there? Flanking that door.”
She walked to one, slid the device among the leaves. As she spoke the words, it attached.
“Nice. Very nice. What language was that?”
“Ancient Aramaic. It’s a date palm.” She shrugged. “It fits, and it helps shield it from those sweeps, as it’s unlikely they can break a spell sealed in Aramaic.”
Hannah peered closer. “It’s organic.”
“That helps, too. It’ll pick up whatever’s said in this room. If I did everything right, Chuck can listen in.”
“He’s going to have an orgasm,” Tonia decided. “Where next?”
“It used to be called the Situation Room. They call it the War Room.” She took out a piece of carved wood painted gold. “There’s a portrait of Hargrove on the back wall, framed.”
“What language for this?” Hannah wondered.
“Hargrove’s an Old English place name, so—”
“Channel Chaucer.”
“That’s the idea. If we manage only those two, it’s a big one. I have another, for the office of his chief of staff, something for the Residence, if possible, another for the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?”
“Staff gossip. They hear things, and gossip.” Taking too much time, Fallon thought. Already taking too much time. “You should flash back, and I’ll get this done.”
“Not only aren’t we leaving you, but you don’t get