“You can’t go in there.” The guard at the desk barely looked up at the young woman. “Senator Kesterson isn’t seeing visitors.”
The young woman in the Indian-style tunic and loose fitting silk pants gave a radiant smile and nudged her mirrored sunglasses down her nose, just enough to reveal her golden eyes. “I’m sure he’ll see me. It’s urgent.”
The guard blinked, caught in those eyes, and recognized the truth in her statement. “Absolutely, miss. Go on through.”
That got Drishti to the elevators. She pushed her sunglasses back in place for the ride to the tenth floor, where two more armed security guards met the elevator when the doors opened.
“I don’t know who let you up here, but no one gets in to see Senator Kesterson today,” the man on the right said.
Drishti removed her sunglasses. “It’s important,” she said, letting them drown in the molten gold of her eyes, the gift and curse of the goddess Kali. She held back on the strength of her power, just as she did with the guard downstairs. Still, the golden eyes showed them the Truth—about her need to see Kesterson, about the imminent danger, and that they must let her pass.
One glance revealed all that, and enough more to leave the guards nodding in shock, stepping out of her way. “If he gives you any trouble, miss, you just let us know. We’ll protect you,” the second guard said.
“He won’t be any trouble,” she replied. “But I would appreciate it if we weren’t disturbed.”
“No one will bother you,” the first guard said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Nodding her thanks, Drishti opened the double doors that led to the senator’s private office.
“What are you doing here?” The senator turned to look at his unexpected guest. Irritation and a hint of fear turned to confusion.
“I’m here to stop you,” Drishti said, closing the doors behind her. Her long dark hair was plaited into a thick braid that reached the middle of her back. Tawny skin was a perfect match for the golden silk of the Punjabi suit.