Black City Dragon

by Richard A. Knaak

  “What do you mean? This is pretty suspicious. We need to find out if ‘Quiet’ out there is really—”

  “You need to worry about a lot of things, but Tony isn’t one of them! Call it instinct, that ridiculous woman’s intuition, or a hunch, but I trust him completely and I expect you to treat him as if you do, too.” She leaned against the counter. “It’s terrible, Nick, but I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t remember back then very well. It is turning into vague dreams. I feel awful about that—”

  “You’ve had a few other serious matters.”

  “I know, but we’re talking about a man killed in war. You should appreciate that, Nick. I know you’ve lost good friends over the centuries.”

  “A few. I tried to keep such relationships to a minimum. In the end, there was always that knowledge that they’d . . .” I quickly trailed off, realizing I’d said too much.

  Claryce pursed her lips. “Don’t think you’re hiding anything from me. We’ve discussed this before. You don’t age. I’m willing to live with that fact if you can live with me getting a little grayer.” When I tried to speak, she put a finger to my lips and continued, “I put up with the fact that you could get killed every day. Now, let’s very nicely say farewell to Mike’s friend. All right?”

  She scribbled the hotel address down and headed back to the living room. I followed on her heels.

  You are truly her Fetch now . . .

  I was about to tell him to shut up when I saw Claryce come to a halt. Picking up my pace, I moved to her side.

  Quiet Ford was nowhere to be seen.

  “Stay where you are,” I warned her. Moving past Claryce, I headed to the bedrooms. A quick search of the rest of the apartment turned up nothing.

  As I returned to Claryce, I saw that she was peeking out the door. A little frustrated, I rushed over to her.

  “There’s no sign of him, but I thought I saw a taxi driving off.”

  “Steer clear of him. He may be all right, but he also may not be.”

  She shook her head vehemently as she shut the door. “No. I can’t shake the feeling that while he might be troubled, he’s still a good man.”

  “You have more faith than me, but then that’s hardly surprising.” I exhaled. “If you trust everything he said he knew about Michael—”

  I froze. I’d meant to say “Mike” like before, but the formal version had just slipped out as if spoken by someone else.

  You are welcome. . . the dragon said with malicious glee. It was a strong barrier, but not strong enough in the end. . .

  “Michael . . .” I repeated. “Mike . . .”

  Claryce blanched. “I never paid attention to that. I don’t know why, but it’s just coincidence . . . isn’t it?”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence,” I reflexively responded. I could suddenly recall each time Mike’s name had come up.

  “Nick, I may not remember him as much as I should, but I think I’d remember if there was anything unusual! Besides, you don’t really think Michael would’ve acted like that?”

  She wasn’t referring to some man she’d once known. Now she was referring to the saint, to the archangel. Claryce might not be willing to put it past him, but it struck me just like the elusive and yet intrusive saint. Still, for her sake, I tried to downplay it. “Maybe you’re right. We’ll probably never know for certain, but maybe you’re right.”

  What a comfort you are . . . Eye could do better . . . allow me . . .

  Shut up.

  “We might be able to find out more,” Claryce blurted. She held up the key. “We could go check out the boat.”

  I didn’t like her suggestion—or rather, the part where she included herself in the search. I had every suspicion that this had to do with Galerius, and from that I couldn’t help thinking maybe Michael had known this confrontation would take place for some time. Years, at least. Maybe centuries.

  I’d never decked an archangel before, but I wanted to do so now. If this was something he’d known about, I couldn’t fathom why he’d let it happen. Yeah, his kind worked in mysterious ways, so I’d heard, but I was beginning to think he was actually starting to work for the other side.

  In desperation, I pointed out one obvious fact. “We don’t even know where the boat is located. Lake Michigan isn’t exactly tiny.”

  She smiled grimly. “Actually . . . I think I know exactly where it

  CHAPTER 8

  We argued about her going to the lake, an argument I eventually and probably inevitably lost. I tried calling Barnaby to see if he’d learned anything, but the phone merely rang. I considered calling Cortez, but he hadn’t had any time to find out anything.

  If I had to take Claryce with me, I intended to drag Fetch along as well. At this point, I suspected his devotion to her was a hundredfold greater than it was to me. He would give his life for her, if necessary.

  I tried to think where best to locate him. We took the Packard to one of his favorite haunts, a series of alleys behind some of the city’s swankiest eating spots. In contrast to the restaurants, the back alleys were dark and dingy. I could hear movements, some of which were rats, some of which I knew were not.

  “Don’t bother asking me to stay in the car,” Claryce remarked.

  “I won’t.” I led her into the alley. There was just enough light to keep me from immediately demanding the dragon’s vision. I didn’t want anything stirred up unnecessarily by the abrupt and monstrous change in my eyes.

  Even without the dragon, I could sense Feirie’s presence here. It wasn’t from any one direction, but rather permeated the vicinity. That meant a possible combination of factors, none of which I liked. Either one Wyld had really made its home here, or there were several now dwelling here.

  “Do you see him?” Claryce whispered.

  “No. Stick close.”

  “I will.”

  We moved deeper into the alley. Had we been an ordinary couple, our ignorance would’ve been our greatest defense. This near to such a crowded, active area, any refugees from Feirie would redouble their efforts to not be noticed. That would include not preying on anything larger than a cat.

  But just as I could sense them, so, too, could they tell that I was more than merely human. I kept my hand near the opening of my coat. Her Lady’s gift remained only a thought from my grip.

  “Stop,” I quietly ordered.

  We stood there for a moment, then I let out a low whistle.

  Seconds later, there came the slight tapping of nails against concrete as something moved toward us. I knew that whatever it was wanted us to hear it.

  A tall, lithe four-legged form materialized out of the darkest shadows, the eyes two blazing orbs.

  “Master Nicholas,” Fetch quietly greeted us. “Mistress Claryce.”

  “Hmm,” Claryce responded. I was pretty sure she was thinking of how Fetch had transformed into something nearer to his true Feirie form when we had confronted Oberon and his servants—both human and otherwise—on the shores of the lake.

  As he neared us, Fetch underwent a subtle transformation, becoming as we both knew him.

  “What brings ye here?”

  I could see right away that he wasn’t all that pleased we’d come for him. This wasn’t a side I’d seen often from Fetch, who was generally thrilled to be a part of whatever I had going on. He’d more than once reminded me that he owed me his life. Now, though, I wondered if we’d discovered a line where all that meant nothing. Fetch had come close a couple of times, but had always pulled back. This time . . . this time felt different.

  Eye could remove your trouble so easy . . . just a single breath . . .

  Shut up.

  “We need you to come with us to Lake Michigan, Fetch.”

  “Oh! Aye!” He started trotting toward us again. “Let’s be off, then!”

  I put out a hand to halt him. Fetch paused, his expression and stance returning to what they’d been a moment ago.

  “What’ve you got here, Fet
ch?” I asked sternly. “What’s different?”

  His ears flattened. “Nothing, Master Nicholas. Everything’s copa-cetic, as always.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Fetch. You know you don’t want to lie to me.”

  “Please, Master Nicholas! Let it be!”

  “I can’t, Fetch. Matter of fact, I’ve probably let it go too long.”

  Eye will help you see the truth . . .

  Go ahead.

  The world turned emerald. Shadows remained, but they took on twisted shapes that reminded me of nothing on the mortal plane but definitely of Feirie.

  “Oh, Fetch.” I shook my head and slipped my hand to the inner edge of my overcoat.

  “No, Master Nicholas! ‘Tis not what ye think! ‘Tis no lair! Only a temporary refuge!”

  “How many?” I stared at each shadow, seeing into them as best as possible. To my surprise, they proved harder to pierce than I’d thought. I smelled Fetch’s cunning in that. He’d expected me to summon the dragon’s vision and although he’d known he could never completely hide everything from the dragon’s gaze, whatever he did manage to hide was to his benefit.

  Or so he thought. The dragon believed otherwise.

  We must cleanse this place! One swift breath! This is the task for which we have been ordained! This is what we must do!

  He was right. This was very much a part of our task. We were supposed to keep Feirie and the mortal plane separate. That was a nigh impossible duty, but allowing a flood of Wyld to continue unabated went far beyond reasonable.

  I could suddenly sense their collective fear. Creatures of Feirie as afraid for their lives as any human refugee during Diocletian’s Edict of Persecution or the endless wars before or since then. They were as scared of me as they were of Her Lady.

  As they were of Her Lady . . .

  Burn them! my eternal companion roared furiously.

  “This has to end, Fetch,” I said as calmly as possible. “When we bring you back, you have to put a stop to this. Chicago cannot survive this.”

  “Aye, I understand.”

  “What would make you commit this insanity? I forgave the one or two out of respect for the trust I had in you and you go and betray that trust!”

  “Nick—”

  “‘Tis all right, Mistress Claryce.” Tail drooping, Fetch peeked back at the shadows. “I warned them it couldn’t last long. I’m just—I was just looking for the blood, Master Nicholas. That’s all.”

  “‘The blood’?”

  “He means ‘family,’ Nick.”

  I should’ve realized that myself, but I’d never much had to consider family where Feirie was concerned, save for Oberon and Her Lady. There’d been no love lost there, just as there had been none between Oberon’s daughter, her father, and her stepmother. The Court of Feirie made the Tudors of England look loving by comparison.

  “You’re looking for some of your . . . pack?”

  If I’d mislabeled his family organization, he didn’t bother to correct me. Instead, he briefly bared his teeth at the empty space next to him, then explained, “Loyalty is a word with many definitions in the Court, Master Nicholas. Her Lady learned well from her former lord. To guarantee that even the most loyal remain so, a price always had to be paid . . . with those of blood hostaged.”

  “‘Hostaged’?”

  “She’s holding his family, Nick. That witch is holding his family.”

  I’d never much thought about Fetch’s kind except as potential threats. He’d been the only one I’d met, but I’d taken his example as a reason to always be on the lookout.

  Now it appeared I’d not have to concern myself. It sounded as if they were trapped in Feirie, prisoners of Her Lady to guarantee Fetch’s loyalty.

  Or something else. “Fetch, she offered you a chance to come back and you didn’t. You did that knowing she held your family, didn’t you?”

  “Aye.”

  Claryce cleared her throat. “But . . . when you first abandoned her for this world wouldn’t she have . . . you know . . . to punish you?”

  “Maybe not,” I interjected. “This is Her Lady we’re talking about. Maybe she’d keep them in order to always have something to dangle before him, especially considering his association with me. Isn’t that right, Fetch?”

  “It is what I believe, but I dare not approach her. She will demand what I cannot give, of that I am certain.”

  “You should’ve told me this a long time ago.”

  “I should’ve. Ye need not fear I’ll turn on ye at some time because of this. She knows already now. She knows I’ve taken an oath stronger than the blood she holds.”

  I nodded. “But this is Her Lady. She never gives up a possible pawn if she can help it. Lessons learned from Oberon.”

  “Aye. I just keep hoping that some will manage to flee her. I watch careful who I offer brief protection to, Master Nicholas. They must be of the weak, of the kinder, and I must know something of their blood. I’ll not protect some soul-hungry Wyld, scout’s honor!”

  I believed him, which said something. Still, this situation had to be changed. “What did you actually think to do for these? They can’t just be let loose on Chicago.”

  Just as I’d expected, he had no real answer. There wasn’t time to work all this out. I’d already let things drag out. What there was of the day was slipping away, which meant that Galerius already had plans in motion. The boat and the lake seemed our best hope, or else why the timely interjection of clues by what had to be the interfering archangel?

  “Never mind,” I snarled at Fetch. “You deal with this as soon as possible. Now get to the Packard.”

  Fetch took off like a shot. I sensed more unease from the twisted shadows and saw movement here and there. I remembered the one I’d seen on a previous visit. A tiny thing of shadow that’d also worn the form of a childlike being akin to the elves of Her Lady’s Court. I should’ve put an end to things then . . .

  I finally led Claryce away, dismissing the dragon’s vision at the same time. Fetch was already secure in the backseat with no hint as to how he’d gotten inside so quickly.

  We headed toward Grand Avenue and the Municipal Pier. I tended to think of it as Burnham’s Municipal Pier since it’d been based on his designs in the Plan of Chicago, but, seeing it again, I supposed a lot of credit had to be given to the actual architect, Charles Sumner Frost. The pier was a bit different from his more than a hundred buildings crafted especially for the Chicago and North Western Railway, but it was certainly striking. I’d watched the rise and fall of architectural styles over the centuries—in some ways using them to mark the passage of time more than mere years or centuries—but Chicago’s styles were changing so rapidly these days I was beginning to feel like I’d been here a lot longer than I actually had.

  That thought and our situation with Galerius immediately brought another image to mind. No one but Claryce, Fetch, and myself now recalled the Tribune Tower’s original design, the sleek, extremely modern creation by a Finnish architect who’d won the contest sponsored by the paper. The card had changed that, turning the Tower into the Gothic structure now gracing the city’s skyline.

  Since we’d started, Claryce had kept quiet about exactly where to turn, but suddenly she ordered me to make a quick left. We headed toward the South Side and into Outfit territory, then veered toward the lake. By that time, the last of the cloud-obscured sunlight had faded away.

  I pulled up near a series of warehouses and other buildings involved in Great Lakes shipping. Lake Michigan roared a warning to us we stepped out of the Packard. I’d heard people call it an inland sea, and they were right. Huge waves crashed against the icy shore, creating frozen sculptures that looked as though some madman had taken the designs from Feirie.

  I didn’t care for the fact that we were in a fairly empty area. While in great part it could obviously be blamed on the weather, I knew that a lot of these facilities probably had ties to Capone’s mob. Not so much for liquor trafficking, bu
t other activities. There was probably no one but a watchman or two around here, but I intended to keep Claryce as close as possible.

  I started to ask her where she thought we had to go when I noticed a change in her expression. Being here had obviously stirred up some memories. My usual frustration with the elusive Michael gave way to another emotion I’d never thought I’d have. I was jealous of an archangel. If Mike had indeed been Michael, he’d known Claryce years before I had. She’d not talked much about her previous relationship and I’d not asked, but now I suddenly wanted details.

  Such an intriguing emotion, jealousy. So mortal. So human . . .

  I recall you falling prey to it more than once, I retorted. Remember?

  That quieted him for the time being. Fetch trotted ahead while Claryce walked beside me. I let her guide us, Fetch adjusting his search pattern accordingly.

  The roar of the waves grew louder, more violent. I couldn’t help a glance or two at the black, turbulent waters. I caught a glimpse of ship lights in the distance. Tonight was a night only a foolish or desperate captain would use to journey across any part of Lake Michigan.

  “It’s this way,” Claryce murmured as she pulled her coat tighter. “I remember that so clearly.”

  My resentment toward Michael returned in spades. I wanted to ask her details, but at the same time didn’t want to. So far, she’d offered very little. In fact, her memories seemed so vague at times, I thought I smelled the archangel’s handiwork there, too.

  But the memories she needed to bring us here appeared to be returning at just the right pace. More and more I understood that he’d set up all this years ago and used Claryce to put it in motion. That last turned my jealousy to anger. I didn’t care if he led the armies of Heaven; I wanted nothing more than to deck him.

  Ahhh . . . there is the saint Eye know so well. . .

  I didn’t give him a response, in part because I didn’t have a good one. Claryce and I moved along the darkened warehouses to one at the far end.

  “Here we go.” She pulled out the key. “This one.”

  “Of course.” I pointed at the faded sign above, where the silhouette of a ship with wings greeted us. I took the wings to be Michael’s symbol.