Black City Saint

by Richard A. Knaak

  “I’m going to die, too, aren’t I, Nick . . . Georgius . . . or whatever I should call you . . .” Claryce murmured. “I’m going to die . . .”

  CHAPTER 17

  “No! You won’t die.” Kneeling in front of her, I put a hand on hers. “This is different—”

  “How? Exactly how?”

  I didn’t have any actual reason, only my utter determination. I know I’d felt something similar in past situations, but not to the extent I did now. Even if it meant sacrificing the dragon and myself, I’d not let Oberon hurt her. I couldn’t.

  “This is different,” I began slowly. “because there’re others after Oberon as well.”

  “‘Others’?” blurted Kravayik. “Master Nicholas, are you referring to her?”

  Claryce looked from me to Kravayik to me again. “You’re talking about his queen, aren’t you?”

  “Her Lady, yes. She’s got a hunter on his trail. A powerful one.”

  Kravayik steepled his long fingers. “You have seen this hunter? Can you describe it for me?”

  I did, including at the end its possession of Moran’s spy. By the time I finished, Kravayik looked even more pale than Claryce and even more pale than he generally was.

  “A Feir’hr Sein . . .”

  I knew more than a dozen languages, including the Celtic that had hints of its origins in Feirie, but still the word made no sense. “What’s that mean?”

  “’Tis from the older tongue, the one before that of the Court. There is no good meaning, but it is something akin to hunger in Court speech.”

  Hunger. That figured. From what I’d learned of Feirie over the centuries, hunger appeared to be a dominant trait of anything born there. Hunger for power, hunger for souls, hunger for all that others treasured.

  Kravayik continued to look very troubled. “Master Nicholas, how is it such a hunter breached the Gate without notice? You are bound to the Gate; you know its cycles, its changes.”

  I knew them too well . . . and that was why I’d also been concerned by the same question Kravayik had just asked me. I thought I finally knew. “I never noticed because it’s been here since the last time Oberon surfaced.”

  “Since the fire?”

  “Since the fire.”

  Fifty-four years was nothing to most creatures of Feirie, their lives measured in centuries and millennia . . . if they managed to survive that long. I should’ve realized that Her Lady would leave nothing to chance; she’d known Oberon better than anyone. She hadn’t taken his obvious death as that. It would’ve been nice if she’d clued me in to her thinking.

  At some point back then, when the Gate had still been in slight motion and Oberon had kept it at least in part open so that his Wyld would have greater contact with the realm that gave them power, Her Lady had slipped this hunter through. Whether it’d hunted unsuccessfully for Oberon during that period or simply been set into waiting just in case he suddenly revealed himself, only she and it knew. I wondered whether it was the only one, too. If I somehow survived this, I vowed to scour the city, just in case.

  Claryce had calmed somewhat. I wished I could do more to build her confidence, but my record continued look as bad as some of the recent Cubs seasons.

  “Is this—this F-F-”

  “Feir’hr Sein,” Kravayik offered again. “Call it a ‘hunter’ and that will be good, Mistress Claryce. And to what you are trying to ask, yes, it is very efficient. It is a powerful ally you have, Master Nicholas.”

  “So long as Oberon lives, but we’ll have to watch afterward.”

  “There is that, yes.”

  “A princess,” Claryce abruptly whispered. She wore a rueful smile. “I never dreamed of being one when I was a child. I had a couple of friends who did. Now I find out I was one . . .”

  “Claryce . . .”

  She pushed back some loose hair. “Cleolinda, isn’t it? That’s who I am. Just a poor reproduction of a princess.”

  Before I could deny with all my heart that she was more, Kravayik interjected, “That is incorrect, Mistress Claryce! You are as unique as anyone! Yes, you have the spirit of the princess, but you are you! You are not the one I met, good though she was. You have distinct differences in personality and, if I may be so bold, those differences have given your beauty its own individual traits.”

  “Thank you, Kravayik.”

  “He’s right,” I finally added. “And I won’t let anything happen to you, Claryce, because you’re who you are. Not just because of a past life.”

  She reached a hand to my cheek, then, flushing, quickly drew it back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kravayik backing away from us.

  I appreciated his discretion, even though he needn’t have bothered. Whatever I felt for Claryce, I didn’t dare act on it.

  “So much to think about,” she went on. “Nick—Georgius—”

  “Nick. Always Nick.”

  That made her smile for some reason, which made me smile before I could stop myself. “Nick. Kravayik told me how you chose that name. I was so shocked! The man wasn’t just your emperor, he was your friend.”

  Diocles had stood silent all this time, but at mention of his name, the ghost let out a frustrated growl and vanished.

  “He had his share of guilt,” I replied, not willing to give him more than he deserved. “Worse, he listened to Galerius.”

  Claryce didn’t hear the last. “I tried to defy him, but those eyes . . . Nick, I’d rather look into the dragon’s eyes than his.”

  So Oberon had given her a slight hint of his true self. Another reason I wanted to separate his head from his body. “What else? Tell me everything.”

  “I told you about the statuette. He spent a lot of time on that. Most of the rest of the time, he talked about me and my—my previous self.”

  She was still leaving something out. “And what else?”

  “He kept asking about some card. Like a playing card.”

  Just as I assumed. Still, while everything Claryce said made sense, including his desire for the card, I began to have a problem with the entire situation. This was Oberon I was dealing with. Nothing could ever be taken at face value, and I was beginning to wonder if Fetch had been as much responsible for her escape as Claryce and he thought he was.

  “Never mind that,” I finally answered. The less she knew about the card the better.

  It turned out to be the wrong answer. Claryce’s expression tightened again. “More things I just shouldn’t know? Is it involved with some of my—some of my deaths, too?”

  It had been. She must’ve seen that knowledge in my face. Suddenly, Claryce was on her feet, barging past me. I almost grabbed her, then thought better of it. As she rushed toward the front doors, I looked to Kravayik for help, but he’d taken the wiser course and vanished completely.

  That left me with Diocles and his interminable advice.

  “You should have told her the truth from the very beginning, Georgius. Only then could she be prepared for all this.”

  I gave him stare worthy of the dragon and hurried after Claryce. She’d already run outside. I just prayed that Fetch wouldn’t let her out of his sight or get very far from the safety of the Cathedral grounds.

  There was no hint of either of them as I exited. I swore and tried to decide which way to go.

  From around the corner to my right, Fetch let out a bark.

  When I got there, though, it was to find only him. Not what I wanted.

  “Where is she, Fetch? Where?”

  “Master Nicholas? Who do ye mean? Mistress Claryce? I thought she was inside with ye!”

  “Damn! Come with me!”

  I headed the opposite way, all the while hoping that she’d paused to think things over before running too far.

  Fetch moved ahead of me. “Forgive me! I thought I saw somethin’! I went to go see! I was only gone for a moment, Master Nicholas!”

  “Pipe down and just run on ahead!”

  “Aye!”

  He sped on, e
asily outpacing me. I watched Fetch vanish around the other corner and hoped that he already had her in view. It worried me that Fetch’d been distracted by something else; it could’ve been innocent, but I’d learned that very few things were so.

  When I reached the corner, it was to see nothing. No Claryce. No Fetch.

  Fortunately, at that moment, he let out a bark from across the street. I followed his path with my gaze and finally spotted Claryce sitting on a bench under a streetlamp.

  Fetch paused in front of her. Claryce sat with her face in her hands, not looking up even when I joined them.

  “Claryce . . .”

  She finally raised her head, but wouldn’t directly look at me. “Nick. I’m tired. I’d like to go back to my quarters.”

  “I understand.” I offered a hand, not expecting her to take it. She surprised me by accepting it and surprised me further with just how cold she was. “We’d better get you back to Kravayik.”

  “Kravayik . . .” She shook her head. “No. I want to go back to your house.”

  “The house?” That was the last place I’d have expected her to want to go. “You’re safer with Kravayik.”

  “Please, Nick.” When she looked into my eyes this time, it was with begging I couldn’t refuse.

  “All right. Fetch, head to the auto. Make certain all’s clear. We’ll follow right behind.”

  “Oke!”

  He darted off, while I tried one last time to convince Claryce that it would much better to remain at the Cathedral. “Holy Name is one of the safest, most untouchable places around the city. Unless they’re a true convert like Kravayik, nothing from Feirie can enter.”

  “Kravayik. He is true to his new faith, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, and another reason why you’d be safer inside. Will you listen?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’d like . . . I’d like the familiarity of the house. This place . . . I just don’t feel comfortable around all of it. I am a woman.”

  It was a point we’d discussed earlier, and one I’d thought we’d settled, but if it was still bothering her, I could see that Holy Name wouldn’t work out after all. I tried to convince myself that if Her Lady had had someone—probably her hunter—reconstruct the house, she’d done it so that we’d have a place even more secure from Oberon than the rooms above the old shop.

  With Fetch in the back seat and his nose out the window, we left the cathedral. I vowed I’d call Kravayik when I got the chance; he deserved an explanation. Claryce remained silent most of the way, her eyes fixed more on the constantly changing view next to her. I’d no doubt that she was also thinking about what I’d held back from her all this time and was still angry at me for not trusting her.

  As guilty as I felt about keeping those secrets, I knew I’d done so for good reasons. Every incarnation of her had shared a propensity for inquisitiveness and determination, both admirable qualities except when they meant walking into danger in the belief that it was the better course of action. Bad enough that Oberon had spotted her and made certain that she’d become an assistant to “William Delke” just so that he could use her as bait, but the more she refused to keep safe, the more likely that Oberon’d kill her. I couldn’t let that happen.

  We were just about to turn on the last street when I caught a glimpse of an auto just beyond the streetlight. I knew my neighbors well enough to know this wasn’t one of theirs.

  Let Eye reveal it . . .

  “Go ahead,” I muttered under my breath. I was beginning to appreciate this new understanding we had, although I tried to remain cautious. Through his emerald world, I got a much better view of the auto and its occupant.

  I immediately parked the Packard. “Fetch, take Claryce around the back. Don’t let the pair of you be seen by anyone.”

  To my relief, Claryce didn’t ask any questions. She quietly followed him.

  I had several notions as to what Detective Cortez was here for, but not why he should be waiting so late. If he had any reason to arrest me for the Alonso Perez murder, I’d guess he would’ve come with some help.

  He does not see . . . strike . . .

  I let out a small grunt, not only to quiet him and dismiss his eyes, but to let Cortez know I was near. He threw away the cigarette he’d been smoking and stepped out of the auto. I noticed that he kept his hand near his coat, right where his gun would’ve been.

  “Nick Medea . . . been waiting awhile for you, you know?”

  “In the dark? Is there a reason I should be concerned?”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no. You ever get to Our Lady?”

  I decided to be straight with him . . . to a point. “I went there. Everything was black.”

  “Yeah.” While Cortez couldn’t see my expression all that well, I could see his. He was more pensive than I’d ever seen him. “You talk with the man I spoke about?”

  “Only the one time on the telephone.” Before he could go farther with his questions, I asked, “If you’re here, did something happen to him?”

  He reached for yet another cigarette. “Dunno. No one’s seen him.”

  By now, someone should’ve discovered the body. Bodies, since I’d left the one thug behind. Oberon had gotten someone to clean up after the situation.

  I tried to keep control of the conversation. “This statuette. You know much about it?”

  “Me? I take Maria and the little ones to church, ask the Lady to talk with God about my sins, and hope I do good, you know?”

  While I understood what he meant by “the Lady,” I’d had to fight with the knowledge that Her Lady kept watch on me behind my back for centuries. I couldn’t help thinking about the reconstructed house, which Cortez appeared to know nothing about, either.

  “Like I said,” I continued. “The church was dark when I got there. Never got to talk with him.”

  “Yeah . . .” Although the cigarette hung in the corner of his mouth, he hadn’t lit it yet. “Listen, Nick . . . I think you got the idea from me last time that there’s something big brewing! Dunno what it is, but I think it’s bigger than bootleggers! Scarface, Hymie, and Bugs might be part of it, but they ain’t the ones in charge.”

  The good detective had it on the nose, but he didn’t know the half of it. I chose the most logical route to keep him in the dark. “You think Papa Johnny’s back on top?”

  “Him? Nah, he’s over.” The cigarette shifted to the other side of his mouth. “Me? I think Mr. Business, Mr. William Delke, is something more than he says. I think he’s got his fingers in a lot of pots, you know?”

  “Delke?” For Cortez’s sake, he needed to steer clear of Oberon. “That’s probably stretching it.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no—”

  The cigarette dropped from his mouth. Cortez crossed himself twice in rapid succession as he stared past my shoulder.

  I immediately looked where he was staring but saw nothing. That didn’t mean he’d imagined whatever it was he thought he saw.

  Cortez muttered something in Spanish. I didn’t catch whether it was a prayer to Heaven or an admonishment to himself for having reacted so openly.

  I gave him what I could. “Someone watching us?”

  “Dunno.” He regained his calm and pulled out another cigarette. This one he lit. “Just jittery nerves, you know? Trying to quit for Maria. Makes me imagine things, I guess.”

  Whatever he’d seen had been something nasty, and I had an idea just what it was. I needed Cortez to scram and scram quick. “Listen, detective, I’ve got a possible clue for you, but I need to check it out before I let you know if it’s kosher or not. Let me get back to you tomorrow. It might have something to do with Delke. I’ll find out.”

  He actually looked appreciative, which made me feel guiltier. Still, now I felt a chill growing in my soul, which meant that what watched us was drawing nearer.

  Fortunately, Cortez took my promise to heart. He clapped my shoulder, then, with a grin, climbed into the auto.

  From there, he leaned out.
“You’ll call me early tomorrow?”

  “By noon, I think.” I’d worry about what to do with the promise tomorrow. I kept silently urging Cortez to drive off.

  “Oh, one thing more, sorry.” He pulled a folded paper from the breast pocket of his coat. “Some things about the heist at the Art Institute. Thought you might be able to clue me in on them as well. Odd stuff, they took. Look it over, okay?”

  More eager than ever to see the good detective leave, I immediately took the paper and stuffed it in my own coat. “I’ll do that. I promise.”

  “Appreciate that, Nick Medea.” He finally started the auto and left. I waited until he was out of sight, then, summoning the dragon’s eyes once more, turned to face Her Lady’s enforcer.

  The grim reaper sprouted from the street, rising to his full well-over-my-head height. Gatekeeper . . .

  “Where’s your face?” I asked, speaking about the thug he’d possessed.

  It waits . . . The sentinel explained no further, and I tried not to imagine what was left of the unfortunate spy.

  “Why’re you here?” I didn’t like the thought of this creature too near Claryce. Her Lady wanted Oberon destroyed, and if she thought of some reason to use Claryce to achieve that goal, she’d act on that no matter the consequences.

  She would have you know . . . there is a chance to strike soon and I will take it . . .

  While that news initially cheered me, I immediately after had doubts that such a straightforward attack would work so easily. I knew that this sentinel had a variety of powers at his disposal—most of them as wicked as those wielded by his prey—but we were talking about Oberon here.

  I also worried about possible innocents being involved. The sentinel wouldn’t be bothered by additional victims; they’d only be humans, after all. “Just what do you plan?”

  You will know soon, Gatekeeper . . . consider yourself warned . . .

  He melted back into the street. I knew that somewhere within a few minutes’ travel his stolen body waited. I remembered Oberon’s shadow gunmen and thought how even they paled in comparison to the sentinel. He had a very good chance of succeeding in his task.