Unquiet Dreams cg-2

by Mark Del Franco

  “Something doesn’t fit, Keeva.”

  She leaned forward on her desk and put her head in her hands. “I know. But I can’t make sense of it.”

  I felt a twinge of sympathy. Keeva might be many things I don’t like, but most times her heart is in the right place. When she remembers she has one. “How are you holding up?”

  Stricken, she looked up. “I’ve got two royal delegations I’m trying to keep separated, a funeral with a change in venue, a murder investigation going nowhere, and the entire board of directors attacked. How do you think I feel?”

  “I’ll help any way I can.”

  She nodded vaguely. “I thought you were dead. Your apartment was broken into. Why the hell did it take you two hours to answer your phone or my sendings?”

  “I was blocked. I was checking my messages when I was attacked.”

  “Nigel’s right, you know. There are factions in the Consortium that would like nothing more than to see the Guild in chaos.”

  I shifted in my seat. My coat might have taken the most of the essence that hit me, but my shoulders were definitely tender. “That’s a huge risk. They’d have to be pretty confident to pull it off. And now that he’s out of the room, I have to point out your blind spot. You’re assuming Manus and Nigel had nothing to do with this.”

  The look of surprise that came over her face made me feel embarrassed. “Wow. I knew you had trust issues, but that’s pretty extreme even for you.”

  I shrugged. “I’m being an investigator. Manus is definitely sick—I saw that myself. But you heard Nigel. He has just as much motive to make the Consortium look bad as they do the Guild.”

  “Do you really think Nigel would resort to murder?”

  “I’m not saying that. But I don’t think he’s above using this situation to push the Consortium into a corner.”

  She seemed to consider the idea. “Kruge is the key to this. We figure out who killed Kruge, then we figure the rest.”

  “It was a drug dealer named C-Note. Eorla Kruge thinks that even if you and Nigel don’t.”

  “And why would you know her opinion?” Anger had returned to her face.

  I rolled my eyes in answer. “Because I listened to her, Keeva, which apparently you haven’t. She told you a drug dealer might be a suspect.”

  “Wouldn’t that fit your cover plot? She would support your theory if she were trying to throw us off the Consortium.”

  “Keeva, her husband’s dead. That’s a level of political ambition even you can’t imagine.”

  She laughed, a bit weakly for my taste, but she laughed. “That’s why we’re looking for Croda. She may have been the killer herself somehow, but we’re also running down her drug associates.”

  I didn’t say anything. Not without knowing why Ryan macGoren had been at Croda’s murder. “You don’t need to put an entire neighborhood under martial law. You need to go after C-Note. His gang attacked me. It’s him, pure and simple.”

  She gave me a suspicious look. “You seem awfully confident. What evidence do you have?”

  “Word is C-Note’s muscling in. Dennis Farnsworth died on another troll’s turf. His name is Moke. He says it was C-Note’s people.”

  Keeva smiled. “Putting aside that Moke may be playing you, has it occurred to you that your attack was coincidence? You’re not really a director, you know. Maybe this C-Note’s gunning for you because of Farnsworth.”

  I pursed my lips. I hadn’t considered that. Crystal placed Farnsworth and Kruge in the same room. And there was still the matter of Croda’s recording ward. I didn’t think that was a coincidence.

  “It’s not the Consortium, Keeva. I feel it in my gut.”

  Keeva stood and moved for the door. “I’ve got a major security situation to handle, Connor. Don’t leave the building. I have enough people to worry about.”

  “Are you arresting me?”

  She shrugged. “Call it what you want. Now go find someplace to sit. I have work to do.”

  I decided now was the time to push her. “I have a question before you go. Why did Ryan lie about being with you the night of Kruge’s murder?”

  Her glare snapped back instantly. “He didn’t lie. He had his dates mixed up.”

  “So, where was he?”

  “Here. At the Guildhouse. He was here the entire time.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  She gave me a long look, and opened the door. “Yes. I’m not a fool, though, Connor. And as much as I hate to admit it, I checked the security log. He was here. I was checking a blind spot.” She strode away.

  I trailed after her and walked down the hall to my old office. I sat behind the desk, spun the chair around, and put my feet up on the windowsill. Outside, Guild security agents did aerial sweeps of the surrounding city blocks.

  Given the right motivation, I could believe anyone was capable of anything—even murder. But as the list of players expanded, the list of motivations seemed to expand even more. Clearly a power struggle was in play, both down in the Tangle and in the Guildhouse boardroom. The only connection between them was Ryan macGoren, and his involvement made no sense. I wanted to tell Keeva about the helmet, but she played games, too. And so did Nigel. And Gerin. Any one of them could be in a position to protect macGoren or hang him. I couldn’t decide who to trust, if any of them.

  My issues with the Guild were turning into fears. If they could turn my home into a prison camp, I had no recourse than to keep my mouth shut until I could prove publicly what had happened. As I stared out the window, I felt more alone than I had in a long time. It’s bad enough to watch your back with enemies. It’s worse when you have to do it with allies.

  Chapter 13

  I lifted the receiver from the office phone on my desk. It had a dial tone, so I punched in Meryl’s internal extension. She picked up right away.

  “Hello?” Her voice had an odd, guarded tone.

  “Hi, it’s me,” I said. I swung back to the window to watch yet another squad of agents fly in the direction of the Consortium consulate. I’m sure Keeva was on the phone explaining to Consortium security that they weren’t spies. I’m sure she wouldn’t be believed.

  “Grey?”

  “Yeah. Why do you sound funny?”

  “Because I’m looking at the caller ID on my phone and wondering if I’ve been sucked into the past somehow.”

  I chuckled. “You watch too many science fiction movies. I’m hiding in my old office. Care for a visitor?”

  “Sure. You’re not dead, right?”

  Glancing to my left, I smiled. Virgil had moved his gargoyle self from his lower perch to the nook right outside my window.

  “No. Minor scorching. I’ll be down in a sec,” I said and hung up.

  A familiar cool flutter touched my mind. I had felt it before, like a sending, only more subtle and less identifiable. It was how gargoyles communicated.

  A circle contains and excludes but defines itself, Virgil said.

  That sounded like an abstract philosophical game. Gargoyles never make any sense when they speak. At least, I don’t think so. They only make sense afterward, and then you kick yourself for not understanding. I’ve tried to figure out Virgil, but I only end up second-guessing myself. I think he’s sincere in trying to help. Why, I don’t know. I’ve known very few people that gargoyles have spoken to. As far as their conversations go, Virgil was downright chatty with me, but most of the time I had no idea what he was talking about.

  You don’t send your thoughts to a gargoyle like you do to other fey. You think loudly, and they appear to overhear. I’ve never had a conversation with Virgil unless we were near each other. It made me doubt gargoyles could actually do sendings, but no one knows much about what they can do. I relaxed my mind and thought, Sometimes I feel my entire life is running in circles.

  Jested truth makes dangerous folly. The stroke of a sword injures the heart of the wielder and his foe.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. My dagger was a swo
rd, after a fashion, but I didn’t know how to make it turn into a sword. The one time I did it, it felt more like the sword was using me than the other way around. No jokes, then, Virgil.

  When he didn’t say anything, I thought he was finished speaking. It’s really hard to know when the conversation is over when you’re dealing with a talking stone that doesn’t move.

  Bones, he said.

  I stared at him, pointlessly trying to read something, anything, into his words. Sometimes runes are carved on bones, which are thrown to read the future. Elves favored it, but I didn’t know anyone who actually knew how to do it.

  I don’t understand. As usual, I thought, hoping it wasn’t loud enough for Virgil to hear.

  Bones, he said. The coolness floated away. Virgil was done speaking. I stared at his little naked body, wondering if he ever felt self-conscious with his goods hanging out for all to see. He moved somehow, though I had never seen it happen, and yet he never moved his hands from his knees to hide his groin. Maybe he felt no shame. Maybe he didn’t understand it. I grinned as a thought occurred to me. Maybe it was because he had nothing to hide.

  If possible, the Community Liaison offices were even emptier than the last time I was there. Everyone must have been running around outside dealing with the hysteria. I would have mobilized everyone if I were in charge. I would lock down the Guildhouse, sure, but I wouldn’t try to take on the Consortium and an entire neighborhood simultaneously.

  I took the elevator straight down to the subbasement. Meryl smiled for a fraction of a second when I walked into her office, then wrinkled her nose. “You smell like burnt cow.”

  “It’s new.” I turned to show her the scorch marks on my jacket.

  She whistled appreciatively. “Nice miss.”

  “Yeah. It was fun.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “So, is it a fascist wet dream out there?”

  I nodded. “Nigel thinks the Consortium is behind the attacks.”

  Meryl snickered. “Nigel thinks the Consortium is behind everything. I swear the man is itching for a war no one wants.”

  “He was never this single-minded before.”

  She gestured at me. “He’s pissed at them. They took out his main man.”

  That took me by surprise. “Me? Are you talking about me? He’s pissed because of my injury?”

  She nodded. “Before you lost your abilities, the scuttlebutt was that you were being groomed in case hostilities broke out. You were one of the few here-born with major potential.”

  You could have knocked me flat with an eyeblink. Nigel wasn’t one for compliments, but now that I looked back, I could see what Meryl meant. He was always pushing me to work harder, trying to get me to join the Druidic College, teaching me ways to use my abilities even when he wasn’t happy that I had gone the Guild route. It made a sort of sense. “I never realized. No one ever said anything.”

  She grinned. “Ha! With your ego? Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind was going to give you more reason to strut around like a peacock.”

  I didn’t say anything. Meryl wasn’t the first person to comment on my arrogance, only the most vocal. I don’t think I impressed her enough for her to be diplomatic.

  “I’ve changed.”

  Her grin broadened. “No shit. Almost dying a couple of times has done good things for you.”

  She had a point. When your life hits bottom, you can’t help reevaluating things. Losing my livelihood and being abandoned by people I thought were my friends made me understand what it’s like to be on the other side of privilege.

  “Look, I need to get out of here. There’s a meeting of the Bosnemeton tonight, and I have to do something before that.”

  Her eyebrows went up and hid behind her bangs. “Do something?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Keeva’s got the building locked down tight, and I don’t want to be followed.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

  “Nope.” We had a playful staring contest involving lots of smirking and grinning. At last, Meryl sighed.

  “Okay. I’ll show you a way. But I want details later.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  I stood as she got up from her desk. She started around it, then walked right through the wall of her office. Impressed, I stared at the illusion. The space between an overflowing credenza and an old filing cabinet looked like a perfectly normal wall. It took a lot of ability to maintain, even more when you had to contend with the amount of essence and warding in the Guildhouse. And I hadn’t sensed it there at all. Meryl was damned good at what she knew how to do.

  “Coming?” Her voice sounded muffled coming through the illusion, as though she were calling out from a good distance.

  I walked through the wall after her, feeling the spiderweb tingle of essence skim over my body as I went through it. Meryl waited on the other side with a small flashlight. We were in a narrow tunnel that looked much like the other subbasement hallways, only without the doors. Behind me, I could see Meryl’s office as clear as day.

  “You’re full of surprises,” I said.

  “Did you really think I’d have an office with only one door?” she asked. She turned and led the way along the tunnel. The light dimmed the farther we went from her office, and she turned on her flashlight. “I found this tunnel by accident one day. Took me a while to create the opening in the office, but it was worth it.”

  I could feel warding along the walls. If I had to guess, I’d have said we were moving between Guildhouse storerooms, which were filled with all kinds of things that had essence to spare. As a chief archivist, Meryl kept it all in check, making sure nothing disappeared or reacted with something else or exploded. By the odd fluctuations in warding, I could tell there had to be more openings, but Meryl didn’t seem inclined to give a tour.

  We reached the bottom of a flight of stairs. Meryl paused and held up her hand. After a few murmurs, a small ball of blue light no bigger than a glow bee danced up from her palm. Still murmuring, she tapped my forehead with her free hand, cupped both her hands together, then tossed the light ball. It swirled up into the darkness.

  “There. I’ve opened the warding for you at the top. No one will see you leave.”

  “You’re a marvel,” I said.

  “I know. Just go straight up. Don’t let me catch you using this without me.”

  “Thanks.” I kissed the top of her head and started up the stairs before she had a chance to hit me. I’ve given her the top-of-the-head peck before, and she hates it. Or seems to.

  As I went higher I heard a low hum that slowly grew louder. The stone steps vibrated beneath my feet.

  “Don’t get hit!” Meryl called up from the darkness.

  I reached the top. Seeing nothing but blackness, I stepped forward into another warding. And almost got hit. A subway train hurtled past. I jumped back so fast, I almost fell back down the stairs. After surviving an attack by elves, it would be just my luck to get hit by a train. I could hear giggling down below. Shaking my head, I went through again and found myself on the tracks next to the Boylston Street T station platform. The train that that almost hit me was loading passengers. I ran a few feet along the track, slipped between a gap in some fencing, and jumped onto the nearest car before the doors closed.

  I didn’t bother sitting since I needed to change lines at the next station. Down the aisle from me, a well-dressed older woman dozed in her seat, her purse clutched in her lap. She wore a large felt hat with a long pheasant feather. I could just make out the tops of two familiar pink wings coming up the other side of her. Joe peered at me from over her hat and put his finger to his lips. Hovering above her, he bent the feather down and tickled her nose with it. She shifted in her seat without opening her eyes. He did it again, and she waved her hand up. As the train screeched on the curve into Park Street station, he knocked the hat off and vanished. The woman startled awake, looked down at her hat, and glared at me. I tried to maintain an air of innocence,
but she looked convinced I had something to do with it.

  The train pulled into the station. I hurried down a flight of stairs to the Red Line. I used to take cabs everywhere. I used to have a car service at work when I wanted it. Now I take the subway and hope I don’t miss trains. It bothered me at first. But then I learned public transportation is what real people do. Only the fey thought they were too good for it. But sometimes I still missed the car service.

  My next train came in, and this time I sat as close to the corner as possible. Right on cue, Joe appeared unobtrusively on the next seat, hiding between me and the wall of the car.

  “That was naughty,” I said.

  He shrugged and smiled. “It was an ugly hat.”

  “I guess you do have a point.”

  He stretched out on the seat. “I heard you were attacked. Elves really don’t like you, do they?”

  “A lot of people don’t.”

  He chuckled. “I have a message from Callin.”

  “I was hoping that’s why you were here.” Even though it had been only yesterday since I had called Callin about C-Note, the connections between C-Note and Kruge had become more firm. I really wanted to meet the troll.

  He jabbed me with his toe. “Hey, I don’t have to run messages, ya know. I’m not a glow bee.”

  “Sorry. I’ve had a long day already. What does Cal have to say?”

  “He said C-Note works out of a club in the Tangle called Carnage. Cal said they’re moving a large amount of some drug called Float tonight, so C-Note will probably be there.”

  I frowned. “And why does Cal know something like that?”

  Stinkwort rolled his eyes. “You guys aren’t happy unless you’re suspicious of each other, are you? Did you ever stop to think maybe he doesn’t like your friends either?”

  “Does he like you?”

  Stinkwort gave me his ear-to-ear smile. “Everybody likes Joe!”

  I laughed as the train pulled into South Station. Joe winked out before anyone saw him. I rode the escalator, an old wooden one with slats angled down that gave just enough traction to keep you from falling onto the person behind you, up to the street.