Unquiet Dreams cg-2

by Mark Del Franco

  “Let’s just say I hope all of this has a reason,” I said finally.

  He nodded. “Hope is the beginning of faith.”

  I laughed. “I thought I was the one who just had a near-death experience.”

  Murdock shrugged. “Trust me. When you have a building collapsing on your ass, you find time for faith.” He leaned over and pulled a manila folder out of the glove compartment. “I had a busy day.”

  I flipped the file open to a sheaf of notes with a photocopy of a store receipt for orange Nike running shoes. “You traced the Nikes?”

  He nodded. “They were brand-new. I’d never seen them before, so I figured it might be easy to track them down. Newbury Street, of all places.”

  I shook my head. A poor kid from the wrong side of Southie ends up dead while wearing shoes from the most expensive stretch of pavement in Boston.

  “They were bought with a credit card, so I ran the number,” he said.

  I turned the page and froze. I looked at Murdock. “Is this a joke?”

  He had a sly smile on his face. “You wanted a connection to Kruge. We just got another one.”

  I held the credit card report, staring at it, still wondering if it were a joke. “Why would Keeva buy Dennis Farnsworth running shoes?”

  Murdock pulled his chin in and looked at me from under his brow. “Well, don’t get your hopes up yet. We’ve had this kind of thing blow up in our faces before. No one at the store remembers who bought the shoes. I have someone running the surveillance tape. It could be a big fat coincidence.”

  I knew Keeva well enough to know something was up. “Orange shoes are a coincidence? You know Keeva. She wouldn’t be caught dead with someone wearing orange running shoes.”

  “It might explain why nothing’s happening with her investigation, though,” he said.

  I slouched in my seat. I was at a loss. Other than Guild work, I could not think of a single reason Keeva would be involved with Kruge. Eagan and Gerin put me onto macGoren, not her. But they clearly had their curiosities about her; otherwise, they would have asked her some direct questions about her new beau. As much as Keeva and I had our differences, I had a hard time picturing her in a murder plot.

  We made our way through downtown streets and turned toward Park Square. The Guildhouse sat like a fort under siege. Pedestrian traffic threaded through a narrow barricaded path, while concrete Jersey barriers restricted traffic in front to a single lane. Security agents flew overhead, running their random patterns, while brownie foot security patrolled the perimeter of the building.

  Murdock pulled over to let me out. Joe flew nonchalantly around me, pretending he wasn’t pulling bodyguard duty.

  “You need to get the force on high alert,” I said.

  He nodded. “It’s already done. You don’t have to go in there, Connor.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “We know C-Note did the Farnsworth murder. I sent Keeva the report this morning. You’re done. Let the Guild handle the rest. If they convict, maybe the city court will hear the case, too.”

  “The Guild is tangled in its own politics. They’re focused on the wrong thing, and I can’t sit back and watch it fall apart.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “Because shit happens no matter what. That doesn’t mean I have to let it. I’m not giving up no matter what Nigel Martin thinks.”

  Murdock leaned back in his seat and smiled. “They made a mistake when they kicked you out.”

  He eased the car back into traffic and drove off. I joined the crowd of people on the sidewalk, trying not to push anyone as I made my way toward the front of the Guildhouse. Joe remembered his innate shyness and hung on to the collar of my jacket. He hadn’t latched on to me like that since I was kid, only back then he was making sure I didn’t run off into traffic.

  “Move along!” one of the brownie patrols ordered as I stepped around the barricade. I flashed him my Guild badge, looking worn from wear. He examined it suspiciously before stepping back and letting me through.

  I felt a tug at my neck. “Ow!” said Joe.

  He hovered a few feet behind me. His eyes twitched in all directions, his hands spread with a slight glow. “What’s wrong, Joe?”

  “Security barrier. It’s not letting me in. They’re doing something new.”

  I opened myself to the barrier, felt its invisible presence. It had the feel of the Grove about it, but different, a modification I hadn’t seen before. Gerin’s work layered over the usual Guildhouse barrier. I could feel the difference, the way it would let certain people through and not others. Flits had a higher ratio of essence to their mass than other species. Given everyone’s fear that they would spy, they were usually the first species to be guarded against.

  “Let him in,” I said to the patrol.

  The brownie seemed about to object, so I held up my badge again to remind him who he was talking to. I cringed inwardly. In less than a week with a piece of laminated paper in my hand, I had managed to get very comfortable pulling rank. I felt a tingle as the brownie opened a small space for Joe. He flew in and clutched my collar again, looking back at the brownie with a tough face.

  When I pushed through the main doors, the central lobby appeared startlingly empty to me. The usual receptionists were gone, replaced by yet more brownie security. I had no problem inside getting through the checkpoint and took an elevator up. The Community Liaison floor hummed with activity. Up and down the halls, people either rushed in and out of offices or clustered in small groups. Dressed in their most formal attire, diplomatic envoys from both Seelie Court and the Teutonic Consortium kept pointedly apart, whispering among themselves while casting wary glances at each other. I turned the corner toward Keeva’s office, only to be stopped by two security guards.

  One held up his hand. “Appointments only, sir.”

  “I need to see Keeva macNeve,” I said.

  “Director macNeve is busy, sir. Please make an appointment with the desk,” one of them said. The other let some essence trickle obviously into his hands until they glowed. He didn’t move, just stood in my path as a warning.

  I held up my board meeting pass without speaking.

  “I’m sorry, Director Grey. We have orders from the Guildmaster.”

  “I don’t have time for this. I have important information she needs to hear now.”

  I didn’t push forward. I had worked with these guys enough to know that would end with me knocked on my ass. Glow bees zipped back and forth above our heads. I didn’t have any on me.

  The guard held a hand palm up and gestured back the way I had come. “Please, sir.”

  Joe flew up to the guard and poked his finger at the face-shield. “Let us through or I will peel that helmet off your head and shove it up…”

  “Joe!” I said.

  He looked at me. I pointedly tilted my head toward the glow bees, and his gaze followed. He looked back down to my face, somehow managing to make all his features look like flat lines of annoyance. “I am not a gl—”

  I cut him off before the security guards could hear him. “Tell her you’ve breached the Guildhouse security, and if she doesn’t see me immediately, you will have every flit you know swarming the place in five minutes.”

  He crossed his arms. “You better pick up the tab next time.”

  That was a recipe for poverty. I smiled my best I’m-lying-through-my-teeth smile. “Promise.”

  He blinked out. The guards didn’t flinch. Moments dragged by. I glanced behind me at the various courtiers. Most of them seemed happy for the distraction from whatever political games they were plotting. The first security guard cocked his head and stepped aside. “Director macNeve will see you now.”

  I strode past him, just as Keeva sent me my own sending. This better be good. She practically threw it at me, it hit so hard. A swarm of glow bees hovered outside Keeva’s door, Joe in the midst of them. “She’s cranky,” he said.

  I entered the office. Keeva was already d
ressed for the funeral in a green wool coat that matched her pants. She wore a black blouse intricately embroidered with apple blossoms. “You look lovely,” I said.

  She pointed at Joe. “Lives are at stake, Connor. I want to know how he breached security, and I want to know now.”

  I twisted my head to see Joe. “Did you tell her that?”

  Joe shook his head in exasperation and threw his hands in the air. “I’m just a glow bee. I say what I’m told.”

  I faced Keeva. “He didn’t breach. I signed him in.”

  She lifted a cup of tea and leaned back, sipping. “You have two minutes. Make them good.”

  “A troll named C-Note is behind these attacks. He wants to take down the Guild. Good enough?”

  Keeva arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy. What proof do you have?”

  “A witness in protective custody and a ward stone recording. Murdock heard the threat to the Guild. C-Note controls the gangs with a compulsion drug called Float. It’s spreading beyond the Weird. I know it’s infected the druid Grove. It’s made from the essence of a drys.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she laughed. “A drys? You expect me to believe that?”

  “Murdock saw her.”

  She pulled her lower lip in. “Connor, no one’s seen a drys in decades. Murdock is not credible on fey and, frankly, with your conspiracy theory habits, neither are you. The Guild is convinced the Consortium is behind this.”

  “The Guild or Nigel?”

  “Both.” She looked down at her desk, shifted her eyes to the computer monitor and back to me. I could practically feel her running scenarios in her head, trying to figure what she needed to do to get the job done while figuring out how to present herself in the best light. I’ve seen it before. It’s how she works. “We have security at the funeral. Gerin’s shielding Forest Hills Cemetery for the ceremony. Nigel’s coordinating with Manus and the diplomatic envoys. I’m not worried about the funeral. I’m worried about the Weird. I’m trying to seal it down so no one can move in or out without my knowing about it.”

  “I did.”

  She glared at me. “Connor, bring me your proof, and maybe then I will contradict Gerin Cuthbern and Nigel Martin. Until then, I run things my way.”

  I decided it was time to shake Keeva’s cage a little. “You haven’t made any progress in your Kruge investigation.”

  She looked honestly startled. Looks aren’t everything. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve been looking for Croda. You know trolls are difficult to trace.”

  “Dennis had distinctive new running shoes on. Easy to trace. Your credit card bought a pair.”

  She leaned over her desk toward me. “What are you talking about?”

  I stared her down. “Ryan macGoren has known where Croda is from the night of the murder. You bought Dennis’s running shoes. I don’t think it’s me and Murdock with the credibility problem.”

  She jumped to her feet and pointed at the door. “Out.”

  I’d definitely struck a nerve, but it was time to go. I stood, but before I left, I gave her a last warning. “If the Guild is using Kruge’s murder to provoke a confrontation with the Consortium, I’ll expose you.”

  She was angry enough now that a little fey light glowed in her eyes. She pointed at the door. “I said ‘out.’”

  I moved to the hallway. “Keeva, if you don’t increase security, you won’t have to worry about finding a troll. One’s going to find you.”

  Chapter 17

  The Guild had replaced my apartment door. The security agent remained posted outside at the end of the hall, though. While they had done a great job on the door, even fixing an old squeak, unfortunately they hadn’t brought a housekeeper with them. My place looked like a gang of elves and fairies had run amok. Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.

  I pulled two bottles of Guinness out of the fridge, popped one, and left the other on the counter to warm. The bottled stuff is nowhere near as good as tap, but it’s better than the can. Or nothing.

  I slunk into my desk chair and called Meryl. She picked up on the first ring, and I smiled. Someone was worried. “I saw you buried by a pile a rubble.” The genuine concern in her voice felt oddly pleasurable.

  “Believe it or not, Moke saved me. Are you okay?”

  “Tired, but fine. What happened?”

  I took a swig of beer and booted up the laptop. “Long story. I have to be at the funeral. Want to be my date?”

  “Ooooo, a funeral. Sounds fun,” she said.

  “The service starts at sunset. Can you drive?”

  She sighed. “Fine.”

  “Oh, and wear green. It’s the elven color for mourning.”

  “Gee, thanks, I didn’t know that,” she said sarcastically. “Oh, and Grey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s not a date.” And she hung up.

  Joe busied himself with cookies while I changed. I had very little to work with but stumbled on a dark green shirt I’d forgotten I owned. Even given the formality of an elven funeral, I wasn’t about to wear green pants. As I pulled on my boots, I could hear Joe laughing in my study.

  “Now I get it,” he said, his voice oddly hollow.

  “Get what?” I called back.

  The Guild security helmet I had retrieved from Croda’s murder scene came floating into the room. Two bare feet dangled out of it. “How the Guild is keeping flits out lately. They’re letting in only essence they expect, not blocking what they don’t want.”

  I stopped myself from commenting. That’s an old druid trick, a modification of the shield on a grove. Gerin and Nigel must have adapted it for the Guildhouse. As much as I’d trusted Joe, he had a tendency to talk before he thought, and who knows who would hear him. “Tricky,” I said.

  He circled around the living room, landed on the coffee table, and rolled the helmet off. “Not really. I can think of ten ways to get through now.”

  Downstairs, Meryl sent, and I startled. When most people do a sending, a subtle warning happens in your head that one’s coming. The person you’re sending may be anywhere, so the sending itself tends to travel in a thin envelope of essence. The envelope is part of the searching and touches your mind moments before the actual message. Not Meryl’s. Her sendings are incredibly focused to the point where they find you and arrive instantaneously. It’s like someone jumping out of a closet and saying “boo!”

  “Are you coming?” I asked Joe.

  He swung his legs back and forth from the edge of the coffee table. “Maybe later. I’ve got some business.”

  I smiled. “Be careful.” I’m sure Joe’s business entailed testing his new ideas at the Guildhouse. If there’s one thing a flit despises, it is being told to keep out.

  I passed three security agents on my way out. I jumped in the immaculate passenger seat of Meryl’s Mini Cooper, reveling in the refreshing change of pace from Murdock’s car.

  “We look like catalog models for the goth professional,” she said.

  She wore a body-hugging leather jumpsuit and knee-high leather combat boots with lots of heel and buckles. Not a bit of it was green. In fact, the only green about her was her hair. She slipped on a pair of fingerless calfskin gloves and put the car in gear.

  “My hair’s not dyed,” I said.

  She flipped her hand through her hair. “Do you like it? I have it on good authority it was Alvud Kruge’s favorite shade.”

  “It’s perfect. For you.” I smiled to keep it amusing.

  She zipped around the block and coasted over the Old Northern Avenue bridge. “We’ve got a tail. Want me to lose them?”

  I peered up through the structural beams of the bridge. Two security agents followed. “Nah. They’d be stupid not to know where we’re going. Can we make a pit stop?”

  “Sure, I’ll keep the meter running,” she said.

  “I need to go to Avalon Memorial.”

  She looked askance at me. “Anything wrong?”

  “No. Ju
st need to visit a sick friend,” I said.

  Rather than deal with the street restrictions in place downtown, Meryl scooted up on the highway to loop around to Storrow Drive along the river. “You know you have troll essence all over you?”

  I nodded. “It’s a residual effect from Moke pulling me through stone. He said it has to clear through my system. Look at this.” I held up my left hand, letting the light pick up a tracery of faint patterns across the back. “That’s stone. I keep picking up ambient dust, and it bonds with my skin.”

  Meryl glanced back and forth from the road to my hand. “Does it hurt?”

  I shook my head. “No. It uses my body as an anchor, pulling stuff to me like a body shield. Can’t even feel it unless I focus on it. Now watch this.” I mentally visualized the essence coursing over my body, sensed the difference between my own essence and the ambient troll essence, felt for the bonded stone, and pushed. It separated from my skin and slid off my hand like fine dust.

  “You’re getting my car dirty,” Meryl said.

  I wiped my hand on my pants. “Sorry.”

  She pulled up in front of Avalon Memorial. Guild security guards hovered in the air, with more brownie security on the street. They must have recognized Meryl because they let her park without a word.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” I said.

  “Don’t be. I only have one CD in the car,” she said.

  I found macGoren lying on his side in his room surrounding by ward stone amplifiers. Two bowls of infusions sat at the end of the bed. My nose twitched on the betony and a hint of basil. MacGoren’s left wing fluttered with a rippled texture and a few jagged holes. Danann wings didn’t have the physical property of skin. They didn’t have true nerves for that matter, so pain registered very differently. Regardless, the damage looked painful. The ward stones generated a field that amplified macGoren’s own essence as well as the simply pure air essence that Danann fairies had a natural affinity to. The herbals soothed the spirit with a protective spell working against infection.