Unfallen Dead cg-3

by Mark Del Franco

  Meryl leaned over a nearby case and reached her hand behind it. “Fifth century. You do know your weapons.”

  “Why is it pointed at my head?”

  She wedged her whole arm behind the case. “It seeks living essence. It’s like Thor’s hammer, only I think it works with anyone.”

  “Thor’s hammer,” I said, dubious.

  She waved her hand behind her. “Next aisle over.”

  I peered through a shelf to the next aisle, trying to decide if I was being played. I never knew with Meryl. Ever since we became friends-real friends, I think-she had shown me things in the Guild’s storerooms I had no idea existed. When I worked at the Guild, I could have come down here anytime I wanted, but back then I didn’t have a clue about what was there. Now I saw only what Meryl let me. She loved her job and was fiercely protective of her charges. “You have Thor’s hammer?”

  She giggled. “No, silly. I do have a sawed-off sledgehammer someone used in a robbery a couple of decades ago. Still has the robber’s essence on it.”

  I examined the malachite orb. The essence charge produced a static spell holding me in place, one like the brownie tried to throw at me, only this one worked. “What exactly are you doing?”

  Meryl tried to wedge her head into the gap between two cabinets to see behind them. “Since the dagger seeks living essence, I had it stabilized with the aspidistra.” In the wreck of the odd scene, I hadn’t noticed the forlorn plant on the display case. “I used that orb as a ward stone to anchor the plant so no one would move it. Then I put an amplifier ward on the plant because its essence is so weak. I think one of the rats knocked the amplifier behind this case. It looks like the damned dagger has been trying to stab its way out of here for weeks. It almost stabbed me when I came in.”

  “And it’s not stabbing me because…?” I asked.

  “Because I modified the orb you’re holding to create a buffer. It wasn’t a problem with the plant.”

  She threw off her center of balance so that her feet barely touched the floor. Since she couldn’t see me, I made no effort to hide my enjoyment of the view. Meryl may be short, but she’s got great legs. She’d probably use them to break my neck if I ever mentioned that out loud. She slid back off the case with a frown. “I can’t feel it back there, and this case is too loaded with crap to move. I’m going to get another one.”

  I looked up. “Why do I get to stay with a crazy dagger?”

  She stepped around me. “Because you’re spell-stuck until I release it. I won’t be long. Maybe.”

  I glanced around the room. Essence swirled around me in various intensities. The room had a lot of metal in it, the essence warping around it. Meryl apparently stored more than one weapon here. I felt sparks of what people called True essence, the residual signature of something pre-Convergence, direct from Faerie. True essence was rare. And Powerful.

  Something rustled. I crouched to see if Meryl’s erstwhile helper, Muffin the Rat, had arrived. An odd sigh sounded, and I bolted upright into abrupt silence. A slight vibration trembled in the air, as though something passed overhead. A glance upward showed nothing but shadowed shelves and dark ceiling corners.

  “Hello?” No answer. A soft hiss, like the sound of air escaping, tickled on the threshold of my hearing. The thought of snakes flickered in my mind, but the room didn’t seem to be holding anything to attract them. Unless poor Muffin wasn’t as agile as Meryl thought he was. The hiss became louder. I startled at a flurry of unintelligible voices.

  “What the hell…” I muttered. I tried to release the orb, but it wouldn’t leave my hand. Now I knew what Meryl meant about being stuck. The voices trailed away. The sound of metal sliding on metal pricked my ear. I knew that sound. It’s the distinct sound a sword makes when it’s pulled from a scabbard. I heard the slight crunch of a footfall on grit.

  I opened my sensing abilities and regretted it immediately. The heightened state of my ability picked out every mote of essence in the room. Colors raced in a rainbow of shades, so many overlapping that a touch of nausea hit me as they spun, colliding and separating. I couldn’t sort out a damned thing, but I had sensations of movement, people walking the aisles toward me.

  Despite the weapons in the room, none was close enough for me to grab. I considered the dagger, but I didn’t know the full extent of its properties. It might have conditions I wouldn’t like. My skin prickled as cool air wafted over me with a ragged sigh.

  A voice yelled behind me. “What are you doing in here?”

  The ceiling lights brightened, and my body shields slammed on as I twisted toward the door. The security-guard brownie from the elevator had his hand on the light switch, his eyes bulging in their sockets. Even the calmest brownies turned into a boggarts when prevented from performing their responsibilities. They became maniacal and didn’t stop until they completed what they set out to do. This guy was managing to keep himself from going over.

  I gave him a sheepish smile. “Hi… um… Meryl Dian asked me to help with something.”

  Since even my meager shields dampened my essence, the dagger swung toward the brownie’s stronger essence. He stepped closer, one eye whirling up at the dagger as the other stared at me. “I don’t believe you. What do you have there?”

  I held up the orb. “This? It’s a ward stone.”

  He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

  I looked down at the stone and back at the brownie. Restraining a smirk, I held it out. “Okay.”

  His fingers wrapped around the orb, and the stationary spell slipped off me. I stepped away before he realized he couldn’t move his feet. He twisted to face me, his eyes bulging fully. His cheekbones hollowed out, and his body began to elongate. “Get back here!”

  “I’m sorry. I have to find Meryl.” I closed the door against a shriek of frustration.

  Meryl wasn’t in her office, so I continued to the next open door. The room inside was well lit and meticulously organized, with shelves holding ward stones of different sizes, herbal jars with tidy labeling, and a wide variety of working tools, both fey and mundane. “I can’t believe how neat your workroom is.”

  Meryl rummaged through a box on a table. “Yeah, I keep it pretty organized. I thought I had another amplifier stone ready, but I can’t find it.” She placed another box on the table. Flipping it open, she removed several finished bricks of quartz. They were high-end-quality ward stones that could be infused with essence to work or maintain spells. The ones from the box were new, so they had no charge on them.

  “Do you ever hear voices in the storerooms?” I asked.

  She examined one of the stones and fingered a chip in the veining. “Just the temp on his cell phone when he should be filing.”

  “No, really.”

  “Yeah, really. Bob spends more time trying to get a signal down here than he does filing.” Meryl stopped shuffling things on the table. “Wait a sec, how did you get out of the storeroom?”

  I shrugged. “I came up with a temporary solution.”

  She gave a sigh that fluttered her bangs. Meryl changed her hair color like other people changed their clothes. This week, the bangs were a rich brown. The rest was pumpkin orange, in honor of Samhain, knowing Meryl. Halloween might have replaced the emphasis of the old harvest ritual, but it kept the color right. “Thanks. I’ve wasted too much time on this already, and I’m so backlogged.”

  She pushed the box aside and came around the table. As she passed me, I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head. She didn’t move. Didn’t tense, exactly, but didn’t do anything comfortable like lean back into me or rip off my clothes in mad passion. She cocked her head to the side, fortunately with a smile, but still didn’t say anything. Feeling awkward, I released her and followed her to her office. I dropped in the guest chair while she scooted behind the desk.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  She read something on her computer that made her frown. “Yeah, just busy. You must have
heard about the hearing.”

  “Briallen told me.” Her frowned deepened a bit as she continued reading. “Something going on, Meryl?”

  She clicked her mouse and shook her head. “No. Briallen and I are having a disagreement about something, that’s all.”

  “What about?” She raised an eyebrow that made me shift in my seat. “Fine. Don’t say.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “How’d you get in this time?”

  The various ways I gained official access to the Guildhouse amused Meryl. “The hearing. I’m scheduled to testify.”

  She dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Not amused. “I did yesterday. They want me back tomorrow.”

  “It didn’t go well, I take it.”

  She rocked her head back and forth. “Ceridwen’s a pompous bitch. She said she didn’t like my attitude.”

  I compressed my lips. Meryl didn’t take criticism well. Since she was already annoyed, I figured I might as well say what I had been wanting to say for the last couple of weeks. “You’re hardly known as Miss Congeniality around here.”

  She scowled. “It’s a job, not a beauty pageant.”

  “So quit.”

  She sighed again. “I would, but I like the job. I stupidly keep thinking one of these days this place will recognize me for what I do and not be so damned political. The last thing I want to hear right now is that I’m cranky to work with.”

  I picked up a paper clip and tossed it at her. “You have been cranky lately.”

  She tilted her head forward, a healthy anger storm building in her eyes. “Lately? You mean lately, like since I was possessed by a drys and let it die and thought I watched you die and then thought I was going to die? That kind of lately? Or are we just talking this week?”

  I felt a flush of heat. Between her words and the exhaustion in her voice, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing bothered Meryl. Actually, everything bothered Meryl, but nothing usually penetrated. We made sarcastic jokes about Forest Hills. I didn’t realize what lurked behind the jokes. “Meryl, I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about work. I wasn’t considering what you went through.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t remember it, Grey. It sucked. Now I have Briallen bitching at me, and Ceridwen prying into stuff that’s none of her business.”

  A drys was a tree spirit, one druids held sacred, assuming their philosophy went in the way of worship. I wasn’t so sure it was a demigoddess, but it was powerful and humbling. I did remember Meryl’s being possessed by the drys. She looked amazing. She looked powerful. And scary. Then a cloud descended over my memory. I don’t know what happened after that until I woke up with my face in the dirt. “I don’t believe you let the drys die. Whatever happened, happened because it needed to.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t remember it.”

  I leaned forward. “I don’t need to. You would never have done anything that drastic if it could have been avoided. You did what needed to be done. I believe that.”

  The corner of her mouth dimpled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.”

  I smiled. “I didn’t say it to be nice. What can I do to help?”

  Again with the up-and-down shoulders. “Nothing. I’ll figure out something. It’s just crap that needs to be ridden out.” She gave herself an exaggerated shake. “Okay. Pissy fit over. You look like you haven’t slept.”

  “The dream. It’s happening more than once a night,” I said. The same dream had plagued me for more than a week. A stone fell through the sky, fell and fell, until it plunged into a dark pool of water. The impact made ripples that grew into waves. The air filled with mist and a sound like thunder. The images became confused, without any clarity, things moving and rushing and calling. The mist vanished, and two figures appeared in the distance, one all black and the other all red. They struggled, then there was a white flash and I woke up with the sound of screaming echoing in my head.

  “I still think it’s a simple cause-and-effect metaphor. Something happens and causes something else. Your metaphors tend to be pretty simple.” Meryl was a Dreamer. She had visions in her sleep that told her things, sometimes things about people, sometimes things about the future. The visions tended to be littered with metaphors that mean something only to the people who have the dreams. Meryl was one of the few people who could consistently interpret her dreams. Mine started after my accident, but I never understood them until too late.

  “What about the figures?”

  She twisted her lips in thought. “Two many possibilities. You’ll have to Dream more to understand if they’re your generic symbology or a distinct message. They could be two sides of an argument or two real people or a past memory or a future struggle or…”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. I have to figure out my own personal metaphors. At least I’m not seeing dead bodies this time,” I said.

  Meryl looked skeptical. “As far as you know. There is screaming involved.”

  I slumped in my seat. “You always have a way of looking at the bright side.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t help that. It’s my sunny nature. What are you going to say at the hearing?”

  I pursed my lips. “Pretty much what I know. I think the part they’ll be most interested in is the part that I don’t remember.”

  Meryl leaned back again. “Lots of politics in that room. Briallen and Nigel Martin have a battle of wills going.”

  Before she became my friend, Briallen was my first mentor on the druidic path. Nigel took over after her. I used to think he and I were friends. Now I’m not so sure. “Briallen and Nigel have been bickering as long as I can remember.”

  Meryl grinned. “Pretty much everyone is angry with him except, ironically, Eorla Kruge.”

  “Eorla Kruge’s at the hearing?”

  Meryl’s eyes gleamed with mischievous pleasure. “You didn’t know? She got the Guild Director position. It’s driving Ceridwen nuts. Eorla refuses to testify or recuse herself from the hearings.”

  That didn’t surprise me. Nigel made some kind of deal with Eorla in exchange for her help at Forest Hills. When Eorla’s husband was murdered, she became the most powerful elf in Boston. Even though she was a high-ranking member of the Teutonic Consortium, her politics were nuanced enough to let me like her. She had the deft ability to anger her elven comrades as often as their fairy opponents and still get what she wanted. I respected that.

  I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of hearings, I have to go.”

  Meryl rocked out of her chair. “I’ll walk with you. I need to go upstairs and get some supplies before anyone finds out the budget is being cut.”

  Out in the corridor, I slipped my hand onto Meryl’s back and gave it a soothing rub. She didn’t pull away. The elevator arrived empty, and she hit the button for the next subbasement up. I hit 23. “How do you always know so much about what goes on around here?”

  She eyed me meaningfully. “Because the people upstairs always treat their assistants like crap, and they tell me stuff while they’re waiting for research.”

  Once upon a time, I was one of those people upstairs. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  The door opened, and Meryl stepped out. “Not yet.”

  That was when I had my oh-shit moment. “Meryl?” She turned with a smile. “I forgot to mention-I left an angry boggart in your storeroom.”

  She swept her hands up under her bangs, as anger flooded her face. “I am going to kill you.”

  The door started closing as she stepped toward me. There was no way I was going to stop it. “Sorry! I owe you one!”

  Her sending slammed into my mind. Oh, you will owe me more than one. Trust me.

  CHAPTER 5

  The twenty-third floor of the Guildhouse existed in two different towers connected by a sky bridge. One tower held meeting rooms and the main elevator shaft, the other a few private temporary offices with a separate elevator for executives to whisk in and out
. When the main elevator opened on the public side, Guild security agents blocked my way. With a queen of Faerie in town, they went for the full security package-Danann fairies in black uniform, chrome helmets, and take-no-crap attitude. I didn’t pretend to be oblivious to the process. I flashed my badge and the subpoena without waiting to be asked.

  An unusual array of the fey worked the hallway outside the conference rooms. Danann fairies and the lesser clans clustered in groups well away from elves and dwarves. True to their name, solitary fey kept to themselves. Neither the Celts nor the Teuts controlled or cared about them, the outcasts of the fey world. Fey on all sides sported visible injuries from the aborted battle at Forest Hills a few weeks earlier. Every time an elevator opened, all eyes shifted to the newest arrival, seeking a potential ally or noting a potential foe.

  I had no time to suss out how the proceedings were going. Within minutes of my arrival, a brownie security guard escorted me to a table outside the door of the hearing room. “Weapons must be left here,” he said.

  Without my abilities, physical weapons were my only defense. I understood the protocol. Security was security. I pulled a dagger from each boot and placed them on the table. One was a simple steel throwing knife I had owned for years. The other was a druidic blade, laced with charms and spells, that Briallen gave me last spring. “I suggest no one touches these,” I said.

  The brownie wasn’t particularly impressed with the suggestion. Everybody probably told him the same thing. He announced my name and escorted me into the hearing room.

  A hearing at the Fey Guild didn’t resemble a U.S. court-room proceeding. The room typically had seats in the back for spectators, a lone chair in the middle for whoever was being questioned, and a raised dais in the front for hearing officials. If the person questioned had an advocate, the advocate stood. Fey folk seeking help subjected themselves to the will and word of High Queen Maeve at Tara. Maeve’s law could be cold and nasty. Sometimes that was good. When it wasn’t, it wasn’t good at all.