Black City Dragon

by Richard A. Knaak

  I had a funny feeling I knew where this was going. “Who was he?”

  “I don’t . . . I really can’t remember him saying his name. I think . . . he was tall . . . seemed like he’d been a soldier or something.”

  “A Nubian?” I finally blurted.

  “Nubian? Oh! Yes . . . yes . . . he was dark-skinned, now that you mention it.”

  I didn’t believe in coincidence.

  But I did believe in a meddling archangel.

  “That’s it, then.” I stared past her at Chicago. “We’ve got to go find that damned Michael.”

  CHAPTER 23

  I wasn’t sure exactly where to start. I knew where to find a lot things I’d put on the other end of the scale, but finding Michael in Chicago at first glance looked more than monumental.

  Then it occurred to me that I was taking the hard approach to this. I’d never searched for Michael before. I’d just always come across him.

  So we climbed into the Wills St. Claire and drove. I considered what direction to go. Keeping near the lake made the most sense but also offered more threat. I decided to head to South Michigan Avenue toward the Art Institute, one of the places I’d come across Michael in the past. Then, he’d posed as an old shoeshine man.

  Claryce rested next to me while Fetch kept moving back and forth between the two passenger windows. He seemed to have recovered faster than her. Too fast, in fact. The back and forth got to be distracting pretty damned quickly. I could feel and hear each step.

  “Fetch! Sit!” I winced at what I’d just said, but he had been acting more like the hound he so resembled. I was still convinced that on occasion he forgot what exactly he was.

  He froze. Just as I started to relax, he shouted, “Master Nicholas! It’s that big six who stopped by Mistress Claryce’s! That bimbo from the war!”

  I continued to try to translate Fetch’s latest slang even as I glanced where he was looking. Then it all made sense. The burly figure leaning forward as he walked down the street was none other than Tony “Quiet” Ford.

  I immediately pulled the Wills over to the curb on the opposite side of the street. Jumping out, I ordered the others to stay inside.

  Crossing the street, I headed after the figure. He kept a steady pace and with a stride longer than mine forced me to go much farther from the car than I’d planned.

  I finally caught up to him as he turned a corner. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I muttered, “Slow down, Quiet. We need to talk.”

  He stopped and turned to me . . . only he wasn’t Quiet.

  “Always glad to talk, if I’ve got the time. There’s not much time left these days.”

  “Damn you, Michael! I’m tired of your stunts!”

  “Weariness is an all too common thing these days,” he replied quietly. “I’m pretty tired myself.”

  “Spare me that. You aren’t the one carrying around the means to turn the world upside down.”

  “I’ve done my share of that. The Clothos Deck is only one way of disrupting the order of things. Sometimes, it just takes a hesitation. I know.”

  I poked him in the chest. “I’m not going to get caught up in your endless vagaries. I need to deal with Galerius, but I can’t carry the card on me. If he gets his hands on it—”

  Michael raised a hand to silence me. “Say no more. I can do that. I can see that the card goes where it belongs. Will that do?”

  I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. “You’ll take it from me?”

  “You’ll not have to concern yourself with its burden. I promise you.”

  I slipped the card free, then handed it to him. He studied it briefly before putting it into a coat pocket.

  “Wait a minute,” I growled. “You know that’s not actually your pocket.”

  “It is while I’m here,” he replied, adding a brief sad grin. Then, more soberly, “I’ve got to return to the sidelines, Nick. I’ve overstepped too often. I only got to do what I did to make up for the terrible mistake I made so long ago.”

  “Yeah? What mistake? Something to do with me?”

  He met my gaze. “You know it was.”

  “I may know it was, but I don’t know what it was! I thought you were going to be straightforward from now on.”

  “This is straightforward. As much as I’m permitted.” He sighed. “All right. This will really get me in trouble. You weren’t supposed to become the Gatekeeper, Nick. That was meant for another.”

  I admit I shivered. I could even sense the dragon’s tremendous confusion. “But I won. I survived.”

  “Yes. You weren’t supposed to do that either.”

  I couldn’t help myself. A fury swept over me. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. “Then, what was I supposed to do? Lose?” I quickly thought that through. “Die?”

  He didn’t answer. I shook him hard.

  Only, I wasn’t shaking Michael anymore. I was shaking Quiet. He looked none too pleased, either.

  He brought a hammer blow Jack Dempsey would’ve approved of to my gut. Resilient as I was, it still made me double over.

  Fists still ready, Quiet backed a couple of steps away from me. Recovering, I put out a hand out to signal a pause.

  “Hold on,” I muttered. “I just took you for someone else!”

  He hesitated. “Some other mug?”

  “Definitely. We’ve actually been looking for you,” I lied. “First. Did anyone slip something into that pocket at any point today?”

  He glanced at the pocket in question, the one where Michael had put the card. One eye still on me, he checked the pocket.

  “It’s empty,” he replied.

  I exhaled a sigh of relief. Michael had kept true to his word on that, at least. I’d get after him about the rest of our conversation after I figured out what to do about Galerius. “Good. They didn’t get a chance. You were going to be set up. Some stolen jewelry. All to get you out of the way.”

  He didn’t look like he entirely believed me, but he finally nodded. In a town as corrupt as Chicago, the excuse sounded plausible enough.

  “Why?” Quiet reasonably asked.

  “We’re all getting close to something. What have you found out lately that would have them following you like this?”

  He mulled that over. I hoped for a reason that would have me searching for an archangel and instead finding a surly vet. “Lots of funny construction work. Spots all over the city. Maybe nothing . . . but I got two mouths who say the supplies came in on the Frank O’Connor.”

  A burnt, sunken ship apparently doing runs. Yeah. That was a good enough reason. “They swore to this?”

  He shrugged. “They got encouraged a little.”

  I’d felt his punch. I could see that encouragement loosening mouths. “Where were you heading?”

  Another shrug. “Find a place to sleep. They said it wouldn’t show up again until tomorrow midnight. Wanted to be ready.”

  “It all doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

  “Seen crazier.”

  I believed him. I believed everything he’d told me. “I’ve got a place for you to sleep. Tomorrow night, we’ll both go see about this sunken ship that isn’t.”

  He glared at me. “You left me with my tires ruined.”

  “Never mind that. Listen. There’s something in the water, all right, and you won’t be able to handle it on your own. I know why you want to see if the Frank O’Connor is actually sailing again. You want to find out if your brother is alive and on board. If the ship can rise from the dead, why not him, after all? Well, you’ll have your best chance with me.”

  Quiet rubbed his chin in thought. “She going to be part of this? If she gives the okay, I’m game.”

  “You mean Claryce? Quiet, I—”

  “I trust her.”

  I nodded. “All right. I’ll take you to her.”

  We headed back to the Wills. Quiet slid in the back beside Fetch, who eyed him suspiciously.

  “He’s got some info you wouldn’t belie
ve,” I told her. “Go ahead, Quiet. Tell her.”

  He did, adding, “Both a couple of bents, but I’m no bumpkin. I can tell what’s real and what’s not.”

  “I’m sure you can,” Claryce responded.

  “He needs a place to sleep,” I added. “The safe house is closer. I can drop him off there and then bring you back to your apartment. It should be safe with the Triple Man gone.”

  She gave me that look. “Oh, you’re mistaken, Nick. I’m in this to the end. You know why. I owe him several times over. I owe Galerius as much as you.”

  Quiet picked up on the name. “‘Galerius’? Some dago?”

  I remembered Galerius as emperor. “Not what he’d like to be called. He’s more likely to link up with the North Side.”

  He grunted. “Funny you should mention them. Now I think of it, I also picked up that Hymie the Pole was out looking for someone that reminded me of you. Think you had a run in with a buddy of his.”

  “Buddy.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard Oberon described like that. It looked like Weiss was taking William Delke’s disappearance harder than Moran or Drucci. I wasn’t so concerned about me, but I knew if Weiss eventually found out who I was, he’d also find out about Claryce.

  Unfortunately, that was a problem I had to leave for now. “All right. We all camp at the safe house. Tomorrow night, we make use of Michael’s boat.”

  I received no arguments to the contrary. Pity.

  Claryce got the bedroom, as usual. I tried not to think about the last time that’d been the case. Quiet settled himself into a chair once he and Fetch had raided the Kelvinator. Claryce had made what she called “proper coffee” and brought a cup for both of us before retiring. I found it a little watery for my tastes, but he seemed to like it just fine.

  A look Claryce gave me was apparently a signal to offer him the couch. When I didn’t pick up on it, she made the suggestion herself.

  “I’m good here,” Quiet answered . . . and evidently he was, because as soon as he’d finished his coffee, he was out.

  Claryce left after giving me a brief kiss and Fetch a scratch on the head. Again acting too damned doglike, he turned in a circle on the rug in front of the couch, then settled down to sleep.

  I stretched on the couch and immediately fell asleep. I wish I could say I didn’t dream, but I always dream. Over the past couple of days, I’d been able push the dreams to the back of my mind, but now they came full blown again.

  There I was, once more charging across the landscape with my spear poised and ready to take on the dragon. This time, I didn’t have a horse, but rather a massive, snarling wolf several times the size of a normal one. I kept my head down as we raced toward our foe.

  A fog rose in front of us. It swirled about and took on the outline of a massive, winged creature. The dragon formed, but instead of huge limbs ending in claws, he had hundreds of tentacles. The tentacles darted toward me and, as they did, their tips became swords.

  I immediately began fending off the sharp blades. My mount bit in two any that got near his jaws.

  “Mind the shivs!” he roared between bites.

  The dragon laughed. More tentacles formed. This time, several held victims. I saw Cortez and his Maria, their son and several faceless children I assumed were also theirs. There was Barnaby and Joseph, the latter smiling innocently. The others included Laertes—who seemed offended to be there—and Louise Crying Wolf.

  And, of course, there was Claryce. But not just Claryce. Wrapped in another appendage was Clarissa and next to her Claudette. Beyond them was Cleolinda herself, followed by more than a score of very similar faces . . . every incarnation I knew of and more.

  “You’re the wrong one to save them!” the dragon mocked in a voice strikingly akin to Galerius’s. “You’re just here to die!”

  The dragon roared, then lunged—

  “Nick! Wake up!”

  I shook. I was once more on the couch. My hands were still shaped for wielding the spear.

  Across from me, Quiet silently watched as Claryce offered me a coffee. “Your favorite tar,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted. “Perfect for burning away dreams.”

  “Thanks.” Sitting up, I took a deep swallow and savored the searing heat and thick taste.

  As I set the cup down, I saw we were well into the day. “How long did I sleep?”

  “It’s past four in the afternoon.”

  I frowned. I generally slept very little, even going days at a time. Lately, though, that’d been harder to do.

  Eye did try to wake you . . . do you think Eye care for those dreams any more than you?

  “There’s food when you want it. Eggs and bacon, a repeat of the meals you slept through. Not much left in the Kelvinator or the cabinets except that and canned beans.”

  My stomach rumbled. “That sounds fine with me. Thanks for making it again.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Quiet. He knows a trick or two with eggs and seasoning.”

  “Picked it up in France,” he responded.

  “Sorry your previous efforts went to waste.”

  Claryce laughed. “With Fetch around?”

  I looked at Fetch. He had a satisfied look in his eyes.

  Claryce brought the food. Digging into it, I saw that Quiet had learned some good lessons in France. I nodded my approval, which earned a nod in turn.

  Claryce leaned on the couch. “I wanted to wait until you were awake. Is it safe to use the telephone downstairs? Will it even work?”

  “For us, it will. What do you want it for?”

  “Just tying up some loose ends. I won’t be long.”

  As she left us, Quiet watched her go. He must’ve sensed me watching him in turn, because he suddenly met my gaze with a steady one of his own.

  “Don’t mean anything. Sorry if it looked like it.”

  “I appreciate that. I also know that if you get on her wrong side, I won’t be your worst problem. She will be.”

  He digested that comment, then nodded. “I don’t doubt that.”

  Deciding to change the subject, I asked, “Do you remember much about Mike?”

  Quiet shut his eyes for a moment, then, “Just that he was really good to me. Pulled me out of the line of fire more than once. Been a few years. All starting to fade.”

  That sounded like Michael. “Did he know about your brother?”

  “Sometimes it seemed like it. They never met.” Quiet pulled out a scarred pocket watch and checked the time.

  “Old piece.”

  “Civil War. Grandpa’s. Gave it to me for luck. Said I needed more luck than most. Guess he was right.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t on the Frank O’Connor, though.”

  Something occurred to me. “You’re hoping he’s on the ship. Your brother . . .”

  “If the Frank O’Connor can come back, why not?”

  “Think what you’re saying.”

  He stared at me. “I am.”

  Claryce returned. “When do we get started?”

  Rising, I replied, “Actually, after I make a couple of calls.”

  I headed down to the old millinery. I’d never mentioned it to Claryce, but I’d been familiar with the place when it’d opened up after the Great Fire. The owner had known Clarissa well, and the two of them had once spoken of running such a business. That made me think of Claryce’s own future, assuming she had one with me around. She would have to return to some semblance of normal life soon. I didn’t dare let my existence consume hers.

  Pushing back such thoughts for the time being, I called Barnaby and filled him in. Despite my hopes, he’d learned nothing new. I cut the first call off soon after and made the second.

  I was fortunate. He answered instead of her. “Cortez. I might have something for you.”

  “Yeah? Not a ghost, I assume. So, what have you ‘stumbled’ into this time?”

  “There may be a big hooch run from Canada arriving by ship late tonight. They’ve falsified the ship name, though. Going under
the paperwork for the Frank O’Connor.”

  “I know that name. Why do I know that name, Nick Medea?” After I quickly reminded him of the real ship’s fate, the detective chuckled. “Guess you’re ghost hunting after all!”

  “Listen. I’ve got the time. Just after midnight. The place is still a question mark. You’ll need to standby. Is that possible?”

  “This the real deal, Bo?”

  “The real deal.”

  The line was silent for nearly a minute. Then, “Well, it’ll probably ruin the wonderful standing I have with City Hall, but I’ll see things are ready. You won’t let me down?”

  “No, but be prepared. There could be more than a dozen.”

  “We’ll find them some nice cots in jail. I promise. Or maybe in the morgue if they decide to be nasty.”

  “Yeah, okay. Just be careful. I don’t want to have to answer to Maria.”

  “You and me both, Bo. You and me both. Don’t think getting bumped off would save me from her wrath!”

  We left the conversation at that. I hung up . . . and immediately sensed that something was not right. I wasn’t alone.

  I didn’t even bother to ask for the dragon’s vision. “Come out, Lon.”

  The Feir’hr Sein formed out of the deepest shadows. I paid special attention to his hands. It wouldn’t take him more than the blink of any eye to shape his scythe.

  He left his long, bony hands where I could see them, a clear sign that he’d come here with a purpose other than battle. I had feeling I wouldn’t like that purpose any better.

  Gatekeepers . . .

  “What does she want, Lon? I don’t have time for her games.”

  He scowled. The darkness that was part of him spread wide. As it did, he faded within the darkness . . . and a shadowy path opened up.

  I’d seen this trick before and never cared for it. The Feir’hr Sein was acting as a conduit of sorts between here and Feirie. It wasn’t a true path to the other side of the Gate, but it was a damned good imitation. I could smell the forest and see the mighty trees. I knew that if I stepped inside, it’d feel exactly as if I was actually there.