Undone Deeds

by Del Franco, Mark

  Uno was a dog, of sorts, a big black dog whose eyes glowed red in the dark. He was the Cu Sith, the hunter of souls, demon dog of TirNaNog. After he died, Robin sent the dog to protect Shay, but Uno spent an uncomfortable amount of time watching me. In history and legends, the Cu Sith was a harbinger of death. For Shay and me, he was an overgrown puppy that drooled a lot and occasionally protected us from getting killed. At least the drool vanished on its own by the next day.

  “I need to get Meryl to take a look at this. I keep hearing no one can scry, but I’m getting a scrying buzz off it,” I said.

  Shay turned his attention to me with the same appraising eye he had trained on the painting. “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously. Are you all right? Your eyes look funny.”

  “It happened at the Guildhouse,” I said. My irises were crystallized like stained glass. With the faith stone emanating its energies in my head, I had the look of an Old One out of Faerie. It made me feel ancient.

  Shay licked his lips and turned away. “I knew some people who died. Not a lot.”

  “One’s enough, isn’t it?” I asked.

  He played with the sequins on his sleeve. Shay wasn’t one to dwell on sadness or misery. “Well, you could use some sun anyway.”

  I walked him to the door. “Will do. You keeping out of trouble?”

  He slipped a strand of hair around his ear and smiled. “Actually, yes. My life is quite boring at the moment. I could use a little excitement,” he said.

  The essence barrier faded open to reveal a bustling alley camp outside. “Well, please don’t find it here. I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

  He paused at the door. “If you keep leaving important stuff at my apartment”—he leaned in and tapped his finger on my lips for the next words—“people will talk.”

  I tweaked him on the nose. Shay had flirted with me since the moment we met. It flattered and amused me, but it was all good-natured. “Get going. Don’t stop until you’re well into the Weird. I don’t want to hear that you caused a riot.”

  He laughed and walked into the alley. Uno faded into view, his dark form slipping in behind Shay. People pulled away, uncertain. Not everyone could see Uno, but they could feel him. It wasn’t a good feeling. Shay and I didn’t have the same reaction to him as everyone else. It always made me worry. About the both of us.

  12

  After Shay left, I had the painting brought up to Ceridwen’s rooms. I didn’t know what to make of it, but leaving it around unattended was not an option. Ceridwen was subdued as she stared at the whirling essence but didn’t say why. She agreed to put dampening wards on the canvas so that whatever scrying was operating wouldn’t split my head open with pain.

  Afterward, I decided to pretend my life was normal. The Tangle was living in a stew of essence. People who remembered claimed the atmosphere reminded them of Faerie, but with urban buildings and no positive relief. After weeks in the neighborhood, I understood what they meant. Essence saturated everything in the World but intensified in the Tangle. Part of that was the high concentration of fey, but it also was what those fey did.

  Essence in the Tangle was activated in all its forms—spells, wards, incantations, shields, glamours, barriers. To my mind, the difference between the Tangle and Faerie was in kind. The Tangle was about warped uses of defense and offense, of catering to baser impulses and exploiting the weak or unsuspecting. I didn’t doubt that Faerie had all those things, but they wouldn’t define it so narrowly. It had been a place where people lived, good people and bad, but not a place that was inherently exhausting. Wearing a body shield all day in the Tangle was not unusual. Wearing one in Faerie to plow a field was probably unnecessary.

  As a here-born, someone who had never lived in Faerie, I had the added difference of being attuned to the modern world. I had lived in places where essence was ambient, not a regular tool for the locals. I had friends who were not fey, who didn’t resonate with body signatures after standing in the sun too long. I noticed the difference between life in the city and life in the Weird. I liked the relief of the city sometimes.

  I went for a nice long run in a stocking cap and sunglasses in the cool evening air, unnoticed and unrecognized. For a half hour, I was a guy in running shoes, not a suspected murderer. I did my favorite route down the waterside of the Weird, hopping over gaps between docks and balancing up and down old planking. I left the Weird and made for the loop down at Castle Island, feeling the harbor wind on my face.

  During the day, Castle Island was a favorite public park for nearby Southie. It was devoid of people at night, not a safe place for anyone. It wasn’t crime-ridden, per se, but sometimes an opportunistic mugger took advantage of the abandonment.

  I slowed as I approached the parking lot. The land sloped up to an old fort from the 1800s, when the park was an actual island not connected to the mainland by fill.

  A thin haze floated over the fort like a mist, not unusual since it was on the harbor, but the mist seemed only above the fort. My sensing ability picked up ambient essence stronger than usual, too.

  Castle Island was where things first fell apart last year, where Shay and Keeva had almost died, and Murdock’s family history started to crack open. A madman under Vize’s control had almost destroyed a dimensional barrier and released a race of beings called Fomorians, or what might politely be called monsters. The impact of those events lingered—much as nasty things lingered in the Weird and the Tangle—and took a long time to fade.

  I jogged in place, searching the air. Other than the mist, nothing seemed wrong. I shrugged off the feeling as paranoia. A bunch of fairies could have been doing aerials up there before I arrived. They liked playing around in the conflicting air currents.

  I circled around the parking lot and back up the access road. Before turning for the Weird, I made a detour into the edge of Southie. The Tangle wasn’t known for its coffee shops, and a place around the corner made some excellent mud.

  I came around the corner and almost barreled into Murdock and Janey Likesmith. Janey held a coffee-to-go cup away from her, checking to see if any had spilled on her while Murdock stared at the half of scone on the sidewalk that I had knocked out of his hand. “Can I expense that?” I asked.

  “Please tell me you’re not being chased by a marauding horde of something,” Murdock said.

  I stretched my hamstrings against the side of the building. “Nah. Went for a run. What’s up? You guys get a call over here?”

  Awkward looks flashed between them, then Janey sipped her coffee. Murdock picked up the fallen scone and tossed it in a bin. “No. We…. uh…. met for coffee.”

  I pulled my foot up behind me to finish the stretch. “Oh, are you going over the elf case?”

  Janey started laughing and threw Murdock a wide-eyed expression. “Yeah, that’s it. Tell him about the case, Leo.”

  Murdock blushed, and I finally got it. Janey and Murdock, together, having a coffee in a part of the neighborhood neither of them lived. Murdock was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Janey was wearing a long casual dress with a sweater over her shoulders. In other words, neither of them was working, and I was an idiot for not seeing it. “Oh…. um…. oh,” I said.

  Murdock focused on wiping crumbs off his hands. “Yeah, um, Janey says there’s something up with that arrow.”

  “Did you get a signature off it?” I asked. I cringed at the overly polite tone in my voice, like I had just met them.

  Janey kept the wide smile on her face. “Several actually, mostly residual, but the odd part was that it wasn’t elf-shot. The charge sent through the arrow had some kind of solitary essence on it. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

  Murdock smiled uncomfortably. “Yep. That’s what the report said.”

  “The one I wrote. Right? Was there something about coffee in there?” asked Jane, then laughed.

  “I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

  “Did you get that ID I
sent?” I asked.

  Janey tilted her head, waiting for Murdock to respond. He slipped his hands in his pockets. “It’s unofficial, but I was able to confirm that Alfren was working for the Guild. Mostly, he passed information about the Tangle and movements of Eorla’s people.”

  “Has the Guild taken over the case?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “He’s still in the morgue. No one wants him.”

  “That sounds like political dodgeball. I guess we wait and see who picks him up. That’ll tell us who has more to hide,” I said. I wanted to bite back my words, but they were out.

  Janey could not keep the smile off her face. She was loving Murdock’s discomfort. “Maybe everyone should go out for coffee.”

  Clearly defeated, Murdock eyed her with amusement. “Coffee is good for a lot of things.”

  I decided to let them off the hook. “Speaking of which, I could use a cup. You guys want anything?”

  “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone for dinner,” Janey said.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Murdock said.

  I rubbed my hands together. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll check in with you later. Let me know if something comes up.”

  Janey lost it. She backed away, laughing. Murdock glared at me in a way that told me I would pay for that. Amused, I watched them walk away. When they reached the corner, Murdock held Janey’s arm above the elbow as they crossed the street.

  I sighed and went into the coffee shop. It never crossed my mind that they had any interest in each other. I guessed I wasn’t good about predicting the future.

  13

  Late the next morning, a knock at the door startled me out of sleep. I was expecting Meryl for lunch, but it was too early, which meant that Ceridwen’s messengers might be rousting me out of bed for something. I had been avoiding Ceridwen since yesterday because I didn’t want to give her the answer she didn’t want to hear. I didn’t want to go to Ireland, at least not now. As she lay dying, I had promised to help her get revenge against Maeve, but that didn’t mean I had to do it her way.

  I opened the door and cringed as my mother grabbed me in a full body hug. “Still an early riser, I see.”

  “How did you find me, Ma?” I asked.

  She entered the room, eyeing it with suspicious appraisal. “I asked.”

  I closed the door behind her. “Mother, I’m in hiding. You didn’t just ask for directions to my apartment.”

  She peered down at the seat cushion on the armchair. “Actually, I did. I asked Amos the Apothecary, whom I have known for years. He gave me the general direction and a contact on Ceridwen’s staff, who referred me to that rather disheveled dwarf who keeps the lookout on the water tower next door. He told me.”

  I pulled my jeans on and sat on the bed. “And why would he tell you where I lived?”

  With a deep breath, she sat in the chair. “I told him I was your mother.”

  “And he believed you?” I asked.

  She put on an innocent face. “I knew his mother. We played cribbage years ago. She stank at it.”

  “You shouldn’t have come down here. It’s dangerous,” I said.

  She pulled her chin in. “Is it? It looked rather shabby as I came through. Not like the old days. Do those trolls still live under the channel? They kept things lively down here.”

  “There’s only one troll. He pretends to live under the bridge but has a nice underground apartment nearby,” I said.

  She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Only one left? No wonder there are so many feral cats around. Do you have any tea?”

  I glanced at my empty kitchen. “I haven’t been shopping. Why don’t you give me a sec to wash up, and we can grab lunch?”

  She waved her hand. “No need. I have a luncheon date already. I wanted to see you.”

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Hmm. Yes, of course, everything’s all right. I have spent half an hour sitting on top of a water tower talking to a lonely dwarf because everything’s all right.”

  I sighed. It was going to be one of those conversations. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m worried about your father. This business with the Seelie Court has taken the wind out of his sails,” she said.

  I was getting more lost by the second. “I thought the entire court was sent home.”

  She brushed her handkerchief on the arm of the chair, draped it over, and rested her hand on it. “Yes, that was after he was shut out. Oh, he didn’t think I knew, but I’m no fool. He’s had a hard year. It started with him being dropped from the missions to the Continent. Then Maeve put him on desk work entirely. You know your father loves travel.”

  I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. “So, um, what exactly do you want me to do?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “I don’t know. Guy stuff. Get Callin to join you. He’d like that. All you boys together.”

  I stared at my stocking feet. “Mother, I am never, ever going camping with Callin and Da again.”

  “Well, what about bowling? You used to be quite good,” she said.

  I hid my disbelief beneath an amused smile. Sometimes mothers forget that their children outgrow their childhoods. “I’ll see if I can find Cal. Maybe he might have some ideas,” I said.

  “Oh, I already went to see him. He said he would love to do something. Now that you mention it, he did say to suggest camping to you. He said he has fond memories of the two of you in the woods.”

  He would. He spent all our camping trips making my life miserable as only older brothers can do. I have had enough of bugs in my bedroll to last a lifetime. “You went to see Callin? Where?”

  “His apartment. He’s not much better at decorating than you, but the view is lovely,” she said.

  I had no idea where my brother lived. No one ever seemed to know. “Mother, have you been walking around the Weird looking for us? Do you have any idea how bad an idea that is right now?”

  She huffed and fell back in the armchair, then bolted forward, eyeing the cushions for dirt. “I’m desperate, Connie. If I don’t get your father out of that hotel, I’m going to scream. He needs something to do.”

  I didn’t laugh, but I did smile. My parents loved each other but tended to get on each other’s nerves. “Okay. I’ll think of something.”

  In a bright flash of pink, Joe burst into the air. He held a take-out cup half as tall as he was. A tag on a string dangled from the lid. He held the cup out to my mother. “I thought you might be here and like some tea, Momma Grey.”

  My mother popped the lid on the cup and inhaled. “You are such a dear, Joey. Earl Grey is my favorite.”

  Joe threw me a smug look over her head. “Is it? I had no idea. Great minds drink alike.”

  My mother giggled. “You are so naughty. Where were you last night? I thought you might drop by.”

  Joe fluttered over by the window. “I was helping some children with their lessons.”

  I shook my head. “Children? Really, Joe? You were with children?”

  Joe shrugged. “Everyone is someone’s child. I didn’t say how old they were.”

  My mother bubbled with laughter.

  “Suddenly, I remember something I didn’t miss when you moved to Ireland, Ma,” I said.

  She drank her tea, the amusement fading from her eyes. “Speaking of Ireland, I’ve been trying to contact Nigel. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

  I feigned nonchalance. “I haven’t seen him. We’re not on the best of terms anymore.”

  She hummed. “I heard. I’m not going to interfere in whatever is going on between you, but I’d like to speak to him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Nigel has insight into Maeve’s thinking. She is rushing headlong into war, and that’s never a good thing. If there’s a way to avert it, Nigel will know.”

  “I don’t know, Ma. I don’t think Nigel would be interested in stopping Maeve. He’s always done her dirty work,�
�� I said.

  She gestured with her mug. “Exactly. If he’s around, she doesn’t have to do it herself. Nigel has a way of making things happen behind the scenes. We don’t need war. Maeve needs her advisor.”

  I was impressed. I never talked politics with my mother. I had no idea she had that much interest. “That’s…. shrewd,” I said.

  “I am not a diplomat’s wife for nothing, dear. The trick to avoiding war is to find something more enticing. Maeve might be a bit of a hothead, but she’s still a ruler. She wants something more than defeating the Consortium. If we can understand that, we might be able to end this nonsense.”

  I loved the way my mother referred to war as nonsense. I might not have thought of her as a politician, but she always was sensible. Half her silliness was contrived, I knew, but now I saw her in a different light.

  Another knock came at the door, and my glance shot to the clock over the kitchen sink. I groaned inwardly as I answered the door. When I opened it, Meryl kissed me, then stopped short when she saw I had company. “Oh! Am I early?” she asked.

  Meryl was wearing a black bustier with a short jacket and jeans that might have been painted on. Oh, and she wore her knee-high boots with all the buckles. My mother put on her most diplomatic smile. “Not at all, dear. We were just discussing lunch.”

  Meryl turned a confused smile toward me. “I didn’t realize it was a group lunch. My bad.”

  “Meryl, I’d like to introduce you to Regula Grey. Mom, this is Meryl Dian,” I said.

  Meryl batted her eyes in stunned silence. My mother held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Meryl shook hands, staring at me over her shoulder. “You’re his mother.”

  “And your his…. ?” My mother said.

  Joe swooped closer to my mother’s ear. “That’s his hootchie.”