A corner of Murdock’s lips dipped down. “I don’t think I could contradict him in public.”
“Maybe you should,” I said.
Bemused, Murdock shook his head. “Let’s not go there, Connor.”
“And she’s just one of many stories like this,” Grant was saying. “The Grant administration has to remember that civil rights extend to all our citizens, whether they are fey or human, legal residents or undocumented workers.”
The mayor leaned forward. “Thank you, Jennifer. I have complete confidence in Commissioner Murdock. The city of Boston must meet the current problems with strong action, and we are working diligently to protect everyone.”
His daughter scowled back at him. “There have been four unsolved murders in this neighborhood in the last two weeks. That is significant, and I have no information regarding a police response that supports the people who live and work here instead of punishing them through negligence.”
Scott Murdock tilted his head toward the microphone. He pinned his dark eyes on Grant like she was some kid who had kicked a ball onto his lawn. “‘Negligence’ is a loaded word, Ms. Grant. The police department is doing everything it can to maintain order under the current circumstances.”
Grant straightened her jacket. “Yes, thank you, Commissioner. Speaking of maintaining order, can you or the mayor please tell us under what legal authority the Guildhouse is policing this neighborhood?”
From the tight, thin lips on the commissioner’s face, he didn’t like the question. “They are auxiliary forces to help handle the unique challenges of this area.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, sir. What is their legal authority?” Grant asked.
The commissioner looked at the mayor. Dolan Grant pulled the microphone closer. “As you know, Jennifer, our office is responding to several legal challenges on that point. We believe we have full legal authority to draw on the Guild’s generous offer of resources until the courts say otherwise.”
The crowd broke out in angry shouts while the mayor held up his hands for quiet.
Several people moved toward the microphone. Someone grabbed it and began speaking but was drowned out. A ripple went through the crowd, and it parted to let someone through. Zev stepped up to the microphone, and the speaker backed away. The room quieted.
“When are the barriers around the Weird coming down?” he asked.
“There is still too much unrest to set a timetable,” said the mayor.
“People can’t get into the city to work,” Zev said.
The mayor began to speak, but his press secretary moved in smoothly. “Everyone with a work permit is being allowed through the checkpoints.”
“That’s bull. It’s taking weeks to get those permits. People need their paychecks,” said Zev. The crowd shouted its approval.
The press secretary nodded with understanding. “We know there have been delays, and we are working to streamline the process.”
“When are the barriers coming down?” Zev asked again. More shouts. I felt a pulse of essence. Someone was amping up the emotions in the room. I stared at Moira, but she gave no indication that might tip it was her. Other fey in the room seemed more intent on Zev than anyone. He held more sway with the solitaries than I realized.
“Let’s move on to the next question,” the press secretary said.
“That is the next question,” said Zev. “And the next and the next and the next until we get an answer. We are being held prisoner in our own homes while the Guild runs through here like storm troopers.”
The few people remaining in their seats yelled with the rest of the crowd. The press secretary tried to speak, but her voice didn’t carry over the PA system. Someone banged on the table for order, but the crowd wasn’t having it. A scuffle broke out near the audience microphone, and it fell over with an angry whine of feedback. The people behind the table conferred among themselves, then stood and filed out behind a row of police officers. Moira slid a languid hand across Commission Murdock’s shoulder as she left. The commissioner remained at the table, hands folded with steepled fingers against his lips. He didn’t take his eyes off Jennifer Grant. When everyone else was out of the room, he stood and reached for a bullhorn from a nearby officer.
He clicked the siren on the horn a few times, an earsplitting sound breaking through the noise. He held the horn up to his mouth. “This meeting is adjourned. Please clear the room.”
The crowd roared as the commissioner handed the horn back and walked away. Another officer hit the siren and spoke. “You have been issued a police order to clear the premises. Please make your way to the exits.”
“That was diplomatic,” I said.
Murdock sighed and nodded. “That’s my dad.”
Despite the angry shouts and arm waving, the crowd left the room. Anyone in the Weird the past few weeks knew what happened when police orders were ignored. Outside, the officers in riot gear moved in closer from the corner, their dark uniforms shadows in falling snow. Some solitaries lingered, shouting at the warehouse and the line of police. At the opposite end of the block, the mayor’s SUV drove away with a trail of other cars.
Squad cars lined the street, blocking in Murdock’s car. We sat inside it watching the street theater escalate. The jeering crowd became smaller as people went home, but those remaining became louder. Tussles broke out. Snowballs were tossed, landing short of the line of police. The police didn’t react, even backed up a few times.
On the other side of the street, I saw Shay exiting the warehouse. I hadn’t seen him inside. In his long white coat, he struggled to cross the street amid a barrage of snowballs. A solitary stumbled into him and knocked him into one of the tree fairies, who pushed him off. As he focused on his footing, Shay pushed back and walked away. Obviously angry, the ash fairy followed him.
“Looks like I’m cavalry again,” I said, and opened the door.
With his hood up, Shay didn’t see the fairy charging up behind him. I reached Shay first and took his arm, looking pointedly at the solitary. He stopped in his tracks, glared, and backed off.
Shay pulled his arm away, then smiled. “Oh, hi. Didn’t realize it was you. Some jerk just pushed me.”
We walked in the direction of Murdock’s car. “He was about to jump you.”
Shay looked back with a frown. “He’s lucky I’m wearing a new coat.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. Shay’s tough, but he couldn’t hold his own in a fight. He had no problem getting in people’s faces, and his boyfriend, Robyn, used to follow through with the physical confrontation. With Robyn gone, Shay was on his own. “You need to be careful, Shay.”
He peered at me from under his fake-fur-trimmed hood. “Uno keeps showing up at my apartment. I’m going to die, Connor. I’m not going to do that with my clothes dirty.”
Murdock stood outside his car. The squad cars still blocked us in. “Looks like we’re here until the crowd’s gone.”
“Why don’t you wait in the car, and we’ll give you a ride?” I asked Shay.
Shay examined the backseat through the window and wrinkled his nose at the mess. “Uh, no, thanks. Like I said, this is a new coat. I’ll walk. I’ve got a late shift at work.”
Back up the street, the solitary who had pushed Shay hadn’t moved on and was watching. “Why don’t we walk you a bit?”
“We?” said Murdock.
I flicked some snow at him from the roof of the car. “Come on. You’ve got better boots than I do.”
Murdock grabbed a handful and threw it. “Fine.”
With Shay between us, we trudged up the middle of the street. “What did you think of the meeting, Shay?” I asked.
He answered to the rhythm of his breathing as we slogged through the snow. “No surprises. I only went because the Institute asked me to. Some of the clients’ relatives have been complaining that they have to drive around the Weird after work. Poor things in their BMWs. They should try getting to the mall from
here without a pass.”
The snow whipped about us, dimming the light from the few streetlamps. Within a block of the car, mounds of it drifted on the road. The wind howled, a deep, plaintive moan that rose and fell. I pulled my hood down as far as it would go without blocking my vision. We leaned forward with turned heads as the cold crystals pelted our faces. I was beginning to regret the good deed. Murdock was probably ready to kill me. The wind died a moment later. Then it became louder, an eerie wail of voices and the unmistakable sound of howling. As if planned, we all stopped at the same moment. “That’s not the wind,” Shay said.
I scanned the area. Above us, someone ran along the roofline, too far away for me to sense his essence. I recognized his silhouette, though, and his running style. The Hound was pacing us.
In the swirling haze far ahead, a dark green light smeared in my sensing vision. A cloud of the Taint rolled toward us, billowing and mixing with other essences. The wind brought the sound of keening pierced by screams and shouts.
“It’s the Dead,” I said.
Something huge and dark moved toward us in a loping gait.
“What the hell is that?” Murdock asked.
The Taint’s mottled essence light spread across the road, great billows of snow or steam or fog rolling out from its edges. Shay grabbed my arm. “Run! We have to run.”
He didn’t need to say it again. With that many people bearing down on us, it was the right call. We turned and ran, or tried to, anyway. Tripping through deep drifts of snow, we staggered our way up the street between boarded-up buildings. The next alley was tauntingly far off.
I threw a glance over my shoulder. The Dead charged up the street, running and jumping through the snow with wild abandon. Dark shapes filled the air, Dead fairies and other things, wheeling in the darkness on ragged wings.
We weren’t going to make it. The alley was too far away. I pulled Shay against my side as Murdock’s body shield blazed red in the swirling snow ahead of us. Murdock turned, pulling his gun out. For a brief moment, I saw surprise on his face as he lifted his weapon. Then something slammed into my back. Shay and I fell in a tangle, the great black shape of Uno, impossibly huge, pinning us to the ground with paws that threw an emberlike heat. I twisted beneath him, blindly reaching out to ward off his massive jaws. A torrent of snow washed over us. The Taint bent above the dog, and the rampaging Dead swirled to either side of us.
I craned my neck to see Murdock backing away. He turned to run, but a dim shadow on dark wings dove at him and swept him into the sky. The Taint passed on, rolling up the street, leaving the lane between the buildings empty. The pressure of weight from the dog vanished, and I scrambled to my feet.
“Murdock!” I yelled. Retreating screams and howls answered me.
“Leo!” Still no answer. I looked down the alley, but he wasn’t there.
“Leo, answer me, dammit!”
No answer. There was no one left but Shay and the black dog.
Murdock was gone.
19
Blood stained the snow in front of the meeting warehouse. Bodies lay crumpled in the gutter. All solitaries. All dead. At the end of the street, police officers huddled in their cars. Motorcycles lay scattered in the snow, some with their lights flashing. No one was outside.
Shay and I stumbled into the warehouse. Pistols and rifles swung in our direction, and Shay grabbed me by the waist from behind. I held my hands in the air to confused shouts of “get out” and “get on the floor.”
“Is Detective Lieutenant Leonard Murdock here?” I shouted.
An officer grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall. “Get your arms out now,” he shouted.
I assumed the position. Shay turned a panicked face toward me as an officer pressed him hard against the wall while another fumbled with his oversize coat. “I’m with the Guild,” I shouted.
The officer patting me down shouted in pain as a flash of heat burned against my ankle. “He’s armed! He’s armed!” he shouted as he fell back with his gun out.
I kept my hands against the wall. “I’ve got two daggers in my boots. That’s it. One of them’s spelled. I need Lieutenant Murdock.”
“He’s not here,” someone said.
“Just throw them out with the others,” someone else yelled.
I had no idea what was going on. These guys sounded angry and scared. “Call the Guild, dammit! Tell Keeva macNeve that you have Connor Grey!”
An officer pressed the muzzle of his gun against the back of my neck. I closed my eyes. “Let the kid go,” I said.
No one answered. I didn’t dare move my head to check on Shay.
After several agonizing minutes, someone called over. “He’s clear.”
The pressure of the gun disappeared. I dropped my hands. Shay huddled against me again. “This is no way to treat a lady,” he whispered.
“Are you okay?” I asked. He nodded against my shoulder.
I called Keeva. She spoke before I had a chance to say anything. “Stay with the police, Connor. We’re handling this. Don’t tell anyone else you’re there.”
“What the hell is going on?”
Rustling sounds came through as Keeva moved her phone. Muffled voices argued in the background. “It doesn’t matter. Listen, don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What the hell is going on?”
She dropped her voice. “I can’t talk. We’ve got missing police officers. Just do what I say. You’re better off in Guild custody.”
“Custody?” I said.
She disconnected. I stared at my phone. Bastian’s words came back to me. I glanced around the room. No one seemed to be watching me. Given a choice between the police and the Guild, I liked neither. I looked out the window. The storm was raging, blinding white snow obliterating the view to the street. I called Meryl.
“I’m at 264 Summer Street. Can you get me out of here?” I asked.
“It’s a blizzard out there, Grey,” she said.
“Murdock’s missing,” I said.
“Missing? Like missing missing or not returning your phone calls because he has something better to do missing?”
I told her what happened. “And now I’m surrounded by cops who apparently don’t know they’re supposed to arrest me,” I said.
She sighed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Officers watched the storm through the grate-covered windows. The heightened apprehension faded as time went by, but the tension never completely left the room. No one but uniformed officers came inside. Whatever solitaries had been out in the street when the Dead came through were either hiding elsewhere or dead.
“I’m going to need a distraction,” I said to Shay.
“I’ve got a pretty good singing voice,” he said.
I smiled down at him. “I’m sure you do. When I tell you to, go to the back of the room and do something to draw attention.”
He nodded. “Then what do I do?”
“Stay here. You’ll be safe.”
His eyebrows went up. “Really? With the guys with the guns that were pointed at me?”
“You’ll be fine. This seems to be about the fey,” I said.
He pouted as he looked around the room. “Maybe I’ll get that guy who groped me to buy me a drink.”
I grinned. “See? I’m giving you a dating opportunity.”
A deep, low rumble sounded outside. Everyone moved away from the door and windows except me and Shay. A smudge of light appeared, white and yellow. As the noise grew, the lights brightened and separated into flashing roof lights. A snowplow stopped outside, a massive hulk of yellow steel belching steam out its overhead exhaust.
A cool spot formed in my mind and a sending came through. You going to stare or get in?
“Showtime, Shay,” I said.
He pulled his hood up and wandered toward the back of the room. I sidled toward the door. When Shay reached the table in back, he stooped and picked up the fallen microphone. For a
moment, I thought he really was going to sing, but then he let loose with a loud, high-pitched scream. Every head in the room whipped in his direction. I slipped outside.
Snow swirled around me in thick curtains. In the few feet from the door to the truck, I was covered from head to foot. I hopped on the running board of the plow, then jumped inside the cab. Bundled in a thick black cloak, Meryl waited behind the wheel.
“Where the hell did you get this?” I asked.
She put the truck in gear. “Geez, Grey, doesn’t anyone owe you favors?”
“I got you out in a blizzard, didn’t I?”
“This is you owing me another favor, not you calling one in.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To meet Zev. He agreed to have his people look for Murdock.”
The truck rumbled along Summer Street in its own bubble of light. The warehouses to either side were barely discernible through the storm, less so as we drove deeper into the Weird, and the streetlamps became fewer. We drove through a trail of essence. The storm degraded what lingered, but I got hits on elves, fairies, and all kinds of solitaries and large animals. “This is the direction the Dead came from,” I said.
The dashboard lights threw a pale yellow glow against Meryl’s face. “I’ve been sensing their trail since the financial district. There were a few live ones, but not Murdock’s.”
“This is my fault. The Dead wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” I said.
Meryl took a wide turn onto Drydock Avenue in the deep end of the Weird. “No, I’d blame Bergin Vize for that one.”
“He led them here, but I trapped them,” I said.
She turned onto Harbor Street and dropped the plow. The snow drifted nearly two feet in front of us. “Eh, that’s debatable and beside the point. They’re here. The point right now is to find Murdock.”
“Are we going where I think we’re going?” I asked.
“If you guessed the Tangle, you get to go to the bonus round,” she said, as we crossed Old Northern.
The Tangle is where the worst of the Weird meets the worst of everything. The original layout of the streets was buried under shifting lanes and buildings that created a maze with no beginning and no end. Bad things happened in the Tangle, from knife-throwing target practice on the unwary to full-blown essence battles. Blood and sadness soaked the streets, the memories of rage and waste. Human law enforcement gave up on it long ago. It had to. If the fey had to be on guard in the Tangle, a person with only a gun and a badge had no hope of surviving.
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