Claryce continued to study the house. “So, do we stay here? Is that what’s intended?”
“It’s what’s intended by someone, which is why we won’t just yet. Come on.” It wasn’t just the fact that Her Lady had recreated the house that made me want to leave quickly, but that she’d also toyed with my secret. I didn’t need Her Lady’s attention focused on Claryce; there were already too many factors threatening yet another terrible repeat of the fate of every previous incarnation.
We returned to the auto and drove off without another word. I thought about my agreement to meet Mr. Alonso Perez and considered calling him to cancel. If I called from the safe house, I wouldn’t need his number to reach him. The telephone would just find him. However, I held off. From what I’d learned from Cortez, the problem at Our Lady of Guadalupe might offer some clues I desperately needed.
Of course, that’d mean trying once again to convince Claryce to stay behind.
I pulled the Model T around the back of the safe house. Fetch, new to the vicinity, ran around familiarizing himself. I finally had to call him to make him join Claryce upstairs while I took a peek at the secret barrelhouse.
The place was quiet. I had no doubt that there were guards inside, but that most of the activity would take place once the sun went down. I circled around, trying to see if there was any way to take a look inside, but, before I could get very far, I noticed someone else watching.
It wasn’t Doolin, but I’d seen this thug at the Art Institute nearby, before my meeting with Oberon. He’d chosen a good spot to avoid being seen by anyone in the distillery while still able to watch them. After all that had happened, I was tempted to take him. There were important questions he might’ve been able to answer, such as where I might just catch Oberon unaware.
More and more intrigued by that possibility, I decided to come around behind him. I didn’t worry about using Her Lady’s gift against this lone hood. My fist would do.
But as I neared him, something atop the building moved. The watching thug immediately shifted his stance. From his jacket, he drew a good-sized gat and peered up.
Her Lady’s sentinel dropped down on him, falling so fast that the hood didn’t even have time fire. I fought back the instinct to leap forward to defend a human being from something of Feirie. Even if I’d wanted to help, it was already too late.
But where Oberon’s creature had suffered an awful demise, the hood seemed to merely freeze. Her Lady’s servant completely enveloped him . . . and then sank into the body.
Understanding at last what was happening, I moved forward.
The hood turned to face me . . . but I knew those eyes were no longer human.
“Gatekeeper . . .” he acknowledged.
It was interesting to hear that the strong brogue remained, even if this wasn’t really Moran’s man, anymore. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
His gaze flickered to my hand, which hovered near but not too near my coat. He knew it wasn’t a gun I had there.
“What she commands. He will not be permitted back into the Court.”
Oberon gaining access to the Feirie Court would mean the end of Her Lady’s reign. More important to those who’d allied themselves with Her Lady, it’d mean the most intricate of tortures would follow, as Oberon taught each and every one of the traitors what it meant to defy him. Those tortures would go on far beyond a human lifetime.
“I don’t want war breaking out here.”
The sentinel managed a crude version of a smile. On one of Moran’s men, it actually looked appropriate. “War is already here, Gatekeeper.”
I couldn’t exactly argue with that, but I didn’t want it to become a full-fledged conflict that would engulf Chicago the way even the fire hadn’t. A conflict that would spread to everywhere beyond the city afterward.
“Listen. You and your mistress just can’t—”
The sound of an auto pulling up near the barrelhouse made me instinctively look that direction. Even as I did, I cursed myself for doing so. When I looked back to the sentinel, he and his temporary shell had already vanished.
Gritting my teeth, I decided that he’d had the best idea. I snuck back to the safe house, where Claryce gave me yet another reproving look.
“And what happened to you this time?”
“I was checking on the bootleggers. There was a slight commotion, and I had to take the long way back.” I wasn’t about to mention the sentinel, although I did notice Fetch eyeing me warily.
She grimaced. “Is this place actually any better than the house now?”
Her tone indicated that she wanted me to say yes. The best I could do was, “For now. Tomorrow, I’ll decide if we head back to the house.”
While it wasn’t the answer she desired, it was clear it was the one she’d expected. “All right, but if you travel anyplace else, I’m definitely going with you.”
“You don’t need to—”
“No, Nick. I do.”
“Me, too, Master Nicholas! Me, too!”
I openly glared at the shapeshifter for supporting her. I still thought she’d be safer here, especially since the sentinel had chosen to move on in his hunt for Oberon. I wasn’t sure how smart the shadow creature’s decision had been, but at least it turned the focus of the troubles from the vicinity of the safe house. At least for tonight, I was confident that Claryce was safer here, not with me.
“I’m only seeing a client,” I told her.
“A client? You’re just seeing a client? Where?”
I purposely told her just the address, not that it was Our Lady of Guadalupe.
My luck remained consistent. “I know that area,” Claryce murmured. “Will—I’ve got to stop calling him that—Oberon had some business matters going on near there. Something to do with a church . . .” She frowned. “Are you going there?”
“Yes. It’s probably nothing.”
“I’m still going with you.” Her tone brooked no defiance.
Fetch wagged his tail in her support.
I surrendered. “All right. We leave just before dark.”
After we ate, I stepped out the back and concentrated. A short time later, the black bird alighted near me.
“Follow us, all right?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Keep high in the sky.”
The avian cawed, then took to the sky again. I watched it vanish into the sky, wishing that I could be as free.
Eye can give you wings . . .
Aware of what that offered entailed, I said nothing. There were worse things than endless servitude to the Gate, and believing the dragon was at all a thing I could trust with my life and my soul was one of them.
Our Lady of Guadalupe was a simple wooden structure probably much too tiny already for all the Mexicans working the nearby steel mills. Even in the dim street lights, I could see that even though it’d just been built last year it was already showing wear. The new one that they hoped to build would be far larger and far better designed, with brick and everything.
The church was dark. I’d expected at least my client to be here. I didn’t think the parish priest would be around, of course. With the exception of a few priests like Father Peter, most of the clergy were uncomfortable with the thought of the supernatural.
I turned to Claryce.
“Don’t you dare tell me to stay behind, Nick.”
With a sigh, I stepped out. Claryce joined me, as Fetch trotted off as if a mere hound interested in the landscape. What he was actually doing was making his way around to the back of the church, where he would find entrance should I need him.
“Are you certain we’ve arrived at the right time, Nick?”
I said nothing, my hand already near my jacket. Show me.
Eye will, naturally . . .
Our Lady of Guadalupe took on an emerald aura. At first glance, I saw nothing sinister. The only questionable thing remained the fact that there was no sign of Mr. Alonso Perez.
The flutter of win
gs alerted me to the black bird’s presence. With everyone in place, I finally knocked on the church door.
It slid open a crack at my touch.
I needn’t have watched as many mysteries as I had to recognize the ominous sign. The only sound from Claryce was a faint intake of breath that told me she knew what this meant, too.
There was a chance we were both just imagining too much. I didn’t believe that for a minute.
“Now you definitely stay behind me,” I whispered.
Claryce didn’t argue. I’d given the dagger to her, just in case. If I needed a weapon, I’d cheerfully draw Her Lady’s gift.
Asking for yet more forgiveness, I kicked the church door open and jumped inside.
The darkened chamber greeted me. I used the dragon’s eyes to look for those shadows that didn’t belong but saw no danger. With the greatest caution, I moved on.
The floor creaked slightly as I passed the first pews in back. I kept reminding myself that this was hallowed ground, untouchable by those of Feirie save for believers like Kravayik. There was no possibility that the church contained some—
There was no mistaking the limp shape sprawled before the front pews. I slid my fingers into the coat, felt the hilt of Her Lady’s gift shape into my grip. I didn’t draw it yet, but kept it ready.
Kneeling beside the body, I used my free hand to turn it over. Not for a moment was I surprised to see it was Mr. Juan Alonso Perez. He’d been killed the old-fashioned way, a shiv across the throat.
And, as I expected then, something spilled forth from the narrow cracks between the floorboards. It flooded up on every side of me, flowing over the late Mr. Alonso Perez and the nearest pews. As it did, it began to coalesce into one large shape.
I’d seen more than enough. I drew Her Lady’s Gift—or rather, I tried to.
Free my hand! I silently shouted at the dragon. Free my hand! I couldn’t understand why he’d do something so mad. Oberon’s creature wouldn’t provide us with a quick, clean death. It’d do things that’d make even a dragon shriek in agony.
This is not Eye’s doing! he suddenly replied, his anxiety matching mine. Not Eye’s at all!
The shadow creature took on partial form. There were hints of something like a bat or an octopus or something with bits of both. It never completely fixed on one shape, not that I cared. All that mattered was that I couldn’t draw the sword.
The shadow creature lunged at me.
CHAPTER 15
Forget the blade! Set me free! Set me free!
At any other time, I would’ve laughed at such an insane suggestion. Set free the dragon, who lived for carnage? It would’ve been like unleashing the plague to put an end to the bootlegger wars. Capone’s and Moran’s boys would all be dead, but so would everyone else.
And yet now I barely hesitated. I allowed him to come out as I hadn’t since the Great Fire.
The world receded. I was and was not me. I grew taller, stronger. My hand came loose—a hand quickly becoming a claw.
That claw seized the shadow creature by what passed for its throat. Although our attacker was not entirely incorporeal, had it been anything but the dragon—the essence of power and old magic—attempting to seize the thing, their hands would’ve gone through.
The Wyld hissed and spat. A hundred hands stretched to rake the dragon’s—our—flesh.
The dragon breathed ever so slightly.
Flames spilled over the shadow creature, spilled over it and yet over nothing else.
The struggling Wyld twisted and wriggled and scratched, but the dragon held on while the flames rapidly did their work. The fire didn’t harm us in the least, for it was as much a part of us as the scales covering our body.
We watched with eagerness and satisfaction as our puny foe burned away. We savored its pain, its cries. When there was nothing left, we brought the flames to us—
And at that point, I managed to remember that I was not a part of him. He was a part of me. Dismiss the fire, I demanded. Your part is done . . .
Yes . . . yes, it is . . .
With that, the dragon doused the flames and quietly withdrew into the recesses of my mind.
I was left gasping for air and gripping one of the pews for support. A faint scent of sulphur permeated the area, but otherwise there was no hint of any fire, not even some singed wood. The dragon could control his flames if they were contained enough, something beyond his control years ago, once the blaze had spread far enough through Chicago. Of course, at that time, he’d had no desire to keep anything under control.
“Nick!” Claryce came up behind me. Her touch on my shoulder soothed me and helped my heart beat normally again.
“You—shouldn’t have come up here,” I finally succeeded in telling her.
“I don’t—” For the first time, she saw the body. Her only reaction was to look more concerned. No gasps, no screams. She’d become accustomed to my world much too fast for her sake.
“My client,” I pointed out needlessly.
“What was that thing? Was it like that monster in the fireplace?”
I straightened. “Only in that it’s also of Feirie. The shadow folk come in many shapes and sizes, not to mention countless disguises. But one thing they all still need when in this world is darkness—even of their own making—to shield them.”
Claryce looked me in the eye. “Nick . . . I saw it—him. A part of him, I guess. Is he—is he always within you?”
“Always . . . unless I let him out.”
“But how do you force him back in?”
Generally, it was a struggle. This time, though, he’d made the choice to return to my thoughts. Why did you do that? I couldn’t help asking him. Why?
It was what was wanted.
I couldn’t deny I’d wanted it, but that he’d obeyed so willingly startled me. He’d have had a strong chance of retaining dominance for quite some time afterward. I probably would’ve regained control, but not before he’d have wreaked chaos on the world.
It was what was wanted, he repeated.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The dragon had given up his chance because he’d known it was what I hoped.
Thank you, I finally replied.
Even as I said that to him, I teetered. Claryce grabbed me tighter, then helped guide me to the nearest pew.
“We can’t—we can’t stay here very long,” I told her. “Oberon probably also reported the murder to the police. He’d know there was a chance his trap didn’t work and so at least set up something to keep me tangled up afterward.”
“I thought he wanted something from you, Nick. That’s why he’s played all these games, isn’t it?”
There’d been no doubt in my mind that if I hadn’t let the dragon seize control, my much prayed for death would’ve been preceded by enough torture to make me give Oberon the information he needed to regain the Clothos card. Time was evidently no longer an ally of the former lord of Feirie.
I tried to rise again, but failed. In the short time that he’d controlled us, the dragon had drained me more than I could recall from previous incidents.
Rest . . . we need rest . . .
I had no disagreements with that, especially since it also meant vacating the church before we were discovered with the body of my unfortunate client. “Claryce, I want you and Fetch to return to the car. Before you do that, though, look up to the top of the church and whisper—definitely whisper—‘you’re needed inside.’”
Claryce had seen the black bird, so she understood what I meant by that. Still, that didn’t make her any more pleased about following the instructions. “I should stay with you—”
I shook my head. “I won’t be long. I’ve got to deal with a couple of matters here, but I’ll be out in a minute or two, I swear.”
She hesitated, then finally surrendered. I was glad that Fetch at least had stayed outside or else I knew I’d have to have argued with both of them about leaving me alone.
As she walked out,
I stooped and said a prayer for my unfortunate client. I was already also trying to think of what I’d have to say when Detective Cortez hunted me down to ask when I’d last seen Juan Alonso Perez alive.
The black bird alighted on the pew next to me. Head cocked, it stared with much too much interest at the corpse.
“Don’t even think about it,” I growled. “I want you to make a quick flight around the church ceiling. Find anything out of the ordinary, but steer clear.” It was possible that there was some clue remaining up there.
As I stood up again, I wondered what’d happened to me when I’d reached for the blade. This’d been the first time I’d tried to draw it since the Art Institute. There’d been no hint then that Oberon had done anything to freeze the link between Her Lady’s gift and me.
Then I thought of my encounter with Doolin and some things fell into place. Oberon knew that the sword was my best edge against his kind. It wasn’t my only edge, but in this case there’d been no time left to try anything else. If it hadn’t been for the dragon, there would’ve been no hope.
You are . . . welcome . . . he suddenly said hesitantly.
He continued to startle me. I began to wonder if Oberon’s unexpected return had made my constant companion feel his mortality again. The dragon was certainly aware that if death claimed us, there’d be no coming back—
Fetch let out a ferocious growl that was punctuated by a painful yelp.
Forgetting my own situation, I ran for the entrance. I still hadn’t had a chance to deal with whatever trick Oberon had used on me, but that didn’t matter.
“Claryce!” I shouted as I rushed outside. “Claryce!”
I ducked as a tommy raked the ground and the car. In the darkness, a Packard roadster tore off down Mackinaw. I hurried to the car, only to find all four tires flat.
At that point, I think I shouted Claryce’s name and then Oberon’s. Maybe Fetch’s, too.
Let Eye give you wings . . .
As grateful as I was for what he’d done inside, even the threat to Claryce wasn’t enough for me to give in a second time. I cursed myself for my distrust, but I still couldn’t come around to letting him loose again so soon.
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