Black City Saint

by Richard A. Knaak

  Liam Michael O’Rourke. There it was again. I continued out, wondering if I’d see old Michael. Sure enough, he was gone, but there was nothing to prove that he hadn’t just decided to pack it up after not finding another customer. The seating area was still there, naturally.

  Part of me wanted to stick around to see if Michael’d return, but the more sensible part reminded the other that if Michael was gone for the day, I’d be waiting a long time.

  Claryce eyed me anxiously when I returned. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”

  “Yeah . . . and I gained a lot more questions . . .” I stopped.

  “What is it?” Claryce started to turn in the direction I glanced, but I waved her still. I then calmly left the Packard and headed across the street, where a restaurant with outdoor tables was situated. I didn’t pay attention to what fare it offered; my only interest was in the elegantly dressed figure in spats seated at the front table by himself, sipping what appeared to be coffee—but probably was something far, far different if I knew him, despite mortal laws against such spirits.

  “A good day to you, Gatekeeper.” Oberon raised his drink as I approached. “A fine, sunny day, don’t you think?”

  CHAPTER 22

  I looked around for Oberon’s pet mountain. “Where’s Doolin?”

  “An amusing mortal creature, Doolin,” Oberon remarked, gesturing to the one other chair at the table. “Reminiscent of a loyal hound I once had. How is Fetch, anyway?”

  “Enjoying freedom.” I didn’t bother to sit. “What now, Oberon? Why’re you here?”

  “The ambience, naturally.” His eyes flickered pitch black as he looked past me for a moment. “And the view, of course.”

  I didn’t need to follow his gaze to know that he was looking at the station. Suddenly I wondered how wise I’d been to assume it a safe place to leave the spear, even though I still didn’t know what use the thing would be for Oberon if I kept the dragon inside.

  “Put an end to this, Oberon. Didn’t you cause enough grief the last time?”

  “William Delke” set his half-empty coffee cup down. At the same time, I noticed that the restaurant wasn’t even open yet.

  “There can never be an end to this until things are brought back into balance, Gatekeeper.” The black eyes remained, though I doubted that anyone would’ve been able to see them besides me. “Please. Be seated. We should not be enemies. Not with my dear Titania controlling those vermin of the Court.”

  “I’ll stand . . . and neither realm can survive your idea of balance. You remember what happened last time.”

  “That was without one of the cards, Gatekeeper.” Oberon picked up the cup again. It was full. “That was without you.” His smile was gone. “You remember your world before it changed for the worse, do you not?”

  Suddenly we were renewing a discussion from over fifty years ago. “Unlike Feirie, the mortal world moves on, Oberon. Human ingenuity could only be held back for so long.”

  “How clearly I know that. I turned the Athenians’ philosophies back to war, steered your Romans astray with their own excesses, and turned the Prophet’s people against the very sciences with which they’d enriched the world . . . and yet, each time, some new voice would rise.” His inhuman eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your friend Leonardo, for instance. A very troublesome, though admittedly intriguing character.”

  “He always spoke well of you.”

  Oberon leaned back. His smile had returned, but in a tight-lipped manner. “Humor. I find the mortal version still tricky to display. Fortunately, there are enough who see my way of thought that I do not have to hide all that I am.”

  I held back a shudder at how Oberon had displayed Feirie humor to his human underlings over the decades. In the Court, humor often meant how interesting one could make the torture of a victim before an applauding audience.

  “I doubt that Bugs and Hymie would be happy to see Chicago and the rest of their world turned back to the Dark Ages.” I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye. There stood Doolin, looking quite eager to renew our acquaintance. He was a few yards down the street, near the corner. His hands were thrust deep in the pockets of his coat. I was pretty sure that if he pulled them out, they’d be wearing his master’s gauntlets. “Tell him to heel, Oberon.”

  “Oh, he’ll stay where he is. For a mortal, Doolin will make a fine addition to my new Court. He has a keen eye for what I desire.” Oberon set aside the coffee, then reached into his jacket.

  I doubted that he was going to pull out a gun or anything dangerous. I was right on the first count and wrong on the second.

  He had one of the cards.

  “Imagine the pristine forests that covered most of this particular land returned to their full glory,” Oberon murmured, as he studied the Clothos card. He kept the back to me, preventing me from seeing which suit or number it was. “Imagine your precious humanity once more living peacefully, harmoniously. Imagine my Feirie rich again with its wondrous magic. Imagine the two realms melded together with such balance that the power of Feirie and the imagination of the mortal world create a paradise in which all prosper, in which all live peacefully . . .”

  I knew Oberon believed every word he said, that he was certain that his notion of what should be was the perfect thing for both realms. The trouble was, his paradise meant crushing human spirit, not stirring its imagination except its fear of things that went bump in the night.

  And for Feirie, it wouldn’t be much better. There’d be a bloom of magic, one on which the Court would willingly feed, but that power would eventually become too wild for even the Court to control. Feirie would collapse into itself, returning to the primal energies from which it’d been spawned . . . and it would take my world with it.

  Her Lady could see the danger. Many in her Court could, too. It wasn’t that they didn’t covet mastery of the mortal realm; they just knew better than to trust the path that Oberon had chosen.

  “You know the cards never do exactly as you want,” I pointed out, trying to decide if it was worth the attempt to lunge for the one he held. “And as for the world you want . . .”

  He clearly understood my unfinished comment. Oberon frowned deeply and slipped the card back into his jacket. “The rigidity of the Court is nothing compared to your nature, Gatekeeper. You know why I took this more rash but necessary course. This “cold-meta” age of yours is already beginning to seep into my Feirie, poisoning it in so many ways apparently too subtle for my Titania to notice. First the magic will fade, then Feirie will fade. What will happen to the mortal world, then? No imagination, no soul. Everything will stagnate, then finally die here, too.”

  “So you say. The balance worked very well all these millennia, Oberon. You’re the one that wants to upset it. Your idea of balance is this realm in thrall to Feirie and the people here frightened of every shadow.”

  “As they should be. As they need to be.” He snapped his fingers, and from around the corner of the restaurant stepped another thug.

  I took the Mick’s measure and found him no danger. Oberon smiled at me as the sneering hood came up behind him. As Oberon stood, the thug pulled the chair back for his master.

  “I will change our realms for the better, Gatekeeper. Whether with one card or two. You have the choice of having some voice in the matter. Think about it.” He suddenly looked past me. “Ahh . . .”

  I thought it was a ploy until I heard the footsteps. My silent pleas to Heaven went unanswered.

  “William,” Claryce said coldly as she neared.

  “So good to see you again, my dear woman.” Oberon snapped his fingers and the goon behind him retreated once more. “I’m sorry our last encounter was so short and ugly.”

  “Go back to the auto,” I muttered to her, without taking my eyes off Oberon.

  He chuckled. “She was always headstrong, was she not? I think this one is my favorite.” Oberon bowed slightly to Claryce. “My belated condolences for your previous demise.”<
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  If he thought he was stoking her fears, he’d apparently thought wrong. Claryce smiled back, then replied, “You once complimented me for my attention for detail, do you remember, William?”

  I noted not only her continued use of a name we all knew was false, but also that Oberon’s smile seemed slightly less true.

  “You served Delke Industries almost as well as the Delkes themselves have, my dear. I truly did find you useful . . . and still could. Your attention to detail was only one of your fine points. The Court could use your beauty . . .”

  “I used to appreciate your flattery.” Claryce wrapped her arm around mine. “But you can assume that I’ve quit for good. And as for my attention to detail, I saw that card you put away. Is it supposed to be significant, Nick?”

  “Very.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know why. I remember William having it made. The artist did a very good job—hand-painted on both sides—but it can’t be anything more than an expensive trinket, can it, William?”

  Oberon glared. I’d been wondering why he hadn’t tried to use his magic on us, but finally realized that I’d made assumptions about him based on his still having been linked to Feirie when last we’d met.

  “It must take a lot of effort to stay out in the sun instead of the shadows,” I remarked. “A lot of effort.”

  “No one else could have done it,” he answered with typical pride. “No one.”

  “Tell that to Kravayik.”

  “Spare me one pathetic convert. He relinquished all that is Feirie to survive here. Survive surrounded forever by all this cold metal. A mighty fall for one who was my left arm . . .”

  Oberon reached into his jacket. I knew better than to think he was pulling out a rod. He drew out the card he’d taunted me with, then tossed it on the table.

  “Always a very clever female, in each incarnation,” Oberon said, as he stepped back from the table. “Maybe that’s why she’s always died so quickly. Too clever for her own good.”

  Pulling away from Claryce, I started for the false William Delke.

  As if from nowhere, the hood who’d held his chair for him re­appeared with an automatic pointed directly at Claryce. I also noticed that Doolin now stood much closer to the restaurant. His hands were still stuck deep in his pockets, but I knew him for the worse of the two dangers . . . if one didn’t count Oberon himself.

  “Do these rats know the foul company they keep?” I asked. “You’d think even they had better taste.”

  The gunman just grinned. He evidently didn’t care about anything as long as he was paid.

  “The moon is full in three days,” Oberon commented, as he casually stepped back. “It gives you time to think. Good day to you, my dear Claryce.”

  Oberon slowly walked around the corner, followed closely by the thug pointing the gun. I knew that Oberon preferred that there be no shooting now, but I couldn’t be certain that his hireling wasn’t too eager. I wasn’t concerned about any danger to Claryce; I could easily leap in front of her. However, the wound I’d take would at least slow me down a little, and I couldn’t risk that Doolin might do something to her while I was recovering.

  But when I looked for him, Doolin’d also vanished. He moved very quickly for so big a body.

  Claryce exhaled. “That was more unnerving than I’d thought it would be.”

  “You shouldn’t have come . . . but thank you. If I’d kept assuming that card he had was real—” I stopped when I saw her expression. It was full of guilt.

  “I couldn’t stand not facing him again. I didn’t want him to think I was afraid . . . even though I am.” Her cheeks reddened. “I got out to watch. I saw him talking. I remembered how as William he dealt with business rivals and those whose companies he wanted to take over. That was why I had to finally join you.”

  I was only beginning to understand what she was leading up to. “You didn’t really know that card was fake.”

  “I didn’t . . . but I’d seen him act like that so many times and then discover that he’d completely bluffed the other side. I also suspected from the way you looked ready to pounce on him that the card was supposed to be something very magical. Is it?”

  “Even only one of the Clothos cards is deadly.”

  “There’s one somewhere in Holy Name Cathedral, isn’t there? Kravayik knows about it, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes to both questions. Claryce—”

  She was the one leading us back to the Packard. “It took everything to make Fetch promise to stay in the car. We don’t want to keep him waiting any longer.” As we headed back, Claryce continued, “I remember how he talked about the card when he had me. Never got too specific. I was distraught then, but when I saw him with the card now, I knew it couldn’t be real. If it had been, he’d have used it already somehow as either William or Oberon. It’s just inherent in him.”

  She was right. I should’ve thought of that, too. Every card could wreak havoc, which was why they’d all been dispersed separately. It was bad enough that I knew where the one was. Oberon, though, wouldn’t have cared what chaos he created with his own card . . . which was why I should’ve seen what Claryce had.

  “Thanks again.”

  “I worked closely with him for several years, Nick. I’m just glad he couldn’t keep from showing his true self during that time.”

  Oberon’d had no reason to hide himself completely. The ruthlessness and complex dealings of the business world suited him.

  Fetch wagged hard when we returned. “She made me promise to stay, Master Nicholas!”

  “You did the right thing. Sit back.”

  As we drove off, I considered the spear and the station again. Oberon obviously knew where Her Lady had hidden the weapon and the armor. I knew she had protections around them, but I needed to verify for myself just why they should be safe.

  Show me . . . I asked as I veered the Packard for a pass by the building.

  Eye will . . .

  His subdued response might’ve interested me more if he hadn’t immediately obeyed. For that matter, nothing else concerned me more at that moment than why Her Lady might feel so confident.

  She hadn’t relied on the hidey-hole. I’d never expected that. I’d figured there’d be some Feirie magic near the vicinity of the artifacts.

  What I hadn’t figured on was that she’d manage to seal off the entire station from her former lord.

  In the emerald world of the dragon, the station was now barely visible within a murky, constantly shifting shadow of Court power. I could see streaks of red lightning play along its surface and from past experience knew just how strong the defenses were if those were noticeable. I knew what the red streaks meant; not even Oberon’s human servants could take the spear and armor from there. They could enter, but they couldn’t leave if it meant carrying the items out.

  All is well . . . you see?

  I did. I doubted that my unseen companion was any more eager than I to have the spear rediscovered. He was probably very, very grateful to Her Lady, though I doubted he’d give any indication even to me.

  I let my own eyes return.

  “Is everything all right?” Claryce asked.

  “As much as they can be.”

  “Where do we go now?”

  I considered. “I have to make two telephone calls.”

  “Kravayik?”

  I saw no reason to deny it. “Yes. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “Who’s the other?”

  “A man named Barnaby.”

  “Just a man?” Claryce asked with a frown.

  I considered Barnaby. “More or less.”

  The answer didn’t sit well with her, but it was the best I could give. I drove to a nearby pharmacy and parked. With Claryce and Fetch staying near, I went and immediately called Kravayik.

  “I just had a visit with your former lord,” I informed him.

  “It would be too much to hope you slit his throat, may God forgive me for the suggestion.”<
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  “No.” I gave him a quick summary of what happened, concluding, “And he mentioned the full moon in three days.”

  There was a pause. “Yes . . . that would make sense. The ties to Feirie will be strongest then.”

  That’d been my thought as well. “We need to be more on guard than ever.”

  “Even if it cost my life, Master Nicholas.”

  It was very possible that it would cost him just that. I thanked him—and he thanked me over and over—and then hung up so that I could ask the operator to make the second connection.

  Barnaby answered. When he discovered it was me, he immediately reported on the rental auto. “. . . and then returned as you requested in your second call. All in order.”

  “Good. I’ll have another auto for you to deal with soon. I hope. I’ll let you know. This one I’m keeping.” I’d found the Packard very useful, and I doubted that Moran’s gang would be looking for it.

  “Always glad to be of service . . . Oh, there’s something else. It concerns your . . . your outside services.”

  He was talking about my ghost-hunting. I hesitated, then realized I’d feel great guilt if some innocent suffered because I left some renegade Wyld to grow its new lair unchecked. “Tell me.”

  “A friend of mine . . . he don’t get out much more these days. Just to have a bite every now and then. I said I knew someone who’d check things out—”

  “Details, Barnaby.”

  He gave me the information. It sounded pretty straightforward. Old house. Civil War era. Area untouched by the Fire. Lots of stories of ghosts from the War Between the States and after. The current owner, grandson of the original builder, kept thinking he heard voices from the cellar, a shut-off bedroom, and the attic.

  “And you trust he’s not just imagining this?” I’d already made my decision, but had to ask.

  “He doesn’t have much of an imagination, Master Nicholas. A good friend, but definitely not imaginative.”

  “All right. I’ll see him tonight. You explained that part, right?”

  “I said if you’d come, you’d want to do so close to midnight. He’s fine. He thinks his gramp’s haunting him. Guess the old Mick wasn’t the best of men.”