Unfallen Dead

by Mark Del Franco

  I stalked from the room, leaving the door open behind me. Sweeping up my daggers, I secured them in their boot sheaths without pausing. People loitering outside the room tilted stunned faces in at Ceridwen. They drew away from me as I passed. Not the Guild security agents. Five of them blocked my way at the elevator. “Her Highness demands your attendance immediately,” one of them said from behind his featureless chrome helmet.

  “Tell Ceridwen she can call me and make an appointment at my convenience,” I said. His body stiffened at my casual use of her given name. Nothing insults royals more than treating them as equals. I moved to step around the agents, but they shifted in front of me again. I glared at the agent who had spoken. “I am not going to say this again. I do not answer to Tara. Now move.”

  Manus pushed his way through the gathering onlookers, with Nigel at his side. “Let me speak to the queen,” he said. He closed his eyes and frowned. If doing a sending over such a short distance caused him that much pain, he really was in bad shape. He opened his eyes. The security agents nodded and moved to one side.

  I inclined my head toward Manus. “Thank you, sir.”

  He held my shoulder. “A small favor at most, Grey.”

  Nigel joined me in the elevator. When the doors closed, I glared at him. “What the hell happened in there, Nigel?”

  He raised a calm eyebrow. “Technically, you insulted the High Queen Maeve via her proxy.”

  I frowned. “I know that.”

  Nigel smiled. “Yes, but this time she might actually hear about it.” He extended a long, thin finger and pressed the elevator STOP button. “Now, you tell me what happened.”

  I leaned against the wall of the car. Nigel was healthier-looking than he had been a few weeks earlier, though more gray hair mixed in with the brown. The way he wore it swept straight back and falling to the back of his neck gave him an academic air. Academic he certainly was. He was also a powerful druid. He had been pushed to the limit at Forest Hills and almost died. “It’s the thing in my head, Nigel. It rejected the compulsion spell from the spear, just like it resisted the control spell at Forest Hills.”

  He nodded. “Yes, well, you were difficult to compel even before you had that problem. But why did you knock Ceridwen off her feet? Not very polite.”

  “I didn’t. At least, I don’t think I did. I think the spear was reacting to what it perceived as my desire.”

  Nigel slipped his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. “Hmm. The spear. I think this spear is more than it appears to the Seelie Court.”

  “The runes.”

  He pursed his lips. “Yes. I could feel that they were made for druid eyes only. Those runes invest whoever holds the spear with the authority of law.”

  “Me? I’m not at that level.” I had left my druidic studies long before I completed a mastery of law.

  Nigel’s eyes shifted back and forth as he considered the implications. “I agree. It’s curious that it responded to you. It means you have the right to use the spear just as Ceridwen does, maybe more so because of the second runes.”

  I nodded. “She said it was bonded to her. When I called it, it came to my hand.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “It came to you? How did you know how to call it?”

  I shrugged. “Ceridwen used the command in front of me. When I used it, the spear jumped to my hand.”

  Nigel’s eyes wandered again as a slight smile came to his face. I’d seen the look before. He liked nothing better than a puzzle. “That means it’s now bonded to you, too. If we can figure out the command for the second line of runes, the spear will surrender itself to you alone. She won’t like that.”

  I sighed. “Why me?”

  I meant it only rhetorically, but Nigel answered anyway. “These things follow a pattern of circumstance. The right conditions at the right time and the right person.” Then he dropped a slight sarcasm into his voice. “Of course, Briallen would probably tell you it’s the Wheel of the World, but you know I don’t subscribe to such notions.”

  I shrugged. “Either way, I didn’t ask for it. What about the other runes?”

  “When the bonded holder of the spear holds it, everyone can see the Way Seeker set. Many spears like it were made for court purposes. They’re not that rare among the fey. Maeve probably gave it to Ceridwen not realizing it was something more. When you touched the spear, I felt druidic resonance from the Way Maker runes. I’d wager that no one in that room but you, Briallen, and I could see them.”

  He stopped speaking, lost in thought. When he didn’t continue, a suspicion came to my mind. I didn’t think he knew about the third set of runes. “Successive sets take precedence over the last?”

  He shrugged. “Of course. That’s the way these things work. The spear responds to need. Ceridwen came on a truth-seeking mission, and the spear bonded with her on that level. If your need were only truth, the druid runes would not have activated, and you and Ceridwen would simply share ownership. For some reason, the spear is responding to your need for the rule of law. Full ownership will pass to you if we can learn the command word for the second set. If another druid has the need and knows the command, you would then share ownership with him. What doesn’t make sense is you’re not trained in the law. It’s curious.”

  Again Nigel stopped speaking and confirmed my suspicion. He had not seen the blaze of essence that read Way Keeper. I pushed it one more time but in a way that I hoped wouldn’t arouse his suspicions. “What about a third set?”

  He looked up and smiled. “That would be extremely rare, especially on a spear of truth and law. Very little takes precedence over those two. A third set is feasible, but usually for a unique purpose.”

  Great. There was no way the spear reacted to my legal abilities. I always wanted to be the guy who hired lawyers, not the guy who had to take someone else’s call. My gut told me the spear was responding to me for the third set of runes, which the spear or whoever made it decided I was the only one to see them. “I don’t want it.”

  Nigel released the STOP button on the elevator, and the car descended again. “Just because it’s yours doesn’t mean you have to use it. It will come if you command, no matter where it is. What you do with it from that point on is your choice.”

  The doors opened on the main lobby, and I stepped out while Nigel remained. He held the door. “Do me a favor, Connor? I know you don’t have enormous respect for the monarchy, but could you keep it reined in until Ceridwen leaves? She’ll understand why I called up that essence, but she won’t be pleased with me. I have much to do, and keeping her calm is difficult enough as it is.”

  A favor. Nigel Martin, my old, domineering mentor, was asking me for a favor. Not too long ago, he would have told me to do as he said and expected me to do it. I guess the ass-chewing I had given him a few weeks ago had had its effect. “Not a problem, Nigel. The last thing I want to do is talk to Ceridwen again.”

  He sighed and pushed the elevator button. “That’s what I’m afraid of. After what just happened, I’m sure she’s going to want to talk to you.” The doors closed.

  Out in the afternoon sun, Briallen waited on the sidewalk. Two Guild security agents and a few brownie security guards made a not-so-subtle perimeter around her. Other pedestrians gave them a wide berth. She looked relieved when she saw me. “Walk me home?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Tension flowed off her as we made our way toward Boston Common. The brownie security unit stopped following when we moved through the tingle of the invisible shield surrounding the Guildhouse. The Danann security agents remained a few paces behind us. Briallen didn’t speak. We crossed the street and entered the broad lawn of Boston Common. About halfway across the open green space, Briallen wheeled around to face the agents. “I told Manus I don’t need security.”

  One of the agents inclined his chrome helmet toward her. “We have our orders, ma’am.”

  She set her face in annoyance. “I don’t care what your orders
are. I don’t want . . . oh, dammit, I don’t have time for this crap.” She muttered something Gaelic and waved her hand at the agents. In the cool air, a puff of steam wafted over them. They both startled, then looked around in confusion. They turned and went back toward the Guildhouse. Briallen slipped her arm through mine, and we resumed walking. “That’s better.”

  At the base of the fairy hill in the center of the Common, we threaded our way through a number of gargoyles in the grass. “That’s odd,” I said.

  Briallen hummed agreement. “Yes, I find it very interesting. Gargoyles are sensitive to essence. I think they’re sensing something about the fairy ring at the top of the hill. There are indications that a veil may form for the first time since Convergence.”

  Every year, a circle of flat-top mushrooms grew near the grassy summit of the hill. How the ring appeared was a mystery, one of those places that had been unnoticed, yet known for years. Who used it first and whether it sprang organically from the ground or was seeded, no one knows. There was a Power in the ring even human normals could feel. I’ve been seen a lot of fairy rings, and the Boston ring was one of the strongest. “That’s wishful thinking, Briallen. It’s just Samhain. They could be attracted to the increase in fey people performing seasonal rituals up there.”

  She stopped again. “Maybe.”

  She placed her hands on either side of my head and sent warm lines of essence into my head. “That’s a relief. I was worried that damned spear did something to the darkness in your mind.”

  “I’ve bonded with it.”

  She shook her head. “I hate those stupid things. Nigel loves them, but in my experience, artifacts like that have a way of screwing up things.”

  I tilted my head down at her. “I seem to recall someone giving me a charmed dagger.”

  She gave me a friendly poke. “That’s different. I gave it to you. Things like the spear work of their own accord. Some idiot puts a bonding criterion on it, and who the hell knows where the thing will end up.”

  After what Nigel said, I couldn’t resist. “Maybe the Wheel of the World influences where it ends up.”

  “Yes, well, the Wheel of the World functions quite fine on Its own, thank you. It doesn’t need some old druid making weapons that can muck things around.”

  We reached Beacon Street and crossed into the Beacon Hill neighborhood. Cheerful pumpkins and cats decorated doors and windows as we strolled past the old townhouses. Samhain was one of those holidays that everybody celebrated in some form. It had different levels of meaning depending on the culture. For the Teutonic fey, it was a celebration of the continuity of life. For the Celts, it was a more mournful affair of remembrance for those who had died. For both sides of the fey divide, it was the start of the new year. Of course, for human normals, it was all about candy. Given a choice, I preferred the candy.

  On the sidewalk in front of Briallen’s townhouse, she took both my hands in hers. “Listen to me, Connor. The Guildhouse is in absolute turmoil. I actually like Ceridwen, but I’m worried she’s going after Manus. My suspicion is that she wants to replace him with Ryan macGoren because he’ll be more obedient to Maeve. If that happens, I’m afraid it will fracture the board even more.”

  I cocked my head. “And I care about this because . . .”

  She tugged my hands. “Because the Dananns are terrified of this taint on the essence here, and they don’t want it to spread. You accidentally got in the middle of all this, and you know macGoren is not your friend. I have influence, but at a certain point, I may not be able to keep them from bothering you. They think you might be lying about what you know of the Taint. It was made by a druid and stopped by a druid. All the Seelie Court sees is a threat to its power, and when that stuff starts happening, people get hurt.”

  I brought her hands up to my lips and kissed them. “I promise not to poke or tease the Faerie queen, okay?”

  She chuckled. “Don’t make promises we know you can’t keep. If I could make you go on a vacation right now, I would.”

  I swung her hands playfully. “No, really. I have an odd little murder case I much prefer dealing with. I will avoid Ceridwen completely if I can.”

  She nodded. “Okay, that I can believe.”

  I gave her a wicked smile. “Am I mistaken, but did you imply back in that room that you are peer to a Faerie queen?”

  She laughed again. “Oh, I’m not implying. I am. Years ago, I was made an honorary underQueen for services rendered to the Seelie Court. Since Convergence, none of the underQueens and underKings have physical realms anymore, so I ended up on equal footing. See what I mean about criteria? You never know what the results will be.”

  I shook my head. “The more I learn about you . . .”

  She kissed my cheek. “The less you know. Go solve your murder, sweetie. I have a political crisis to manage.”

  6

  I waited for Murdock in what had to be the most run-down doughnut franchise in the city. I liked doughnut shops. They’re one of the few places that cross all social lines. Everyone likes doughnuts. If they say they don’t, they’re lying. At a doughnut shop, you can get a sense of a neighborhood in ten minutes. And, of course, the coffee kept me alive. Murdock wouldn’t be caught dead in one, but I didn’t have a public image to maintain.

  Murdock pulled up in front, and I left the shop. I tossed a tattered magazine off the passenger seat and handed him a cup of coffee as I dropped into the squalor of his car.

  “That’s going to cost you,” he said, as I shoved the last bite of a glazed doughnut in my mouth.

  I smacked my lips. “There’s no other reason to go to the gym.”

  Murdock turned off the Avenue and down D Street. “Got a call down on Boston Street in Dorchester.”

  “That’s out of your jurisdiction.”

  Murdock tapped the steering wheel as we waited at a red light. “Yep. Someone thought I might be interested. Even mentioned your name.”

  Boston had absorbed the town of Dorchester years ago, but it retained its name and its smaller neighborhoods. Some were nice, and some had pockets as bad as the Weird, only guns were the threat instead of spellcasters. Boston Street off Dot Ave was one of the nicer places, young professionals, decent restaurants nearby, and working streetlights.

  We pulled up to a typical triple-decker—a three-level wooden building with bay windows that looked like it came from a Monopoly game. The usual assortment of police vehicles clogged the street. The front door of the building stood open, crime-scene tape flanking the steps. Uniformed officers kept the human normal crowd back. A plainclothes officer dressed in dark brown pants and a Red Sox jacket nodded at Murdock when she saw him get out. “Hey, Murdock, long time, no see.”

  Murdock gave her a wide grin. “Hey, Liz.” There was a subtle shifting of eye contact between them that told me all I needed to know about at least one part of their past. Murdock has a knack for loving and leaving without trailing broken hearts in his wake.

  Murdock jogged the short flight of steps. “This is Connor Grey. Connor, Liz DeJesus.”

  She shook with a firm grip I liked in anyone, man or woman. “Good to meet you. One of my guys was talking to one of yours, Murdock, and gave me a heads-up. I’d appreciate anything you can tell me on this.”

  As I joined them on the top step, the essence hit me immediately. Druidess, definitely, and a personal essence I recognized in particular. I looked over Liz’s shoulder.

  The open door revealed a small landing with a crooked area rug. To the left stood a narrow mail table, knocked askew, a vase of dried flowers on its side. To the right, a staircase went up to the second floor. Next to it, a hallway led back to an open apartment door. In front of the apartment door, the victim lay on her back like a discarded doll.

  Liz led us in. “Olivia Merced, sixty-seven years old, single. An upstairs neighbor found her like this. He remembers hearing a door buzzer about seven A.M.”

  Olivia Merced looked fit and young for her age. By her outf
it, I guessed she had been dressing for the day when the door buzzer went off. She wore black dress slacks with a light blue T-shirt and a pair of fleece bedroom slippers. My stomach fluttered at the sight of scorch marks at the toes of her slippers. “Did she work?”

  Liz shook her head. “No. According to the neighbor, she did mostly volunteer work. Check out her face.”

  Her head had turned to the side when she fell. I had to press myself against the staircase to lean over her without touching her body. Slashed across her forehead were six ogham runes. “Same as our guy the other night, Murdock.”

  I pulled back and rejoined them at the threshold, trying not to think about the pain the woman must have felt. “Same killer, too. The essence matches what I felt at the warehouse.”

  Murdock’s eyebrows were drawn down. “What could a homeless man in the Weird have in common with a retired woman in Dorchester?”

  My eyes scanned the hall. “As victims, they’re too random to be random. No one kills like this without a reason. For one thing, you have to store up essence to do this. For another, it’s exhausting. The murderer had a real motive to connect them. That makes them calculated executions.”

  Liz stared at me with a classic yeah-right look. Lots of cops did when I talked about essence or the fey or Faerie. It was easier to believe it was all something called magic, that there were no rules or process or limits.

  Liz shook her head. “You know what the media’s going to do with this.”

  I felt a little flash of anger. “You mean now that a nice old-lady charity volunteer bought it instead of just a homeless guy in the Weird?”

  Murdock cleared his throat. “We’re all on the same side here, Connor. Liz is only stating the obvious.”

  Liz gave me a tight smile. “Everyone’s tense right now. Let’s look at the bright side. With all the resources the mayor’s pulling for security, maybe a little media attention might remind him there’s still real crime out here.”