Unfallen Dead cg-3

by Mark Del Franco

He pulled me away from the agents. “I need to play that carefully, Con. It’s going to take us a while to discredit Powell’s story about Meryl. Ceridwen won’t let her go easily.”

  A wave of anger made me feel hot. “You have an innocent person locked up, Dyl, and you want me to wait while you play politics?”

  He squeezed my arm. “Don’t be dense, Connor. If we don’t clear Meryl the right way, Ceridwen will find another excuse to hold her.”

  I steadied my breathing to calm myself. “What can you do, then?”

  He dropped his hand. “We’re missing something. I think it’s time we went back to square one.”

  “The Met robbery,” I said.

  “It happened before both the murders and the Guild robbery. It was the start of whatever her plan is. Let’s look at the file again.”

  The elevator doors opened on an empty Community Liaisons floor. Sundown was the traditional time for Samhain dinner, so the staff left early. Even so, Dylan closed the door to his office.

  Files and evidence bags covered the desk. Dylan flipped open a folder and removed the insurance photos of the stolen Met items: the three fibulae, the torc, and the ring. With his usual tidiness, he lined them up by age of item. “They span centuries. The ring is fourth-century Saxon, and the torc is sixth-century Norse. The three brooches are all fairy circa fifth century, but from three different clans.”

  I leaned over the desk for a closer look. “There’s no connection over that time period. They could be purposely random to hide the one item she really wanted.”

  Dylan slid the ring photo out of the line. “Okay, let’s pull the Saxon ring. Its value is in its antiquity. The Teutonic Consortium would never let a true ring of power sit in a museum without making some claim to it.”

  I had already dismissed the torc and ring as irrelevant. They were used to entice Belgor, which Dylan didn’t know. Powell was smart. She wouldn’t have risked losing them if her plans went wrong. The fact that she did lose the torc and hadn’t tried to retrieve it was proof enough. I wondered about the ring, though. Belgor mentioned it was part of his payment yet not where it ended up the night he was attacked. He probably still had it, a nice antique that would be easier to off-load than the torc. Of course, I couldn’t tell Dylan all that. Not yet. Old partner and former Guild agent I may be, but at the moment I had the torc in my kitchen. Ceridwen would relish charging me with obstructing a Guild investigation and possession of stolen property.

  I pushed the photo aside. “Let’s pull the torc for the same reason.”

  That left the three fibulae — an apple tree, a mistletoe branch, and a horned serpent. Mystic symbols of life and the afterlife. A thrill of realization swept over me. “Put them back, Dylan. Put all of them back.”

  He lined up the photos again.

  I tapped each photo in turn as I talked. “They are all connected. The ring is an ouroboros — a guardian of eternal life — and it matches up with the horned-serpent brooch, which is a symbol of Cernunnos, the lord of the life cycle. The torc is another Cernunnos symbol — the sign of rule over the life cycle. The mistletoe and the apple tree are talismans to the land of the dead, which is also the land of the ever-living. It’s all circular. She’s trying to make some connection between life and death.”

  I crossed my arms in triumph. “I don’t believe a word she says, but I think she was telling the truth about Viten. She misses her boyfriend. She was trying to get into TirNaNog through any means she could except killing herself.”

  Dylan nodded slowly and pointed. “The apple-tree brooch. It must be a real silver branch that will grant her passage if the veil thins.”

  “That’s the obvious one. The mistletoe and the serpent could be genuine, too.”

  Dylan leaned back in his chair. “What about the dagger from the Guild storeroom? She stole it — twice.”

  “That, my friend, she specifically wanted for some reason. It’s not connected to the museum pieces in any way I know. Powell knows something about it we don’t.”

  He looked skeptical. “She’s not going to tell us.”

  Dylan was using the ward stone from Powell’s jacket as a paperweight on a pile of notes. I hefted it in my hand and put as much evil in my grin as I could. “I know someone who knows more about ancient artifacts than the two of us combined. You have her locked up.”

  Dylan closed his eyes melodramatically. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to be trouble?”

  Amused, I shrugged. “Trouble’s Meryl’s other main forte.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The door to the cell room opened with a groan. On the bed, Meryl lounged, reading a book propped against her knees. Without looking up, she held out her index finger and continued reading. Dylan and I waited until she closed the book and dropped it on the bed. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

  “It’s a breakout,” I said.

  She swung her feet to the floor. “Can we wait until after dinner? I ordered the lobster.”

  Dylan shook his head. “You are an odd person.”

  She grinned at him. “That never gets old.”

  I showed her the quartz warding stone. “Look familiar?”

  She grabbed it. “My amplifier! Where the hell did you find it?”

  “Rhonda Powell. She was using it to impersonate you.”

  Meryl passed the stone back and forth between her hands. “I can’t believe I bought that bitch lunch.”

  “It has your essence all over it. Powell used it to get into the Viten evidence room. That’s why it looked like you opened the door.”

  “We have her in custody,” Dylan said.

  Meryl scrunched up her face and closed one eye. “Does this mean I can’t have the lobster?”

  I took the chair nearest the bed. “The Guild insists on it. Dylan thinks he should wait to release you until Powell’s discredited.”

  She pursed her lips, then blinked a few times. “Okay.”

  That threw me. “Okay? Meryl, it’s ridiculous.”

  Indifferent, she stretched back on the bed. “I’m getting paid while I sit here and read, Grey. It’s even better than jury duty because they feed me and the food is good. Did I mention I ordered lobster for dinner?”

  “Odd, odd person,” Dylan muttered.

  While Dylan spread the museum photos on the table, I explained the setup at the Ardman townhouse that had led to Powell’s capture.

  “I hate to say it, but Keeva does know her shit,” said Meryl.

  I laughed. “You should have seen Powell’s face when Keeva crushed the fake soul stone.”

  Despite his discomfort with the way Keeva handled Powell, amusement crept onto Dylan’s face. “I did get a little satisfaction at that. But it was more satisfying seeing the look on Ardman’s face when I gave her soul back.”

  Meryl looked impressed. “You know how soul stones work?”

  He shrugged modestly. “It’s an old interest.”

  I pulled a chair to the table. “Anyway, Meryl, since you are being paid as you say, maybe you can earn some of it and get yourself out of here.”

  I ran down my theory regarding the Met items. Meryl examined each photograph and played with their layout. She likes to pretend she doesn’t care, but a good puzzle is red meat to her. Finally, she nodded. “I think you’re right about her getting into TirNaNog. If the veil opens, it’s an opportunity she wouldn’t want to miss. But she’s not going for a visit.”

  She slid on the bed to lean against the wall. “You’re missing the obvious question: Why kill everyone related to the Viten case if Viten is dead?”

  “Revenge,” said Dylan.

  Unconvinced, Meryl rocked her head from side to side. “Think it through. She’s had ten years to do that, but she didn’t. Now she has a chance to visit her dead lover. Why risk getting caught by taking revenge on the people who brought him down? The only reason that makes sense is if Viten is alive.”

  “It’s Samhain,” I said. “If the veil opens, he can come here.”
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  “Right. But he would only be able to stay for the night until sunrise. That’s when the veil closes,” she said. “Why not use a soul dagger and accomplish something bigger?”

  Dylan arched an eyebrow at her. “The Breton knife is a soul dagger?”

  Meryl grinned. “It seeks living essence. That’s why I had it warded the way I did — to keep it from stabbing anyone who walked in the room.”

  I looked from Dylan to Meryl. “I’m lost.”

  Dylan shook his head in amazement. “It works like a ward stone. It absorbs essence — life essence especially. I didn’t make the connection because the knife is so old. I had no idea those kinds of blades were used that long ago. Powell captured the life essence of her victims.”

  Meryl stretched out on her side. “She essence-shocked them, then trapped their life essence in the Breton dagger.”

  “I get it. I don’t get why,” I said.

  Meryl leaned forward with an avid look. “Winny wasn’t going to visit Viten. She was mounting a rescue. She was going to try to pull him out of TirNaNog. With everyone involved in the case dead, they could live happily ever after.”

  Dylan gathered the photos and put them back in the folder. “The living can enter TirNaNog with a silver branch, but the dead can leave if they acquire enough soul essence. All Viten had to do was kill a living person with the dagger. The feedback from the souls in the blade would revitalize his own soul enough to win release from TirNaNog.”

  My head bopped between them like a Ping-Pong ball. “Okay, I guess I’m the class dunce. I never heard of any of this.”

  Dylan stood by the door. “Some people actually read a book or two after training, Con, and not just when they have a specific need of the moment.”

  Meryl cocked her head. “Really? He did things in the need of a moment? No long-term investment?”

  Dylan shifted his eyes back and forth between us. “Uh… I don’t think I’m touching that one. I’m going downstairs to talk to Powell again.”

  Meryl pulled herself to the edge of the bed. “Downstairs? You have her downstairs? Where downstairs?”

  Dylan paused in thought. “This side, fourth cell down.”

  Meryl leaped to her feet. “Idiots!”

  She knocked Dylan aside, tore open the door, and ran past the startled guard. The guard hesitated, uncertain whether to pursue her.

  “We got it,” I said. Meryl was already down the hall and going through the stairwell door. Dylan and I jostled each other chasing after her. “She’s going to beat the hell out of her, you know,” I said.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time that happened today, would it?” he asked.

  We hit the lower level in time to catch Meryl struggling with the guards outside Powell’s cell. The two Dananns had her arms pinned to her sides. I knew that determined look on her face. She glowed with a rich green light and released a burst of essence. The guards fell, stunned. Meryl kicked open the door and rushed inside. We reached the cell. Hands on her hips, Meryl stared at the empty space within the essence barrier. Powell was gone.

  “How did she get out?” Dylan said.

  Meryl pointed down. “Trapdoor in the floor.”

  Dylan gaped. “How the hell would she know that? How did you?”

  Meryl rolled her eyes. “She was chief archivist before me. Winny showed me half the secret doors in this place.”

  Dylan released the barrier. Meryl crouched and pressed five floor pavers in sequence. Essence flared around the edges and vanished. A dark hole appeared. She sat down and swung her feet into the opening.

  Dylan grabbed her shoulder. “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?”

  The glare Meryl threw at his hand could have shriveled it. He judiciously removed it. “After her,” she said.

  “We’ll go. You’re under house detention,” he said.

  Meryl glowered at him. I’ve seen that look, too. “I know these tunnels. You don’t. You either come with me, and I let you pretend I’m still in your custody, or get the hell out of my way.”

  Dylan stared at her dumbstruck. It’s not every day that a high-ranking Guild department director has it thrown in his face that his rank doesn’t matter one bit to the person in front of him. Of course, most directors don’t work with Meryl either. She waited a good five seconds before she jumped.

  CHAPTER 28

  I tried not to laugh at Dylan’s dazed expression. “Make a decision, partner. She moves pretty fast.”

  He jumped. There was no question whether I would follow. The drop wasn’t long, but I flubbed the landing in the dark. Meryl lit a small ball of blue light above her palm. “Took you long enough. She went this way.”

  Dylan and I followed as she jogged into the darkness. The tunnel was like the one off Meryl’s office, a low and narrow corridor of granite. We moved without speaking, passing openings that breathed air over us, sometimes cool, sometimes warm. I opened my sensing ability, the dark mass in my head not objecting. Not long ago, I would get headaches and nosebleeds when I did a trail scenting. Ever since Forest Hills, the ability had expanded, and the dark mass left me alone. Which was great, but it left me anxious, like waiting for a hammer to fall on my brain.

  Powell’s essence permeated the tunnel. By the strength of the trail, she didn’t have much of a head start. After we left, she must have waited in the cell only long enough to make sure we weren’t coming back in immediately. “Where’s this lead?” I asked.

  Meryl didn’t pause when she answered. “A nexus. From there she can go into the subway, the sewer, or a couple of other places.”

  Within minutes, we reached the nexus. Our corridor fanned open, and the path split left and right. Directly ahead, stairs led up and another flight went down. Powell’s essence went to both side directions and down the stairs. Meryl cursed under her breath.

  “How the hell did she do that?” I asked.

  She tilted her head, trying to gauge the right direction. “This nexus loops back on itself several times. She ran in a few circles to confuse us.”

  “Her essence trail has been getting thicker. We’re getting closer,” I said.

  Meryl nodded. “I hate to say this, but we either split up or flip a coin.”

  “We have more than two choices,” said Dylan.

  Meryl couldn’t help twisting the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well, I didn’t bring my poly-dice. I’ll go left; Dylan goes right. You stay here, Grey, and watch the stairs. I don’t want her coming up behind us.”

  “I’m not going to stand here and wait. I’ll check down the stairs,” I said.

  In the blue glow of her light, Meryl looked spectral. “And if she’s down there, what are you going to do, annoy her to a standstill?”

  “Ouch,” I said.

  Meryl muttered, and a point of yellow light danced in the air above her other hand. She flicked her fingers, and the light sailed down the stairs. “That’ll pop if she passes it. If it pops, I suggest you run like hell and call us, in that order. Winny is no slouch in the essence department.”

  “Fine,” I said, annoyed and embarrassed. Dylan sparked his own light, and the two of them moved in opposite directions. My regular vision faded as their lights receded. My ability showed three ghostly essence signatures. Nothing lived in these tunnels to give off a sign of life. The darkness was so complete, I felt an overwhelming sensation of dizziness. I closed my eyes to stave off vertigo.

  The sound of their footsteps died away. Time dragged as I listened for the faintest popping sound from the stairs. I focused on the essence around me, alert for the slightest change.

  A gleeful sending from Meryl burst in my head. Got her!

  I moved in an instant, chasing after Meryl’s essence down the left-hand corridor. In the dark, I misjudged the floor and hit the wall when the path curved away, rounding upward.

  Watch it. She set binding traps, Meryl sent. The essence signatures appeared to end ahead. I slowed my pace and ran into a wall again. The corridor bent s
harply to the left. I swore loudly and kept going.

  I can see her.

  “We’re here,” I shouted. My voice rang hollow in the dark. The floor dipped abruptly, and I grabbed the granite wall to keep my balance. A burst of light ahead blinded me. I squeezed my eyes shut, using only my sensing ability to see where I was going. Another flash made my eyelids glow red, and essence-fire crackled loudly in the stone passage.

  My body shields triggered against a binding spell that slithered from the ceiling. A streamer of hot light grabbed me. The shields stopped the binding from burrowing into my neck. Bindings come in two flavors: whole field, which feel like a numbing blanket thrown over your head, or ribbons, which feel like burning rope. Powell favored the latter. The binding looped on my neck pulled me against the wall. More ribbons snaked out of the wall, wrapping my arms and legs. I fought the urge to struggle. Resistance signals the ribbons to send fiery pain through the nerve endings.

  I need… Meryl’s sending broke off so quickly it stung.

  “Meryl!” I yelled. The binding against my neck burned. I ignored it and yelled again. “Meryl!”

  No answer. “Dylan!” I didn’t think I was that far ahead of him.

  I was close enough to hear fighting. Sendings don’t take long to make or send, unless you’re me. The dark mass in my head clawed at my brain whenever I tried. I didn’t care. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my memory of Meryl’s essence with the desire to talk to her. I pushed the thought out, one word calling Meryl’s name. I gasped at the finger of pain that hit the bridge of my nose. The sending drifted away, a lazy tendril with none of the speed and power it should have had. This close, it should have reached her instantly. She didn’t respond. I didn’t know if it meant she didn’t receive it or couldn’t.

  “Dammit, Meryl! Answer me!” Nothing.

  A cool breeze fluttered across my face, cloying and unnatural. Dull green phosphorescence oozed out of the wall opposite me. It dripped down and pooled on the floor. Another glob appeared next to it, and another farther down. A moan quivered on the breeze, low and steady, then a sibilant whisper began to build. Another spot blossomed, then two more. More bubbled up from the floor and one on the ceiling. The whispering grew louder, breaking into voices tripping over one another.