Crushed (City of Eldrich Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
y the next
morning, everyone agreed that until they could figure out what was happening to Jamie—given his claims that something was ordering him to kill his family—Patrice and the children needed to be somewhere else.

Patrice, it turned out, wasn’t as rootless as Meaghan had thought. Raised in the foster care system down in Harrisburg, Patrice had stayed in touch with her last set of foster parents. By the time she’d gotten to them, in high school, she was far too cautious to let them take the place of parents in her heart, and wisely they hadn’t forced it. But Patrice looked to them as friends and mentors, and she and the kids were headed down to Tyrone to stay with them until things settled down.

Her eye swollen shut, standing in front of her shattered house beside her packed-up minivan, Patrice looked even smaller than she was and—for the first time since Meaghan had met her—vulnerable.

“Don’t argue with me,” Meaghan said as she handed Patrice a check. “Neither of you can work right now. You don’t need to be worrying about money on top of everything else.”

“Meaghan, I can’t,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, you can. Matthew took good care of me and Russ. Plus, I get paid well and where the hell am I going to spend it in Eldrich? Take it. Let me help.” Meaghan pushed down the tears that threatened to spill. “Let me do something. This shit is magical and I let it happen and—”

Patrice cut her off with a furious glare and a hug. “You did not. They did this to him. Find out why. If you love him, find out why.” She let go of Meaghan and climbed into the minivan.

“You’re going to the bank with that check, right? If you don’t deposit it, I’ll get Natalie to magic it in there somehow.”

Patrice gave Meaghan a wan smile. “First stop is the bank, then out to Lynette’s to pick up the kids.”

Meaghan waved as Patrice drove away. She wiped away a stray tear and then turned her attention back to the house where a couple of workers were boarding up and measuring the windows. Meaghan hadn’t told Patrice, but she planned to buy them new insulated windows, with safety glass, rather than merely repair the old ones.

Kady was minding the office while Meaghan and Natalie helped Patrice pack. Now Natalie walked up with a mug of coffee, which she handed to Meaghan. “I put a tracer spell on her and Lynette’s got the kids. To make sure they’re okay.”

“You know any witches down there?”

Natalie nodded. “A few. But Tyrone is close enough I can keep track of her myself.”

“You hear anything about Jamie?” Meaghan sipped her coffee. She needed the caffeine. Between learning that Natalie was her sister and worrying about Jamie, Meaghan had slept very little the night before, even less than normal. But on the up side, no sleep meant no nightmares.

“He’s still in the hospital down in Williamsport,” Natalie said. “The doc’s clued in. He dummied up a quarantine order to keep Jamie away from prying eyes and to keep him from having a psych eval on his records. It would raise too many questions.”

“How long will they keep him?”

“A few days at most or the state health department or CDC will start paying attention.”

“And that would be bad?” Meaghan asked.

“What do you think?”

Meaghan nodded. She couldn’t see the feds being able to wrap their brains around black magic as suitable grounds for a quarantine. “So where’s he staying when he gets out of the hospital?”

Natalie sighed. “Well, with me, of course. I’m furious with him for what he did to Patrice, but I still love him. And I’m powerful enough to protect us both.”

“You didn’t see him last night. He beat himself up far worse than he did Patrice. It’s not him doing this.”

“I know it’s not him. It’s those bastards screwing with him.” Natalie shook her head. “I’ve never seen Patrice scared like this before. She and Jamie were solid. They hardly ever disagreed about anything. If they can make him hurt Patrice, none of us are safe.”

“Will you be safe?”

Natalie’s face grew grim. “If Jamie tries anything on me, I’ll kick his ass so hard he won’t have an ass left to kick. Double for those Order freaks.”

“Well,” Meaghan said, “at least now we don’t have to worry about finding him new office space. Thank God for FMLA.”

The estimator from the window company walked up. He was from Williamsport and not clued in, but Buzz Hallam trusted his boss. “Got my measurements. I’ll run up some estimates for you at a few different price points. What happened, by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Gas leak, they think,” Meaghan said.

“Nah, there’d be signs of fire damage if there was a gas explosion. Has Homeland been out? This looks like some kind of bomb to me.”

Meaghan glanced at Natalie, who nodded slightly and muttered something under her breath.

The estimator’s eyes closed. He shook his head slightly, opened his eyes, and looked at Meaghan. “Yeah,” he said. “You got to watch out for gas leaks in these old houses. One spark and boom, no windows.” He handed Meaghan his card. “I’ll get you that estimate by this afternoon.”

“You have my business card?” Meaghan asked.

He patted his breast pocket. “Right here. Is email okay?”

“Perfect,” Meaghan said with a broad smile.

He smiled back, then walked to his truck. He waved as he drove past.

“That’s a nifty little spell,” Meaghan said.

“The last thing we need is a bunch of out-of-town law enforcement sniffing around,” Natalie said. “Not everybody’s as amenable to getting their thoughts nudged.”

“But it’s not like they’d believe it was magic that did it,” Meaghan said.

“That’s the problem. Denial won’t let them accept the real reason, so they’ll have to come up with something else instead. And before we know it, Jamie’s a suspect in something, and he’s not exactly here legally.”

Meaghan nodded. “And if they can’t accept poltergeists, they really won’t be able to handle Fahraya.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think they know?” Meaghan asked. “The government? At any level?”

Natalie shrugged. “The truth is out there? Will Smith in black-tie? Maybe. What do you think?”

“I think the feds leave really big footprints, and the conspiracy buffs give them way too much credit.”

Natalie nodded. “You’ve heard the rumors about the missing Fahrayans and the European gateways?”

Only about half the population of Fahraya survived the destruction of their world. Most of them arrived through the Eldrich gateway, with a handful showing up in England. The remaining gateways in Germany, France, and Romania had signs of the same wind damage as the Eldrich gateway, but no Fahrayans.

It had long been rumored in the magical worlds that several Fahrayans, presumed dead after flying through a gateway right into a World War II battlefield, had instead been captured by the Germans and taken to a secret lab in Berlin. The rumor mill now assumed that a similar fate had befallen the five hundred missing Fahrayans.

Meaghan rolled her eyes. “The one where NATO grabbed them?”

“I heard the Russian mob.”

Meaghan almost spit out her coffee. “Russian gangsters? Seriously?”

“There’s also the version where they were grabbed by a big biotech firm. Or pharmaceutical maker. I’ve heard both.”

“Unbelievable.” Meaghan’s coffee was now cool enough for her to drink rather than sip. “We only had a few minutes to escape while the place was tearing itself apart. The real mystery is how anybody managed to survive at all. The missing Fahrayans are dead.” She drained the coffee mug with one last gulp. “I think. That’s the most likely explanation.”

“So the feds aren’t clued in?”

Meaghan shrugged. “They might be, but not in a large-scale way. The only way to keep a big secret in government is by not telling anybody. You have to keep it in-house and limited to a very few people.”

“Which means there’s probably not much they could do to help us with the Fahrayans even if they did know,” Natalie said.

“Probably not,” Meaghan said. “But, one crisis at a time, right? We’ve got whole
days
before the weather turns on us.”

“Maybe we’ll have a long autumn. It’s only the end of August.”

Meaghan handed Natalie the empty coffee mug. “We’re not that lucky.”

“Did Kady talk to you about her big news?” Natalie asked.

Meaghan smiled. “She did. She wants to name him after my . . .” She looked around. Nobody was close enough to hear, but she lowered her voice anyway. “
Our
father. Does Kady know about that?”

Natalie shook her head. “No. She doesn’t even suspect it. Russ only figured it out because he spent so much time with all three of us, and you know how he is—Mister I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself.”

“He does that to you, too?”

Natalie smiled. “Oh, yes. All the damn time.”

Meaghan laughed, for the first time in about fourteen hours she realized. Which brought the horror of the previous night back into the front of her mind. Her laughter evaporated.

“Oh,” Natalie said. “I forgot to tell you. Kady called while I was getting you the coffee. There’s a leprechaun waiting for you at the office.”

“Wonderful,” Meaghan said, all remaining shreds of good humor gone. “As if we don’t have enough shit to deal with already.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T
h
e little man,
whom Meaghan assumed to be the leprechaun, stood on the third floor landing, outside of the solicitor’s office, talking loudly to himself. “I don’t care about that. No more bullshit. Get it done.”

He spoke with an American accent. Not a trace of a brogue. He tapped his ear with an index finger and whirled around.

Meaghan saw a Bluetooth earpiece under his carefully tousled dark hair. About four feet tall, he wore a dark business suit, impeccably tailored, and carried a leather folio in his left hand. He walked toward her, right hand extended. This was definitely the guy Kady had described, but . . . the size was right for a leprechaun, but nothing else about him was.

“Ms. Keele?” He flashed a perfect smile, a rakish twinkle in his sea-green eyes.

If he were six feet tall, he’d be a menace to all womankind
, Meaghan thought. Even at four feet tall, he had the potential to be devastating. She suspected that he had no difficulty attracting women. Or men, she corrected herself, thinking of Jhoro. Or both.

Meaghan didn’t take his hand. Shake a leprechaun’s hand, Russ had told her, and you had to count your fingers to make sure you got them all back. You might be sealing a deal you never intended to make. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“Ah,” he said, dropping his hand. “I see you’ve met some of my less advanced brothers. May I ask?”

“Jimmy Sweeney,” Meaghan said. “And his band of little thugs.”

A pained look crossed the leprechaun’s handsome face. “I heard something about that. Please accept my apologies.” He smiled. “If it helps, you made quite an impression on them.”

“Yes, I expect I did.”

“As did the king.”

Now it was Meaghan’s turn to smile. “That was something, wasn’t it? I think my favorite part was when he had Jimmy by the throat and the red-headed one—what’s his name?”

“Fergus.”

“Yes, Fergus. When he had Jimmy by the throat and Fergus by the ankle and hoisted them both into the air. John’s English skills are not the best, but he has developed a remarkable facility with profanity.”

The leprechaun laughed. “They were also quite shocked to discover that the Fahrayans were human-sized instead of pixie-sized.”

“They had recovered from that particular shock by the time I arrived,” Meaghan said. “It was business as usual. Hence John’s displeasure. But what I found most interesting was that, even with John’s outburst, they seemed more frightened of
me.
”

The leprechaun grimaced. “Yes, well, you do have a reputation. Destroying a world will do that.”

“Hmm,” Meaghan said. “From my perspective I was saving all the other worlds.”

“From my perspective,” he answered, “you did the Fahrayans a favor. That world of theirs was a dump. Time for them to come home.”

“I’m not sure they see it that way.”

“Some of them never will. But they’re finally human again. Which is one of the things I’m here to see you about.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”

“My office is nearby.”

He frowned. “Is Natalie Segretti around today? I hear she’s even more talented than her mother, and Vivian cast a mean barrier spell.”

“You knew Vivian?” Meaghan asked, intrigued.

A sad look crossed his face. “Yes. And your father. I have some information you might find useful. But I really don’t want to say anymore out here.”

Meaghan stared at him for a long moment. She still didn’t trust him, but the least she could do was hear him out. He knew about the Fahrayans’ human origins and he’d known her father. Maybe he could give her some details about the war or at least help her figure out what had been redacted from Matthew’s journals.

“Natalie’s taking the day off, but if we need her I can call her,” she said. “And she’s not the only witch in the building if we need additional security, Mr.—I’m sorry. I never gave you an opportunity to introduce yourself.”

“Owen Finnerty.” This time he didn’t offer his hand.

“Mr. Finnerty, why don’t you come in and have a seat. I suspect Natalie has a barrier up already, but if we need more privacy, I’ll ask her to come in.” Natalie maintained a sturdy magical firewall around the entire solicitor’s office to keep Emily Procter at bay, but Meaghan didn’t mention that. She pushed open the door and held it for him.

With a nod, he walked past her into the reception area, where Kady sat.

“Mr. Finnerty and I are going back to my office,” Meaghan said.

Kady glared at the leprechaun. “If you need my help with anything, I’ll be right here.”

Located in one of city hall’s four turrets, Meaghan’s office was small and round. Almost perfectly round. Unlike Jamie’s office next door—spook central—Meaghan’s office felt warm and inviting.

Owen Finnerty could feel it too. Nodding, he surveyed the room. “Nice space. Well protected.” He pulled himself up onto one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Meaghan noticed that his feet didn’t touch the floor.
Good
, she thought. She felt a momentary stab of shame, then reminded herself that he wasn’t a little person. He wasn’t a human man who had been born a bit different. Owen Finnerty was a leprechaun, and leprechauns were not the whimsical wee folk of legend guarding their pots of gold. They were hard-boiled thugs and petty criminals who used magic to torment humans. Owen Finnerty may have had a more polished exterior than Jimmy Sweeney, but that likely only meant he was a better class of criminal.
Let his feet
dangle
.

“Do you still want Natalie to put up an additional barrier?” Meaghan asked.

“No. She’s done a good job shielding this space, which I suppose isn’t surprising considering the mystic geyser that’s spewing next door.” He pinned her with his gaze, looking at her with an intensity that he had lacked in the hallway.

He knows about city hall. I wonder what else he knows.
Meaghan stared back, letting her brows knit into the hawk-like glare she’d inherited from her father. She knew this game. She’d stared down enough $1,000-an-hour hotshot attorneys over the years. She had a law school friend who called it the sheepdog stare. Now it was merely a matter of learning which one of them was the sheep.

Eventually Owen Finnerty wilted and looked away. He plucked an invisible hair from his silk tie and cleared his throat. “I am not your typical leprechaun, Ms. Keele.”

“You certainly don’t look like the ones I’ve encountered,” Meaghan said. “From what I’ve learned about leprechauns, Jimmy Sweeney does seem a bit more representative of your race. But just because you look different doesn’t mean you are. Why are you here, Mr. Finnerty?”

He grinned at her. “You don’t like to sugarcoat things, do you?”

“I’m too old. Sugarcoating ups my diabetes risk. Mr. Finnerty, why are you here?”

“Owen. Please call me Owen. Do we need to be so formal?”

“We do, until I know why you’re here.”

“Well, then, Ms. Keele,” he said, with an even wider grin, “I’m here to offer assistance.”

Meaghan snorted. “And what will it cost me? An arm? A leg? I may be new to this job, but I’m not a complete idiot. I’m a lawyer, remember? I don’t trust anybody, let alone magical loan sharks.”

Owen Finnerty grimaced. “Fair enough. My people have an unsavory reputation for valid reasons. But you don’t know the whole story, Ms. Keele. That’s the other reason I’m here. I want to offer assistance with the Fahrayans in exchange for your services as a negotiator.”

Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Negotiating? Haven’t you heard? I destroyed Fahraya. Nobody trusts me either.”

Owen Finnerty shook his head. “Not true. You didn’t destroy Fahraya. That
thing
did. And it’s still out there.” He shuddered. “There are plenty of us who trust you even more than we trusted your father. And that’s got a lot of the old guard very upset.”

“The old guard?” Meaghan asked. Was she finally going to get some details on the mysterious war?

“The races who like their humans fearful and easily hexed. Those who want a return to the old ways.”

“My brother mentioned something about that. Pre-Iron Age was what he told me. But after all this time—what, three millennia?—they surely don’t think they can push us back to the Bronze Age.”

“A millennium isn’t as big a deal if you’re immortal.” He sat back in his chair. “How old do I look to you?”

Meaghan sighed. “About thirty-five, but I’m betting the number’s a bit higher.”

“Try a hundred times higher.”

“You’re thirty-five hundred years old?”

Owen Finnerty shrugged. “Give or take a few hundred. It’s hard to keep track after a while. It becomes a big blur. Been there, done that, done it again. And again. And again. Can you imagine how tedious that is?” He shook his head. “Of course you can’t. Human lives zip by so fast you don’t have time to get bored. Not like immortals can get bored. And when magical immortals get bored, they tend to cause trouble.”

“And if humans lose their susceptibility to magic, these magical immortals lose their favorite toys.”

“Exactly.”

“So, is this the war I keep hearing hints about?”

Owen Finnerty glanced around the room and took a deep breath.

He’s scared
, Meaghan thought.
Like Natalie was the first time I asked her about
it.

“How do you even know about it?” he asked. “Matthew had to lock up those files to keep . . . there’s . . . how do you know?”

“My mother told me in a dream the day after I arrived in Eldrich.”

Owen Finnerty nodded. “Was this before or after your father died?”

“Before.”

“Well, that’s something in our favor, I guess. Makes it harder to argue that he coached her to slip you the info. That would violate the truce. But I’m not sure they’ll see it that way.”

“Who?” Meaghan asked. “What truce? Will you just tell me what’s going on?
Who
won’t see it that way?”

Owen Finnerty stared at her a moment, his face grim. “The gods. The gods won’t see it that way.”