Hallow Point (34 page)

“This can’t be. We would have noticed!” she said.

“Sure would’ve, doll. If you weren’t busy with something else.”

While I let that sink in, let her own gears start grinding, I addressed the others.

“Some’a you ain’t from around here,” I said. “I go by Mick Oberon. Yes, we’re related; third cousin on my mother’s side. Here in the mortal world, I’m a gumshoe—and a good one, no matter what a few of my buddies here would rather believe.”

A few scoffs and snorts from the Seelie, but no outright denials.

“And lemme tell you what I’ve puzzled out about this whole damn circus: It’s a whole load of malarkey. Horsefeathers, the whole kit’n caboodle.”

Now
I had their attention. Swear I actually felt the air pressure drop as damn near everyone present inhaled and opened their traps to start flinging questions.

I beat ’em to it.

“How many of you’ve come across lingering traces of magic? Signs that Gáe Assail’d been around, but not anymore?” Then, as everyone worked to catch up, “C’mon, it ain’t as though telling me that’s gonna give anything away.”

Herne spoke first. “I have. On several occasions.” I’d known he had, since there’d been traces in the building where we’d had our second face-to-face, but it was handy knowing there’d been others.

Slow at first, but then quicker, others answered. A lotta them still refused, but it was pretty clear each faction had run across a couple.

So I went on.

“Yeah. Me, too. Thing is, they were both
exactly
the same intensity. Any of yours different?”

Whispering, muttering.

“The point being what?” one of the foreign
aes sidhe
demanded.

“The point being,” I answered, scuffing a foot across the stone as I stepped right to the edge, “if the glamour that was veiling the spear from all of us was breakin’ down, some of those traces shoulda been weaker’n others. Just a nip at first, then more as the spell unraveled.”

“You seek complications where none exist.” Áebinn, snooty and dismissive as ever; I’d gotten her suspicions roused, but obviously I hadn’t worked her around to “benefit of the doubt” yet. She wasn’t shouting, didn’t even really speak up, but her voice carried. Banshee, and all. “So the spell isn’t disintegrating; it simply was never strong enough to entirely hide the spear. The power leaking through remains constant. You’re a fool.”

“Oh, gee-golly, officer, why didn’t I think of that? How about, oh, I dunno,
because there was no such trace at the museum itself
? If the hole in the veil was constant, as opposed to slowly comin’ undone, there shoulda been, savvy?”

Some of the mutters were sounding troubled, now.

“You could have missed it,” Áebinn grumbled, but that was the downside of pipes like hers. I could hear the doubt creeping back, however she tried to swallow it.

“Don’t take my word for it. Herne?”

The Hunter frowned so hard I thought his antlers might slide down his face.

“No. Nothing. I hadn’t put it together…”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You usually hunt different kinda game’n me.”

Not that the big galoot’s feelings mattered much to me, but there was still that whole “I’ll kill you when this is over” thing I hadda talk him out of. No sense making it any tougher on myself.

Téimhneach spoke, which actually kinda surprised me. I’d figured him to stay dormy until I got to the best part.

“What are you suggesting, Oberon?”

“The whole trail was too straight. Too pat. Manetti, Rosen, Clanton…” Some of ’em looked confused, so I took a moment to explain the path I’d followed. “Exactly the sortsa people you’d need for a racket like this, all conveniently bumped off, all leading me to the next, but never to any real answers. Between that’n the fake traces of magic—and let’s be real clear, if we’ve ruled out either a weak veil or a fading one, they almost
gotta
be fake—what we got left is a hell of a wild goose. Someone wanted to keep us busy, running around in a tizzy digging for a prize
that was never here
!”

I couldn’t say much else for a while, or even shout much else, since the whole crowd was yelling and yapping like a bunch of gossiping Chihuahuas. Guess I couldn’t much blame ’em for not believing;
I
hadn’t wanted to believe. Hell, if you remember, I’d stumbled across the answer a couple different times during my musings about this whole fiasco, and rejected it.

It was only when Herne hefted his spear and demanded silence in the voice of an earthquake with a hangover that the hubbub quieted.

Mostly.

Raighallan, my absolute favorite
aes sidhe
in the whole world, kept right on yapping.

“This is sheer idiocy!” He couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to glare at me or address everyone around him. Ultimately, he settled on a burning glare. “How stupid do you think we are, Oberon? How gullible?”

He really didn’t want me to answer that first part. As to the second…

“I don’t think you’re gullible at all,” I lied.

“Did you think we wouldn’t see through you? This is an attempt—and a pathetic one!—to trick the rest of us into giving up so you can find Ahreadbhar for yourself!”

I didn’t bother trying to correct that particular wrongheaded idea. Even if he’d believe a word when I said I didn’t want the damn thing, figured this wasn’t the time to try and explain the specifics of my particular rock and hard place.

What I said instead was, “All right, Raighallan. You’re so positive the Spear of Lugh’s in Chicago? Why don’tcha tell us all why?”

Bastard opened his trap… And stopped.

“Rumor, right?” I asked.

“Well…”

“Guessing it was rumor dragged all of you here?” To the chorus of reluctant nods, “Rumors that coulda been planted by just about anyone? Course you’re none of you jingle-brained. Wouldn’t have believed rumor alone, right? Woulda blown into town, dug around some, and split. Except…”

Áebinn sounded as though she’d rather gargle molten iron that speak up, but give her credit; once she saw it for what it was, she didn’t let her dislike of me stop her.

“Except we found everyone
else
had also heard the rumors, and we all stumbled across traces of some occult power throughout Chicago,” she said.

“Bingo. So tell me. Raighallan, have you—have
any
of you—found one shred of evidence that the spear’s even here, other’n rumor and a fake lingering aura?”

“You still ain’t proved it’s fake!” someone shouted from the crowd. “You’re just supposin’!” A few murmurs of agreement followed, but they weren’t too sure of ’emselves. I’d gotten everyone pondering, and they weren’t happy with what they were coming up with.

“The curator!” Raighallan grinned all triumphant, mouth stretching beyond human. “The man saw the spear when someone tried to hide it in the museum!”

I’d known
someone
was gonna bring that up, but I can’t pretend I wasn’t extra glad it was him.

“You’re talkin’ about the break-in at the Field?”

“Of
course
I’m talking about—”

“The break-in that was perfectly timed to reinvigorate everyone’s hunt, shore up those rumors, when a heap of you were startin’ to give up on the whole shebang? Hell, it’s almost as if someone was afraid you’d take your peepers off the prize and start payin’ attention to somethin’ else.”

Murmurs were growin’ even less happy.

“The human saw it,” Raiggy insisted again.

“‘The human,’” I said. “You mean Morton Lydecker? Assistant Curator. Older guy, looks like a brush?”

I could taste his frustration so bad I wanted to brush my teeth.

“You know damn well who I mean!”

“The same Morton Lydecker who’s recently been paid close to ten thousand checkers from some secret admirer?”

Dead silence.

“Áebinn, I know the cops think you’re a Prohibition agent. Feel free to check in with ’em, if you figure I ain’t bein’ square with you. It was all on the up-and-up. Got a warrant and everything.”

I looked and smiled sidelong at Ramona, who was just sorta dazed at the whole thing.

“Thank your boss for me again, wouldja?” I said to her.

“Very well, Oberon.” Herne took a single step, and the murmurings that’d been building again died out. “You make a compelling case. Nothing you offer is
proof
, but there’s certainly sufficient…” He paused, groping for a word.

“We call it ‘circumstantial evidence,’” Áebinn told him. He jerked her a nod in thanks.

“However,” he continued, “I—and I’d expect these others, as well—cannot afford to simply give up this hunt on your suppositions, no matter how well they fit. If you cannot offer proof—”

“How’s about I offer motive, instead?”

His eyebrow arched sharp enough to launch an arrow.

“You would have to know who perpetrated such a hoax to know that.”

“I imagine I would, yeah.”

Honestly? I missed this a little. Standing and talking at a whole captive audience of fellow Fae, nobles of the Seelie Court… Still wouldn’t go back for the world and a sundae on the side, but it wasn’t
all
bad.

I continued, “In addition to the info on Lydecker’s bank accounts, I also got my mitts on police reports from across the city. You know how much random street violence’s gone up in the last few weeks?”

“Why does this even—?” Raighallan began, but his own partner shushed him with a glare.

“Zip,” I said. “Nada. Well, other’n the raid on Scola’s place. And the car bomb that killed Manetti, but that’s part of the scam. No big fires. No mass firefights or gang clashes. No rash of murders and disappearances. Nothing that coulda been the ‘official story’ to cover any sorta clash between Fae factions.

“There’s only so many leads to follow. I’ve run into each faction here at least once over the course, some of you more’n once. No way you all haven’t also run into each other. So tell me, how many of you actually bumped into the Unseelie before tonight?”

Téimhneach drew himself up—and as a boggart, that made him actually taller’n he had been a minute ago.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

“
I
did,” I said, “because you guys got something on me.” Still didn’t like to admit that, but I hadda make the point. I ignored a few accusing glances from the other Fae. “But other’n when you first dropped me off, it was only ever you’n Grangullie. You got over a dozen redcaps here, Timmy. Where’ve they been?”

“They’ve been searching, since we very clearly couldn’t count on you to—!”

“Our guests,” I said, sorta waving at the
dullahan
, the
bagienniks
, and the others, “wouldn’t attack the Chicago Seelie outright. Too much chance of bringing down some unpleasant consequences on their heads. They wouldn’t attack each other, for the same reason the Seelie wouldn’t attack them without
real
good reason. Too much attention, and too much risk for not enough reward. But what’re the chances that a buncha redcaps coulda met up with a big group of competitors, or been thrown in among a bunch of humans, and
not
started something? Hell, they did it just a few minutes ago!

“But nothing. No reports of mass violence. Not a one of you ever bumped into ’em. And why?”

I dropped from the roof, feet sinking a few inches into the soft, wet soil around the mausoleum. Just a couple steps brought me to within spitting distance of Téimhneach.

“Because while we all been runnin’ around with spears in our eyes and heads up our asses, Grangullie and the rest of Téimhneach’s anklebiters’ve been off workin’ their own angle. Áebinn? Would you tell everyone what I gave you a minute ago? For the folks in the cheap seats?”

“Obituaries. All ‘accidental’ deaths. All men and women of influence or power. And if the entire lot is consistent with the names I recognize, all men and women either with ties to the Seelie Court, or who know of us and choose to remain neutral.
Mostly
the former.” By the time she hit the last word, I’m surprised the artificial lakes hadn’t frozen completely over.

“Yep, that’s about the size of it,” I said. “Thanks. That’s a nasty move against the Seelie, Téimhneach. Some might even call it a step toward open war. As if we didn’t get more’n enough of that along with the humans, fifteen years ago.

“That why you hadda orchestrate this whole flimflam? To justify your presence and keep the rest of us occupied and lookin’ the other way while you rubbed out the enemy’s mortal power base?”

“You’re insane,” Téimhneach whispered, and I gotta say, I wavered there for a minute. Knock me over with a crow-feather if he didn’t really seem to mean it. His expression, his posture, his tone, all of it
screamed
that he really had no notion what I was yammering about.

That’s somethin’ you always gotta remember about shapeshifters, though. For a guy who can stretch and twist himself up like a squid contortionist, reshaping an expression, a posture, even a heartbeat, is kid’s play.

So I kept at him. “Ain’t just here, either. Things’re real tense back home, but nothin’s actually
happening
. Like a whole lotta Fae are just busy elsewhere. You whacking all these poor people? Helluva blow, but not compared to the power of Gáe Assail. No way,
none
, you’d risk losing the Spear of Lugh—at all, let alone to the Seelie—in order to pull off your little series of secret murders.
Unless
you already knew they were never gonna get their hands on it!”

Say this for the boggart, he sure gave it the ol’ college try. He’d begun ranting before I even finished my sentence.

“…absolutely unacceptable. I
will
be having words with Eudeagh about you, Mr. Oberon, and I rather hope she allows me first opportunity to…”

It didn’t matter anymore. Everyone, and the Seelie especially, was pourin’ enough hostility onto the shape-changing gink he shoulda drowned.

And then I got a good, solid look at the redcaps. Some were staring off into the wild blue, or at the grass, some nudged one another, tryin’ their hardest not to grin, and—in a few instances, not many, but enough—failing something awful.