Uncertain Allies (15 page)

17

Déjà vu teased at me as I walked down Pittsburgh Street. Less than a year had passed since I first went down the alley behind the warehouses, yet so much had happened. The graffiti-covered buildings hadn’t changed, nor the forlorn atmosphere of a place that had seen better times. The boarded-up windows and doors that faced the alley made the buildings look like they had construction barriers. Construction was the last thing happening.

The door to the squat wasn’t hard to find despite the way it blended with the others. I checked for observers before tugging on some pine boards, a false barrier to disguise the entrance, a poor man’s glamour in a way, no different in intent than an essence barrier. They pulled way from the building, bringing the door with them.

Inside the trash-filled hall, I sensed Shay’s body signature and the pure essence of the stone bowl. He hadn’t been followed, at least not into the building. The door at the end of the hall opened, exposing Shay in silhouette. “For gods’ sakes, Shay, I told you someone might be after you.”

He stepped back as I entered the room. “Uno’s here. You know he doesn’t let anything happen to me.”

The big dog sprawled on the bare mattress of one of the two beds. He pricked an ear as I came in, then settled down with his head between his paws. “You shouldn’t take that for granted. You shouldn’t take anything for granted.”

“Like thinking it’s safe to let you in my apartment?” Shay never let an opportunity pass for a little sarcasm.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He placed a languid hand on his hip. “Other than being scared half to death and having a perfectly good canvas ruined, I’m fine.”

I spotted the stone bowl on the floor near the wall. As I crouched over it, the black mass in my head danced in reaction to the emanations rising from it. “Do you think it’s safe to leave this here?”

“Probably, assuming, of course, a gang of virgins doesn’t break in,” he said.

Shay had lived in the room with his boyfriend, Robyn. They had been safe, watching out for each other, living under the radar until I came along. Except for the furniture and a ripped maroon velvet curtain that covered some shelving, Shay had stripped the place of personal belongings when he moved into his studio. “Has anyone been in here since you left?”

Shay sat on the bed and ruffled his fingers through Uno’s fur. “It’s exactly how I left it. We never told anyone we lived here. Murdock knew about it because he followed Robyn home one night to see what he was up to.”

“Good. Tell no one about it or the stone. As far as the world is concerned, you never had anything to do with this,” I said.

He pouted in amusement. “Until you need it moved again.”

“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Shay played with Uno’s hair. “You and I both know it’s ‘when’ and not ‘if.’ What happened, Connor? That black stuff that came out of you was like that night in the
leanansidhe
’s cave.”

I sat on the opposite bed. “That’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out. I have some clues now. The
leanansidhe
was able to do something similar, and the Guildmaster is affected by it, too.”

His eyes went wide. “Is that why he’s been sick all this time?”

Manus ap Eagan’s illness wasn’t a secret, but Shay’s knowledge of things fey often surprised me. “I shouldn’t have said that, but, yeah, it looks like it.”

Uno rolled on his back as Shay scratched him. “I hope you figure out.” He buried his face playfully in Uno’s fur. “And I hope it’s not the reason this guy follows you around.”

I pressed my lips tighter, conscious of trying to keep a secret. I didn’t think it was fair to Shay that Robyn made me promise not to tell he had sent the dog. The two of them had left some things unresolved when Robyn died. I told Robyn he should resolve them. He said he would consider it, and I made the promise to keep silent. “I’m sorry you got dragged into all this, Shay.”

He smiled up at me. “There’s nothing sexier than a goodlooking man apologizing.”

I tweaked his nose. “You are incorrigible. Let’s get out of here.”

Shay shut off the light, and we left the darkened room, at least, darkened as far as visible light. The essence was building again in the stone bowl, its unique properties amplifying the surrounding essence and gathering in its shallow depression. Out in the hall, Shay showed me a hidden chink in the door to check the alley before leaving. Uno followed us out to Congress Street, then melted into the air. Though I liked the dog, I breathed easier when he wasn’t around.

“Take care of yourself, Shay,” I said.

He tucked his chin down. “I always do. Call me sometime.”

Amused, I shook my head as he walked away. The kid had flirted with me from day one. It was innocent fun for him, and I didn’t mind. I needed more fun.

I waited until he was well down the street before returning up the alley and letting myself back into the squat. I didn’t turn the light on, but bathed in the glow of the stone bowl. The dark mass in my head stretched, a sinuous finger of shadow pushing at the front of my skull. I gasped as it pierced my right eye. Blood rushed to the surface of my skin, igniting the nerve endings in delicious pain. A dark spike oozed from my eye and slipped into the bowl. Yearning hunger overwhelmed me as the darkness sucked at the essence. I sank to my knees and hunched over the stone, letting myself drift off in an ecstasy I couldn’t explain and didn’t want to.

18

I leaned against my building the next morning, a fine rain drizzling against my face as I waited for Murdock. He wanted me to help with an interview that might produce a lead on the dwarf murders. I almost said no because I wanted to sleep in, but his comment about being Eorla’s errand boy still burned in my ears. Besides, the way the blue essence had behaved in the Tangle the other night intrigued me. It could be coincidence that it showed up when it did, or it could be related to the murders. If our investigations were riding parallel for a while, it made sense to work together.

When he arrived, I moved a box of paperback novels to the back and hopped in the passenger seat. Murdock handed me a coffee as he turned down Old Northern Avenue and made for the highway.

“You look pretty good for a guy having convulsions yesterday,” he said.

“I feel good. Great, actually. Must be some kind of posttrauma endorphin thing.” I smiled, then turned to look out the window. Between what had happened at Shay’s apartment and spending time in the squat with the stone ward, the dark mass in my head had gone quiet and sluggish. I didn’t remember the last time I had felt so good.

“Really?” Murdock asked.

His dubious tone made me paranoid. An edge of guilt crept over me. I didn’t like feeling good about how I felt good. Siphoning essence at that level—even if it was from a stone—had a creep factor to it that I didn’t want to admit. “I guess.”

“You were convulsing when I found you, Connor,” he said.

“I know. You said that,” I said.

Murdock glanced at me with a frown. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

I wanted to slap myself. By trying so hard to appear nonchalant about what had happened, I hadn’t listened to what Murdock actually said, which drew exactly the kind of attention I was trying to avoid. “Thanks for calling in the cavalry.”

“I had to. I couldn’t get near you or Meryl. What happened to Shay?” he said.

“You know Shay. He knows how survive,” I said.

The rain began to fall harder as we took the on-ramp to the highway. “Wow,” he said.

I glanced over. “What?” I asked.

He let out a long breath in an aggravated sigh. “Is this how it’s going to be? Because if it is, you can find someone else to cover your ass when you need it. I’m getting tired of your keeping shit from me. If you think I’m going to have a problem with something you said or did, then maybe you should start thinking about what you said or did and not about my reaction.”

Stunned, I stared through the windshield. The highway traffic coasted by in a mist of kicked-up water. Cabs and tractor-trailers wheeled by, people on business in nondescript sedans, SUVs driven by people with cell phones to their ears. Everyone going somewhere, doing things, having an agenda. Here I was, in a car with someone who had saved my life, acting like a dumb-ass junkie hiding a habit.

“I am so screwed up, Murdock, I don’t even know where to begin,” I said.

“Try honesty,” he snapped.

Murdock was living proof that someone could have sympathy without pity. He wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “The stone ward provoked the dark mass. Shay ran off with it and hid it in the old squat he had with Robyn. That’s where I was last night, sucking up essence like it was ambrosia and manna and alcohol all rolled into one. The stone’s dead cold now, and the entire time I’ve been sitting here, I’ve been wondering in the back of my mind how long it will take it to recharge itself so I can go back and do it again.”

“What else?” he asked.

If I weren’t so humiliated, I would have been angry. I didn’t let people talk to me like he was. I didn’t respect most people enough to let them, but Murdock had earned it. And he was right to do it. “I should have told you,” I said.

“You need help, Connor,” he said.

“No one can help me, Leo. Everyone’s tried,” I said. Saying it out loud hurt. No one could help. No one knew what was wrong. It was getting worse, and I had the feeling that I was on the road to someone’s bashing me in the head in a dark hole in the ground to stop me from killing someone.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “The
leanansidhe
helped. She showed you something you didn’t know. If she knew something, someone else does.”

“How am I supposed to find them?” I asked.

“Imagine it’s me asking you that, then answer your own question. You’re the fey expert. Start thinking fey,” he said.

The windshield wipers beat back and forth, a steady rhythm counting the seconds in the silence. “Thinking fey” had a nice ring to it. The dark mass thrived on essence, so it was logical that it was part of the fey world, and the fey world was a lot bigger than Gillen Yor or Briallen. They were smart, knowledgeable people, but they couldn’t know everything. No one could. No one ever made a connection to me and the
leanansidhe
, but Druse recognized what was happening to me right away. It was time to start thinking outside the box because if I didn’t, I might end up
in
a box.

“Thanks, Leo,” I said.

“No problem,” he said.

I settled in the seat and sipped my coffee. For all my anger at the number of friends that disappeared when I lost my abilities, I wouldn’t trade them for the ones I made after. Murdock might not pull any punches in the criticism department, but I deserved every one he’d thrown at me. “So, who’s this guy you want to interview?”

“Thekk Veinseeker, the owner of the stone supplier that burned down,” he said.

“You’re working an arson case? Just how shorthanded is the department?” I asked.

“It’s about the dwarf murders. I found a connection that’s a little more than curious. Veinseeker has a brother named Nar. Nar Veinseeker popped up in a couple of old cases as an associate of both of the dead dwarves down at the morgue,” he said.

“And you couldn’t find Nar,” I said.

“Right. Last-known address was a building that went down during the riot. No one’s seen him since.”

“He could have died in the fires,” I said.

Murdock grinned at me. “Or he could be hiding from someone trying to kill him.”

The idea played around in my mind. If Druse was looking for her stone, why would she be looking for a specific person? “Banjo said someone was offering big money for information about dwarves who have been here a long time.”

“The
leanansidhe
didn’t exactly live in the lap of luxury,” he said.

“Don’t let that fool you. Lots of fey have a ton of cash they don’t know what to do with. They tend to buy real estate, then build a one-room house on it. It’s a cultural thing, different values out of Faerie. It’s why goats and cows show up in the Weird sometimes.”

Murdock tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as the traffic slowed. “Thekk Veinseeker’s been in Boston at least since the 1920s. It was in the arson file.”

“His brother was probably here then, too,” I said.

“Okay. Assume the
leanansidhe
has the money and has been in Boston as long as Veinseeker. What can he do important enough for her to kill?” Murdock asked.

“I don’t think ‘important’ is the right word. We’re talking about a person for whom killing is a way of life. It’s not important to her. She might be looking for Nar, taking essence as a matter of course, and the deaths are collateral,” I said.

“What if I talk this up the chain of command? We’re not equipped to handle this. It’s exactly the situation the Guild should handle,” he said.

“The Guild is not going to do anything in the Weird that looks like it’s helping Eorla. Same old, same old, Leo. Just the faces change,” I said.

“So the deaths don’t matter. Nice. The
leanansidhe
wants the stone, and she wants Nar. What’s the connection?” he asked.

“Dwarves are stone fey. They create excellent wards. Maybe she wants him to make her a new one,” I said.

“Then why is he in hiding? He’s got to know that two of his former associates are dead, and his brother’s warehouse went up. Why doesn’t he take the deal?” he asked.

I slumped farther into the seat. “Maybe because there’s always a price to be paid when dealing with a
leanansidhe
.”

19

Thekk Veinseeker’s house was in a quiet neighborhood in West Quincy, hard by the Blue Hills State Park. Old granite quarries in the area had once produced stone for buildings throughout New England. A number of dwarf families had set up mining-related businesses nearby and lived in the nicer neighborhoods. The quarries were closed these days, but the dwarves who had made homes in the area remained.

Murdock pulled into the driveway and parked near several other cars. Contrary to popular belief, dwarves didn’t mind daylight. They did prefer being underground whenever possible, and the architecture of their homes reflected that. A well-maintained garden surrounded several ornately carved stone outbuildings no more than ten or twenty feet square. The outbuildings weren’t the house itself but the aboveground evidence of one. Some had doors, but most were windowed to let light into the house below. Landscapers were replacing some broken shrubbery. The structure they had been next to had scorch marks on the side that another group of workers were scrubbing.

Murdock rang the bell. A pale blond kobold no taller than my shoulder answered, a faintly suspicious look on her face. “Yes?”

“Detective Lieutenant Murdock to see Thekk Veinseeker.”

Her placid gaze swept over us, then she closed the door. Confused, Murdock looked at me. “Kobolds are not big on social graces. Let’s give it a few minutes,” I said.

It was a few minutes. The kobold returned and ushered us in. Inside, the granite structure was nothing more than the top landing of a wide marble staircase. The kobold led us down without speaking. I’d been in a few dwarven homes, but this one was more elaborate than any I had seen. The construction was all stone—slates, marbles, and granites—richly carved to resemble wood. I never understood the affinity for nature carvings that dwarves preferred yet avoided in day-to-day life. They liked to look at it but not be in it.

At the foot of the stairs, a wide round entry hall served as the junction for several corridors leading off into dimness. The kobold headed straight across the mosaic floor to the archway opposite and directed us through an open door.

I had a hard time pinning the room down. It was a study or an office or a receiving room. Ornate ribs of granite crisscrossed the ceiling in a series of vaults. Deep red stone latticework filled wall panels between black-veined mustardcolored pilasters. Intricate marble tiles turned the floor into a tapestry of geometric designs. A long narrow slab of granite rested on ebony legs that resembled a wolf’s. Shafts of sunlight filtered down from the ceiling at the far end of the room, backlighting the dwarf seated on a large chair carved with woven vines. Two fireplaces flanked the table, tall enough for us to stand in. Fires burned in both, taking the edge off the cool air of the underground chamber. Something felt familiar about the place, but, despite the patchy spots in my memory, I doubted I had ever been in the room.

“Subtle,” Murdock said out of the corner of his mouth.

Thekk Veinseeker wore a short quilted jacket of orange silk with dusty yellow pearls sewn into whorls of gold thread, a casual version of the florid outfits that rich dwarves favored. His large, blunt face jarred in contrast, hard lined with thick black eyebrows and bowl-cut hair the color of iron. “How may I be of service, gentlemen?”

“We’re here about your brother. I’m Detective Lieutenant Murdock. This is my associate, Connor Grey,” Leo said.

Thekk didn’t move. “Which brother?”

“Nar,” Murdock said.

“I have no such brother,” Thekk said.

Murdock and I exchanged glances. “I don’t think I made a mistake, sir,” Murdock said. “Our records indicate Nar Veinseeker was your brother. I’ve seen his name mentioned in relation to your quarry business.”

Thekk made a face as if Murdock had suggested something perverse. “Nar is no longer part of the clan.”

The only thing dwarves held closer to their hearts than profits was family. Extended family grouped into clans and lived as near to each other as possible. They knew each other, knew their businesses and their secrets. “How can he not be a part of the clan if he was your brother?” I asked.

A thin trickle of essence floated through the room as Thekk stared into the fire. Disturbed, the dark mass pulsed in my head. Thekk was scrying, using the flames to sort through possible future events. “Can you not do that, please? It’s interfering with . . .” I paused. He didn’t need to know my personal issues. “. . . It’s making my body shields activate in an uncomfortable manner.”

Thekk grunted in surprise, and the scrying field collapsed. “My apologies, good druid. I am a poor host.”

“No problem. We were hoping you might tell us if Nar had enemies,” I said.

Thekk pushed out of the chair and strode toward one of the fireplaces. “I’m sure he has many. It is not a subject of study for me.”

“Why isn’t he part of the clan anymore?”

Thekk moved away from the hearth. “He chose profit over his family.”

“And the clan booted him out?” Murdock asked.

“There is no shame in making profit. Nar made his by betraying the clan and refused to tithe as recompense,” said Thekk.

We were moving into cultural territory I didn’t know well. Dwarves valued loyalty to each other. Other people didn’t rate high on their list of concerns, but a member being rejected by the clan had to be about something major. “What was the deal about?”

Thekk rubbed his hand along the edge of the granite slab. “It was so long ago, good druid. I don’t recall. It no longer concerns me.”

I didn’t believe him. Dwarves have long memories. “When was the last time you spoke?”

Thekk folded his hands in front of him. “Seventy years? Eighty? I have no information about him that would be of help to you.”

“Let’s talk about your warehouse going up in flames,” Murdock said.

Thekk sighed. “An unfortunate occurrence.”

“You don’t seem that upset,” I said.

He shrugged. “I should have sold the building years ago. I had the good fortune of insurance. My business has been outside Boston for decades now.”

“Someone’s been interested in talking to dwarves who were in the city decades ago. Have you heard anything about that?” I asked.

Impatience was starting to show on his face. “Is there a purpose to this discussion? I am a member of the Teutonic Consortium and see no need to answer to Guild agents.”

“We’re not Guild agents,” I said.

“You were, sir. I see it in your bearing and your voice. I have made it clear that the clan has no knowledge of Nar and no interest. His fate has no meaning for us,” Thekk said.

“Three dwarves have been killed, and your warehouse burned to the ground. Don’t you find it interesting that Nar is linked to all three?” Murdock said.

“I find it sad, sir. Trouble gathers like crows. Nar always had a knack for trouble,” he said.

I decided to change the conversation. “What happened upstairs? You’ve got burn marks on your house.”

“I believe the gardeners are clearing unwanted brush.”

He had paused longer than necessary to answer the question. “A little aggressive, aren’t they?” I asked.

“I am not a gardener, sir. I pay them to do their jobs as they see fit.”

“Has someone threatened you?” Murdock said.

Thekk chuckled. “I am a loyal subject of the Elven King. If someone were threatening me, I would pursue it through the Consortium.”

“Do you know any of Nar’s current associates?” Murdock asked.

Thekk frowned, his thick unibrow rippling into a thicker one. “He lives in that slum in Boston where my warehouse was. Why would I know any of those people?”

A smile twitched at the corner of Murdock’s mouth as he offered his business card. “I know what you mean. If you think of something, we would appreciate a call.”

Thekk received the card and made a point of reading it. “I will, Detective, but I doubt there will be a need. Will there be anything else?”

Murdock looked at me, but I had nothing to say. “No, thanks.”

Thekk returned to the chair behind the slab table. “Have a pleasant day.”

Given Thekk’s less than warm manner, I was surprised he trusted us to see ourselves out. Once in the receiving hall, though, I sensed subtle essence barriers across the openings to the other corridors. Walking anywhere but up the stairs would have tripped alarms. Either that or they were simple barriers that would prevent us from moving freely through the house.

“That was strange,” Murdock said as he pulled down the driveway.

“Dwarves are suspicious of outsiders. I don’t know what he was talking about with the clan thing though,” I said.

“I wonder why he wasn’t telling the truth about the landscaping either,” he said.

“It could be a coincidence, Leo. If he cut ties with Nar all those years ago, he probably doesn’t know anything,” I said.

“You know what I’m thinking?” he asked.

“You’re thinking that despite what Thekk said, he knows something about Nar, which means that until something more likely comes along, you will investigate this mysterious business deal that went sore between them until you can rule him out as a suspect,” I said.

He pursed his lips. “And what makes you say that?”

“You’re predictable.”

“I am not,” he said.

“Okay, now that I helped you with this interview, I have a favor to ask,” I said.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

“Shut up. It’s easy. I need a motorcycle,” I said.

“I want a pony,” he said.

“Seriously, I need something fast and maneuverable to chase down this blue essence in the Tangle. A motorcycle’s perfect.”

“The department would never approve it. They’re dealing with inventory loss from the night of the riots,” he said.

“I wasn’t thinking about the department.” Murdock’s brother Bar had a bike, but since I was persona non grata with the Murdock family, I didn’t think he’d loan it to me. His own brother, on the other hand, would have no problem.

Murdock laughed in disbelief. “I see where you’re going. I’ll ask, but don’t get your hopes up.” He pulled off the road and into a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot, parked the car, and leaned back. “Hurry up. I don’t want to get stuck in midday traffic.”

“Hurry up with what?” I asked.

He grinned. “It’s been over an hour since you had your coffee. You want another cup, and need to take a leak. You’re predictable.”

I laughed as I got out of the car. “Touché, my friend, touché.”