Authors: Mark Del Franco
The spellcaster stepped forward. "That's not the plan."
She sneered at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll tell Lorcan to check with you next time."
They exchanged glares. Keeva grabbed my arm again and forced me down the corridor. The elves had remained where they were, angry uncertainty on their faces. Keeva straightened up again and stared them down. "Get moving. I'm not going to tell you again."
"We really have to move," she said under her breath as she passed me. We hustled up the corridor away from the garage. Another oaken door blocked the far end, and it took no more mystery than a good hard tug on the metal ring in its center to open it. As we passed out of sight of the corridor, I couldn't resist the urge to smile and wave to my former captors. I had to admire their nerve. They still hadn't moved.
We were in yet another corridor. This one had electricity, but only a few lights. I looked down at my rescuer. "Um, Keeva, your orange roots are showing." She looked at me from under her brow. For a disconcerting moment, another visage hovered behind Keeva's. Air rippled across the face, and it faded away. So did the wings.
Meryl crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "If you wanted a perfect glamour, I would be more than happy to lock you back up for another couple of hours."
I held up my hands in surrender. "I'm not complaining. It was long enough."
She frowned at me. "I would have been here sooner if someone hadn't thrown something at Muffin and scared him half to death."
"The rat? That was your rat?"
She twirled her hand over her head. "Cute little guy with a tuft of hair on his head that looks like a muffin? Let's just say we're on good terms. Hurry up. Those two idiots might still decide to follow us."
We made our way through a series of twists and turns, the lights becoming brighter with each step. Meryl's knowledge of the lower corridors of the Guildhouse was either the product of careful map study or incredible nosiness.
"How did you know I was here?"
She shot me an annoyed look over her shoulder. "Who do you think tried to peel the roof off their car? I didn't think fast enough. I should have blown out the tires. I was on my way back here when you drove past me again and right into the service alley. I was too exhausted to try anything then." She opened a door and held it for me. "Those are the dumbest elves I've ever met."
We came out in a corridor not far from the storage area Meryl had shown me days ago. She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and opened it. "Here's the spell I found. It blasts a hole between dimensional barriers using fey blood and hearts. I translated it into ogham since I knew you were more comfortable with that than Fomorian. Some of it I just put in phonetically. And that asterisk is pronounced like this." She made a thick, throat-clearing sound.
"Where the hell did you learn Fomorian?"
"Let's just say I had an interesting childhood. So, do you need any more favors, or are you deep enough in debt to me as it is?"
"Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?"
She sighed heavily and pulled a cell out of her pocket. "Go. Before I regret getting you out of that hole."
"Thanks, Meryl. I won't forget this." Impulsively, I kissed her on the top of the head and ran down the corridor to the elevator.
"I'm not paying your roaming charges!" she yelled, as the doors closed. Meryl's impersonation had given me an idea. I called Keeva. She picked up on the second ring. She wasn't surprised to hear from me. I breathed a short sigh of relief. I hoped it meant she didn't know I was supposed to be trapped in a dungeon.
"Keeva, I need to know where macDuin is."
"Connor, I don't need you screwing things up for me with macDuin."
"He just kidnapped me and had me locked in a storeroom for the last twenty-four hours. I think he's behind the murders."
She didn't speak for a moment. "Do you know how paranoid you sound right now?"
"Keeva, I can prove it. But right now, we have to find him and stop him. I think he's still loyal to his old politics from the war and wants to establish a dominant fey world here. He's going to open some kind of dimensional rift, and it's going to make Convergence look like a hiccup."
"Okay, I was wrong. Now you sound paranoid."
The elevator doors opened as I looked at my watch. It was already almost 8:00 P.M. The sun would be setting soon. The main corridor on the first floor was empty. Midsummer's Eve was a Guild holiday. The security guard looked startled as I breezed past the reception desk.
"Keeva, trust me. I have the spell he's going to use. If you won't meet me, just tell me where he is."
"You have a spell?"
It didn't seem the time to express any doubts. "Yes."
I paced on the sidewalk under the dragon lintel. It never helped to push Keeva.
"He's home. I'll meet you there." She hung up.
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
I debated whether to spend the money for a cab, then laughed. The end of the world was coming, and I was worried about my budget. I flagged down a black-and-white Town Taxi. MacDuin lived in the Charlestown Navy Yard, and the driver was all too happy to take me there. Any destination that forced a route through the winding streets of downtown automatically meant a hefty fare.
I called Murdock. Loud street noise made him difficult to hear.
"Where the hell have you been?" he said.
"Long story. Your brother Bar still has Shay under surveillance, right? If he's with the big elf that acts like a child, pick them both up. And be careful. The elf is dangerous."
"Okay. I'll get the long story?"
"I hope so. Do you have this number on caller ID?"
I heard him fumble with his phone a moment. "No," he said.
So like Meryl to block her number. I gave it to him. "Call me if you get him, Murdock. And call me fast."
"Done," he said.
I put the phone away. Working with Murdock was a hell of a lot easier than with Keeva.
We did a stop-and-go creep around the Common. As we reached the top of Beacon Hill, I steeled myself to start blurting directions. If the driver continued down the other side, we would run into one of the few streets that led into the Weird from downtown. I checked my watch again. The parade on the Avenue would be just reaching its peak, and the streets would be an inescapable traffic jam. He saved me the trouble of being annoying by turning off on a side street. Once off the Hill, we weaved through twisting streets to the Charlestown Bridge.
As we turned into Charlestown, I pulled out the piece of paper Meryl had given me. The spell was simple, but long. As I mentally sounded through the words, I could hear the ancient cadence of the Celts, only darker, more primal-sounding. Meryl had provided a rough translation. It didn't have the rhythm of the Fomorian, but it still read like a paean to the world. It was a calling to forces greater than the individual, deep forces that bound together reality. The verses sang to the ancient elements of life represented in the five cardinal points of a pentagram.
I could see now what Meryl meant by the oddity of the spell. Paradox seemed to run through it, giving an honoring to bindings yet asking for freedom; asking for release within the bounds of flesh. Yet, it had its own logic. Something wanted out, and out badly.
Below the spell and its translation, Meryl had written two more spells. They were formal in the very ancient tradition of the Tuatha de Danann, powerful spells of binding. Next to each of them, she had drawn large question marks. They were spells that did the opposite of the Fomorian one. A layman might call them counterspells, but true counterspells were devised to defend against specific spells. Meryl's notes were informed guesses. Good ones, but guesses nonetheless.
A queasy feeling crept into my stomach. Nothing that powerful had been uttered in over a thousand years, probably longer. No one had a reason to. And I didn't have the ability to give the words the power they needed. I hoped Keeva would have the strength to hold the de Danann spells long enough for them to work. The easiest course was to stop macDuin before he even began the ritual.
The cab pulled into the parking lot of the Charlestown Navy Yard. I gave the driver a tip so big, I left him staring at his palm.
The Navy Yard no longer retained its original function. Shipbuilding had left Boston long ago. The old buildings had gone derelict until someone had the idea of making them residences. Everyone thought the people who moved in were crazy to pay exorbitant prices to live in the middle of a crime-ridden neighborhood. They got the last laugh though. More development had spread around them, and the condos were worth ten times what the original owners had paid for them.
Keeva was nowhere in sight. No one was in the area at all. Across the way, a few cars sat near the edge of the pier. Beyond them, boats of all sizes dotted the harbor. Their slack sails waited in the humidity for a breeze. I moved down the sidewalk to macDuin's unit. The door stood ajar. I didn't need instinct to call up my body shields. The familiar tingle spread over my head and chest. Comforting, but useless. I was tired and had little energy to do them much good.
I slid along the inner wall of the entryway and tilted my head to listen inside. I could see part of the foyer where an area rug lay askew. Without taking my eyes away, I reached down and slipped the dagger from my boot. An open, unattended door is never a good sign.
I tapped the door with my toe, and it fell back against the inside wall. A faint current of air-conditioning radiated against my face. I could see the entire entryway, a mail table with fresh-cut flowers, small oil originals above it, anatne archway to the living room beyond. To the left, stairs led to the second floor. I could hear no signs of movement.
I eased into the entryway. Something glistened on the third step. I didn't need to be a hematologist to recognize fairy blood. As I moved closer, I could see another spot on the railing near the top. I leaned forward and closed the front door. Without knowing who had left the trail of blood, I didn't want any surprises coming in behind me.
I darted a look into the stairwell. The landing was empty. Testing each step for noise, I made my way to the second floor. More bloodstains showed on the walls and floor. In a technical sense, I was contaminating a possible crime scene, so I did my best not to disturb anything. The bedrooms on the second floor were empty. The blood trail continued up.
As I crept up the last flight, the top floor came into view. The stairs led to a room that stretched from the front of the building to the back. Great beams crisscrossed the ceiling. As my eyes came level with the floor, I looked under a couch that had been positioned against the railing. Someone lay on the floor, a man by the look of the bare feet facing me. I could see no one else in the room. Unless someone was lying on the couch, the townhouse was empty except for me and the prone figure.
I walked up the last few steps and almost slipped on a broken ward stone on the floor. I picked up a large chunk of it and recognized it as the same material as the wards from the other murders. Whatever purpose it had served had been destroyed with the stone. Coming around the couch, I stopped in surprise.
MacDuin lay on the floor. He had been stripped naked and pinned to the floor like a butterfly. Ward stones held his wings flat, just like the other victims. His chest had been split from collarbone to abdomen and wrenched open. It had been done with such force that his lungs were splayed to the sides, and the heart appeared to have been torn out instead of cut.
I edged around the body to get a closer look. Too late, I felt a tingle across the nape of my neck. Even as I pulled back, the field of another ward stone grabbed me, and I froze in place. I let out an angry sigh, cursing myself for stupidity. I had taken the lack of any sensation of a ward as a sign that there were none.
The wards on the wings were too small and far away to be the culprits. The ones at the other murder scenes had been keyed to each other to hold the wings back. Even given my recent propensity for walking into traps, I didn't think it was too much to assume these stones were any different, but obviously I was wrong. I tried rolling my eyes to the extreme, but couldn't place the offending stone and only hurt my eyes.
I stared into macDuin's face. He hadn't gone easily. An open cut on his cheekbone looked like the result of a punch. It had probably thrown him into the ward field I was in now, and the rest had been by the book for the murderer.
In the dead silence, a familiar sound caught my ear. French doors at the back of the room led to the balcony. The distinctive hum of fairy wings in motion whirred from the same direction. Most fairies dampened the noise unless they didn't care if someone heard them coming. I let out a sigh of relief when Keeva fluttered into view. She brought herself down onto the balcony with long practiced ease. She reached for the door and paused when she caught sight of me. Her lips compressed into the thin line that I had learned long ago meant annoyed condescension. She opened the door.
"Well, well, well, don't we make a pretty picture?" She held her arms loosely at her sides, waiting for me to respond. "Can't talk?" She paced near the door, making exaggerated thoughtful poses. "Let me see, what could have happened here? Could it be the great Connor Grey is trapped?" She gave me a sideways smirk. I tried to throw as much anger into my eyes as I could under the circumstances.
"Imagine my surprise when I find my dear, beloved boss sliced open and a former, troubled employee poised over him with a dagger. I do wish I had a camera." She stopped moving and faced me again. "You do know how much macDuin would have loved this moment." She leaned forward with just her upper body and peered down at the body. "He doesn't seem to be enjoying it though. Pity."
She looked at me again and shook her head. "I have to hand it to you, Connor. You do know how to be in the right place at the wrong time. MacDuin said you would spoil everything. He wanted to frame you for the other murders, you know. And now here you are, conveniendy located next to another body. Maybe I'll pick up on that little aspect of his plan."