Uncertain Allies

15

I went to Druse’s hiding place first because I had to know if her body was there. I had to confirm the facts with my own eyes. Part of it was my nature, which had made me a good investigator once upon a time. The important part, though, was not wanting to scare Shay until I knew for sure what was going on. He didn’t need any reminders of that night.

Sometimes I wondered where Shay would be if he had never met me. Almost a year earlier, he had been a minor witness in a murder case Murdock and I worked on. Shay’s involvement grew when I made a bad call and asked his boyfriend Robyn to act as a decoy for the murderer. Robyn fit the needed physical description of the victims better than anyone available, and I thought he would be a slam-dunk for finding the killer. I was too right, and he didn’t survive the setup. Shay lost his lover and protector because of me. Ever since, I’ve looked out for him whenever I can.

In life, Shay’s boyfriend Robyn was human, a young guy with a tough life that involved drugs and prostitution. We didn’t like each other. Robyn was convinced I didn’t care, that the only reason I wanted their help was for my own benefit. It didn’t help that Murdock gave him an ultimatum—work with us or go to jail. He was killed, maybe by his own arrogance and stupidity, but I set him on the path that led to his death.

Then Robyn showed up again. When he died, he ended up Dead in the Celtic realm of TirNaNog. The veil lifted between our world and his, and he came back to check on Shay. When I collapsed the veil, the Dead that were here became trapped, Robyn among them. Another bad call on my part that I didn’t know how to fix.

When I was under the influence of the leanansidhe, Shay came to my rescue for a change. The reward for his help was yet another complication. Since he was the only person I knew that could move the leanansidhe’s stone, I thought hiding the stone with him would be safe. He wasn’t fey, so he couldn’t use it. My old partner, Keeva, knew about the stone, but not where it was, and she was off in Tara. Until I told Murdock, Shay and I had agreed to tell no one else he had it.

Now Shay was in danger again, because of me, again. Druse might suspect dwarves had taken the stone and gone after them, but it was only a matter of time before she would find her way to Shay’s doorstep. At some point as she prowled the city, she would sense the stone’s telltale emanations. I had to move it somewhere that wouldn’t put Shay in danger.

Visiting Shay presented a tricky situation. I was being watched by Guild and Consortium agents and who knew who else. Eorla probably had a pair of eyes on me, too. Any unusual place I visited might spark unwanted interest, and I didn’t want to draw attention to Shay.

Walking Meryl around town for an hour or so had become a habit, the kind of habitual activity that caused a spy to lose interest and get sloppy. Even better—I took her different places, hoping against hope that a different environment might jog her out of her constant reverie. Wandering into Shay’s neighborhood and stopping by for a few minutes was a low-risk proposition that I hoped wouldn’t raise eyebrows.

I maneuvered Meryl along the sidewalk with some difficulty. In her trance state, she walked with a simple push and maintained a steady pace until stopped. The problem was that she didn’t have any awareness of the surface she walked on. She stumbled with any change in the grade of the ground, lurching forward when the slope dropped and staggering when it rose. Her gait would adjust, then she staggered when the slope changed again. I had some success by holding her arm, pulling up when the sidewalk canted up and steadying her as it fell. Through it all, she maintained the same vacant stare.

When we reached Shay’s building, I spent a few moments of weight shifting to convey to Meryl the idea of mounting the front steps. Shay buzzed us in without checking who we were, a practice frowned on by most neighbors. I led Meryl through the tall narrow hallway of the converted warehouse. The soaring walls held artwork in various levels of seriousness. In the public, unsecured spaces, no one wanted to hang anything valuable but did want to convey their talents. A riot of color covered the walls in paintings and drawings in styles ranging from the Renaissance to spray-paint graffiti. Mobile sculptures created with found materials dangled from the ceiling far enough out of reach to discourage easy theft.

Artists rented the space for work studios, and many, like Shay, used them as illegal apartments. It wasn’t a bad setup if you didn’t mind sharing a public bathroom and begging friends for the use of a shower. Shay opened his door as we reached it. He looked at Meryl with curiosity. “Hi, Connor. Who’s your friend?”

I nudged Meryl. “Her name is Meryl Dian.”

Shay had one of the smaller studios, about thirty feet long and ten feet wide. He had divided the space with bookcases to form a makeshift kitchen at the door, a sleeping alcove in the middle, and a combination work space–living room at the far end, where the windows were.

As soon as we stepped inside, potent essence registered in my senses. I wasn’t surprised. The stone bowl collected essence and amplified it. I was surprised at how intense it had become. With no one or nothing to deplete it for months, it had gathered an enormous reserve.

Shay helped me remove Meryl’s coat. “What’s her situation?”

It was a diplomatic way of saying it. Shay worked for an institution that provided care to people with mental disabilities. “It’s a long story. Why don’t we set her up on the couch?”

At the back of the studio, two large armchairs flanked a couch, all of them covered in bold primary-colored slipcovers that weren’t the same as the last time I had visited. The coffee table was pushed aside to make room for a large easel and a rolling cart filled with paint and art supplies. The canvas on the easel was an untouched white expanse that glistened with moisture. “I was prepping a canvas. Don’t touch it. The base is still wet,” Shay said.

I settled Meryl in an armchair next to a box draped with a needlepoint rug. A pale waft of essence welled in the air, and Uno, the large black dog I had told Murdock about, materialized on the couch. He had a true name, as all things do, but neither Shay nor I knew it. The name Uno started as a joke—Shay thought he looked like a hound from hell out of Greek mythology, minus the extra two heads.

The joked backfired on him. Uno was a real hound from hell, the Cu Sith of Celtic legends. When the Cu Sith appeared to someone, it meant that person was going to die. Through an unexpected turn of fate, Uno acted as a protector for Shay instead of a predator. Uno chose to protect me, too. Why, I didn’t know, but he had come in handy a few times.

“I hate when he does that,” I said.

Shay wrestled with the dog’s shaggy head, and Uno woofed in pleasure. “He makes me feel safe. I’m starting to think he’s my good-luck charm. Nothing bad has happened to me since I found him. Or he found me.”

Shay’s boyfriend, Robyn—his Dead boyfriend, Robyn—had sent Uno to protect him. I promised Robyn I wouldn’t tell Shay that was what happened. Robyn didn’t want Shay to know he was back from the Land of the Dead. He didn’t want him hurt again if the veil between worlds opened, and he was forced back to TirNaNog. “I end up in trouble when he shows up,” I said.

Shay smirked and went up to the kitchen area. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you. Do you want some tea?”

“Sure.” I trailed after him.

He filled the kettle and set it on a hot plate. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

“I’ve been busy trying not to get arrested,” I said.

Shay adjusted his long dark hair over his shoulder and played with it. “I’ve been waiting for that knock on my door, too.”

My memory flashed to the night Shay hit the leanansidhe over the head to save me. He had been dazed. The shock of what he had done to another living being overwhelmed him. He hadn’t intended to kill her—Shay would never intend to hurt anyone—but it had happened. He seemed to have recovered, but you never really recover from killing someone. Worrying about the body being found must have been rough for him, and I hadn’t given the idea a second thought. “That’s why I’m here. I went back, Shay. The body is gone. I don’t think you killed her.”

He bowed his head, folding his arms across his waist. “Uno’s been appearing a lot lately. When you buzzed the door, I had a bad feeling.”

When Uno first appeared, Shay had been convinced he was going to die. The idea wasn’t far-fetched among the fey, but until Uno showed up, no one had seen the Cu Sith since Convergence. He protected Shay—and me—and had been around us long enough to hint that something had changed about its purpose in the World. “I don’t think Druse will come after you per se. She’s looking for the stone. You should be safe once we move it.”

Dubious, he arched an eyebrow. “She’ll forget that I bashed her head in? That thing’s the forgive-and-forget type?”

I compressed my lips to keep from saying it would be fine. Despite being young, Shay was wise beyond his years and had a bullshit detector most adults never acquired. He had his rough edges, but at heart was a good person. He was exactly the type of person I wanted to protect in the Weird. He deserved a better life. “I don’t know, Shay, but leaving the stone here will definitely bring her right to your door.”

The whistling of the kettle startled him. He poured out two mugs and handed one to me. “You look tired.”

“Things have been a little crazy,” I said.

The essence level in the studio changed, a brief dip in intensity before stabilizing again. I sipped the tea, thinking the stone had reacted to the presence of two druids—to say nothing of a Dead dog.

“Are you going to take it now?” Shay asked.

“I can’t, remember? You’re the only person I know who can lift it.” Shay qualified as a virgin on a technicality as far as the stone went. He had never slept with a woman.

He used a fingernail to worry at a chip in his mug. “But you need to move it, right? You want me to take it somewhere.”

“I was thinking that old squat you had with Robyn down off Pittsburgh Street, unless you think it’s not safe anymore,” I said.

“It’s safe. No one knew we lived there except Murdock. We never had a problem. When do you want me to move it?”

“I don’t want people to see us together, but as soon as you can after I leave,” I said.

A spike of pain lanced through my head. I jammed the heel of my palm against my eye trying to push back against the pressure. The black mass jumped. I’ve learned the meaning of its different reactions and movements, recognized patterns in the kinds of pain it produced. A dull steady ache was normal, daggerlike spikes meant a strong essence was nearby, and a squeezing sensation for when someone tried to read the future around me. Body-numbing pain happened when I was losing control of it because it wanted out. “Does someone in the building scry, Shay?”

He set his mug on the counter and placed a concerned hand on my arm. “Probably. There are a few fey here. What’s wrong?” he asked.

The pain ratcheted up, a great multifaceted spike that pounded against my skull as a dark haze drifted across my vision. “I have to leave. The dark stuff in my head is reacting to something.”

Shay jumped as Uno let out a piercing yowl.

“Meryl?” I called. I hurried past the bed alcove, my head pounding with heat. Meryl stood at the easel, white splatters down the front of her sweatshirt as she smeared gobs of paint onto the canvas. Next to the couch, the needlepoint rug hung askew, revealing where Shay had hidden the stone ward under an old table. Fierce white essence light jumped from the bowl, arcing into Meryl from across the room. Her eyes and hands glowed as she slapped at the canvas with her hands, the white painting burning with a rainbow of essence. Uno’s yowling scaled higher and more frantic.

I staggered under waves of pain. The vision in my right eye vanished, replaced by a darkness littered with jarring flashes. A black bolt leaped out of my chest and tangled with the white essence in the air. As if from far off in the distance, I heard Shay scream.

Essence seared into me, delicious surging essence. It splintered inside me, racing tendrils burning with energy. I had been fighting against the urge to absorb essence for weeks, keeping the darkness at bay, but the volume from the bowl was overwhelming. I couldn’t restrain the darkness. I dropped to my knees and shouted at the cold luscious pain. “Get it out of here!” I shouted.

Shay’s body signature radiated in a soft purple light. The stone bowl glowed like a brilliant white star as he lifted it. My body yearned for it, wanted to reach out and suck it in. Nothing but white light cascaded across my mind. The star rose in the darkness, obliterating any sign of Shay, then danced away from sight.

My vision muddied, the room becoming a blur of fading color shot through with streaks of light. Intense heat and cold warred in my chest as the dark mass pulsed against the essence that remained. Meryl swayed on her feet, her body shimmering with golden light. Behind her, shapes coalesced into almost recognizable figures, then broke apart in a maelstrom of color. The surface of the canvas spun like the eye of a hurricane, impossibly white, with a dark hole in the center.

The bands of shadow from my chest revolved around Meryl like predators, worrying at the edges of her body essence. Desire rose within me, a desire to goad the darkness forward, make it take what it sought. I struggled against it, fighting against the yearning. With a flash, essence rippled beneath my skin. Something snapped inside me as the light and the darkness met in a blaze of pain. I flew backwards with a force like a gunshot recoil. Meryl crumpled to the floor, the canvas awash with essence.

Spots danced in front of my eyes, blotchy smears of red and black that weren’t essence. I convulsed as my sensing ability broke off like a sudden dousing of the sun, and sweet, sweet numbness swept over me.