Uncertain Allies

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.”