Uncertain Allies

31

Not long before dawn, Murdock dropped me off at my apartment. I had to crawl out of the backseat. Meryl considered it a toxic zone and had made a permanent claim on the passenger seat. “Thanks for another quiet evening out with friends,” Meryl said.

I tweaked her nose. “When was the last time you got to knock out a nixie?”

She smirked. “Yeah, that part was kinda fun.”

I leaned down so I could see Murdock. “Are you going to report Ceridwen?”

“We can’t ignore a gang fight shaping up, even if it is the Tangle,” he said.

“Can you give me twenty-four hours to broker something between Eorla and Ceridwen? I want the Guild going after Vize, not them,” I said.

Meryl groaned and dropped her head back against the seat. “You can’t help yourself, can you? It’s bad enough you have Maeve breathing down your neck and Vize running loose, but you have to step into a territory spat between two chicks who wished they were queen of the world.”

I pursed my lips. “I think that’s oversimplifying it a bit.”

She rolled her eyes. “Danu forbid that happens.”

I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Did I mention how much I missed you?”

She pouted, then chuckled. “Can you miss me a little more? I’m beat.”

I looked across the seat. “Leo? At least don’t mention Ceridwen by name. No one else knows she came back Dead.”

He sighed and shrugged. “Another day isn’t going to matter in this mess.”

I tapped the roof of the car. “Thanks, man. I’ll call you both later.”

I lingered on the sidewalk as they drove away, pretending to see them off. I knew the real reason I didn’t go upstairs right away but pushed down the thought. I wanted to go to Shay’s squat, hunch over the stone ward, and bliss out on the essence surge. It was a few short blocks away. I could be there and back in less than an hour.

I took a few steps toward the corner and stopped, realizing what I was doing. That wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be seduced by need. I didn’t want to be too weak to resist. I didn’t want to be controlled by something outside myself. I had lived my entire life the way I wanted, not because I could but because I couldn’t stand being controlled.

When I had my abilities, I had the ability to determine my fate. Sure, I worked for the Guild, did what I was asked, even stuff I didn’t want to do but was ordered to. That was always on my terms. I had options. I didn’t have to be a Guild agent. I could have left anytime I wanted. I could have used my abilities for something else.

When I lost my abilities, I thought I lost my ability to live my life my way. It made me angry, made me feel controlled. It took me a while, but I learned I was wrong. If I was controlled by anything, it was my perception of who I was. I had spent the last three years learning that I was more than just a body with or without an ability. I was more than that. I was the sum of my experiences. I was my own person. I was who I needed to be, not what someone else wanted me to be. I wasn’t going to invite in something beyond my control. Not again. I turned around and went upstairs.

Despite being tired, I tossed and turned on my futon. I hated that Vize had slipped away. Worse, he had the spear. It was a powerful weapon, strong enough to seal a breach in the veil between here and TirNaNog. When it had bonded to me, I sensed it in my mind even when it wasn’t physically present. When it materialized in his hand, I had felt nothing. It made me worry that the spear was no longer bonded to me or Ceridwen, but to Vize.

It came when summoned with an enchanted word of command—ithbar. Ceridwen had revealed the command to me, thinking only she could control the spear, but it was a fickle thing. I’d used the command, and the spear left her. Then, without the command, it left me and went to Vize. Why it jumped from person to person escaped me. Someone told me it was a sliver of the Wheel of the World, whatever that meant. I didn’t like to think about Vize’s having control of the spear and the faith stone. I had to find a way around him. Even if I couldn’t control who the spear went to, I still had a chance to keep the stone away from him.

I gave up on sleep. One person in Boston was key to both the faith stone and Vize. The whole mess could be stopped if Donor Elfenkonig laid off. I doubted he would, but I at least had to explore the option, if only to close that door.

I left the apartment and walked across town to Back Bay. “Ambassador Core” had chosen to stay at the Teutonic Consortium consulate rather than at the Ritz-Carlton, where his diplomatic corps preferred to stay when they were in town. Of course, the consulate was sovereign Teutonic territory and defended by a contingent of elven soldiers. No doubt the Ritz couldn’t compete with those amenities, which made the consulate a much more attractive residence for an undercover Elven King.

Guards became alert as I turned the corner of Commonwealth Avenue. They had the right to stand on public property, but they had no real jurisdiction outside the consulate. They were an outer perimeter, an early-warning system. They recognized me. I had no doubt. My face was probably plastered in the lunchroom. Before I reached the building, word would spread via sendings that I was coming.

No one challenged me. Through back channels, the Elven King had offered me asylum from the Guild or the U.S. government should I ever need it. Donor saw an opportunity to gain favor with a valuable former Guild agent. I knew plenty of secrets. I found the idea more entertaining than anything else. Despite my troubles, the last person I would make an alliance with was Donor. After my experience with Nigel, I recognized a strategic opportunist when I saw one.

The consulate was a mistake of architecture. Thrust into the middle of a block of Victorian brownstones, the Bauhaus structure was hard to miss. A tall statue of Donor dressed as a warrior guarded the entrance. Now that I had met him in person, I knew the armor wasn’t affectation. Beneath the mannered aloofness of a monarch, I had sensed a fighter.

The reception area resembled an upscale mountain lodge. Empty overstuffed couches faced each other in several groupings, as if the elven staff hung around socializing. None did that I ever saw. Uniformed guards waited behind the desk.

“Connor Grey to see the ambassador,” I said.

“Please declare any weapons,” the senior guard said.

They weren’t going to argue or brush me off. Either Donor expected me or wanted to see me for his own reasons. “Two daggers. Don’t even think of asking for them.”

They exchanged glances a few moments. I had bluffed my way in with weapons last time I was there. They let me keep them, but last time I wasn’t visiting the Elven King. I wondered how many of the guards knew the true identity of the ambassador. “You understand, sir, that the current climate prevents us from honoring your request,” the guard said.

Elven security wasn’t known for its courtesy. Donor must have been eager. “I will leave one dagger here. The other was a gift I cannot replace and will not relinquish. I will keep it in its boot sheath as long as I am not required to defend myself.”

Again, they exchanged glances, the air fluttering with sendings. The dagger was a gift from Briallen, gold-plated handguards and silver-bound pommel encrusted with crystals and gems. The blade had carved runes from different alphabets, bound with spells and essence. Without seeing it, I sensed runes activating in the presence of elves. Briallen never explained how the runes worked—or revealed if she even knew—but they activated on their own according to circumstances.

The senior guard extended his hand. “Agreed.”

I handed over my favorite plain steel one and watched it disappear beneath the counter. I could live without it but preferred not to. They led me through the back of the lobby, past the elevators, to a secure section of the floor. A windowless area was laid out with the comfort of a corporate suite. Beyond a well-appointed living room was an empty, sterile office with an oak desk and several chairs, where they left me to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, Ambassador Core entered in full court regalia, the bright red tunic with all the gold bric-a-brac hanging off it. To my surprise, Brokke followed him and seated himself in a corner. The ambassador gestured at the guards to leave, and they closed the door behind them.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Grey?” he asked.

“Show me your true face for a start,” I said. I hated games.

Without hesitation, Donor released the ambassador illusion. Instead of the smug face of Aldred Core, the smug face of Donor Elfenkonig stared at me. “Have you considered my offer of asylum?”

“I don’t need it. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Gerda Alfheim is dead,” I said.

Bored, he glanced at Brokke. “I’ve been apprised of local news, dull as it is.”

“Where’s Bergin Vize?”

Donor frowned. “Mr. Grey, these are people I have no knowledge of.”

“Funny you would forget Eorla’s fosterling,” I said.

Donor lowered himself into a chair. “I do not concern myself with the doings of all my citizens. Perhaps if you spoke on a subject I do engage, this conversation might proceed somewhere.”

“Alfheim’s dead, and Vize has added more victims to his body count. They work for you. They always have. They’ve caused a lot of damage. At some point, it’s going to stick to you,” I said.

“I doubt that. I won’t be held accountable for the deeds of others. Terrorists have their own agenda,” he said.

“But they serve yours,” I said.

Donor looked down at the desk, his face a mask as he weighed which string to pull. “Many people do. I am not in the habit of rejecting things that have the good fortune of redounding to my benefit. I have heard a rumor that Gerda was looking for something I am interested in. I will not object if it comes into my hands at some point.”

“Where is the faith stone?”

Donor gave his head a small shake. “Faith stone? If Gerda sought such a thing and did not find it, I’m sure no one else has.”

“As far as you know, you mean,” I said.

His arrogant smile was starting to get on my nerves. “True, but I think I would know if someone else found it. I think we all would know,” he said.

“Vize has killed at least three of your own people helping Gerda in her little treasure hunt,” I said.

He sighed. “Not all dwarves are my subjects, pity though it is, Mr. Grey. Whomever Gerda recruited to help her was her business. If she involved Vize, she sealed her own doom.”

“I want Vize,” I said.

Donor’s gaze shifted toward Brokke. “So do I. I understand he is wanted for high crimes in several countries. As a head of state, his freedom concerns me. I don’t know where he is. I no longer understand his motives.”

“Do a sending. He’ll come,” I said.

Brokke shifted in his seat. “He can make sendings but not receive them.”

“Then call him on the damned phone. Look, I didn’t come here to chat. I want Vize. I don’t care if he’s useful to you. Find someone else to do your dirty work. His usefulness to you has run out.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Donor said.

I leaned over the desk. The attempt at intimidation had no effect that I noticed, but it made me feel better. “Then let me warn you. I will hound him until he is in custody. Anything he does will be done with me breathing down his neck. I will disrupt every plan I can. I will expose every manipulation. I will undermine you at every turn, Donor.”

He murmured a chuckle. “In other words, Mr. Grey, you will do what you have always done.”

“I don’t work for the Guild anymore,” I said.

He smiled. “Officially.”

“At all,” I said. “Maeve is no friend of mine.”

“I have been at this sport much longer than you, Mr. Grey. Denials from the enemy mean nothing. Affirmations mean less.”

“What you and Maeve have going on is not my concern. That was another life for me. I’m not interested in you anymore. What I care about now are four dead bodies, including Gerda, in my town that lead back to you. I won’t shed any tears for her, but I’m not going to let Vize run loose.”

He arched an impatient eyebrow. “Perhaps you should find out who killed Gerda, then. I’m sure it wasn’t Vize.”

“Asking Vize a few questions might help. Where is he?”

“He’s gone rogue,” Brokke said.

“You’ve lost control of him?” I asked.

Donor glared at Brokke, and I sensed the flutter of a sending. The dwarf flinched but set his jaw. “It matters not.”

“I don’t believe you. I saw him in TirNaNog. He has an army of followers. That’s got to matter to you,” I said.

“Those people support my cause, not his. If Vize turns against me, they will not follow,” Donor said.

“Really? Like what’s happened with Eorla Elvendottir?” I asked.

His cheekbones tinged red in anger. “Eorla and I will resolve our differences. She will have no choice. It is no concern of yours.”

“It is if you don’t resolve it. Because if you don’t, then I doubt you can control Vize’s followers either,” I said.

The color faded from his face as he resumed control of his emotions. “Enough of this discussion, Mr. Grey. I will not help you find Vize, but I will not hinder you. Now, it is your turn to answer my questions. Why does Maeve fear you?”

“I seem to have a knack for disrupting her plans without intending to. I annoy her, but I don’t think she fears me,” I said.

“The Wheel of the World turns, and we follow, Mr. Grey. We influence It as much as It influences us. If you obstruct Maeve’s influence, then she has reason to fear you. Your absence in the world might clear her path,” he said.

“Maeve doesn’t turn the Wheel of the World. The Wheel turns, no matter what she wants,” I said.

“Among the common people, that is true, but those with real power do, in fact, move the Wheel. We cannot stop It, but we can change Its course for a time. If Vize had succeeded in TirNaNog, the world would be different right now. The dead fairy queen changed the outcome of that encounter,” he said.

“Her name was Ceridwen, and you’re right. She did change things—for the better. If she hadn’t warned Maeve, Boston would have been destroyed, and Tara would be yours now,” I said.

“You closed the gate to TirNaNog, not she. That kind of power is what Maeve fears. The ability to take power away is as powerful as power itself. I am beginning to wonder if I should fear you, too.”

“Give me Vize, and you have nothing to fear from me,” I said.

He rose from the desk and resumed the Aldred Core glamour. “That, I think, is a promise you cannot make, never mind keep. I wish you well, Mr. Grey, but, more, I wish never to meet you again.”

As Donor strode from the room, Brokke glared at me. “You fool. You just signed your death warrant.”