Undone Deeds

28

Outside the holding cell was a short hall, a door open to another cell, and a staircase. I ran up the stairs into a typical suburban kitchen, barren of any signs of someone’s living there. My cell phone and keys lay on the table, a subtle hint of Keeva’s body signature on them. It was almost three in the morning by the clock on the stove. I turned off the lights when I saw my reflection in the window. The backyard became visible, a small square of grass surrounded by a weathered stockade fence. Neighboring houses crowded near, triple-deckers and old wooden hovels with Victorian details. The yard had no exit.

Down the hall, I peered through the sidelight windows of the front door and recognized the general area. I was somewhere in Dorchester, the large neighborhood south of Boston proper. Nothing moved on the dark street, and the surrounding houses showed no lights. I slipped out as quietly as possible.

Despite my racing heart, I forced myself to a nonchalant walk. I didn’t want a casual observer becoming suspicious. I pulled my jacket closed to hide the torn and bloody T-shirt. A block later, I took out my cell and called Meryl. “Can you pick me up?”

“I don’t pick people up. I make them desire me, then reject them for being needy,” she said.

“I’m in a bind here,” I said.

“Really? You mean you aren’t disturbing me at work because you went grocery shopping?” she asked.

“You’re at work? It’s 3 A.M.,” I said.

“Shoot. I forgot to eat my lunch,” she said.

“Can we get back to my apparently unimportant desperation?” I asked.

“Where are you?” she asked.

A few cars passed the large cross street ahead. I recognized a deli on the corner. “You know where Georgie’s is on Dot Ave? Oh, and I could use a shirt.”

“Be there in ten.”

I made myself inconspicuous near a silver electrical box on Dorchester Avenue. Dot Ave was to Dorchester what Oh No was to the Weird, only longer. It stretched through eight or nine subneighborhoods, old villages that became home turf to various waves of immigrants. At any given time in its history, two or three gangs controlled the street, making it, depending on perspective, safe or dangerous. It was like that before and after Convergence. No matter the time period, urban cycles of prosperity and poverty repeated. It didn’t need the fey to do it. It made me realize that all the crap I stressed about, the empty promises of the governing powers, the endless grind of lives unfulfilled, were as much simply the nature of life as they were symptoms of social decay.

I leaned against the building next to the box and realized that somewhere else in the city, other people were probably in similar predicaments to mine. Maybe they didn’t leave a dead body behind, but they’d fled a situation out of control, something that would lead to more problems in time. Shit happened. Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot, but always and often, and sometimes there was nothing to be done about it. The thought didn’t make me any happier, but it gave me a little perspective as I waited alone on the desolate street. I bet myself that no one else had an intangible stone in their head or a gaping dark hole that sucked the life of everything around it. Those were my special treats.

Meryl pulled up in her MINI Cooper, and I hopped in. Without a word, she handed me a black T-shirt, pursing her lips as she eyed my bloody clothes. I leaned across the console and kissed her as she knocked me in the leg shifting gears. “Thanks,” I said.

She pulled a perfect U-turn and headed back toward the Weird. “Gods, I haven’t been down here in ages. Were you at the safe house over on Dewey?”

That Meryl knew about the house didn’t surprise me. I struggled out of my jacket and pulled off the sliced-up T-shirt. “It wasn’t very safe,” I said.

Meryl glanced at me. “So I notice. What were you doing? Your mom said you left the waiting room and never came back,” she said.

I pulled on the clean shirt. “If I told you I was kidnapped by Brion Mal and macGoren tried to kill me but Keeva showed up and killed him and let me go so I called my girlfriend to come pick me up, would you believe me?” I asked.

“You never told me you had a girlfriend,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a yes. First, tell me about Cal,” I said.

“He came out of surgery fine. The recovery is expected to take a while because of some essence and blood issue,” she said.

“A full recovery?” I asked.

She gave me a brief tilt of the head. “I’m not privy to everything, you know. I’m not family.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Meryl downshifted and turned off Dot Ave. “Why did she kill him?”

“She refused to talk and threw me out.”

“Did you call Leo?”

“I can’t do that.”

She made another turn, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Why not?”

“I don’t think Leo needs any more to deal with right now. Gerry Murdock was involved at Eagan’s. He killed Shay,” I said.

Shocked, Meryl slammed on the brakes. “Tell me that didn’t happen.”

I looked out the window. “We were trying to escape. Shay was shot, and Uno…. ate him, I guess.”

“That poor kid,” she said. Meryl liked people to think she was a mean hard-ass, but she had a soft spot for kids who got mixed up in the Weird.

“Gerry basically confessed to it when he tried to arrest me,” I said.

“Whoa! When the hell did that happen?” she asked.

According to my cell phone, I had been under the sleep spell for over a day. “Day before yesterday, before I got the call about Cal,” I said.

She started driving again. “Danu’s blood, Grey. This is a freakin’ mess. So, no police and no Guild for help. Can Eorla protect you?”

“She’s my best bet at this point, unless I go to Bastian,” I said.

“That might be the plan—force you to publicly align with the Consortium,” Meryl said.

“Keeva’s using me for something. She didn’t have to kill macGoren to save my life. She planted evidence right in front of me to make it look like I killed him,” I said.

“Then you need to keep a low profile until you see what she does.” She turned again, making it the fourth unnecessary turn since I got in the car.

I twisted in my seat and checked the rear window. “Are we being followed?”

Meryl pulled back onto Dot Ave. “Yeah. He’s being pretty obvious about it. Picked him up about a block after you.”

She stopped at a red light and revved the engine. A block behind, a small dark car idled in the middle of the street. “Why is he sitting there?”

The light turned green. Meryl hesitated, but the car behind us didn’t move. She drove on. “He’s pulling our chain. Someone wants you to know you’re being watched.”

I slouched in the seat. “Yeah, big news flash.”

We entered the Weird, driving down the back end of Summer Street over the Reserve Channel. In the odd way nighttime neighborhoods worked, we were safer in the industrial zone in the middle of the night than a few blocks away, where people lived. Muggers hung out where they expected to find people, which wasn’t warehouses closed up for the night. The people on the streets around the channel were people you didn’t want to mess with, and people who were not likely to help if you needed them.

Meryl glanced at her mirrors. “Tail’s gone.”

“Guess he either got his message across or he was too chicken-shit to come into the Weird,” I said.

Meryl cut across Drydock Avenue and pulled up near the edge of the Tangle. She patted the dashboard. “Poor baby takes a nap if I drive in any closer. You going to be all right from here?”

“Yeah. Want to come spend the night?” I asked.

She leaned over and kissed me. “We already played man-on-the-run-meets-hot-chick-for-sex this week.”

“Yeah, but this time I have wounds and bloody clothes,” I said.

“Here,” she said. She placed her hand on my chest and built up essence. A warm layer of light spread across my skin. A burning sensation ran across the slash on my chest. Short pops of pain shot in my cheek and ear. The warmth slid away, and Meryl withdrew her hand.

I kissed her again. The healing spell didn’t wipe away the injuries, but it pushed them past the pain and discomfort phase of healing. My druid nature would speed up the rest, and within a day the cuts would be gone. She put her hand on my neck and rubbed her thumb along my cheek. “Are you going to be okay?”

I debated bringing up the whole fostering thing but decided not to, not tonight. I was tired and had a lot to think about. “Cal’s going to be okay now. That’s all that matters. I do want to talk to you about it, though. I learned some family history. It’s kinda world-altering.”

She stared out the windshield. “Families usually are. Go get some sleep.”