Unperfect Souls

21

With the main event over, the shouting subsided, and people wandered off. A number remained watching, curious about the druid who registered little of his own essence and the druidess with brilliant red hair. Joe crawled out from Meryl’s hood once he was sure the leanansidhe was gone.

Zev wiped his hands on a soiled cloth while two Dokkheim elves lowered the Dead man to the floor. He examined his fingernails. “You don’t approve,” he said.

“You didn’t ask for my approval,” I said.

He tossed the rag aside and crossed his arms. “ ’Struth. But you still don’t approve.”

I pursed my lips. “I watched you murder someone.”

He shrugged. “He was Dead anyway. He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “That’s a dark road you’re walking, Zev.”

He gestured to the remaining watchers. “I gave them what they needed.”

I snorted. “Bread and circuses, is that it? Read some history, Zev. You may not like where that led.”

He fixed his white eyes on me. “The Dead are killing us, Grey, and no one gives a damn. If we don’t stand up to them, they will kill us all. They want us truly dead, and the cops and the Guild are just watching it happen.”

“The Guild is working on tonight’s kidnappings as we speak,” I said.

He laughed. “Really? You think so? I’ve got my people out looking for everyone who went missing tonight. Can the Guild say the same?”

My conversation with Keeva chose that moment to remind me that she only mentioned missing police officers. I decided not to share that with Zev. “You’re playing with fire and gasoline. You keep pumping these people up like this, you’ll lose control of them. Whatever the Guild and the police aren’t doing is beside the point.”

Will you knock it off? Meryl sent to me.

He nodded dismissively. “And what they are doing is the point. They created the situation by boxing us in. With the Dead hunting us down and the law locking us in, we’re trapped, Grey. Solitaries live without hope most of the time, but things have never been this hopeless. If giving them hope breaks the chains that bind them, so be it. Let the humans reap our wrath.”

Meryl tugged at my arm. “We’re not here for a political discussion.”

I ignored her. “Sekka is dead, Zev. That will never change no matter how you dress your revenge.”

He locked eyes with me. “Jark must pay for her death.”

“The Hound killed her,” I said.

Zev shook his head. “The Hound saw Jark kill her.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

Zev lowered his eyes. “Let’s just say I know people who know people who know.”

“So if that’s true, then why is Jark afraid of the Hound?” I asked.

“Because all the Dead are afraid of him. The Hound is hunting the Dead whenever they cross the line. He may be Dead himself, but he’s not their ally. Jark’s lying to get you to focus your attention somewhere else. And if you eliminate the Hound for him in the meantime, even better.”

“The Hound killed Jark?” I asked.

Zev pursed his lips. “He’s not dead, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Where can I find the Hound, Zev?”

He gave me a grim smile. “I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. Whenever the Dead go on one of these rampages, he’s there for us, not them.”

His flat white eyes fixed on me with a blank stare. It was one of those moments when one group—in this case solitaries—closed ranks against another—me, who wasn’t a solitary. I wasn’t going to get any more from him about the Hound.

“Aaaaand, we’re not here for this,” Meryl interrupted. “What’s the situation?”

Zev took a deep breath. “Eighteen solitaries and three cops were grabbed. Six solitaries were killed. The cops were dumped alive not far from the meeting.”

I fought down the urge to continue the argument. Meryl was right. Murdock was more important at the moment. “Any pattern to the dumps?” I asked.

He shrugged. “All in the Weird. The cops were dropped fast. Your friend will be fine, Grey. The Dead don’t want humans.”

“Murdock doesn’t read full human anymore.” The silence among us was lost in the rising and falling sounds of the solitaries around us.

“Got him!” Joe shouted and vanished.

Joe sensed people at greater distances than I could. It’s one of the ways he understands where to go when he teleports. Even with my hypersensitive ability, my sensing range was limited by my physical location. Meryl’s, too. But she could do sendings.

“Where is he?” I said to Meryl.

She held her hand up. “Give me a sec.” She closed her eyes. “Joe says he’s not far. They’re bringing him in.”

“Who is?”

Meryl paused as she listened. “Callies. They were nearby.”

The cailleacha, the Scottish clan of winter women. The storm outside didn’t feel natural. They had to be the cause. I wasn’t going to complain. If anyone knew how to move through snow and ice, they did.

“But he’s alive,” I said.

Meryl’s brow dropped in concentration. “Joe says something’s wrong. He says Murdock doesn’t recognize him.” She put a hand on my chest. “They’re here.”

The doors on the far side of the floor flew open with a gust of wind and snow. Four tall callies rushed in, half walking, half flying, their long white hair trailing into their flowing gray gowns. They carried Murdock with gnarled hands, clutching his arms and legs.

My head screamed as I left the protection of Meryl’s shield. When the callies lowered him to the floor, I pulled him into my arms. His clothing was torn and soiled. Hat, gloves, shoes, and coat were gone. His lips were chalk blue and his skin cold and hard. I searched for a pulse. “I think he’s got hypothermia. We have to get him to AvMem.” I lifted my face to the nearest callie. “Can anyone fly the storm?”

Meryl knelt beside us and placed glowing hands on him. Her face dropped. “We don’t have time, Grey. He’s dying. We need to get him warm now.” She pulled off her cloak and wrapped it around us. “We need blankets or coats. Anything. Zev, we need a warm bath.”

A callie leaned her aged face down. “The ice was in his heart.”

I searched her cragged features. “Can you take the ice out?”

She shook her head. “I withdrew the cold, but I cannae warm it.”

A ripple went through the crowd, and a large wash of essence came toward us. Out of the darkness walked a jotunn—a ten-foot-tall giant of a man. Without asking, he knelt and pulled Murdock from me. Cradling him in his arms like a child, he placed a wide hand on Murdock’s chest. He rocked and hummed. A pool of warm, orange essence welled out of his hand. Joe fluttered down next to them, his pink essence mingling with the giant’s and seeping into Murdock’s chest.

Murdock convulsed. The jotunn held him closer and increased the cadence of his hum. The convulsions settled to a shiver. Murdock opened his mouth, heaving forward with a racking cough that scattered Joe into the air. The jotunn eased him to the floor.

Murdock looked around in a daze. “Is this hell?”

Joe swooped down and laughed. “Nah. That’s two blocks up on the left. Don’t order the chili.”

I squeezed Murdock’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He frowned, pulling Meryl’s cloak around him. “Where are my shoes?”

“You lost them somewhere,” I said.

He struggled to his feet. Meryl grabbed his arm. “Take it easy. Let your body warm up.”

“I want my shoes,” he said.

“We’ll find some, Leo. We have to get you to a hospital,” I said.

“Take me home.”

“Murdock, you need to see a doctor.”

“I said take me home,” he snapped.

I looked at Meryl. “What do you think?”

She stared at him. “He’s okay. Let’s take him home. We can talk about the hospital in the morning.”

I held my hand out to the jotunn. “Thank you.”

He touched his massive palm against mine and wandered into the darkness.

Zev stood alone near the bloodied, dangling chains. “Thank you, too, Zev.”

He nodded. “Remember this, Grey. I helped you and the police. The solitaries are not the enemy.”

“I never thought they were,” I said. Someone found something for Murdock to wear on his feet, and we went back into the storm. The callies followed, shifting and swaying around us through the snow. Essence ringed us, a pale blue light that pressed the wind back. I don’t know why the callies did it for us, but it made walking easier. Murdock tried to shake me off as I supported him, but a few steps later, he leaned on me without argument.

The snowplow sat where we had left it, the protection spell that Meryl had cast almost gone. We bundled inside, with Murdock in the middle. He wouldn’t speak, just stared into the night sky. Meryl wheeled the truck around and drove toward South Boston.

“Take a left,” Murdock said when we reached Broadway.

“Murdock, you live the other way,” I said.

“Just take a left. Please,” he said. I looked over his head at Meryl and nodded. She turned left. “Stop here,” Murdock said after a few blocks. He gestured at me. “I need to get out.”

“Murdock, you had hypothermia. I’m not letting you wander around in the storm.”

Meryl peered out her window. “No, it’s okay, Grey. Let him out.”

I threw her a look like she was crazy. She pointed. In the blur of snow and wind, a brick building stood. I opened my door and helped Murdock out. As we walked around the truck, Meryl remained inside.

“Are you coming?” I called out.

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’ll wait here, she sent.

I put my arm around Murdock’s shoulders and ushered him across the street. We walked into the hushed, silent warmth of St. Brigid’s Church.