Unquiet Dreams

Chapter 10

I had a nice surprise outside the hotel. Murdock was waiting for me in his car, parked in the fire lane outside the hotel. I had left him a voice mail telling him where I was going, but I didn’t actually ask for a ride. For a change. Maybe he’s getting to the point where he just assumes that. At least he hasn’t bitten my head off about it like I’m sure someone else would.

One of my goals in life was to answer two questions. When did Murdock sleep? He had a habit of working long hours before I even rolled out of bed and yet somehow still had the ability to work past midnight. How did he manage to look freshly dressed? My clothes wrinkle if I think about wearing them. His shirt and pants always looked just pressed.

I opened the passenger door and removed a pizza box from the seat. I left it sitting prominently on a trash can in front of the hotel’s revolving door. Then I fell into the seat, and he pulled out.

He glanced at me with amusement. “You smell like money.”

“Yeah, I need a shower,” I said.

Murdock skipped the turn onto Old Northern Avenue that leads to my street. We continued down to Summer Street and hung the left over the channel. “Where are you taking me?”

“The gang unit came through with an address for Moke. Thought we could shake his crib a little,” he said.

“Could be fun. Speaking of trolls, I asked Cal to get us a line on where we can find C-Note. If I can get close to him, I can see if his essence matches anything I found at Kruge’s office,” I said.

Murdock drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You mean Kruge’s office where Kruge was murdered, which is a case we are not working on? That Kruge’s office?” He had a lazy smile on his face when he said it.

“Yeah, that Kruge’s office,” I said. He just shook his head slowly with the same smile.

When Murdock and I were at Yggy’s last night, his essence had blazed around him unlike any human essence I had seen. In my natural, unfocused state, I’m aware of the essence around me like a type of peripheral vision. I sense stuff, but it’s just sort of hanging there unattended. We leave essence everywhere we go, and the essence of where we go even lingers on us as well. Murdock’s car, for instance, always has a residue of his essence because he spends so much time in it. Mine’s there, too. It doesn’t fade because it’s constantly reinforced. The champagne flute I left at the reception has my essence on it, but that will fade because I’ve had only brief contact with it.

I focused my senses on him. Murdock’s essence glowed next to me, not as brightly as at the bar, but more than it ever had before it changed. On our last big case together, he had taken a hit from a bolt of fey energy that almost killed him. Instead, it supercharged his body essence somehow. I can tell he doesn’t understand what that means yet. If the fight at Yggy’s was any indication, though, he’s faster and stronger than he ever was. It’s not easy for a human to knock out an elf, and he did it with one punch.

We approached the Reserve Channel, an inland water access that divided the southern edge of the Weird from South Boston. Summer Street crosses the channel and continues into Southie. In typically confusing Boston mapping, Summer Street also takes a right turn and runs along the channel. It makes giving directions interesting. Murdock took the right and pulled over.

Long, dark warehouses lined the street facing the channel. “What’s the address?” I asked as we got out the car.

“It’s more a location,” he said and started walking down the embankment to the bridge.

This end of the channel had had a small inlet in it at one time. Over the years, as the neighborhood went downhill, the inlet had become a dumping ground until it was mostly filled in. You could have walked across it now. Right to the bridge. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Hey, he’s a troll.”

We picked our way toward the bridge through sodden garbage. Out on the water, several boats in winter wrapping swayed at their moorings on a floating barge. Moke had a picturesque view as long as he didn’t look down.

In the summer, the channel can be fragrant, and not in a good way. The cold weather kept the odor down, but the air still had the raw, flinty smell of dirt and dirty water. We went under the bridge. An amazing amount of trash lay scattered around—clothing, slumped cardboard boxes, a mangled shopping cart, split plastic bags of household garbage. Against the retaining wall stood a collection of major appliance boxes, packing crates, and skids woven together into a shantytown. Here and there, the homeless huddled around small fires. Murdock ignored them and made for a large heap of green corrugated roofing panels. A thick stench hit my nose, two days past fetid. Murdock banged on one of the panels.

“Moke. You have company,” he said. The way he pushed back his coat, I knew he had unsnapped his holster. He banged again. “Moke! I don’t need a warrant to come in there.”

We could hear rummaging sounds and some actual growling. Murdock stepped back as a double-height panel shifted opened.

“Awright, awright. Keep yer hat on,” a deep voice said.

The panel swung out on a makeshift hinge. A troll shuffled out, his head bobbling on a long neck that protruded from a wide hunchback. His gray face held round black eyes, a number of yellow teeth protruding from between his lips, and one of the longest noses I’ve ever seen, misshapen and hooked downward. His hair consisted of several greasy strands that dangled straight down to his chin. He stank, of course. His patchwork suit looked so soiled that soap and water were clearly not part of the program.

He leaned forward onto his hands and squinted down at Murdock. “Hemph. Police. You tell that Ms. Beruthy I didn’t take no cats. She got so many, she don’t know if one’s gone anyway. And they taste terrible, too.”

“We’re not here about cats. We’re here about goats,” said Murdock.

He narrowed his eyes at us. “Hemph. Stupid joke. Older than you.”

“Are you Moke?” I said, just to confirm Murdock’s information. There might not be many trolls in the city, but too often people assume there are fewer than there actually are. You just don’t see them.

He nodded. I resisted the urge to hit him for destroying my blood evidence. But you don’t hit a troll unless you want to break a hand.

“Word is you run the T-Rats,” Murdock said.

His great head swayed between us. “Don’t like T-Rats. Hide from them.”

The hard part about interrogating a troll is that you can’t intimidate him with size or strength. Grabbing him by the neck and trying to shove him against the wall would make a scene that we’d both laugh at.

“What about Dennis Farnsworth? You know him?” I said.

He stared at me and didn’t speak. Trolls can stay incredibly still, so still it’s not unusual for someone to walk right past their large shadowed presence without even noticing them. Murdock and I exchanged a glance. Unfortunately, it was one of those glances that said this is what Murdock submitted my consulting fee invoices for.

I looked up at Moke and decided to try and provoke him into talking. “Rumor has it the T-Rats are underpaid and easy pickings. C-Note will pay double their current cut if they ally with the TruKnights.”

Nothing.

“So, Detective Murdock and I are spreading the word. Sounds like a good deal and would stop the fighting.”

More nothing.

“Everyone knows the T-Rats are in it for the money. Not a loyal one in the bunch. I’ll tell you this since you don’t like them, but one of them led me to some evidence in the Farnsworth murder.”

“That’s a lie. Was a flit that did,” said Moke.

Success. I smiled at him. Trolls don’t trust anyone easily, so they value loyalty more than most. Murdock would make a good troll, but he bathes too much.

“And you set the building on fire,” I said.

“’Nother lie. Was TruKnights.” Moke settled back on his haunches.

“I didn’t see any TruKnights. I saw T-Rats.”

“You was on my turf. Fire had elf-stench.” Another little trick trolls have. While druids can sense the essence of people, trolls can sense who manipulated essence. All fey manipulate essence and, unless they use their own, they pull it from their surroundings. If I found a ward stone, it would have essence running in it, but I’d have no idea who put it there unless whoever did it had been near it recently. Trolls can sense what kind of fey did it long after they’re gone. Sometimes even the exact person.

“Why would the TruKnights kill the kid?” said Murdock.

Moke rocked his head. “Not all runners run for joy.”

Joy was the current street slang for drugs. “Are you saying the kid was delivering something else?” I said.

Moke’s hunchback rolled in what I took to be a shrug.

“Who was he running for? Kruge?” I said.

Murdock glared at me. I have to admit it was an amateur mistake, but the guy annoyed me.

“Yeah. Kruge,” said Moke. Of course he’d say that.

“All right, I’ll play. About what?” I said.

Again with the hunchback. “Kruge not like a lot. Not a lot like Kruge.”

“A name,” said Murdock. I could sense his essence start to spark up. Not a good sign. “Give us a name, or I’ll haul in half the T-Rats, and we’ll see how long the rest of your crew survives against the TruKnights.”

Moke growled and stretched his head toward Murdock, who had the good sense to step back. No telling what might come out of the troll’s mouth, or what might end up in it. Murdock unholstered his gun. Moke cocked his head at it, probably debating whether a bullet would itch or burn. It would take more than one to slow him down.

“Kruge hate C-Note most.”

No surprise there. “So do you. What makes you think I believe that?”

He worked his tongue over his teeth. “Croda knew. Kruge told her C-Note was trouble. Needed help.”

“What kind of help?” said Murdock.

Moke rolled his shoulders. “Maybe he had a goat needed eating.”

I smirked. I couldn’t help it. Not everyone gets to throw Murdock’s sarcasm back at him. “Where’s Croda?”

Moke shifted his eyes toward me. He made no other movement, but I could feel his disposition change, a sense of anger and fear enveloping him. Anger I was used to from trolls, but fear? Trolls feared little. They could take a bolt of essence to the face and keep coming. They had few adversaries who could match them in a physical fight. And their own innate ability to manipulate essence was not inconsequential. A fearful troll is not a good thing.

“Why bother Moke? C-Note trouble, not Moke.”

“We’re bothering you because a kid is dead, and we’re not happy,” said Murdock.

He shrugged again. “Go bother C-Note. C-Note kills. Moke just make people happy.”

“Sure, happy, and occasionally battered and bruised if they don’t pay for their happiness,” I said.

It was my turn to get the growl. Trolls love to growl. Between their odor, their looks, and their size, the growl makes the picture complete. My feeble little shields flared up around me like a warning system, only one that would not stop a troll bite. Unlike Murdock, who had a better sense of self-preservation, I stepped up on Moke. His face loomed over me, twice as wide as my own, a foul odor wafting out of his mouth. I clenched my jaw.

“Let me tell you something, Moke. I am going to go see C-Note, and I am going to bother him. But right now, I want to know where Croda is, or I will come back at noon and tear the door off your hidey-hole.”

Never underestimate the speed of a troll. Moke’s huge hands pinned my arms to my sides, and he roared as he lifted me off the ground.

“You dare!” he screamed, his voice reverberating against the underside of the bridge.

“Drop him!” Murdock yelled. He had his gun out, judiciously pointed at Moke’s head. Moke roared again and swung me at Murdock. I slammed into Murdock, and pain shot through my shoulder. Not such a good idea after all. Murdock went tumbling into a heap of trash as Moke stalked across the debris-strewn ground and shoved me against a support column.

“You want to see me kill? I show you kill!” I bit my tongue as he shook me. I could feel every bone in my body rattle. My head banged against the column, my shields screaming as they tried to soften the blows. With a futile effort, I tried to tap my essence, tried to reach deep within myself and breach the wall that blocked my abilities. A knife blade of pain sliced in my brain, and blood shot out my nose into Moke’s face. Not the counterattack I was hoping for.

He tossed me through the air, and I landed on a cardboard shanty. Something struggled beneath me and shoved me aside. A lance of pain pierced my shoulder as I rolled. An old man appeared from within the box and ran off without looking back. I dragged myself to my feet, holding my arm against my side to keep it from hurting. Murdock was searching the trash for his gun as he yelled into his radio for backup.

I backpedaled as Moke lumbered toward me. Turning to run, my ankles twisted, and I landed on my ass. I dug my heels into the dirt and tried to scramble away. No point. Moke was on me in seconds and grabbed me by the torso. Yeah, I screamed. I admit it. A troll lifts you and slams you against a retaining wall, damn, you scream. Black and red spots flashed in front of my eyes. Then I was in the air again. I plowed into a garbage heap. Stunned, I tried to will my body to move, but it wouldn’t cooperate.

I heard a shot. Murdock had found his gun. I shook my head to clear it as I heard him fire again. When my vision cleared, an unexpected sight greeted me. A thin young girl with short blond hair, dressed in fatigues and pink ski jacket, stood with her back to me holding her hands up to the oncoming troll. Murdock fired again, but Moke only flinched.

“Stop! Stop! Moke! Stop!” she yelled.

He was almost upon her when Murdock fired again. “Stop!” the kid screamed.

Moke skidded to a halt. For a moment, no one moved, the only sound the ragged breath of the troll. Murdock came forward, gun extended in front of him.

“It’s okay, Moke,” said the girl.

Breath still heaving, he turned his head toward Murdock. “Tell him to stop shooting me,” he growled.

Keeping one hand up toward Moke, she turned her other palm toward Murdock. “Please! Stop! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

I stumbled to my feet. “You’re a little late.”

Murdock gestured with his gun. “Back off! Now!”

Moke did exactly that. He took two steps back toward his hovel, leaving a dozen feet between us.

The pain from my shoulder made me grimace as I walked toward the girl. She couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, cute and scared as hell. She started to drop her hand. “Keep the hands where I can see them, and no one will get shot. Who the hell are you?”

She ignored the question. “Please don’t let him shoot again.”

“I asked you your name.”

She held her hands out in front of her again. “Crystal Finch.”

Even if I hadn’t been fighting a faint, I would have rocked back on my heels. The last place I expected to find Dennis Farnsworth’s girlfriend was under a bridge forcing a rampaging troll to back down.

I flicked my head at Moke. “Do you really have him under control?”

She looked at Moke. “Are you all right, Moke? Can he put the gun down?”

Moke closed his eyes and stepped back against his makeshift door. “No gun. I stop. No gun.”

Murdock had not taken his eyes off the troll, sighting down his arm as he held the gun at Moke. “Connor?” he said.

I looked at Crystal, and she nodded. “As long as he doesn’t move, I’m cool with it,” I said.

Murdock backed toward us and away from Moke. He swung the gun at Crystal. “Open your jacket,” he said.

“I think she has a knife in her left front pocket, but otherwise she’s unarmed,” I said. All fey are sensitive to metal, mostly because it screws up how we use essence. I can feel it at close range if I let myself, and given the weak field projecting off Crystal, I knew she didn’t have a gun. Murdock leaned forward and pulled a small pocketknife on a key chain out of her pocket and slipped it in his own. Then he stepped back and holstered his gun.

“If you leave Moke alone, I’ll take you to Croda,” Crystal said.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to bargain,” I said.

“Neither are you,” she said. I hate smart kids.

Moke and I tensed as Moke moved again. “You okay, Crystal?”

“Yeah, Moke. Thanks. I think I’ll be all right with these guys,” she called over her shoulder.

He stepped back more. “You call. I come.”

“Thanks for everything,” she said.

Murdock pointed a finger at Moke. “Wait a minute! You’re not going anywhere. You’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer.”

Moke’s face broke into a jagged-tooth smile. “Not tonight.”

Everything around us began to vibrate. Dust rained down from the bridge, and the dirt in front of Moke erupted. A wall of rock rumbled out of the ground, rising in a massive heap. When it almost reached the undercarriage of the bridge, it crested like a wave and rolled down over Moke, sealing him in against the retaining wall. Murdock looked at me in utter disbelief.

I shrugged with my good shoulder. “It’s a troll thing.”

Murdock’s radio squawked somewhere nearby. He looked one more time at the rock wall and went to retrieve the radio.

I turned to Crystal. “Where’s Croda?”

“I need protection. Big-time,” she said.

“You’ll get it. Tell me where Croda is.”

As Murdock returned with his radio, I heard him call off the backup. Not that they seemed to have made any rush to get down to this end of the Weird.

She turned to Murdock. “I heard you guys talking. Are you really trying to find out who killed Denny?”

“You don’t answer questions very well,” I said.

She glared at me. “I’m trying not to die. Are you the good guys or not?”

“Good guys. Bad guys would have beat the hell out of the troll,” said Murdock.

Crystal zipped her jacket and looked around. Most of the homeless who had been there when I arrived had made themselves scarce. “I was safe here. You’ve got to hide me somewhere until you get Denny’s killer, or I’m dead.”

“Tell us where Croda is, and we’ll take care of you,” I said.

She crossed her arms. “I can’t. I ran, so I don’t know exactly where she is. We can go look tomorrow when it’s light.”

“Let’s go now,” I said.

She began to bounce on her feet against the cold. “Dude, look at me. Every snitch in the Tangle will sell me out the moment we hit the Avenue. I’ll be dead before daylight. Hide me tonight, and I’ll take you tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll call Moke back.”

I hate to admit she had a point. Her platinum blond hair would stick out, to say nothing of the jacket. The only neon pink in the Tangle is in the bar lights.

“The only thing I can give you is a lockup cell tonight. I’m not waking up my boss for a safe house until I know you have something,” said Murdock.

She shook her head firmly. “I won’t be safe there in jail.”

Murdock looked at me, and I shook my head. A sixteen-year-old girl was not going to spend the night in my apartment. Even if I thought it was okay, the gracious not—Mrs. Finch would probably claim I molested her daughter.

“I have an idea,” I said. I pulled my cell phone out and walked out to the channel to get a better signal.

Meryl picked up on the second ring. She never picked up on the first. “Hey. It’s late even for you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t sound angry anymore. “I need a favor.”

“At this rate, when I call in all the favors you owe me, you’ll be my slave for the rest of your life.”

I smiled. “Really? You’d be into that?”

“Funny. What do you need?”

“Can I stash a sixteen-year-old girl at your place for the night?”

“You’re joking.”

“Not in the least.”

“Is this a kooky French comedy involving a maid?”

“No. That was last week. This week it’s a murder witness who has a troll at her beck and call.”

“She can stay, but not the troll. I’m still finding maggots from last time.”

“Funny. Can you meet me on Summer Street by the Reserve Channel?”

I heard a heavy sigh. “Which one?” I told her and disconnected.

I went back under the bridge. I could tell by their faces that Murdock and Crystal were not getting along. “I found a place for you. If you don’t bring us to Croda tomorrow, Murdock puts you in a cell.”

Crystal looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded.

Murdock pulled at my sleeve. We moved out of earshot.

“What’s the deal?” he said.

“Meryl will take her for the night.”

He nodded toward Crystal. “She says she won’t talk until daylight.”

I glanced back at her. She looked tired and scared. A kid scared enough that she only felt safe with a troll under a bridge. “If she saw what happened to Kruge, I don’t blame her.”

Murdock turned to look at her again, assessing what he wanted to happen. “Think we can trust her?”

I shrugged. “She managed to keep a troll from killing me. Let’s give her a shot.”

My cell phone buzzed against my thigh. Meryl’s number lit the screen. “Let’s go. Ride’s here,” I called to Crystal.

We made our way up the embankment to find Meryl leaning against a black car smoking a clove cigarette. She wore a long leather coat with matching black gloves and her standard Doc Martens.

“Crystal, this is Meryl. She’s going to take care of you,” I said.

Meryl took a drag and eyed her up and down. “Just so we’re clear, he doesn’t mean that in a milk-and-cookies kind of way.”

“Not a problem,” Crystal said.

Meryl jerked her head back. “You look cold. Get in.”

I waited until Crystal had settled herself inside the car. “You have a Mini Cooper. Very nice.”

She smiled. “Astute.”

“I didn’t know you even had a car. I thought you’d come in a cab.”

Meryl smiled at Murdock. “Don’t you hate it when he wants to chitchat at two in the morning on a work night?”

He laughed. “I’m not touching that one.”

She looked back at me. “Hmm. Blood all over you, and, if I’m not mistaken, something’s wrong with your shoulder. Did the kid do that to you?”

I smiled. “She’s pretty tough. Would you mind helping me out a little?”

She rolled her eyes. “More favors.” She crushed out her clove and placed her hand on my shoulder. Even through the glove, a soft white light glowed. Warmth spread inside my shoulder, easing the pain. I could imagine the ligaments and muscles knitting back together. She released me, and I rolled the shoulder. It felt much better. By the time I woke up, I doubted I’d feel a thing wrong.

She turned to Murdock. “You’re pretty banged up, too. Here, this is on the house.”

She placed a hand on his chest and called up her essence again. Murdock closed his eyes and smiled. Meryl pulled her hand away and gave him a curious look. “Interesting essence you have there, Murdock.”

“So people keep telling me,” he said.

Meryl looked up at me. “So what’s the deal with the kid?”

“We just need to keep her out of sight until tomorrow. I think we all need some sleep, so how about we pick her up late morning or so?”

“Okay.” Meryl opened the car door and slid inside. She buckled up and rolled down the window. “I’ll drop her off wherever you want. You don’t get to know where I live.”

I dropped my chin and mock-glared at her from under my eyebrows. “Fine.”

She smiled. “Sleep well, boys!” She made a sharp U-turn from the curb and drove back up Summer Street.

Murdock shot me a sidelong glance.

“Do not say a word,” I said as we walked back to his car.

“What? You mean the whole flirtatious thing? I wouldn’t think of it.”

“Shut up.”

We jumped in his car. Murdock cut over to the Avenue, and we cruised toward Sleeper Street. At this time of night, few people walked the streets. Even the Weird settles down by dawn. You could find an after-hours party if you wanted, but it was a weeknight, and only the diehards and desperate were out.

“Another interesting evening with Connor Grey,” Murdock said.

“Hey! Talking to Moke was your idea.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, but provoking him into using you as a bat and me as a ball was not my intention. What set him off like that?”

“The crack about ripping off his door at noon. Sunlight kills trolls. I guess he took it more personally than I intended,” I said.

Murdock pulled up in front of my building. “I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds good.” I got out of the car and didn’t even watch him pull away.

Up in my apartment, I chewed through a few ibuprofen and seltzer. Meryl might have sped up my shoulder healing, but she couldn’t touch what was in my head. It was pounding. I could feel the hazy black cloud in there squeezing whatever was left of my brain.

I stripped out of my clothes and crawled under the bed-covers. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. Dawn was just a few hours away. I would have to get up then and do my sun rituals. Sunrise was always too early for me. The thing I hated was that the nights when I wanted to sleep the most were when I needed to do the rituals the most. I had committed myself to doing what I needed to do to recover from my accident. The damned mass in my head never went away, but I felt stronger since I had gone back to the rituals. Hell, my shields hadn’t collapsed even when Moke threw me the second time. They didn’t work as well as they used to, but they had held.

Despite my curiosity as to how Crystal Finch ended up with Moke, I was too exhausted to care. Partying with a couple of fairies, brawling with a troll, and flirting with a druidess healer all in one night can take their toll. The sad part is, it felt like just a busy day at the office. That’s what the Weird can do to you.