Unquiet Dreams

Chapter 7

I took a run to the deli to pick up some dinner. When I got back to my apartment, a little mote of light spiraled above the futon. Judging by how dim and fading it was, the glow bee probably had been chasing me down all day. When I approached it, it put a burst of speed toward me and tapped my forehead, vanishing.

Midnight. Yggy’s. The low energy of the glow bee made Joe’s voice sound faint. You don’t understand a glow bee like a sending; you actually hear it. People impress messages on them with their own essences. When it lands on you, the essence releases the message. It’s quick, though. Try and put too much information into a glow bee, and it takes a while to sort out. On the other hand, too cryptic a message, and you find yourself scratching your head anyway. Joe and I had been exchanging them since I was a kid, before I was able to do a true sending. Now that I can’t do decent sendings anymore, we’re back to glow bees.

Yggy’s. Interesting location. About the midpoint of the Avenue just beyond what passes for retail shops but before the commercial warehouses begin. Not the worst place in the Weird, but starting to venture into that territory. It was a crossroads bar, one of those places where an elf can sit down with a fairy and either have a civil conversation or end up rolling around on the floor. I had almost forgotten Joe was setting up a meeting with his gang connection, and Yggy’s would be the perfect place for it. The bar’s one rule was no essence fighting.

Murdock didn’t pick up when I tried his cell. He hadn’t checked in at all, which was unusual, so I was relieved when he called me from his car just before midnight. Yggy’s would be a good place for him to check out, learn more about how the fey can sit down and have a drink without all the race drama.

I was happy when Murdock called me from downstairs. It was getting chilly at night, and I didn’t want to have to walk in the cold down to the bar. I tossed some newspapers from the passenger seat of his car into the back, where they landed, not accidentally, on a romance novel. Murdock has a secret passion for them. You might call it a secret, searing passion of towering desire. With flowing hair, ripped abs, and corsets. I tease him about it. He doesn’t read the good kind. Every once in a while, I find a paperback lying around my apartment that he’s left in a subtle effort to get me interested. I have read a couple, well researched, well written, but in the end, not so much my thing. Murdock thinks I’m single because I don’t get romance. I point out he never goes out with someone more than twice.

“Okay, gang fight. Two nights ago. What happened and when were you going to tell me?” I said, as he pulled an illegal U-turn and drove the wrong way up Sleeper Street to the Avenue.

He threw me a look that was at once surprised and annoyed. “What’s with the attitude? I was just going to bring it up.”

“I heard about it from Keeva, who took much joy in my lack of knowledge, thank you. Why didn’t you mention it the other day?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. I must have been distracted by the fire. Nothing much to tell. A face-off between the TruKnights and the Tunnel Rats.”

I grabbed the dash as he took the corner a little too fast. “Okay. TruKnights I know are elf and fairy kids. That makes the Tunnel Rats our dwarf boys?”

He nodded. “Don’t know much about the dwarves. Keep to themselves mostly. You saw the colors: black hoodies and yellow bandanas. They claim a small area south of where the Farnsworth kid was found.”

“Still leaving the question of why a human kid was wearing the colors of a dwarf gang,” I said.

He nodded. “Except for the dead kid, all the members are dwarves as far as we know. The report didn’t have much detail about why the fight happened. The TruKnights claim turf just east, so based on what you picked up from the Tunnel Rats you met, it was probably turf related. Two elves ended up in the hospital pretty cut up.”

Dead kid. Murdock can do that, just refer to him as a dead kid. He’s much better at emotional detachment than I am, at least when he’s working. It’s a cop thing, to an extent. He’s seen more murders than I have, so he’s got an extra layer of protection against the horror of it. Not jaded so much as resigned.

We left the working lights of the Avenue behind and entered a more desolate stretch of road that led to the warehouse district. Murdock pulled the car to the mostly empty curb. It wasn’t an area where you left an unattended car parked for long. We got out and walked toward the harbor.

“I’m still convinced the blood on the kid’s shoe was Kruge’s,” I said.

Murdock gave me a lopsided smile. “Of course you are.”

Joe chose that moment to appear. Murdock is getting better at not being startled by a flit popping into view without warning, but you can still see the surprise on his face when it happens. He has to work on that if he ever wants to do undercover work with the fey.

Joe swirled around us, clearly pleased. “Right on time, guys. I just checked and our guy’s inside. Let’s go, let’s go.”

“What’s the rush, Joe?” I asked.

I didn’t get an answer, or, rather, I didn’t get an answer from Joe. Yggy’s is on the dead-end side of Congress Street north of the Avenue. A few people milled around the black-stained door with a “Y” painted in the middle. No one reputable. We were eyed with wary curiosity, but no one bothered us. The door slammed outward, followed by an airborne body that landed firmly in the gutter. Murdock and I exchanged glances.

Stinkwort laughed nervously. “I guess he decided to meet us outside!”

At that same moment, we were close enough for me to sense the guy’s essence. I stopped short and glared at Joe. I didn’t need an introduction, and I didn’t need the guy to roll faceup for me to recognize him. Murdock paused a step ahead of me, turning back with a questioning look on his face.

Stinkwort zoomed ahead. “Cal! How are you doing, bud?”

Cal opened one eye and smiled. “Hey, Joe, what do you know?”

Joe crossed his arms, sat down on Cal’s chest, and looked up with a self-satisfied, I-dare-you-to-get-mad-at-me smile.

“Hi, Cal,” I said.

When he realized it was me, he opened his other eye in surprise. “Well, well, what do you know, little bro?”

I didn’t hide the displeasure I felt. “Leo Murdock, meet Callin Grey. My brother.”

Naturally, Murdock was surprised as hell. “You have a brother?”

Cal reached up a big, meaty hand. “Pleased to meet you, Leo.”

Murdock shook and found himself pulling Cal off the ground while Joe fluttered up. “Same to you. And it’s Murdock.”

Cal stood a good five inches taller than either of us. We look nothing alike. He takes after our father—broad shouldered, barrel-chested, rough-cut facial features—but has our mother’s coloring—ash-blond hair, light brown eyes that can appear yellow. He has an infectious smile that belies an unpredictable temper. Which is how he ends up in gutters a lot.

Joe clapped his hands. “Drinks are on me!”

“My favorite words,” said Cal. He reached for the door handle to Yggy’s.

“Didn’t you just get thrown out?” I said.

He gave a sheepish smile. “Nah, not really. Just a prelim.” He sauntered inside with Joe on his shoulder.

“You don’t look happy,” said Murdock.

“More ambivalent. Let’s see where this goes,” I said.

I opened the door, and Murdock passed inside. No one really stood as bouncer at Yggy’s. It was the kind of the place that if you needed to rely on a bouncer to get you out of trouble, you didn’t belong there in the first place. When the management wanted someone removed, the bartender usually asked one of the meaner, drunker customers to take care of it for a free round. There were always takers.

Immediately inside the door stood a coat check that no one ever used, but the coat-check girls, usually elves, always got tipped for their outfits, or suggestions thereof. After a short hallway, a large square bar area filled the front of the place. Stools surrounded it on all sides and could easily seat a few dozen people. Beyond that was a dance floor that was primarily an excuse to place wooden barrels to lean on when the bar was full. And beyond that was a pool table. For the right price, pool wasn’t the only action the felt saw.

Cal waved to a sallow-looking fairy with shaggy black hair sprouting from various points on his skin. Not all the Celtic fairies are from the pretty Dananns clans. The fairy frowned and gave him the finger.

“My table’s back here,” Cal said over the low din. Yggy’s is bar-loud, not club-loud. You can carry on a decent conversation without having to raise your voice too much over competing conversations and the new-wave-retro harp and fiddle classics on the sound system. Not far from the pool table, we slid around a battle-scarred table with four chairs in the style every New Englander knows as colonial. Joe flipped over the empty black plastic ashtray and used that as a seat. Cal waved four fingers at a waitress, who nodded and disappeared toward the bar.

Cal smiled down at Joe. “Someone said he had someone I needed to meet. Someone implied it was a date.”

Joe put on an innocent look. “I never said date. Why does everyone think I want to set them up on dates?”

“Maybe because strange women end up with our phone numbers?” I said.

“Not true!” he said. He winked at Murdock. “It’s not always women.”

Murdock shot me a sly glance. Joe thinks I don’t date enough and believes if he throws enough variety at me, someone will stick. Murdock can’t understand how anyone can be without the company of women for more than a week. Since I don’t rise to their baiting, they keep wondering if my interests lie outside the assumed. Of course, not rising to their baiting also means they keep baiting. I think we all enjoy it.

“How ya been, bro?” Cal asked. I hated the “bro.” Even though Cal always used it, it felt like an affectation. The constant reminder of our relationship was a constant reminder that we were hardly buddies. When I lost my abilities two years back, Cal managed to show up at Avalon Memorial a week later, mildly sober, with enough contrition for the delay to indicate he meant it. It still irked me that he took so long. Our parents called the day I woke up, and they were in Ireland.

“Okay. Not much change. You?”

The waitress returned and dropped three tumblers of whiskey in front of us and a smaller one for Joe. We tapped glasses. While the three of us sipped, Murdock placed his back on the table. He wasn’t on duty, but I could tell by the way his eyes kept shifting to the crowd, it was not the kind of place he liked to drink in.

“I’m okay,” Cal said. “Been doing a little of this, a little of that.”

We always started this way. Wary. Not going too deep.

“Heard from Mom and Dad?” I asked. Safe, yet unsafe, territory.

He shook his head. “You know them. They’ll remember us eventually.”

I didn’t respond. Like all siblings, Cal and I have very different relationships with our parents. Cal sees their lack of contact as indifference. I see it as two people who get incredibly caught up in each other and their own lives. They care. Cal never realizes they call him more than me. But then, they worry about him more. If and when they return from meddling in Celtic politics, Cal will complain they won’t leave him alone, and I will pretend I don’t like their attention.

No one spoke for a long minute, while Joe hummed to himself watching us. I’ve got to give it to the little guy. He never quite gives up on getting the two of us back together.

“So, Joe’s led me to believe you travel in interesting circles these days,” I said.

Cal sipped his drink again, eyeing Joe. “Does he, now? Perhaps Joe might be more careful what he says where.”

Joe barked like a dog at Cal. It’s one of his nervous tics when someone throws a dig at him that lands. “I didn’t say anything about your buried treasure, secret harem, or wine cellar. I just told him you might know about gang stuff down by the Tangle.”

From the look on Cal’s face, I think he would have preferred Joe told us about women or money. I already knew about the booze. Cal downed his whiskey and nodded at the waitress. Not a good sign.

“Why would I talk about something I know nothing about with a cop?” asked Cal.

Murdock’s mouth went to a tight, straight line. Murdock hated being made as the law. Of course, Cal wasn’t stupid. Wearing a trench coat and tie in Yggy’s and not drinking a free shot were dead giveaways. I felt Murdock’s essence spike, and I could tell Cal felt it, too. He gave me a look that told me he found it odd. The waitress dropped him another drink on her way by.

“We’re just looking for background, Cal,” I said.

“Still don’t know why you’re talking to me.”

I sighed. Every time Cal and I encounter each other, the animosity starts. It goes back a long way. We’re never at outright war with each other, but there are too many issues between us for outright peace. “Look, Joe brought us to you. If you can’t help, fine. I’m not looking to cause you trouble.”

“Calm down, Con.” He nodded at Murdock. “You trust him?”

“With my life. I can’t say the same for him. I almost got him killed on our last case together.”

Murdock chuckled. His essence settled down, more human normal.

Cal leaned forward, not looking me in the eye. “What do you want to know?”

“What about the Tunnel Rats?” Murdock asked.

Cal shrugged. “Enforcers mostly. T-Rats don’t usually start something, but they’ve been known to end things pretty quick.”

Murdock leaned forward, too. “My info is they’re all dwarves, but we’ve got a dead human kid wearing their colors. Would they have killed him for wearing their colors?”

Cal shook his head, examining the swirling amber liquid in his glass. “No, they’re not that sick-petty. They might rough someone up for it, but it’d be odd for them to go that far.” He paused. “Oh, wait—did the kid have knots in his bandana?”

We both nodded. “That’s why. The kid had something he didn’t want his gang identified with, but the T-Rats wanted done. So, they let him wear their colors. Knots in a bandana are a heads-up that the kid isn’t a T-Rat but has their protection.”

“Sounds dangerous. If someone wanted to kill a Tunnel Rat, why would they care if someone was pretending to be one?”

Cal smiled. “’Cause they don’t know if they’re bringing double hell down on themselves. Someone might not be afraid of the T-Rats but scared spitless of an associate. Kill the associate, get the T-Rats and the associate’s gang in on your fight uninvited.”

“What can you tell us about this dwarf named Moke who runs the gang?” I asked.

Caught mid-drink, Cal almost choked on his laugh. “Moke’s no dwarf. He’s a nasty-ass troll straight from the Kingland. The only thing the T-Rats are afraid of is their own boss eating them.” He laughed and shook his head. “Moke a dwarf. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.”

I tried not to feel the heat in my face. Cal likes to know better than his little brother. Even after all these years, he could take something I was naturally ignorant of and make me feel stupid ignorant. “Why would dwarves answer to a troll?”

“’Cause he pays good money. Like I said, the T-Rats are hired fists. You run enough drugs down here, you need some strong-arm behind you. They are easy to buy.”

“Drugs? What kind?” asked Murdock.

Cal paused before answering. Murdock and I had seen that look before, the shuffling of the mental index cards deciding what to discuss and what to pass over. It did not make me happy that my brother had to play that game with us. I had to wonder how he had been spending his time these days.

“Fey stuff,” Cal said finally. “Small junk, mostly euphorics. Keeps him flush. The kind of stuff human kids go for instead of the hard stuff.”

“Like weed,” I said.

“’Xactly. Lots of cash in it. Small bills. Easy. A lot of competition, though.”

“Two nights ago there was a fight with the TruKnights,” said Murdock.

Cal’s eyes shot around the room as he hunched forward at the table. “Very nasty. The ’Knights are fairies and elves. The one thing they agree on is they’re better than everyone else.”

“Well, two elves ended up in the hospital. Would they have killed the kid to retaliate?” Murdock asked.

Cal shrugged. “Might’ve. The ’Knights aren’t afraid of anybody. I hear Moke’s poking at C-Note, and C-Note’s not happy.”

“C-Note?” Murdock said.

Cal got that look on his face again. He finished his drink and waved his hand in a circle over the table. The waitresses immediately came with a new round for everyone, including Murdock, who hadn’t touched his first.

“Let me get someone over here, see if he’s willing to talk,” said Cal. I felt him shoot a sending into the room.

Joe turned his head in the direction the sending went, then grinned. “I thought so,” he said.

A tall, thin man stumbled into a group of people near the pool table. He straightened up, flipping a head of curly red hair back, and bowed an apology. He continued toward us. I couldn’t help smiling as I recognized his essence. He dropped himself down in the empty chair and slumped.

“Well, well, well, the Grey boys together again. What’s it been, twenty years?” He had a grin that could only be described as jovial.

“Not quite that long, Clure,” I said. The Clure was an old buddy, a drinking one by definition. The Cluries are a clan of hard-drinking fairies, the friends of bars everywhere. The Clure was both name and title, though he didn’t insist on the “the” when you spoke directly to him. He led his local kin group, which basically meant he either started the party or knew where one was. We had gone on plenty of tears when Cal and I were in our twenties and not quite so at odds. “Clure, this is Murdock. Murdock, Clure.”

Clure extended his hand. “Felicitations, Officer.”

Murdock got annoyed again. He had to either drop the attitude or the clothes if he wanted to blend in. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

Joe was lying flat on the ashtray now. Alcohol did funny things to him. He hung his head upside down off the side of the ashtray and smiled. “Fatla genes, Cluricane?” he said in Cornish.

The Clure smiled down at him. “Just fine, my little pysky friend.”

Cal pushed one of Murdock’s glasses across the table, and the Clure downed it with relish. “We were just discussing C-Note,” he said.

The Clure let out a whoop that made several heads turn. “Talk of the town, that one. That troll’s making trouble for everyone, including himself.”

Another troll. Interesting. Trolls are disagreeable and contrary by nature. Given their nocturnal habits, they tended to have friends in low places. For that matter, they were the low places.

“C-Note runs the Tangle,” Cal said with a low voice.

“And he’s trying to run a lot more,” the Clure added.

“He runs the TruKnights,” said Cal.

“What happened to Gandri?” said Murdock. The TruKnights were high profile enough that most cops knew some, and everyone knew their leader. Former leader, apparently.

“C-Note took him out without blinking a yellow eye,” said the Clure. “The TruKnights didn’t protest. They respect power. Are you drinking that?” He pointed to Murdock’s other drink. Murdock pushed it toward him. At the same time, I felt the Clure broadcast a sending for a table round.

Joe took that moment to flutter up and drift away toward the pool table. Nothing bores him faster than talking about things he isn’t the slightest bit interested in. Getting me and Cal together apparently was the only thing he wanted to accomplish, and that was done.

“What’s this got to do with Moke?” I asked.

“So, you heard about that, huh?” said the Clure. “C-Note’s looking to expand, and he stepped up on Moke in his own turf. Moke had to smack that back. He sent the T-Rats in for a good show. He’s also got the T-Rats hassling C-Note’s runners.”

“What’s the run?” asked Murdock.

“A few guns, not many. Not C-Note’s style. Or the Weird’s for that matter. C-Note’s pushing some drugs Moke’s not happy about.”

Cal slowly swirled the dregs of his drink. “Float,” he said.

The Clure nodded. “Yeah, Float. The kids love to dance with it,” said Clure. The waitress dropped a new round on the table. Clure raised a glass. “I prefer the gift of the gods!” He downed the shot and pulled Murdock’s over without asking.

“I’ve never heard of Float,” Murdock said, voicing my own question.

Cal cleared his throat. He swayed in his chair. He’d killed three shots in less than a half hour and had a fourth in front of him. I doubted those were the first of the evening. “You will. It’s C-Note’s stuff. Makes you feel happy mellow high, like you’re in a cloud. Strong shit. He’s practically giving it away to seed demand. He’s turning kids into evangelists. When they’re not raving about Float, they’re raving about C-Note.”

“So, what, Moke’s looking for a cut?” I asked.

The Clure shook his head. “Not with this stuff. C-Note’s controlling distribution. Rumor has it he’s even manufacturing the stuff. Moke’s more worried about his own operations going under.”

Murdock looked at me. “So C-Note’s provoking Moke. Moke gives back. Turf battles. The Farnsworth kid got caught in the middle.”

“But why was he in the middle? What would Unity be doing that Kruge didn’t want anyone to know?” I asked.

Murdock shot me a warning glance. “That’s just speculation.” I let it drop. Cal might trust Murdock on my word, but for Murdock, Cal and the Clure were too unknown for him to discuss cases in front of them.

The Clure stepped right up to it, though. “Kruge! Poor guy. Wouldn’t know fun if it bit him in the ass. He was C-Note’s thorn. Kept trying to mess up his drug running.”

Murdock played with an empty glass. “We’re not looking at that. I’m looking into the kid. The Guild’s taking care of Kruge.”

As the Clure shrugged indifferently, his eyes hesitated a second at something over my shoulder. I turned a casual look. Things seemed normal for Yggy’s, maybe a few more elves at the main bar than usual, but nothing I thought odd. When I brought my attention back to the table, I caught Cal and the Clure exchanging glances.

“Anything else I can help you with, Officer?” the Clure asked.

Murdock shook his head. I had a million questions, but I could tell Murdock wanted to drop it. I was willing to let it go. I could always hook up with the Clure later.

The Clure pushed back his chair, stood, and bowed. “Gentlemen, enjoy the show.” He sauntered off into the crowd. I noticed the first person he went to was another Clurie. Once you realize who they are, they’re easy to spot. They all look like brothers. Happy drunk ones.

And speaking of which, mine was hunched over, pondering his drink.

“You okay, Cal?” I asked. It was always a loaded question. Depending on his mood, Cal would either take it as criticism of his drinking or inappropriately personal. And still I ask it. We both have bad habits.

He frowned and grunted. Murdock gave me a look that said he was done. He began to get up.

“You know who this guy is you’re hanging around with, Murdock?” Cal said.

I compressed my lips. Cal was prone to listing a litany of my sins.

“A little bit,” said Murdock, lightly with a smile. He’s been around drunks enough not to take them seriously. “He’s a pretty good guy, I think.”

Cal fixed a watery stare at Murdock. “He’s a liar.”

“Cal…” I said.

He brought a wavering finger up to his lips. “Shhhh, little bro.”

“I have to be somewhere, Cal,” said Murdock. It was a nice try, but Cal wasn’t buying.

Cal waved him back into his seat. “Not yet. Not yet. I have to tell you about my little bro.” He took another sip of his drink, while Murdock gave me a sympathetic shrug. “When we were little, I found the box. Remember that, little bro?”

“Murdock doesn’t need to hear this, Cal.” Old aggravation settled over me. No matter how many years went by, the same damn story had to come up.

“Course he does.” He looked at Murdock again. “When we were little, I found the box. Now the box, Murdock, is a rite of passage for druids. I’m not going to tell you how they hide it because it’s a big druid secret, and I’d have to kill you or fry your brain or something, but I found it like I was supposed to, and I couldn’t get the damned thing open.” He wobbled his head at me. “Now this little guy, he comes in and sees me with the box. Remember that, little bro?”

I started getting that sick feeling in my stomach I get whenever the box comes up. “Yeah, Cal, I remember.”

He nodded, looking back in his drink. “Yeah, he remembers. He comes in pretty as you please and flips the box open.”

Murdock looked interested yet puzzled, and I couldn’t blame him.

“So I took the key out and brought it to our da,” he continued. “And Da said, where did you get this? And I said, I opened the box. And Da said, no you didn’t. And I said, sure I did, ask Connor, he was right there. And Da went to Connor and said tell me who opened the box. And Connor said, well, you tell him, Connor, tell him what you said.”

I refused to play this game. I just stared at Callin, wishing it never happened.

He shook his head. “Fine, don’t say.” He looked at Murdock. “He said, Callin did, sir. And Da said, are you sure? And you know what my little brother said?” A big grin split his face. “He said, yes, ’cause my big brother’s going to be the greatest druid ever.”

Callin slapped the table with a laugh, then downed his drink. He smiled from me to Murdock to me again. He reached over and pawed the side of my head. “He’s a liar, Murdock, but he always tells good ones.”

We sat in uncomfortable silence. I hated when Cal brought it up. Something broke inside him that day. Our da was disappointed in his lie. Cal idolized our da, and the disappointment crushed him. What made it worse was that Da blamed Cal for my lie because Cal knew I’d back him up. Cal never could get past the fact that I had been forgiven the lie because of my loyalty, and he had not because of his pride. Things only got worse as my abilities proved much stronger than his. It’s one of those moments in life you wish you could take back. Too many times, when I’ve had my own share of what Cal was drinking, I thought about that day and whether things would have turned out differently if I told the truth, whether Cal would have. But we’ll never know.

A commotion at the bar blessedly broke the moment. We all turned to see an elf pushing a dwarf repeatedly in the shoulder. Another elf took that as his cue to start in on a druid standing next to him. Both elves wore red leather jackets with black bars running down the sleeves. TruKnights colors. I scanned the bar and saw more of them, even a couple of fairies, and all of them hassling someone.

“I don’t think you want to be here anymore, Murdock,” I said quietly.

He looked away from the bar and did the same scan. Cops don’t run, but they’re not stupid either. His hand instinctively went for his radio. He was stopped by the hard, firm grip of my brother’s hand.

“Don’t,” said Cal, quiet and tense. I looked at him. The drunk telling stories suddenly looked suspiciously sober. Murdock started going for his gun.

“Wait, Leo,” I whispered sharply. I hardly ever call him by his first name, and it had the effect I hoped it would. He paused. Cal nodded back to the bar, and we turned.

The Clure stood swaying before the elf. “Gentlemen, what seems to be the trouble?”

“Take a walk, Clure, this isn’t your business,” the elf said.

The Clure leaned past the elf and picked up a full beer glass from the bar. He tilted his head back and drank in one gulp. “Ah, my friend, but you’ve made it my business. You’re breaking Yggy’s rules. Keep it personal. Take the gang stuff outside.”

“Those aren’t our rules,” said the elf.

The Clure smiled deeply as the bar became quiet. It was then that I realized that stationed in every nook and cranny of Yggy’s were a helluva lot more Cluries than I had first thought. “I don’t tell people rules they already know, my friend. I just remind people that neutral ground is Cluries ground, the rest is up to them.”

“TruKnights make their own rules, Clure. Mind your step, or we’ll mind it for you,” said the elf.

“Wrong!” The Clure cried with delight, his smile going wider. The elf did not see it coming. The beer glass came flying around with a roundhouse punch that threw him against the wall. In moments, every Clurie was in a frenzy.

Cal jumped up. “Nice seeing you, bro,” he tossed at me before he ran off into the fray.

“In the mood for some fun?” I asked Murdock. A chair whizzed over our table, and we ducked.

He laughed. “Nah, let’s go.”

By the time we made it halfway to the door, the place was a full-scale riot. Most of the tussle consisted of Cluries and TruKnights, but a few opportunists were getting their jabs in. My shields activated automatically, feeble and weak. They wouldn’t keep a bottle from beaning me, but at least it wouldn’t knock me out. Someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Before I had a chance to react, a fist flew past me and into the face of the elf holding me. He sank to his knees, a deadweight.

“Nice reflexes,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” said Murdock. His essence surged around him, bright and clear. I’d never seen such a thing in a human normal. His eyes had a glint in them that made me nervous. He barreled his way through the bar, pushing bodies left and right with no effort whatsoever. I followed in his wake, too stunned to say anything. We stumbled out the door in a crush of several other people, half of them laughing and the other half swearing.

Joe popped into the air over us. “See, I knew you guys would have fun together!”

“Yeah, thanks, Joe,” I said. I twisted to check if my jacket got ripped. It looked okay. Murdock flexed his hand open and shut a few times.

“Let’s go before the beat cops show up,” he said.

We walked up the alley, occasionally dodging someone running. “Oh, it’s Yggy’s. No one calls the cops unless someone gets killed,” I said.

“And then I’d have to stay,” he said. Good point.

We jumped into his car. Joe lingered above the sidewalk. “That’s it? You’re leaving?”

“It was work, Joe, not social,” I said.

He looked over his shoulder, disappointed.

“Go on, if you want, Joe. Tell Cal…tell him it was good seeing him.”

He smiled. “See you!” He blipped out.

Murdock pulled into traffic. “That was interesting.”

“Yeah, we need to find this Moke,” I said.

“I meant that you have a brother.”

“We don’t hang much. Long history,” I said.

“I didn’t get the whole box thing,” said Murdock.

I didn’t say anything for a moment. Druid rituals are secret, like Cal said. Some of those secrets make sense because they’re about manipulating essence. Some of them are just the bonding of members of closed societies, and druids are all about bonding. Some things, though, are open secrets.

“It’s the first step on the druidic path,” I said, deciding I could tell Murdock what every potential druid learns on the playground. “Our abilities manifest around puberty, and the first sign is when a kid can see through the glamour hiding a box left where he might find it. If they can open the box, they’re ready to start training. Inside is a key. We take the key to an adult druid we respect, and he arranges our testing and training.”

“So Cal wasn’t ready, and you were,” said Murdock.

I nodded. “I idolized Cal as a kid. He’s three years older than me. Back then, I didn’t understand the significance of seeing the box at such a young age. It meant I was powerful—more powerful than Cal. I shouldn’t have been able to see the box for a few more years. Cal was embarrassed he got caught in the lie. Then he was angry that not only had I manifested my abilities early, his didn’t show up until almost two years later than most druid kids do. By that time, I was finished with my first-level training and had attracted a lot of attention that he thought I didn’t deserve. Somehow, he got in his head that what happened to him is all my fault. It’s kind of screwed up our relationship ever since.”

Murdock nodded. He comes from a big family, four boys and two girls, so he knows the whole sibling rap in spades. Deep down, Cal and I know we can always rely on each other, but the competitive thing still gets in the way.

Murdock pulled onto Sleeper Street and stopped in front of my building. “So what’s the key open?”

I gave him a small shrug. “It’s symbolic. It’s the key to knowledge, which guides our nature and leads us to truth. Knowledge, Nature, Truth. If High Druid Gerin Cuthbern had a podium, it’d be on a seal above it.”

Murdock shook his head. “You know, we puny humans just enroll in prep school.”

I laughed. “So, we look for Moke next?” I said, getting back to the point of the evening.

“Sure. If he’s that big a deal, someone in the g-unit will know where to find him.”

I got out of the car, candy wrappers and receipts chasing after my feet. “Call me.”

“Duck next time,” he said and pulled away.

I let myself in and walked up the stairs. Sleep would not be a problem after the whiskey shots and adrenaline rush of the fight. I tossed my jacket on the armchair in my living room, kicked off the boots, shucked the jeans, and dropped myself on the unmade futon. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about gangs and bar fights. And Cal. Between the drinking and the life he leads, he never seems to get anywhere. The old guilt creeps in whenever I see him because I can’t help but wonder if I hadn’t been as good as I was, would he have ever lost his self-confidence? I sighed. Everyone makes their own road, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

We all have our doubts, but we, or at least I, try not to cause them for other people. Unless it was Keeva, in which case, I still needed more to convince her I was right. I rolled restlessly onto my stomach, thinking about how some dumb kid found death on his own road. And given where my own road seemed to be going, what my destination would end up being.