“I was trying to stop him,” I said.
She rose on her toes and kissed. “I know. I was trying to lighten the conversation before I left.”
I tugged at her waist. “Do you have to go?”
“I’m still shoring up the power wards in the Archives. I don’t want to lose anything else,” she said.
Manus ap Eagan had used the faith stone to strengthen the Guildhouse and reinforce the shield dome. When Donor took the stone, it didn’t affect the subbasements because they were part of the original design, dug deep underground for stability in the landfill of old marshland. Despite an entire building’s collapsing, the Archive storerooms had survived with minimal damage.
“Have you told anyone they’re still there?” I asked.
She chuckled. “Nah. I figure I have at least a couple of months to play before they dig them out. It’ll give me a chance to do all the filing I keep not doing.” She kissed me again. “Murdock says hi, by the way. He said to tell you this all has a purpose, and it’s not for us to judge.”
He meant not for him to judge. He wasn’t buying the party line that I had destroyed a neighborhood. “He’s a good guy.”
Meryl danced away from me. “No, he’s a great guy. And so are you. I’ll be back in a few days. Try not to kill or be killed while I’m away.”
I smiled. “Will do.”
I waited until she disappeared from sight before leaving the storefront. I put my glasses back on and wandered a circuitous route through the streets, weaving in and out of alleys, through basements and abandoned buildings. Finally, I slid through an essence barrier to a room furnished with a table with a few chairs, an old couch, and a—twin—bed. The light from the window shimmered with a sallow tint from the ambient essence endemic to the Tangle.
I slumped on the couch, exhausted. The last week had been filled with running and hiding, dodging everyone from the Boston police to Guild security agents to Consortium warriors. Briallen couldn’t take me in without drawing heat down on herself, and we both needed her to be able to operate in the open. My apartment was an obvious no-go zone. Every major law-enforcement agency, fey and human alike, had my face on a wanted poster.
After abandoning one hiding place after another, I had gone to ground in the Tangle, lost among the lost, secure in a nest of criminals and thugs. While the living feared and hated me, the Dead embraced me with open arms. How long that would last, I couldn’t guess, but it wouldn’t last. Doubt had become the nature of my World.
The Wheel of the World didn’t turn, but twisted and spiraled until everything I thought I knew became confused beyond recognition. Friends became enemies, and enemies, friends. Whom to trust and whom to suspect became a game of odds, a precarious knife-edge of uncertain allies, ready to stand by me or not.
Ceridwen entered and placed two stone wards on the table. She no longer looked like the haughty fairy queen who had arrived in Boston determined to take me down. She retained the air of superiority all Dananns had, but months underground and building an army had hardened her appearance. Seeing the transition, I understood now why Maeve appeared to be such a bitch. A fairy at war was a formidable thing to behold. “These will reinforce your security alarms,” she said.
“Thank you.” I touched her arm, meaning it as no more than to show my appreciation for giving me safe harbor. A jolt went through me as a sliver of white light burned in my head. By Ceridwen’s reaction, it happened to her, too. We had both held the spear and bonded to it in our own ways. Something about touching each other called the spear from wherever it disappeared to when it was gone.
The air in the room crackled with the sharp scent of ozone. Essence burst from the ceiling as the spear plunged down and embedded itself in the floor between us. It glowed white-hot, bristling with energy, then sank through the floor, oozing out a pool of essence before it vanished. The pool coalesced into a smoldering amorphous lump of essence that pulsed and shivered.
“The poor thing,” Ceridwen said. She stooped and picked up the lumpy mass and cradled it against her chest. The shape burned with intensity but didn’t hurt her.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
Ceridwen shushed me, giving me her shoulder as she hummed under her breath. The shape dimmed and stretched, appendages appearing and flailing at the air. It contracted as she chanted. A burst of pink essence blinded me a moment. When my vision cleared, a sound came out of me, one I didn’t hear from myself often. My throat thickened, my chest aching with emotion as I suppressed another sob. “Is he all right?”
Ceridwen lowered Joe onto the bed with gentle care.
“He’s fine. He needed to remember what he was,” she said. He slept, his wings spread flat, his mouth wide open. He looked how he always looked with a hangover.
Ceridwen moved to the window. Beyond the rooftops across the way, a blue haze shimmered to the southwest. “The humans have moved their troops into position on this end of the Weird. Eorla’s people are watching the perimeter, and I am maintaining the shield for her. For both of us,” she said.
Donor had accomplished his goal. Eorla was being blamed for the destruction of the Guildhouse, with me as her accomplice. They were still counting the dead. The story suited Maeve, and she railed against terrorists in press release after press release. The Teutonic Consortium played the same theme with more emphasis on the role of solitary fairies. For once, both sides acted together.
The official story was that Ambassador Aldred Core died in the collapse. The true story was Donor Elfenkonig, the Elven King, was dead. No one knew outside a small circle of fey and maybe a select human or two. Maeve kept her silence, waiting to see who would take the reins now that her chief adversary was gone.
I tore my gaze away from Joe. “Will you promise not to hurt the humans?” I asked.
Her lips pulled into a taut line. “In war, one can never make such promises.”
“You’re not at war with them,” I said.
She glanced at me with understanding. “I know what you’re feeling, Grey. I know what it means to protect people who depend on you. The failure to do so is the pain of leadership, but the Wheel of the World turns as It will. I will do my best to keep this between me and Maeve. That is all I can promise.”
I glanced back at Joe.
“That will have to be enough,” I said.
Ace Books by Mark Del Franco
UNSHAPELY THINGS
UNQUIET DREAMS
UNFALLEN DEAD
UNPERFECT SOULS
UNCERTAIN ALLIES
SKIN DEEP
FACE OFF