From the tight, thin lips on the commissioner’s face, he didn’t like the question. “They are auxiliary forces to help handle the unique challenges of this area.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, sir. What is their legal authority?” Grant asked.
The commissioner looked at the mayor. Dolan Grant pulled the microphone closer. “As you know, Jennifer, our office is responding to several legal challenges on that point. We believe we have full legal authority to draw on the Guild’s generous offer of resources until the courts say otherwise.”
The crowd broke out in angry shouts while the mayor held up his hands for quiet.
Several people moved toward the microphone. Someone grabbed it and began speaking but was drowned out. A ripple went through the crowd, and it parted to let someone through. Zev stepped up to the microphone, and the speaker backed away. The room quieted.
“When are the barriers around the Weird coming down?” he asked.
“There is still too much unrest to set a timetable,” said the mayor.
“People can’t get into the city to work,” Zev said.
The mayor began to speak, but his press secretary moved in smoothly. “Everyone with a work permit is being allowed through the checkpoints.”
“That’s bull. It’s taking weeks to get those permits. People need their paychecks,” said Zev. The crowd shouted its approval.
The press secretary nodded with understanding. “We know there have been delays, and we are working to streamline the process.”
“When are the barriers coming down?” Zev asked again. More shouts. I felt a pulse of essence. Someone was amping up the emotions in the room. I stared at Moira, but she gave no indication that might tip it was her. Other fey in the room seemed more intent on Zev than anyone. He held more sway with the solitaries than I realized.
“Let’s move on to the next question,” the press secretary said.
“That is the next question,” said Zev. “And the next and the next and the next until we get an answer. We are being held prisoner in our own homes while the Guild runs through here like storm troopers.”
The few people remaining in their seats yelled with the rest of the crowd. The press secretary tried to speak, but her voice didn’t carry over the PA system. Someone banged on the table for order, but the crowd wasn’t having it. A scuffle broke out near the audience microphone, and it fell over with an angry whine of feedback. The people behind the table conferred among themselves, then stood and filed out behind a row of police officers. Moira slid a languid hand across Commission Murdock’s shoulder as she left. The commissioner remained at the table, hands folded with steepled fingers against his lips. He didn’t take his eyes off Jennifer Grant. When everyone else was out of the room, he stood and reached for a bullhorn from a nearby officer.
He clicked the siren on the horn a few times, an earsplitting sound breaking through the noise. He held the horn up to his mouth. “This meeting is adjourned. Please clear the room.”
The crowd roared as the commissioner handed the horn back and walked away. Another officer hit the siren and spoke. “You have been issued a police order to clear the premises. Please make your way to the exits.”
“That was diplomatic,” I said.
Murdock sighed and nodded. “That’s my dad.”
Despite the angry shouts and arm waving, the crowd left the room. Anyone in the Weird the past few weeks knew what happened when police orders were ignored. Outside, the officers in riot gear moved in closer from the corner, their dark uniforms shadows in falling snow. Some solitaries lingered, shouting at the warehouse and the line of police. At the opposite end of the block, the mayor’s SUV drove away with a trail of other cars.
Squad cars lined the street, blocking in Murdock’s car. We sat inside it watching the street theater escalate. The jeering crowd became smaller as people went home, but those remaining became louder. Tussles broke out. Snowballs were tossed, landing short of the line of police. The police didn’t react, even backed up a few times.
On the other side of the street, I saw Shay exiting the warehouse. I hadn’t seen him inside. In his long white coat, he struggled to cross the street amid a barrage of snowballs. A solitary stumbled into him and knocked him into one of the tree fairies, who pushed him off. As he focused on his footing, Shay pushed back and walked away. Obviously angry, the ash fairy followed him.
“Looks like I’m cavalry again,” I said, and opened the door.
With his hood up, Shay didn’t see the fairy charging up behind him. I reached Shay first and took his arm, looking pointedly at the solitary. He stopped in his tracks, glared, and backed off.
Shay pulled his arm away, then smiled. “Oh, hi. Didn’t realize it was you. Some jerk just pushed me.”
We walked in the direction of Murdock’s car. “He was about to jump you.”
Shay looked back with a frown. “He’s lucky I’m wearing a new coat.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. Shay’s tough, but he couldn’t hold his own in a fight. He had no problem getting in people’s faces, and his boyfriend, Robyn, used to follow through with the physical confrontation. With Robyn gone, Shay was on his own. “You need to be careful, Shay.”
He peered at me from under his fake-fur-trimmed hood. “Uno keeps showing up at my apartment. I’m going to die, Connor. I’m not going to do that with my clothes dirty.”
Murdock stood outside his car. The squad cars still blocked us in. “Looks like we’re here until the crowd’s gone.”
“Why don’t you wait in the car, and we’ll give you a ride?” I asked Shay.
Shay examined the backseat through the window and wrinkled his nose at the mess. “Uh, no, thanks. Like I said, this is a new coat. I’ll walk. I’ve got a late shift at work.”
Back up the street, the solitary who had pushed Shay hadn’t moved on and was watching. “Why don’t we walk you a bit?”
“We?” said Murdock.
I flicked some snow at him from the roof of the car. “Come on. You’ve got better boots than I do.”
Murdock grabbed a handful and threw it. “Fine.”
With Shay between us, we trudged up the middle of the street. “What did you think of the meeting, Shay?” I asked.
He answered to the rhythm of his breathing as we slogged through the snow. “No surprises. I only went because the Institute asked me to. Some of the clients’ relatives have been complaining that they have to drive around the Weird after work. Poor things in their BMWs. They should try getting to the mall from here without a pass.”
The snow whipped about us, dimming the light from the few streetlamps. Within a block of the car, mounds of it drifted on the road. The wind howled, a deep, plaintive moan that rose and fell. I pulled my hood down as far as it would go without blocking my vision. We leaned forward with turned heads as the cold crystals pelted our faces. I was beginning to regret the good deed. Murdock was probably ready to kill me. The wind died a moment later. Then it became louder, an eerie wail of voices and the unmistakable sound of howling. As if planned, we all stopped at the same moment. “That’s not the wind,” Shay said.
I scanned the area. Above us, someone ran along the roofline, too far away for me to sense his essence. I recognized his silhouette, though, and his running style. The Hound was pacing us.
In the swirling haze far ahead, a dark green light smeared in my sensing vision. A cloud of the Taint rolled toward us, billowing and mixing with other essences. The wind brought the sound of keening pierced by screams and shouts.
“It’s the Dead,” I said.
Something huge and dark moved toward us in a loping gait.
“What the hell is that?” Murdock asked.
The Taint’s mottled essence light spread across the road, great billows of snow or steam or fog rolling out from its edges. Shay grabbed my arm. “Run! We have to run.”