The leanansidhe cradled the head. With soot-covered hands, she smoothed back the bloodied hair. The deep purple tendrils of her body essence oozed from her fingers and burrowed into the face. They latched onto the faint remains of essence in the Dead man’s head and bulged as they siphoned it off. The dark mass in my head shifted, a strange sensation of hunger that sent a shiver down my spine. My vision darkened, the dark mass rising. The urge to join the leanansidhe tugged at me. I held my breath and pushed back at the darkness. It retreated, slowly, reluctantly. The leanansidhe moaned softly as she savored the essence, pawing at the face until the head was drained. She dropped it on the floor.
Zev picked it up and dangled it in front of the elf. “Do you see, elf? There is nothing. True death, elf, final and complete. You will live tomorrow, but as you die tonight, think what it would mean if it were your true death. Tell Jark whatever he is seeking, we do not have it. Tell him if he and his brethren do not stop attacking us, the only thing they will find is true death. Tell him in the end, we will drink his soul.”
Zev shoved his knife into the elf, directly into the heart. The elf gasped, his chest heaving up. His body went limp and swayed from the chains. Zev raised the knife, clenched in his bloody fist as the crowd screamed its approval. “Leave the body somewhere the Dead will find it,” he said to one of the elf guards.
He leaned toward the leanansidhe. “Remember our pact, leech, and be ready when we call.”
She smiled and bowed, clearly mocking Zev. He was playing with fire and probably knew it. If he didn’t kill her when he was done with her, the leanansidhe would hunt him down. They both knew one of them would be dead by the end of it. The leanansidhe walked away with the elf guard close behind her. When she reached the edge of the crowd, she paused. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes met mine, her fathomless pools of black to my blue. She turned away again, leaving me a sending. We meet again, brother. That within you calls to me and mine to you. I know you feel it. You will answer it and soon. Thus, we meet and meet.
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?”