“It’s not the Consortium, Keeva. I feel it in my gut.”
Keeva stood and moved for the door. “I’ve got a major security situation to handle, Connor. Don’t leave the building. I have enough people to worry about.”
“Are you arresting me?”
She shrugged. “Call it what you want. Now go find someplace to sit. I have work to do.”
I decided now was the time to push her. “I have a question before you go. Why did Ryan lie about being with you the night of Kruge’s murder?”
Her glare snapped back instantly. “He didn’t lie. He had his dates mixed up.”
“So, where was he?”
“Here. At the Guildhouse. He was here the entire time.”
“Do you trust him?”
She gave me a long look, and opened the door. “Yes. I’m not a fool, though, Connor. And as much as I hate to admit it, I checked the security log. He was here. I was checking a blind spot.” She strode away.
I trailed after her and walked down the hall to my old office. I sat behind the desk, spun the chair around, and put my feet up on the windowsill. Outside, Guild security agents did aerial sweeps of the surrounding city blocks.
Given the right motivation, I could believe anyone was capable of anything—even murder. But as the list of players expanded, the list of motivations seemed to expand even more. Clearly a power struggle was in play, both down in the Tangle and in the Guildhouse boardroom. The only connection between them was Ryan macGoren, and his involvement made no sense. I wanted to tell Keeva about the helmet, but she played games, too. And so did Nigel. And Gerin. Any one of them could be in a position to protect macGoren or hang him. I couldn’t decide who to trust, if any of them.
My issues with the Guild were turning into fears. If they could turn my home into a prison camp, I had no recourse than to keep my mouth shut until I could prove publicly what had happened. As I stared out the window, I felt more alone than I had in a long time. It’s bad enough to watch your back with enemies. It’s worse when you have to do it with allies.
Chapter 13
I lifted the receiver from the office phone on my desk. It had a dial tone, so I punched in Meryl’s internal extension. She picked up right away.
“Hello?” Her voice had an odd, guarded tone.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said. I swung back to the window to watch yet another squad of agents fly in the direction of the Consortium consulate. I’m sure Keeva was on the phone explaining to Consortium security that they weren’t spies. I’m sure she wouldn’t be believed.
“Grey?”
“Yeah. Why do you sound funny?”
“Because I’m looking at the caller ID on my phone and wondering if I’ve been sucked into the past somehow.”
I chuckled. “You watch too many science fiction movies. I’m hiding in my old office. Care for a visitor?”
“Sure. You’re not dead, right?”
Glancing to my left, I smiled. Virgil had moved his gargoyle self from his lower perch to the nook right outside my window.
“No. Minor scorching. I’ll be down in a sec,” I said and hung up.
A familiar cool flutter touched my mind. I had felt it before, like a sending, only more subtle and less identifiable. It was how gargoyles communicated.
A circle contains and excludes but defines itself, Virgil said.
That sounded like an abstract philosophical game. Gargoyles never make any sense when they speak. At least, I don’t think so. They only make sense afterward, and then you kick yourself for not understanding. I’ve tried to figure out Virgil, but I only end up second-guessing myself. I think he’s sincere in trying to help. Why, I don’t know. I’ve known very few people that gargoyles have spoken to. As far as their conversations go, Virgil was downright chatty with me, but most of the time I had no idea what he was talking about.
You don’t send your thoughts to a gargoyle like you do to other fey. You think loudly, and they appear to overhear. I’ve never had a conversation with Virgil unless we were near each other. It made me doubt gargoyles could actually do sendings, but no one knows much about what they can do. I relaxed my mind and thought, Sometimes I feel my entire life is running in circles.
Jested truth makes dangerous folly. The stroke of a sword injures the heart of the wielder and his foe.
I didn’t like the sound of that. My dagger was a sword, after a fashion, but I didn’t know how to make it turn into a sword. The one time I did it, it felt more like the sword was using me than the other way around. No jokes, then, Virgil.
When he didn’t say anything, I thought he was finished speaking. It’s really hard to know when the conversation is over when you’re dealing with a talking stone that doesn’t move.
Bones, he said.
I stared at him, pointlessly trying to read something, anything, into his words. Sometimes runes are carved on bones, which are thrown to read the future. Elves favored it, but I didn’t know anyone who actually knew how to do it.
I don’t understand. As usual, I thought, hoping it wasn’t loud enough for Virgil to hear.
Bones, he said. The coolness floated away. Virgil was done speaking. I stared at his little naked body, wondering if he ever felt self-conscious with his goods hanging out for all to see. He moved somehow, though I had never seen it happen, and yet he never moved his hands from his knees to hide his groin. Maybe he felt no shame. Maybe he didn’t understand it. I grinned as a thought occurred to me. Maybe it was because he had nothing to hide.
If possible, the Community Liaison offices were even emptier than the last time I was there. Everyone must have been running around outside dealing with the hysteria. I would have mobilized everyone if I were in charge. I would lock down the Guildhouse, sure, but I wouldn’t try to take on the Consortium and an entire neighborhood simultaneously.
I took the elevator straight down to the subbasement. Meryl smiled for a fraction of a second when I walked into her office, then wrinkled her nose. “You smell like burnt cow.”
“It’s new.” I turned to show her the scorch marks on my jacket.
She whistled appreciatively. “Nice miss.”
“Yeah. It was fun.”
She leaned back in her chair. “So, is it a fascist wet dream out there?”
I nodded. “Nigel thinks the Consortium is behind the attacks.”
Meryl snickered. “Nigel thinks the Consortium is behind everything. I swear the man is itching for a war no one wants.”
“He was never this single-minded before.”
She gestured at me. “He’s pissed at them. They took out his main man.”
That took me by surprise. “Me? Are you talking about me? He’s pissed because of my injury?”
She nodded. “Before you lost your abilities, the scuttlebutt was that you were being groomed in case hostilities broke out. You were one of the few here-born with major potential.”
You could have knocked me flat with an eyeblink. Nigel wasn’t one for compliments, but now that I looked back, I could see what Meryl meant. He was always pushing me to work harder, trying to get me to join the Druidic College, teaching me ways to use my abilities even when he wasn’t happy that I had gone the Guild route. It made a sort of sense. “I never realized. No one ever said anything.”
She grinned. “Ha! With your ego? Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind was going to give you more reason to strut around like a peacock.”
I didn’t say anything. Meryl wasn’t the first person to comment on my arrogance, only the most vocal. I don’t think I impressed her enough for her to be diplomatic.
“I’ve changed.”
Her grin broadened. “No shit. Almost dying a couple of times has done good things for you.”
She had a point. When your life hits bottom, you can’t help reevaluating things. Losing my livelihood and being abandoned by people I thought were my friends made me understand what it’s like to be on the other side of privilege.