“Right! That’s the spot!” he said.
The spot. Oddly enough, I think I understood what he was trying to say. It’s exactly how the doctors at Avalon Memorial have described the thing in my brain from the reactor accident: a dark smudgy spot that shows up on diagnostics but seems to have no mass. They have no idea what it is. Its physical shape tends to change over time. But it never goes away. The doctors, however inept I might consider them, have always had the courtesy not to refer to the rest of me as nothing. But that’s Joe. He doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just his way of stating what, to him, is obvious.
I stayed on Summer Street, avoiding the Avenue since that’s where Keeva’s goons seemed to be focusing their attention. Occasionally, they would hover into view above us but drop back pretty quickly. We were basically walking a vague boundary line between neighborhoods, where people from the Weird and Southie stumble into each other, turn around, and go back to where they feel more comfortable. I made a point of keeping a steady pace and keeping to the open to avoid arousing suspicion.
Unfortunately, to get to where I wanted to be, I had to pass near the Kruge crime scene. There, the security agents had been keeping a constant post, watching everyone who walked by. And walk by we did. I felt a little ping as one of the guards tested my essence, but, given my physical condition, he must not have been impressed because no one followed us.
Turning off Summer Street, I strolled another few blocks, taking a roundabout path to bring me to the Tangle. It was getting near sunset and, as much as Joe made a damn fine bodyguard for his size, I didn’t want any TruKnights to see me after my earlier encounter.
Joe’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Are we going to see this C-Note guy?”
“Not yet. Later, if you’re interested. Right now, I need to preserve some evidence.” We wound through alleys on the perimeter of the Tangle, damaged, sooty places glowing with essence in shades of blue-white and yellow and red. Joe seemed to think he was on a roller coaster as he rode their strange currents with a look of glee. My head had a constant buzz, annoying, but no more painful than my usual headache.
We finally came to the building where Crystal had hidden with Croda. Stinkwort became quiet, his face grim. Flits are sensitive to essence in ways no other fey are. They feel it more, and the nastiness that I felt in the old building probably only hinted at what he was feeling. We came out into the courtyard. Joe gasped when he saw Croda.
She was as we had left her, perhaps a little more menacing looking in the shadows of twilight. My senses picked up no new scents in the area, which gave me some assurance that the site hadn’t been compromised.
Joe hovered up near her face. “How sad. I remember her.”
“You knew her?”
He nodded with a melancholy air. “Yeah. She used to have a cave near Caerdydd in the old country. Loved baby rabbits. Used to eat them like popcorn.”
One thing about being socialized in the Convergent world was hearing something like that and being startled and not startled. Stinkwort was from a time and place where horror was mundane. I knew these things intellectually, but the reality is still disconcerting.
I reached down and tugged at Croda’s hand with the ward in it. It didn’t budge. I tried pulling from various angles, but she had truly become stone. I think if I’d had a sledgehammer, I’d still have had a hard time. I stood back and looked at her, trying to figure another way.
“What, pray tell, are you trying to do?” Stinkwort asked.
“I need the ward in her hand. I need to know what’s on it.”
“Why don’t you just play it?”
“My baseline essence isn’t strong enough. I wanted to avoid calling up more if I could.”
“Is that all? I’ll do it.” He landed on her hand and sat down. A subtle pink glow surrounded him as he let his essence flow. It spread down and wrapped the ward.
“…you’ve gone too far, and I…” crackled through the air. Shots of Stinkwort’s essence glimmered all through Croda, grabbing at bits of the recording that seemed to have flowed out of the ward and into her body. Voices echoed from different angles of her body, sometimes faint, sometimes clear, too often indecipherable.
“…C-Note. Float is more than you…” By the accent, I’d peg that as Kruge.
“…telling you to stay out of it, Kruge, I’m warning…if you’d only stopped following…” Rough, guttural, had to be C-note.
Kruge, again. “…and you. That glamour doesn’t fool me. I’ve seen enough to…to see right through it…worse than I…I’m stunned you would…”
Then a vaguely female voice that must have been Croda. “…it’s him, sir, know it by the feel…”
Kruge: “…macGoren. Manus will hear…messenger. Leave him…”
C-Note: “…too much. You leave me no choice…”
The sound of something falling, maybe a chair, then Kruge: “…run, Dennis. Get out of here…No!..”
A crackle of essence-fire, followed by a jumble of voices.
C-Note: “…no witness. You’ve forced me…”
Kruge: “…stop! stop!..” A substantial amount of hissing played out, the unmistakable sound of essence-fire, then an anguished shriek that had to have been Kruge. Another scream that I took to be Croda. Struggling sounds came next, and the discharge of more essence-fire.
Then Croda again, her breath ragged as she ran: “…children, got you…”
A girl screaming. It had to be Crystal, her voice coming through hysterically. “…Denny! Denny! Say something…”
“…hush, hush. They’ll hear…Denny…his spark is gone, child…”
More sobbing and the pounding of Croda’s loud footsteps and heaving breath.
“…in here. Hide and quiet ’til night. Hush, now, hush…No! No! He’s coming!..he’s found…”
The metallic screech of the roof coming off the storage shed. Screams from Crystal and Croda, the latter quickly drowning out the former as the troll died. A constant sobbing, very loud, as Crystal crouched right up to the ward stone behind Croda.
We could hear the essence fight Crystal described, the sound of static and bursting of stone, garbled voices, then one phrase at a distance in a new voice: “I will have it.” Ryan macGoren. I recognized him clearly. Then the sound of wind and Crystal’s sobs fading out.
Joe released his essence, and the glow faded back into him. He had a pale cast to his skin that could not have been from what was for him a minor expenditure of essence. “That was awful.”
I nodded. The anguish in Croda’s death cry had sent chills up my spine, and Crystal’s sobs were gut-wrenching. I looked up at the troll’s face, now twisted forever in pain. “We have to hide her, Joe. I’m betting C-Note didn’t realize she had a recording ward or that Crystal was hiding with her. If he did, he wouldn’t have left her here. I don’t want anyone else stumbling in here.”
I dragged pieces of the storage shed roof through the debris and leaned it against Croda. It felt rude to do, but at least it caused significantly less damage than what I had intended by breaking off her hand. I had no idea how trolls felt about their dead, but now I wouldn’t have to find out if breaking her would have been some kind of sacred violation. Somewhere, Joe found an old tarp sizable enough to cover most of her. Between that and the roof sheeting, at a glance no one would notice she was there.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. In silence, we made our way back. Night had fallen, and I felt it was worth the risk to go directly down the Avenue. I just wanted to be away from the courtyard as quickly as possible. Walking through the Weird, I could see angry faces glaring up at the hovering Guild agents. I could not believe how many Keeva had sent.
When we reached my building, an agent stood guard at the door. He stepped out from the building as soon as we turned the corner, but relaxed his posture as we drew near.
“Good evening, Director Grey. We’ve had no activity since this morning,” he said.