“Thanks,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. He was just following orders. Keeva and Nigel were to blame, not him. I went up the stairs, and another guard waited outside what was left of my door.
“Good evening, Director Grey. Your apartment is secure,” he said.
“Yeah, I heard,” I said. Joe flew in ahead of me and went directly to the kitchen cabinet where I kept cookies. I surveyed the shambles of my living room. Truth to tell, it was only slightly worse than usual. My apartment door lay to the side of the entrance, the hinges sprung and a big dent across the middle. I picked it up and turned to the agent.
“Nothing personal, but if you have to be here, I’d prefer you stood down the hall.”
The agent looked down the hall, gave a curt nod, and walked away. I propped the door in the opening. Even before I went into my study, I knew what I was going to see. My computer was in considerably more parts than one would think possible. At least they hadn’t destroyed my books. I slid my hand down the side of the filing cabinet and retrieved my laptop. I had backup files hidden in the kitchen. I’d had more than my share of destroyed computers, so I’d learned to plan for them. I’d have to reload my video games, but at least the data would be intact.
Joe sat on the edge of the counter eating Oreos. Before he even asked, I poured him a glass of milk. He refuses to touch my refrigerator, so I humor him.
“I’m hitting the shower,” I said. Cheeks bulging, he nodded and waved.
Hot water soothed aching muscles. Between wrenching my shoulder and rolling around in the Public Garden, my body was not happy. I had just gotten over some major injuries in the past few months, and some of them throbbed with remembered pain. In the midst of my shampoo, I caught Gerin’s sending about the Bosnemeton meeting. He certainly waited until the last minute. I’d barely have enough time to dress and get to Thomas Park in Southie before it started. I didn’t particularly care for the sound of an old man’s voice in my head when I was wet and naked either.
“I’ve got to go to the Bosnemeton,” I said to Joe as I pulled on a black sweater and jeans. I had to rummage to find my druid meeting robe. It’s bleached muslin, not my favorite color. I always feel silly wearing it, but as High Druid, Gerin insisted on traditional garb.
“I’ll come, too,” said Stinkwort.
“You know Gerin will have the place warded against everyone but druids.”
He pouted. Flits can pretty much get in anywhere they want. The only exceptions I know are druid Grove meetings, the odd Unseelie Court warding they run into, and the first day of new security at the Guild. They break the latter pretty quickly. Some people thought that was a problem, but I didn’t. As a species, flits were exceedingly loyal to the Seelie Court at Tara, and not one had ever been accused of being a spy. “Fine. I’ll wait outside.”
I moved the door and, once in the hall, replaced it. Pointless, but it made me feel better. Down on the Avenue, I hailed a cab. It was the only way to get to Southie in time, and though I wasn’t rolling in cash, I had a little extra to spend this month. Joe entertained himself by squeezing in and out of the cash slot in the Plexiglas barrier between the front and backseat. The cab driver tried hard not to be fascinated.
I pulled out my cell and called Meryl.
“You’re in a cab,” she said.
“Do I want to ask?”
“They started tracking you a little over an hour ago on Old Northern. The security monitor says you just left your apartment, freshly bathed and got in a cab.”
“It says I bathed?”
She giggled. “Naw. I threw that in as a guess. What’s up?”
“I’m on my way to the Bosnemeton.”
“You’re late. Gerin’s doing the ‘we are separate, but one’ crap.” I rolled my eyes. If I hated Guild politics, druid politics could be even worse. The roles of men and women were still being adjusted, and Gerin was an old conservative.
“How’d you like to go dancing later?”
“Sure. Who’s asking?”
“Funny. Ever hear of Carnage?” It was a rhetorical question, I knew. I had given up trying to stump her with questions about anything and had almost reached the point of just assuming she knew everything about everything. It’s a thought pattern, I am sure, she would like to encourage.
“You want to go to Carnage?”
“You know it? I have a little business to take care of there with Murdock, but it shouldn’t take me that long. I thought you might enjoy going.”
“Uh, yeah, I know it. I’ll go.”
“Good. It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s a field trip for me to be amused at the sight of you in a dance club.”
“Ha-ha. I’ll meet you after the meeting.” We disconnected.
I called Murdock. “I’ve got a line on C-Note tonight. Do you want in?”
“Depends. Are we investigating the Kruge murder, which is not our case, or the Farnsworth murder, which is?” he said.
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “True. I was just checking to make sure you were still on the case. I do have to justify your consultant fee, you know.”
“Stickler. Swing by Thomas Park in an hour or so and pick me up.”
“Will do.” He disconnected.
I dropped my head against the seat, wondering if I had a security agent following in the air. Nigel had made no secret of the Bosnemeton meeting in front of Keeva, so I didn’t quite see the point. Every member of the Grove in the city who could be there would be there. Gerin liked nothing more than to strut his stuff in a crisis, so this meeting would be the usual boring posturing. I would have skipped it if Nigel hadn’t taunted me. It felt a lot like reverse psychology, but I wasn’t going to give him a point to score later by not showing up.
I had trusted Nigel with my life, and now I felt that trust misplaced. Was I really just a soldier to him? A pawn in his political games? Wasn’t I more than that to him? I thought he cared. To think otherwise would be a blow. Not to my ego. My ego was still tougher than it should be. It hurt, though. And confirmed for me all the more to work the cases Murdock called me for. I had a pretty good idea now what it was like to be dismissed because of powerlessness. If I could ease that pain for someone else, like some poor kid who died in the Weird, maybe it would ease my own a bit. I thought a lot of people cared about me until my accident. Some did, including the little guy in front of me who was trying to fit the door lock in his mouth.
“Stop that. It’s got germs all over it,” I said to Stinkwort.
He made a sour face. “And you have no idea how it tastes.”
Chapter 14
The cab let me off near a side entrance to Thomas Park in Southie. I stood on the sidewalk pulling the robe over my head. I wasn’t alone. Only the more conservative druids like to walk around in their robes, so almost every meeting of the Grove seems to begin with a dressing room on the sidewalk. I walked up the steps into the park with Joe by my side.
The Bosnemeton grows on one end of the park on a hill overlooking Boston and the harbor. During the American Revolution, the Continental Army fortified the hill and scared the British all the way to Canada. While a nice New Englandy tower went up to commemorate the event, no one realized at the time that druids had planted oak trees at the other end of the new park. Before anyone knew it, a sacred grove was born, and the first fey/human court battle began. Eventually the whole church and state tussle went away and an uneasy truce was called. So now the druids can hold meetings of the Grove as long as they don’t annoy the neighbors, and the neighbors don’t go into the Grove.
You never approach a druid Grove directly, but trail along a winding path. Once you start on the path, you must enter the Grove before turning back to the world. I started on the way, nodding to the warders who always took a post outside to keep tourists away.
My sensing abilities kicked in on their own as I neared the entrance. That happens sometimes. All the ambient druid essence in the air, not to mention the Grove itself, can enhance abilities. On the final approach, I could see a thin layer of an airbe druad. It’s an essence barrier—literally a “druid hedge”—much like a body shield, only created by spells. Druids are particularly adept at making them. The skill used to come in handy during battles to protect fighters. The one on the Grove was mostly for privacy, and held a warding that prevented non-druids from entering. As I passed through it, Joe hovered outside, his eyes roving over the haze for a break in the spell. He never finds one, but he always tries.