One held up his hand. “Appointments only, sir.”
“I need to see Keeva macNeve,” I said.
“Director macNeve is busy, sir. Please make an appointment with the desk,” one of them said. The other let some essence trickle obviously into his hands until they glowed. He didn’t move, just stood in my path as a warning.
I held up my board meeting pass without speaking.
“I’m sorry, Director Grey. We have orders from the Guildmaster.”
“I don’t have time for this. I have important information she needs to hear now.”
I didn’t push forward. I had worked with these guys enough to know that would end with me knocked on my ass. Glow bees zipped back and forth above our heads. I didn’t have any on me.
The guard held a hand palm up and gestured back the way I had come. “Please, sir.”
Joe flew up to the guard and poked his finger at the face-shield. “Let us through or I will peel that helmet off your head and shove it up…”
“Joe!” I said.
He looked at me. I pointedly tilted my head toward the glow bees, and his gaze followed. He looked back down to my face, somehow managing to make all his features look like flat lines of annoyance. “I am not a gl—”
I cut him off before the security guards could hear him. “Tell her you’ve breached the Guildhouse security, and if she doesn’t see me immediately, you will have every flit you know swarming the place in five minutes.”
He crossed his arms. “You better pick up the tab next time.”
That was a recipe for poverty. I smiled my best I’m-lying-through-my-teeth smile. “Promise.”
He blinked out. The guards didn’t flinch. Moments dragged by. I glanced behind me at the various courtiers. Most of them seemed happy for the distraction from whatever political games they were plotting. The first security guard cocked his head and stepped aside. “Director macNeve will see you now.”
I strode past him, just as Keeva sent me my own sending. This better be good. She practically threw it at me, it hit so hard. A swarm of glow bees hovered outside Keeva’s door, Joe in the midst of them. “She’s cranky,” he said.
I entered the office. Keeva was already dressed for the funeral in a green wool coat that matched her pants. She wore a black blouse intricately embroidered with apple blossoms. “You look lovely,” I said.
She pointed at Joe. “Lives are at stake, Connor. I want to know how he breached security, and I want to know now.”
I twisted my head to see Joe. “Did you tell her that?”
Joe shook his head in exasperation and threw his hands in the air. “I’m just a glow bee. I say what I’m told.”
I faced Keeva. “He didn’t breach. I signed him in.”
She lifted a cup of tea and leaned back, sipping. “You have two minutes. Make them good.”
“A troll named C-Note is behind these attacks. He wants to take down the Guild. Good enough?”
Keeva arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy. What proof do you have?”
“A witness in protective custody and a ward stone recording. Murdock heard the threat to the Guild. C-Note controls the gangs with a compulsion drug called Float. It’s spreading beyond the Weird. I know it’s infected the druid Grove. It’s made from the essence of a drys.”
Her jaw dropped, and she laughed. “A drys? You expect me to believe that?”
“Murdock saw her.”
She pulled her lower lip in. “Connor, no one’s seen a drys in decades. Murdock is not credible on fey and, frankly, with your conspiracy theory habits, neither are you. The Guild is convinced the Consortium is behind this.”
“The Guild or Nigel?”
“Both.” She looked down at her desk, shifted her eyes to the computer monitor and back to me. I could practically feel her running scenarios in her head, trying to figure what she needed to do to get the job done while figuring out how to present herself in the best light. I’ve seen it before. It’s how she works. “We have security at the funeral. Gerin’s shielding Forest Hills Cemetery for the ceremony. Nigel’s coordinating with Manus and the diplomatic envoys. I’m not worried about the funeral. I’m worried about the Weird. I’m trying to seal it down so no one can move in or out without my knowing about it.”
“I did.”
She glared at me. “Connor, bring me your proof, and maybe then I will contradict Gerin Cuthbern and Nigel Martin. Until then, I run things my way.”
I decided it was time to shake Keeva’s cage a little. “You haven’t made any progress in your Kruge investigation.”
She looked honestly startled. Looks aren’t everything. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve been looking for Croda. You know trolls are difficult to trace.”
“Dennis had distinctive new running shoes on. Easy to trace. Your credit card bought a pair.”
She leaned over her desk toward me. “What are you talking about?”
I stared her down. “Ryan macGoren has known where Croda is from the night of the murder. You bought Dennis’s running shoes. I don’t think it’s me and Murdock with the credibility problem.”
She jumped to her feet and pointed at the door. “Out.”
I’d definitely struck a nerve, but it was time to go. I stood, but before I left, I gave her a last warning. “If the Guild is using Kruge’s murder to provoke a confrontation with the Consortium, I’ll expose you.”
She was angry enough now that a little fey light glowed in her eyes. She pointed at the door. “I said ‘out.’”
I moved to the hallway. “Keeva, if you don’t increase security, you won’t have to worry about finding a troll. One’s going to find you.”
Chapter 17
The Guild had replaced my apartment door. The security agent remained posted outside at the end of the hall, though. While they had done a great job on the door, even fixing an old squeak, unfortunately they hadn’t brought a housekeeper with them. My place looked like a gang of elves and fairies had run amok. Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.
I pulled two bottles of Guinness out of the fridge, popped one, and left the other on the counter to warm. The bottled stuff is nowhere near as good as tap, but it’s better than the can. Or nothing.
I slunk into my desk chair and called Meryl. She picked up on the first ring, and I smiled. Someone was worried. “I saw you buried by a pile a rubble.” The genuine concern in her voice felt oddly pleasurable.
“Believe it or not, Moke saved me. Are you okay?”
“Tired, but fine. What happened?”
I took a swig of beer and booted up the laptop. “Long story. I have to be at the funeral. Want to be my date?”
“Ooooo, a funeral. Sounds fun,” she said.
“The service starts at sunset. Can you drive?”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Oh, and wear green. It’s the elven color for mourning.”
“Gee, thanks, I didn’t know that,” she said sarcastically. “Oh, and Grey?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s not a date.” And she hung up.
Joe busied himself with cookies while I changed. I had very little to work with but stumbled on a dark green shirt I’d forgotten I owned. Even given the formality of an elven funeral, I wasn’t about to wear green pants. As I pulled on my boots, I could hear Joe laughing in my study.
“Now I get it,” he said, his voice oddly hollow.
“Get what?” I called back.
The Guild security helmet I had retrieved from Croda’s murder scene came floating into the room. Two bare feet dangled out of it. “How the Guild is keeping flits out lately. They’re letting in only essence they expect, not blocking what they don’t want.”
I stopped myself from commenting. That’s an old druid trick, a modification of the shield on a grove. Gerin and Nigel must have adapted it for the Guildhouse. As much as I’d trusted Joe, he had a tendency to talk before he thought, and who knows who would hear him. “Tricky,” I said.