Unquiet Dreams Read online

Meryl smiled at Murdock. “Don’t you hate it when he wants to chitchat at two in the morning on a work night?”

  He laughed. “I’m not touching that one.”

  She looked back at me. “Hmm. Blood all over you, and, if I’m not mistaken, something’s wrong with your shoulder. Did the kid do that to you?”

  I smiled. “She’s pretty tough. Would you mind helping me out a little?”

  She rolled her eyes. “More favors.” She crushed out her clove and placed her hand on my shoulder. Even through the glove, a soft white light glowed. Warmth spread inside my shoulder, easing the pain. I could imagine the ligaments and muscles knitting back together. She released me, and I rolled the shoulder. It felt much better. By the time I woke up, I doubted I’d feel a thing wrong.

  She turned to Murdock. “You’re pretty banged up, too. Here, this is on the house.”

  She placed a hand on his chest and called up her essence again. Murdock closed his eyes and smiled. Meryl pulled her hand away and gave him a curious look. “Interesting essence you have there, Murdock.”

  “So people keep telling me,” he said.

  Meryl looked up at me. “So what’s the deal with the kid?”

  “We just need to keep her out of sight until tomorrow. I think we all need some sleep, so how about we pick her up late morning or so?”

  “Okay.” Meryl opened the car door and slid inside. She buckled up and rolled down the window. “I’ll drop her off wherever you want. You don’t get to know where I live.”

  I dropped my chin and mock-glared at her from under my eyebrows. “Fine.”

  She smiled. “Sleep well, boys!” She made a sharp U-turn from the curb and drove back up Summer Street.

  Murdock shot me a sidelong glance.

  “Do not say a word,” I said as we walked back to his car.

  “What? You mean the whole flirtatious thing? I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Shut up.”

  We jumped in his car. Murdock cut over to the Avenue, and we cruised toward Sleeper Street. At this time of night, few people walked the streets. Even the Weird settles down by dawn. You could find an after-hours party if you wanted, but it was a weeknight, and only the diehards and desperate were out.

  “Another interesting evening with Connor Grey,” Murdock said.

  “Hey! Talking to Moke was your idea.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, but provoking him into using you as a bat and me as a ball was not my intention. What set him off like that?”

  “The crack about ripping off his door at noon. Sunlight kills trolls. I guess he took it more personally than I intended,” I said.

  Murdock pulled up in front of my building. “I have a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Pick you up around noon?”

  “Sounds good.” I got out of the car and didn’t even watch him pull away.

  Up in my apartment, I chewed through a few ibuprofen and seltzer. Meryl might have sped up my shoulder healing, but she couldn’t touch what was in my head. It was pounding. I could feel the hazy black cloud in there squeezing whatever was left of my brain.

  I stripped out of my clothes and crawled under the bed-covers. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. Dawn was just a few hours away. I would have to get up then and do my sun rituals. Sunrise was always too early for me. The thing I hated was that the nights when I wanted to sleep the most were when I needed to do the rituals the most. I had committed myself to doing what I needed to do to recover from my accident. The damned mass in my head never went away, but I felt stronger since I had gone back to the rituals. Hell, my shields hadn’t collapsed even when Moke threw me the second time. They didn’t work as well as they used to, but they had held.

  Despite my curiosity as to how Crystal Finch ended up with Moke, I was too exhausted to care. Partying with a couple of fairies, brawling with a troll, and flirting with a druidess healer all in one night can take their toll. The sad part is, it felt like just a busy day at the office. That’s what the Weird can do to you.

  11

  My internal alarm clock woke me just before dawn. Gray light filtered into my living room, the cold gray of late fall. The soft hiss of the radiator whispered to me to get out of my nice warm bed. I ached everywhere. Meryl’s healing booster had focused on the shoulder, so every other muscle reminded me that, yes, I had been tossed through the air several times the previous night.

  I eased out of bed feeling every vertebra trying to decide whether it wanted to be closer to its neighbor or farther apart. I didn’t think about the headache. I always have a headache, so I only notice the pain if it’s reaching incapacitating levels. I slipped off my T-shirt and boxers and stood naked at the window, eyes closed, arms upraised. All across the city, hundreds, maybe thousands, of fey stood in the exact same posture, naked and waiting for the sun. I suppose if someone had a good vantage point and decent binoculars, the landscape made for a voyeur’s wet dream.

  Being fey means being in tune with essence on a level that human normals cannot grasp. It means feeling a connection with the world, with nature, with other beings, through the essence that binds everything. Human normals don’t know what that experience is. Some have a vague sense—the sensitive types who get flashes of precognitive warning, or second sight, or dreams that feel important. The reality of the Convergent World, the world I was born in, my reality, never reaches the essence that Faerie has. Had. Still has. No one knows if Faerie is still there, missing the people and places that ended up here. But the fey here remember it and yearn for it. And so, each morning thousands stand facing east, preparing themselves for a ritual that reminds them of their abilities and keeps them connected to lost Faerie. Me, I just want the headaches to stop so I can get back to work.

  I knew the moment the disc of the sun met the horizon. A flush of warmth fluttered in the center of my forehead and in the socket of my shoulder. Meryl’s healing spell continued its work, drawing a boost from the new day. I inhaled, my lungs expanding to their maximum, and I began to chant the ancient words of greeting. As the sun rose higher, I moved through the postures I had learned as a child, pose and voice and essence entwining to realign the pathways within my body that enhanced the ability to manipulate essence. As the sun rose, I moved faster, the chanting became more urgent, my intellectual mind receding as I became one with the flow. That is the core of being fey—the ability to lose oneself completely, to find one’s place in conjunction with the being of all things. As the sun lifted off the horizon, full white blaze above the heaving ocean, I thrust my arms down, my head back, and exhaled in exhilaration.

  The problem with doing the sun ritual after a night of little sleep, is you want to stay up and enjoy the endorphins no matter how tired you are. I hit the coffeemaker and went into the shower. One of the nice things about living in an old warehouse not originally meant for residential use is that the heat and hot water boilers tend to be huge. Everyone in the building can probably shower at the same time and not feel a shiver. I still ached from Moke’s love tap, so I let the water massage my skin. Essence may improve my constitution, but it still didn’t make the bruises go away unless a healer manipulated them.

  I dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck, poured a cup of coffee, and settled back in bed to watch the news. Nothing startling, the usual chaos and mayhem of a big city. Two more gang fights overnight, one not far from my apartment. The news cycled again on the top of the hour, and a name caught my ear. Gerin Cuthbern stood in front of the Guildhouse, a distinct lack of any of the usual Guild public relations lackeys in attendance. Gerin wore an embarrassingly outdated white robe of druidic office, which told me right away whatever he was droning on about had to be good. I turned up the volume.

  “…in this tragic time,” he said into several microphones thrust into his face. “We extend to Eorla Kruge our deepest condolences and our prayers. In what can only be a small gesture of gratitude for all the work Alvud Kruge did for this city, indeed the world, the Boston chapter of th
e Druidic College offers as a sorrowful gift a place of rest for Alvud’s body. His wish to leave his corporeal remains on these shores speaks volumes about how much he cared for Boston and its people. We can only respond by donating the land in the Forest Hills Cemetery for an appropriate burial and mourning spot for his friends and family.”

  The video clip vanished and the perky blond anchor-woman popped back on the screen. I laughed and lowered the volume. Keeva, I’m sure, was blowing a fit somewhere. Given that she wasn’t standing by Gerin’s side for his announcement meant he had just thrown a big wrench into her funeral plans. The Guild had their media protocols, which Gerin well knew, and he had just done a great job of breaking them.

  I had to give it to Gerin, though. He knew how to play politics. Staging his announcement in front of the Guildhouse certainly implied their endorsement, although those in the know would know better, and putting Eorla Kruge—a high-ranking Consortium member—in a position to reject a cooperative gesture from the High Druid of Boston was elegant. Neither the Guild nor the Consortium could criticize him without looking like they were using Kruge’s funeral as an excuse to play politics themselves. He was also laying the groundwork to make Eorla look ungrateful if she contested a director’s appointment. A brilliant move. The man knew how to play.

  Getting an essence recharge at dawn is great, but it’s all a wash if I exhaust my physical body. It didn’t help that a dream had bothered me. Dreaming gives me a bit of anxiety these days. Last spring I realized my dreams had taken on a predictive bent, an ability I never had before my accident. After midsummer, the dreams stopped, and I thought they were just a fluke brought on by the possibility that I might die. Sort of a heads-up from the Wheel of World to keep me on my toes.

  Prescient dreams are metaphorical, and since I have little experience with them, I’m not very good at parsing the metaphors. For that matter, I’m still not sure when I’m having a prescient dream or just sleeping on too full a stomach. My morning dream consisted of apples falling and a chain that moved like a snake. That segued into Moke swinging Meryl and me in his hands. I woke just as he was about to smash us together. Nothing that Freud wouldn’t be able to explain, particularly since, I have to admit, I was aroused by how it ended. At the same time, I had a sense of danger that I couldn’t articulate. The last time dreaming felt that way, I almost died.

  I called Meryl. She mumbled something into the phone about death and mornings, but I think she agreed to drop Crystal Finch at my place by noon. Meryl actually hates mornings more than I do. She’s a Daughter of the Moon and avoids sunrise salutations except on the high holidays. I left Murdock a message to meet us.

  She showed up on the dot of noon and summoned me downstairs with her cell phone. The Mini was parked neatly by the door, engine running, with Meryl in her leather and Crystal in her pink. They made an odd couple but were in an animated conversation.

  Meryl powered down the passenger window when she saw me. “Thanks, Meryl. Was she any trouble?”

  “He-llooo. She’s right here, dude,” said Crystal. She even waved. I hate the word “dude” from sixteen-year-old tough girls. I’m not their dude. As soon as I thought that, I felt way old.

  “She can go wait in the vestibule,” I said.

  Crystal glared at me, then turned to Meryl. “Thanks. Again. I really appreciate what you said.” Damned, if the kid didn’t tear up and hug Meryl. And damned if Meryl didn’t hug her back. Without another word, she got out of the car, looked quickly up and down the street, and ran to the front door I had left ajar. She closed it behind her.

  I slipped into the passenger seat to get out of the cold. “That was sweet.”

  Meryl shifted in her seat to look at me. “She’s had it tough, Connor. Cut her some slack.”

  I stopped myself from making another sarcastic comment. Meryl was right. I had no reason to dislike the kid just because she had managed to put me on her schedule instead of mine. She had reason to be afraid.

  “Did she tell you anything about Kruge?” I asked.

  “No. We talked about Denny. He sounds like he was a nice guy. She didn’t need me interrogating her last night.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’m guessing a troll doesn’t have a very good shoulder to cry on.”

  Meryl gave me a stern look. “She’ll help you. Just make sure you protect her.”

  I slouched in the seat. “I’m not made of stone, Meryl. I got into this because a kid got killed. I’m not looking for it to happen to another one.”

  She nodded. “I meant her feelings, Connor. You get a little single-minded sometimes. Remember, you don’t know what she’s been through. She did try to tell me what happened but froze up every time. Today’s not going to be easy for her.”

  I heard a car come up and looked out the rear window. Murdock pulled in behind us and parked. I leaned forward and brushed Meryl’s nose with my finger. “Thanks. You’re a regular Jiminy Cricket sometimes.”

  She smiled. “Do that again, and I will bite you.”

  I chuckled. “I’ll call you later, crazy woman.”

  I got out of the car, and she drove off. When I banged on the vestibule door, Crystal opened it and peered out.

  “Are you ready?” I said it nicely. She nodded and followed me to Murdock’s car. I tossed a donut bag into the back and sat down. Crystal pushed away a pile of newspapers on the backseat and made herself comfortable.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” Murdock said. He pulled away from the curb and almost looked in his side view mirror when he did it. He felt different—smooth, for lack of a better word, as if his essence were spread over him in an even layer. Human normals usually feel that way to me because their essence is so weak. The fey tend to have variable flow about them, the essence more intense about their heads and hearts. His midach must have done something to moderate the extreme fluctuations I had been sensing.

  “Where to?” I asked Crystal.

  “The Tangle,” she said. Of course. Murdock had already turned onto the Avenue, so we just drove in silence through the main part of the Weird. He stopped the car at Harbor Street. We could see the yellow crime scene tape on the Unity storefront. A Guild security guard hovered into view at the far end of the street, then flew back up.

  I twisted in my seat. “Okay, Crystal, first you have to tell us what happened at Unity,” I said.

  She looked out the window with a look I’ve seen before, a slack look of disbelief at what she had seen. “Mr. K asked Denny to make a run for him. I went with him for the pickup.”

  “Do you know what he was running?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “It had something to do with Float. Denny bought some somewhere. I found it. I was pissed ’cause I’m clean now, and I didn’t want any drugs around. Denny said he wasn’t using. Mr. K asked him to buy it for him and that he had to bring it to Unity, then do a run.”

  “Did Kruge use kids from Unity for runs a lot?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. Regular errands type stuff, if that’s what you mean.”

  I looked over at Murdock. He didn’t say anything. At the end of the day, this was still his case. I let the moment hang to give him a chance to jump in, but he didn’t.

  “Okay, so you got here and then what?” I said.

  She wrapped her arms tightly against her chest. “Mr. K was here with Croda. He asked me to wait in the printing room. I couldn’t hear anything at first, but then there was shouting. I opened the door a crack to see what was going on, and there was this big ugly troll yelling at Mr. K…”

  “Would you recognize him?” I interrupted.

  “Huh? Yeah, sure. Croda’s the only other troll I met until Moke. Anyway, the troll said something about Denny having something and grabbed him. Mr. K got mad and pushed the troll and told Denny to run. Denny started running toward me, and the troll threw a fey-bolt at him.”

  “Wait a minute, a troll threw a bolt of essence?” Crystal nodded. Trolls manipulated essence, but not offensively. They
worked it within things, particularly stone, but I’d never heard they could send it through the air. Unless C-Note had figured out how to work around it. And the idea of a troll doing that was pretty scary.

  “And then Denny…he…he…” She started to cry.

  Even though I’ve seen enough manipulation-by-tears, Crystal’s reminded me to take it easy on her like Meryl asked. “It’s okay, Crystal. Tell us so we can figure out what to do.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “The bolt hit Denny, and he flew through the air right at me. He hit the door, and we both fell. He didn’t move at all after that. I think…I think that’s when he died.” The last part came out in a whisper. She started to sob again.

  “You’re doing good, Crystal. Take a breath and tell me what happened next.”

  It took a few moments for her to calm down. Any annoyance I had for her from the previous night was gone. “The next thing I knew, Croda was in the room. I could hear fey-fire and screaming. Croda grabbed me and Denny and ran out the back door. She took us into the Tangle.”

  “Can you show us?”

  She nodded. “Take a left into the next alley.”

  Murdock crossed over Harbor and took the left. We were in the alley across the Avenue from the Unity alley. So far, it made sense. It was the direction I had sensed troll essence trailing away when Murdock and I checked out the back door of Unity. We crept down the narrow lane, large warehouses looming up on each side of us. Sunlight fell in complex patterns on the ground as it filtered through the network of fire escapes above. Old wooden pallets, an array of boxes and bags and tossed papers littered the gutters. At the end of the alley, a rusted car sat to the left.

  “Go to the end and take a right,” Crystal said.

  We made the turn onto a wider service road between more warehouses. Even though we were more exposed to the sky overhead, the light felt dimmer. We were starting to move into the Tangle.

  “Go about three buildings down,” she said.

  Murdock guided the car around piles of rubble, trash, and masonry discarded with no fear that anyone would object. The warehouses down here were no longer active, most of them burnt-out and boarded up. It had been a long time since city services ran garbage trucks. Murdock stopped the car.