Mark Del Franco - Unfallen Dead

Every year, a circle of flat-top mushrooms grew near the grassy summit of the hill. How the ring appeared was a mystery, one of those places that had been unnoticed, yet known for years. Who used it first and whether it sprang organically from the ground or was seeded, no one knows. There was a Power in the ring even human normals could feel. I’ve been seen a lot of fairy rings, and the Boston ring was one of the strongest. “That’s wishful thinking, Briallen. It’s just Samhain. They could be attracted to the increase in fey people performing seasonal rituals up there.”

She stopped again. “Maybe.”

She placed her hands on either side of my head and sent warm lines of essence into my head. “That’s a relief. I was worried that damned spear did something to the darkness in your mind.”

“I’ve bonded with it.”

She shook her head. “I hate those stupid things. Nigel loves them, but in my experience, artifacts like that have a way of screwing up things.”

I tilted my head down at her. “I seem to recall someone giving me a charmed dagger.”

She gave me a friendly poke. “That’s different. I gave it to you. Things like the spear work of their own accord. Some idiot puts a bonding criterion on it, and who the hell knows where the thing will end up.”

After what Nigel said, I couldn’t resist. “Maybe the Wheel of the World influences where it ends up.”

“Yes, well, the Wheel of the World functions quite fine on Its own, thank you. It doesn’t need some old druid making weapons that can muck things around.”

We reached Beacon Street and crossed into the Beacon Hill neighborhood. Cheerful pumpkins and cats decorated doors and windows as we strolled past the old townhouses. Samhain was one of those holidays that everybody celebrated in some form. It had different levels of meaning depending on the culture. For the Teutonic fey, it was a celebration of the continuity of life. For the Celts, it was a more mournful affair of remembrance for those who had died. For both sides of the fey divide, it was the start of the new year. Of course, for human normals, it was all about candy. Given a choice, I preferred the candy.

On the sidewalk in front of Briallen’s townhouse, she took both my hands in hers. “Listen to me, Connor. The Guildhouse is in absolute turmoil. I actually like Ceridwen, but I’m worried she’s going after Manus. My suspicion is that she wants to replace him with Ryan macGoren because he’ll be more obedient to Maeve. If that happens, I’m afraid it will fracture the board even more.”

I cocked my head. “And I care about this because…”

She tugged my hands. “Because the Dananns are terrified of this taint on the essence here, and they don’t want it to spread. You accidentally got in the middle of all this, and you know macGoren is not your friend. I have influence, but at a certain point, I may not be able to keep them from bothering you. They think you might be lying about what you know of the Taint. It was made by a druid and stopped by a druid. All the Seelie Court sees is a threat to its power, and when that stuff starts happening, people get hurt.”

I brought her hands up to my lips and kissed them. “I promise not to poke or tease the Faerie queen, okay?”

She chuckled. “Don’t make promises we know you can’t keep. If I could make you go on a vacation right now, I would.”

I swung her hands playfully. “No, really. I have an odd little murder case I much prefer dealing with. I will avoid Ceridwen completely if I can.”

She nodded. “Okay, that I can believe.”

I gave her a wicked smile. “Am I mistaken, but did you imply back in that room that you are peer to a Faerie queen?”

She laughed again. “Oh, I’m not implying. I am. Years ago, I was made an honorary underQueen for services rendered to the Seelie Court. Since Convergence, none of the underQueens and underKings have physical realms anymore, so I ended up on equal footing. See what I mean about criteria? You never know what the results will be.”

I shook my head. “The more I learn about you…”

She kissed my cheek. “The less you know. Go solve your murder, sweetie. I have a political crisis to manage.”

I waited for Murdock in what had to be the most run-down doughnut franchise in the city. I liked doughnut shops. They’re one of the few places that cross all social lines. Everyone likes doughnuts. If they say they don’t, they’re lying. At a doughnut shop, you can get a sense of a neighborhood in ten minutes. And, of course, the coffee kept me alive. Murdock wouldn’t be caught dead in one, but I didn’t have a public image to maintain.

Murdock pulled up in front, and I left the shop. I tossed a tattered magazine off the passenger seat and handed him a cup of coffee as I dropped into the squalor of his car.

“That’s going to cost you,” he said, as I shoved the last bite of a glazed doughnut in my mouth.

I smacked my lips. “There’s no other reason to go to the gym.”

Murdock turned off the Avenue and down D Street. “Got a call down on Boston Street in Dorchester.”

“That’s out of your jurisdiction.”

Murdock tapped the steering wheel as we waited at a red light. “Yep. Someone thought I might be interested. Even mentioned your name.”

Boston had absorbed the town of Dorchester years ago, but it retained its name and its smaller neighborhoods. Some were nice, and some had pockets as bad as the Weird, only guns were the threat instead of spellcasters. Boston Street off Dot Ave was one of the nicer places, young professionals, decent restaurants nearby, and working streetlights.

We pulled up to a typical triple-decker-a three-level wooden building with bay windows that looked like it came from a Monopoly game. The usual assortment of police vehicles clogged the street. The front door of the building stood open, crime-scene tape flanking the steps. Uniformed officers kept the human normal crowd back. A plainclothes officer dressed in dark brown pants and a Red Sox jacket nodded at Murdock when she saw him get out. “Hey, Murdock, long time, no see.”

Murdock gave her a wide grin. “Hey, Liz.” There was a subtle shifting of eye contact between them that told me all I needed to know about at least one part of their past. Murdock has a knack for loving and leaving without trailing broken hearts in his wake.

Murdock jogged the short flight of steps. “This is Connor Grey. Connor, Liz DeJesus.”

She shook with a firm grip I liked in anyone, man or woman. “Good to meet you. One of my guys was talking to one of yours, Murdock, and gave me a heads-up. I’d appreciate anything you can tell me on this.”

As I joined them on the top step, the essence hit me immediately. Druidess, definitely, and a personal essence I recognized in particular. I looked over Liz’s shoulder.

The open door revealed a small landing with a crooked area rug. To the left stood a narrow mail table, knocked askew, a vase of dried flowers on its side. To the right, a staircase went up to the second floor. Next to it, a hallway led back to an open apartment door. In front of the apartment door, the victim lay on her back like a discarded doll.

Liz led us in. “Olivia Merced, sixty-seven years old, single. An upstairs neighbor found her like this. He remembers hearing a door buzzer about seven A.M.”

Olivia Merced looked fit and young for her age. By her outfit, I guessed she had been dressing for the day when the door buzzer went off. She wore black dress slacks with a light blue T-shirt and a pair of fleece bedroom slippers. My stomach fluttered at the sight of scorch marks at the toes of her slippers. “Did she work?”

Liz shook her head. “No. According to the neighbor, she did mostly volunteer work. Check out her face.”