Mark Del Franco - Unfallen Dead

Dylan yawned and stretched. “I think it has people nervous because Samhain is around the corner. High holidays are always a good time for selling objects originally from Faerie. Some thief is looking to take advantage of the timing to get a good price.”

Briallen grinned. “So young and so tired?”

Dylan laughed through another yawn. “No fair, old woman. I’ve been awake for three days tying up things in New York and reading the current Boston case files.”

Briallen narrowed her eyes at him. “Who are you calling old?”

Dylan rose and kissed her cheek. “I have no doubt you continue to run circles around me, Auntie.”

I felt a twinge of jealousy at the pleasure on her face.

“I’m going to bed,” Dylan said.

He hesitated, and I held out my hand. “It was good to see you.”

A look of satisfaction came over him, and he shook my hand. “You, too. Good night, Connor.”

He trailed his hand along Briallen’s arm as he left the room. We stared into the fire, sipping the port. Briallen broke the silence first. “I’d like to hear your version of what happened at Forest Hills.”

I kept my eyes on the fire. “You read the reports. You probably know more about what happened than I do.”

“You only gave a statement. You weren’t required to file a full report. Tell me the story.”

I shrugged. “Murdock and I were working on a case that involved a drug called Float. It turned out that it was made to activate a spell that controlled anyone who touched essence. The full spell activated at Forest Hills Cemetery and got out of control. Essence drained from everything into a huge dome. I apparently figured out a way to diffuse it before it exploded.”

“Meryl Dian says you turned yourself into a ward stone,” she said.

I looked at her sharply. Meryl told me I had encased myself in granite, that I became a living ward stone and told her I would anchor the control spell. It worked, but I don’t know how or why. I asked her not to tell anyone until I thought through the implications. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“Do you think there’s a connection?”

I knew what she was asking. I lost my abilities two years earlier in a duel with a terrorist, an elf named Bergin Vize. I don’t remember what happened then either. I woke up in Avalon Memorial Hospital with no memory of the event, my ability damaged to almost nothing, and a dark mass in my head that no one could diagnose. “Of course, I’ve been thinking that. But since we don’t know what happened to me with Vize, it’s just another frustrating question.”

Briallen tapped the side of her glass. “Something’s come up that has me thinking about essence barriers. The veil is a strong and fragile thing.”

With a gentle smile, I poured us more port. “Sounds like Halloween has you feeling nostalgic.”

She sipped, gazing into the blue flames in the fire grate. “It was Samhain first, Connor. You know that. The one night of the year that the veil thins between this world and that of the Dead.”

I settled back in my chair. “ ‘Used to thin,’ Briallen. At least, that’s what they say.”

She shifted her eyes at me, mildly annoyed. “It’s what I say, Connor. I don’t speak of Faerie much because so much has been lost. When Convergence happened and this world merged with Faerie, all the Ways between the realms closed. There are things I don’t remember, but I do remember the veil thinning. I remember the Dead walking out of TirNaNog.”

“Convergence was over a century ago, Briallen. What could it possibly have to do with what happened at Forest Hills?” I asked.

She considered her answer before speaking. “Convergence was a huge essence event, and thousands of fey don’t remember their past. An enormous amount of essence was expended at Forest Hills, and you can’t remember it. That’s too much of a coincidence for me to ignore.”

I dropped my head back. “So to understand my injury, we have to solve the biggest mystery in history. What was Convergence, and why did it happen?”

The firelight gleamed in Briallen’s eyes. She lowered her head and laughed. “Of course. Finding out what happened to you is the only reason anyone would want to know why Convergence happened.”

I frowned, but good-naturedly. “That did sound a little self-involved, didn’t it?”

She laughed. “A little. You’re not as bad as you used to be.”

I stared into the fire, letting my mind slide back a few weeks. All hell broke loose, and a war among the fey almost started. I was in the middle of it, did something to stop it but couldn’t remember what. “I’m afraid of what happened at Forest Hills, Briallen. Lots of people died, and there’s another blank spot in my memory. I have no idea how many of those deaths are on me. I might even have killed something sacred.”

“You either accept that might have happened or let it defeat you, Connor.”

I rolled my head toward her. “How can I face something if I don’t know what it is?”

“You do know what it is. It’s what it always is for everyone. It’s you. You have to face yourself. The good and the bad, and, yes, the horrifying. We all have those things within us. You have to remember when to keep it in and when to let it out. Either way, you have to live with the consequences.” She spoke softly, staring into the fire, a memory shadowing her eyes.

“How much have you had to live with?”

She hesitated so long, I thought she was going to tell me to mind my own business. “There are things that I can never speak of, things I’ve needed to do and couldn’t explain, but I did them because they had to be done. Some I did out of love and some out of duty, and, yes, even anger and hatred. But I did them, and I live with it. That’s what you have to do, Connor. Live with it.”

It was my turn to hold my hand out to her. “Will you ever allow me to pity myself?”

She held out her glass. “Wah, wah, wah. Pour some more port.”

Tawny port has the ability to appear sweet and innocent. I think it’s called a fortified wine because it has the tendency to make you think a brisk October evening is refreshing. Which was believable until I found myself more drunk than I thought and lost in my own neighborhood. I wasn’t really lost. I wasn’t paying attention after I crossed the bridge and missed my street. At least, that was what I tried to convince myself.

I looped the long way around the block past the Nameless Deli. I steadfastly tried not to sway in front of it as I debated whether to get something to eat. The lights were too damned bright, and my hangover was kicking in before the alcohol had burned out of my system. I decided against food. After the huge meal at Briallen’s, I couldn’t possibly be hungry. I stubbed a toe rounding the corner onto Sleeper Street, hopping and swearing under my breath.

Just when things in my life finally were marching in some semblance of a positive direction, something new had to kick up and throw me offtrack. Of all people the New York Guildhouse could have sent, they sent Dylan macBain. It’s as if someone wanted to rub my nose in how much I lost when I lost my abilities. I didn’t blame Dylan, of course, though I doubted he had any hesitation about coming to Boston. That didn’t make his success feel any better. After everything that happened before I left New York, he seemed to have handled it better than I did. I kicked a water bottle out of my way.

I felt more than saw movement along the curb. This close to the harbor channel that separated the Weird from the financial district, rats strolled at night. They didn’t bother me, but I hated when they popped out of nowhere. The gutter was empty. Something flickered, a brief gleam on the edge of my vision. I opened my essence-sensing ability to see where the critter was. Hazy, indistinct essence floated beside me. Pain twinged in my head as the darkness in my mind squeezed. It does that sometimes around essence. It hurt, and I hated it.