Mark Del Franco - Undone Deeds

At her stage of decomposition, bruises would have shown up as dark gray blotches. “And also would make me ask why she stopped being trapped.”

Murdock eyed the merrows treading water near the dock. “Maybe they know.”

The merrows circled and thrashed but kept their distance. I stepped to the edge of the dock. It dipped below the surface of the water, and my shoes got wet. I moved back a little. “My name is Connor Grey. Can you tell us what happened?”

The merrows exchanged more angry glances and chattered in their own language.

“Do you speak English? Gaelic?” I asked.

One of the women peered up at me. “Whom do you speak for?” she asked in Gaelic.

“No one. I’m helping out the police,” I answered.

She made a guttural sound deep in her throat. “Need Guild.”

I translated for Murdock. “That’s going to be a problem. Since your stunt in Park Square, the Guild has pulled most of its investigators out of the Weird,” he said.

“The Guild cannot come,” I said to the woman.

She slapped the water, sending a spray that landed on my legs. “Guild must come. Guild matter.”

“Ask her to come with us, and we’ll see what we can do,” Murdock said.

I translated his suggestion into Gaelic, but she wasn’t having it. She spoke to her companions, and all three began whistling and slapping at the water. I smiled up at Murdock. “I think she said no.”

Frustrated, Murdock stepped forward. With the weight of both of us, the dock sank beneath the water. I lost my balance and grabbed Murdock’s arm. The water dragged at our feet, and I slipped onto my knees. Murdock lost his balance, tripped over me, and we went over the edge.

I came up for air, spitting water and wanting to vomit. I did not want to think about what was in the harbor water, especially that close to the Tangle. I didn’t know how the merrows survived in the polluted stew. Murdock came up swearing like I had never heard him do.

“That was not my fault!” I shouted.

He grabbed the edge of the dock. I waited as one of the laughing cadets helped him out. When he was far enough back to keep the dock from submerging again, I swam closer, and they pulled me out.

Anger etched his face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

I wiped at my forehead, trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Unless I get plague or something.”

“They’re gone,” he said.

I faced the water. Bubbles spiraled and trailed along the surface, but there was no other sign of the merrows. “We probably scared them.”

“How long can they stay under?” he asked.

I shook my arms to shed some water. “An hour or so.”

He slicked his hair back and held his hands against the back of his neck. “Do you know anyone who speaks their language?”

“There are a couple of people I can ask,” I said.

I climbed the ladder back to the wharf. A light breeze made me shiver in my wet clothes. Murdock swung over the pilings next to me. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“I’ll dry,” I said.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.

I gazed toward the lightening haze in the east. I had been in hiding for months. I was being hunted by angry elves and crazy fairies. A Dead fairy queen wanted my help, and a live one wanted me dead. My girlfriend could read the future, and it didn’t look good, and my mother thought I should go bowling with my uncommunicative dad and alcoholic brother. “I’m not dead. How are you holding up?”

He chuckled. “This, too, shall pass, you know?”

We didn’t speak for several long moments. Murdock and I had gone through a lot together. I didn’t know what I would have done without him the past few months. It was a measure of his friendship that I had caused him pain, but he’d stuck by me. I couldn’t ask for more than that in a friend.

“How’s Janey?” I asked.

“Be careful going back.” I didn’t take offense at the abruptness or the lack of an answer. Murdock didn’t like to talk about his feelings. He turned away. Murdock didn’t like saying good-bye either.

Later that day, I waited for Murdock at the end of Tide Street. Mechanical devices malfunctioned in and around the Tangle, and the street was the closest parking that wouldn’t screw up his engine. The western sky burned a brilliant orange behind the buildings opposite me, making them seem on fire, an unwelcome reminder that they had been. Most stood gutted and dark, too structurally unsound for even persistent squatters.

Murdock pulled his old heap up to the curb and parked it behind the burned-out shell of a taxi. A parking ticket fluttered on the shattered windshield of the taxi. At least someone did his job in the Weird.

“You’re looking a bit world-weary,” he said. He was wearing what I liked to call his urban tactical uniform, black jeans, black ankle boots, black militaryesque shirt. Over time, Murdock had gotten more comfortable blending into the scenery of the Weird. His outfits didn’t scream “cop” anymore with khakis, white shirt, and tie. Of course, for Murdock, that didn’t mean his clothes weren’t impeccably clean and ironed. Meryl still liked to tease him about his wardrobe.

“I had a bad day,” I said.

He glanced at me, circumspect. “That’s not a good thing where you’re concerned.”

I grinned over at him as we walked down Tide. “No interdimensional meltdowns. It was more personal.”

“This time,” he said.

“This time,” I said.

We turned into an unnamed street, one that didn’t exist on any maps or maybe didn’t exist at all. The Tangle was filled with illusions. Streets existed, to be sure, but the illusion of streets did, too.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing particular. I spent most of my time avoiding people. Apparently, even in the Tangle, some people supported the Elven King. I was at a bookseller’s stand, and someone threw a brick at me.”

“Did it hit you?” he asked.

“I had my shield up,” I said.

Murdock paused, then resumed walking. An ornate building shimmered beneath the image of a plain brick-front warehouse. “I’m having some kind of double vision.”

“You’re seeing through the glamours. Not many humans venture this deep in the Tangle. The glamours are more tuned to fey sensibilities,” I said.

I left it unsaid that Murdock was fey now. Technically, he always had been, but a suppression spell kept him as clueless as everyone else. He avoided talking about it, but I thought if I kept bringing fey matters up, eventually he’d relax. He didn’t relax. If anything, his face became closed, and he watched the ground as he walked.

“I’m concerned about Gerry and Kevin. When they came home last night, Gerry had essence burns on his hands. He said it happened by accident, but I think he’s been playing around,” Murdock said.

Gerry Murdock’s using essence was a concern. He had a short temper and a chip on his shoulder. He, like his brothers, was also starting to exhibit more aspects of fey ability inherited from his druid mother. “They need to be trained, Leo. Dru-kids have seriously hurt themselves because they didn’t have training. Just because they’re adults doesn’t mean your brothers are immune to accidents.”

“They won’t talk about it,” he said.

I feigned surprise. “Really? I’m shocked. The Murdocks don’t talk about their fey abilities?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said.

“Seriously, Leo, I’d think suddenly having fey abilities would be a major conversation. Why are they avoiding it?”

“You and this conversation. I think they do talk about it, just not in front of me. They don’t want your knowing anything about them,” he said.