Mark Del Franco - Undone Deeds

I dodged across the alley into the next doorway. An essence-bolt from ahead of me struck the wall. Shots from two different directions meant I had a tag team. Random essence strikes showered. Neither attacker seemed skilled at what they were doing. At such close range, they should have been able to sense my body shield and pick up that it was from a high-level druid.

I was caught in a standard Tangle jack-up: target someone, gauge the response, move in on the weak, and collect any valuables. I was wearing nondescript clothing, so maybe it was a case of mistaken identity. My options were to fight, which I couldn’t because I had no offense abilities, or reason with them, which was pointless when dealing with a street mind-set prone to random violence. That left running. Running was always good.

The pauses between strikes were similar in length, which meant the attackers needed to give their bodies a chance to recharge. Higher-powered fey didn’t need any recovery time. I gauged the timing of the shots and the distance to the next doorway, and made a dash for it. Wild essence struck the walls around me. I had taken them off guard, and their already poor skills couldn’t cope with the surprise. I relaxed, confident I’d be able to outwit them now that I had their measure. It wasn’t the fastest way to get home, but I would get out of the alley without much more trouble

Two essence-bolts streaked toward me. I dove behind a dumpster, my shield flashing with sparks as I was grazed. The first attacker had moved in closer behind me, which helped improve his aim.

I pulled my daggers from my boots. The gold dagger warmed in my hand, then shifted and stretched, becoming a sword. That wasn’t good. I hadn’t been able to figure out how to turn the dagger into a sword, but every time the thing grew on its own, I was in trouble—as in near-death trouble.

To add a new complication, the stone in my head pulsed with heat, not painful like the darkness but a wave that cascaded through my body. My body shield reacted to it and hardened, golden-faceted planes refracting the ambient light.

I huddled between the dumpster and a wall. The sword was nice to have—if a bad omen—but without abilities, surprise was what I had to work with. I darted from the dumpster and ran back the way I had come. As I hoped, the one who had been blocking my exit mistook my direction, and his shots fell short. The other fired from a second-story window, the strike warping off course around the metal of the dumpster. The mistake gave me a twenty-second clear run to the end of the alley before they recharged, and I took the chance.

A man in black stepped into the street ahead, a ski mask hiding his face and a weak body shield shimmering on him. He fired a jagged burst of essence at me. My sword hummed and leaped to the side, deflecting the bolt of its own accord, dissipating it into the air. Things like that would have been nice to know, but Briallen didn’t see it that way.

Unharmed, I came up from a crouch, preparing for his next move. I stepped from the wall and marched toward the figure in black. He fired again, but I shunted the essence away with the blade. He wasn’t that powerful, yet he seemed surprised that I had more than a shield to protect myself. He wasn’t going to like it when I reached him.

The sword pulled in my hand, like a ship yawing with the wind. I followed my instinct and let it be, spinning in the direction of the stroke. The blade knocked down another essence strike—my second attacker was still in play. I had twenty or so seconds before the next strike. I pivoted back to the man in black, then froze. He had pulled a gun—a druid with a gun—aiming down the sight even as I registered the situation. He fired.

The bullet struck my shield as streaks of green fire lanced over my head. I ignored a scream behind me, focusing on the bullet sizzling into my shield. The shield dimpled as the bullet funneled through the hardened essence. I twisted, torquing the bullet’s path, my own shield acting against me as it pulled the bullet in. More green fire flashed above as I forced myself to the pavement, trying to bend the bullet’s trajectory away. The disintegrating edge of the shield prickled against my cheek. Flat on my back, I twisted my neck as I watched the relentless approach of the bullet. It seared across my scalp. I flinched as it hit the pavement next to my face, shards of asphalt digging into my skin.

Someone leaped over me firing elf-shot, the source of the green essence flashes. An elf, red-uniformed, landed at my feet. He thrust his arms apart, pointing to either end of the alley and fired simultaneously from both hands. Silence settled over the alley. The elf relaxed his stance and turned. Rand leaned a concerned face over mine. “Are you hit?”

I pulled myself up with his outstretched hand. “Grazed. I’m okay. Nice timing.”

His hands glimmered as he scanned the windows behind me. “You were fortunate I was nearby.”

The black-clad figure lay still near the entrance to the alley. Beyond him, people peered from the far side of the street. Most pretended not to see anything and continued on their way. I held my sword and dagger at the ready as Rand and I approached the body. He gestured me back as he squatted by the still form, keeping a handful of essence charge at the ready in case of an ambush. Rand relaxed his hand, the line of tension across his shoulders easing. He pulled off the ski mask. “He’s dead.”

Stunned, I dropped my arms to my sides. “Shit.” I turned and walked away, then stopped. “Shit. This isn’t happening.” I turned again and walked back to Rand. “Danu’s blood, Rand. Tell me this didn’t happen.”

The dead man was Gerry Murdock.

I leaned my head back against a brick wall. A block away, police lights flashed up the alley from dozens of cars parked far enough away to avoid the mechanical dead zone of the Tangle. About twenty feet away, a wrinkled sheet covered Gerry Murdock, the stillness of his body a stark counterpoint to the activity around him. A stalled paramedic van had been pushed down the alley. Uniformed police officers and administrative police staff crowded near the crime scene. Whenever an officer was killed, the brotherhood turned out. It was understandable. They put their lives on the line every day. Until the dust settled, it didn’t matter whether the cop was doing the right thing or the wrong thing. Respect was paid.

Rand stood guard over me, and I kept my body shield hardened. My presence brought an added knee-jerk reaction to the situation. A number of people remained suspicious of my involvement in Commissioner Scott Murdock’s death. That investigation remained stalled until—if—Manus ap Eagan recovered. Now I was involved in another cop’s death and another Murdock—one who was convinced I was to blame for his father’s death. I wasn’t going to get any objectivity while Gerry’s blood was on the ground.

Leo stared at his brother’s body. Grief etched his face, a confused shock of denial and anger. When he had arrived on the scene, he hadn’t come near me. I didn’t approach him either. A ring of police officers surrounded me and Rand, and I was getting enough angry glares without giving someone an excuse to pull a weapon.

Meryl stood next to Leo, her arm around his waist. I had asked Rand to do a sending to her, and she had been among the first to arrive. Leo wasn’t reacting to her presence, but she talked to him, shutting out the scene around her and focusing her words on him alone. They were too far away for me to hear.

“I need you to tell me there was no other choice,” I said.

Rand watched the officers, his face intent and alert. “There was. He could have not fired his gun.”

I grunted but did not laugh. The last thing I needed was to be seen smiling. I knew where he was coming from. Regardless of what the public preferred, policing authorities did not shoot to incapacitate. The risk of missing far outweighed the risk of getting killed by the bad guys. Gerry pulled his weapon. Gerry fired his weapon. Gerry paid the price for his decision.