Mark Del Franco - Uncertain Allies

We lowered Kevin onto a gurney. An EMT came to my side and tried to open my jacket. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged him off. “I’m fine.”

I pushed closer to Kevin’s gurney. Kevin lay on his back, an oxygen mask covering his face. I wasn’t going to take that as a bad sign. Even inhaling small amounts of smoke damaged airways, and he had breathed in plenty. It didn’t mean he was in critical condition. He lifted his head as an EMT checked his vital signs. When he saw me, his face turned into a snarl. He ripped the mask down. “Get the hell away from me.”

Surprised, I backed away from the gurney. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Not interested in your concern.”

I looked at the EMT. “Is he okay?”

Kevin tried to sit up, but the EMT held him down. “I’m fine. I know what you did, you bastard. Get away from me.”

Now I understood that his reaction had nothing to do with the fire or his injuries. “Kevin, this isn’t the time, but I’m sorry. For everything. We’re all victims of circumstance here.”

His derisive chuckle faded into a cough. “I’ve heard enough about the shit you’ve caused to understand your circumstances, Connor. Get the hell out of here and stay away from my family. You got it? Stay away, or I’ll make you regret you ever set foot in our house.”

“I’m sorry.” Stunned, I walked away. I understood his anger, but I didn’t expect it while I was saving the guy’s life. I backed off. Like I had said, it wasn’t the time. He was injured and tired, and what happened, happened. I didn’t want to provoke him because I didn’t know how to defend myself.

To make matters worse, when the hole opened in the wall, I realized I wasn’t hearing the sendings from the burglary suspect, and when I pulled Kevin out, my body signature interacted with his. Whatever having mixed-race parents was doing to Leo, it was doing tenfold to Kevin. He read druid without a hint of human body essence. I decided he wasn’t exactly in the mood to hear that.

I found Murdock on the far end of the alley with another group of EMTs. He glanced at me as soon as I neared, and I wondered if it was coincidence or if he had sensed me. His face was swollen on the left side and his forehead had a bruise, signs of body-shield impact. He hadn’t hit the wall with his face, but the shield diffused the force and propagated it against his entire body.

I waited while the EMTs finished with him. “Kevin’s okay,” I said.

He worked his shoulder. “That was the idea.”

“I’m going to make a wild guess and say you told him about Moira,” I said.

“He’s not your biggest fan right now,” Murdock said.

I frowned. “He blames me, too.”

Murdock looked up me. “He grew up without a mother, and his father was murdered. You were there at the beginning and the end, Connor. He’s having a hard time separating that from who was to blame.”

“I guess it’s a rule that at least one Murdock hates me at all times.”

“At least,” Leo said.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Stop saying that,” he said. He wasn’t angry, but his tone said how tired he was.

“There’s something else, Leo. I’m reading a druid body signature off Kevin, a powerful one. More than yours,” I said.

Murdock dropped his head back. “Damn. Can we get ten minutes without something blowing up?”

“Are you going to tell him?” I asked.

He winced as he rubbed at his head. “I’ll have to, won’t I? I don’t recommend going anywhere near Southie for a while.”

The EMT returned. “You’re next, Officer.”

Murdock lay back on the gurney. “They want X-rays. Any fey mumbo jumbo I should tell them about?”

I shook my head. “Your anatomy’s the same as always, Leo. I’ll call you later.”

He closed his eyes and let them wheel him away. News vans and curiosity seekers crowded the sidewalks out front. I cut across the street to avoid the reporters looking for someone to interview. The last thing I needed was getting my name in the news again in a story about a fire in the Weird.

Kevin Murdock’s angry face played over in my mind. He was a kid, the youngest member of his family. He had never known Moira Cashel as his mother. She left town not long after he was born. But he knew his father. I didn’t know what that relationship was like, but Scott Murdock was his father. Even Leo, who disagreed with the commissioner on so many things, mourned the man. Death was a lot to process under normal circumstances, but to be dragged into the fey world at the same time had to be overwhelming. I tried not to feel hurt by what was said, but it stung. It stung because deep down, I agreed with him. Without having an inkling as to what I was doing—what I did—I had screwed up an entire family. I didn’t know how to answer for that or even if I could.

A few hours of brooding drove me out of the apartment in search of a drink. Half my favorite bars in the Weird were gone, casualties of the firestorm that had swept through the neighborhood. I wasn’t all that welcome in a number of the remaining ones. People blamed me for a lot of things that had happened, not least of which were the fires and the shootings and the riot. I might have had a noticeable ego in the past, but even I would have had a hard time rationalizing my ability to cause that much damage. Maybe some of it, but not all.

I went to a variety of bars for a variety of reasons. I went to quiet dives where I could sit at the bar, stare into my beer, tap the bar top for another without having to speak, and go home nicely drunk and depressed. I went to loud dives where I could hang on the bar, watch people in various stages of joy or desperation, and go home nicely drunk and bemused. Some places I went because I was being social, others because of the food, and still others for the eye candy. I rarely went to clique bars like a sports or leather place. I preferred the places that a sports fan can hang out with someone in chaps and not find it the least bit ironic or odd. Sometimes, I needed a space with no judgments, no demands, and plenty of indulgence.

Which brought me right where I needed to be that night, a dark, nameless club that was invitation only. One look around the place revealed that wasn’t something to be impressed with. I sat at the dim end of the room, a Guinness warming on the table as I watched a state senator smile into a cloud of fairy dust. Protocol dictated that I did not see him, did not know him, and that was fine. We all needed a place to escape sometimes. Some people needed to cross lines. Some lines needed to be crossed. Druids liked to live by the code of “do no harm,” which in politics often translated to “no harm, no foul,” even if the action was a bit foul.

Carmine slid into my booth, a mixture of scents wafting off his clothes, smoke and sex and liquor, the stale funk of a night of partying. With Carmine, it was always a party. He owned the bar and several others, provided party services for a steep price and coveted discretion. He smiled in the darkened booth, tiny sharp teeth flashing against his deep red complexion. “Connor, my friend, it pleases me to see you drink, but not with that look on your face.”

“I’ve had a bad run the past couple of days.”

He chuckled. “I might have heard about that. I’m beginning to think I might need to learn a trick or two from you about how to end an evening.”

I sipped my beer. “Avoid armored tanks.”

“Yes, I imagine they are a bitch to park,” he said.

A thin elf, skin blue and stippled black, delivered a flute of champagne to Carmine. He checked my drink, then glanced up with a smile. Changes in essence around him radiated soothing calm with a touch of desire. “Anything more?” he asked.