Mark Del Franco - Uncertain Allies

I leaned down so I could see Murdock. “Are you going to report Ceridwen?”

“We can’t ignore a gang fight shaping up, even if it is the Tangle,” he said.

“Can you give me twenty-four hours to broker something between Eorla and Ceridwen? I want the Guild going after Vize, not them,” I said.

Meryl groaned and dropped her head back against the seat. “You can’t help yourself, can you? It’s bad enough you have Maeve breathing down your neck and Vize running loose, but you have to step into a territory spat between two chicks who wished they were queen of the world.”

I pursed my lips. “I think that’s oversimplifying it a bit.”

She rolled her eyes. “Danu forbid that happens.”

I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Did I mention how much I missed you?”

She pouted, then chuckled. “Can you miss me a little more? I’m beat.”

I looked across the seat. “Leo? At least don’t mention Ceridwen by name. No one else knows she came back Dead.”

He sighed and shrugged. “Another day isn’t going to matter in this mess.”

I tapped the roof of the car. “Thanks, man. I’ll call you both later.”

I lingered on the sidewalk as they drove away, pretending to see them off. I knew the real reason I didn’t go upstairs right away but pushed down the thought. I wanted to go to Shay’s squat, hunch over the stone ward, and bliss out on the essence surge. It was a few short blocks away. I could be there and back in less than an hour.

I took a few steps toward the corner and stopped, realizing what I was doing. That wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to be seduced by need. I didn’t want to be too weak to resist. I didn’t want to be controlled by something outside myself. I had lived my entire life the way I wanted, not because I could but because I couldn’t stand being controlled.

When I had my abilities, I had the ability to determine my fate. Sure, I worked for the Guild, did what I was asked, even stuff I didn’t want to do but was ordered to. That was always on my terms. I had options. I didn’t have to be a Guild agent. I could have left anytime I wanted. I could have used my abilities for something else.

When I lost my abilities, I thought I lost my ability to live my life my way. It made me angry, made me feel controlled. It took me a while, but I learned I was wrong. If I was controlled by anything, it was my perception of who I was. I had spent the last three years learning that I was more than just a body with or without an ability. I was more than that. I was the sum of my experiences. I was my own person. I was who I needed to be, not what someone else wanted me to be. I wasn’t going to invite in something beyond my control. Not again. I turned around and went upstairs.

Despite being tired, I tossed and turned on my futon. I hated that Vize had slipped away. Worse, he had the spear. It was a powerful weapon, strong enough to seal a breach in the veil between here and TirNaNog. When it had bonded to me, I sensed it in my mind even when it wasn’t physically present. When it materialized in his hand, I had felt nothing. It made me worry that the spear was no longer bonded to me or Ceridwen, but to Vize.

It came when summoned with an enchanted word of command— ithbar . Ceridwen had revealed the command to me, thinking only she could control the spear, but it was a fickle thing. I’d used the command, and the spear left her. Then, without the command, it left me and went to Vize. Why it jumped from person to person escaped me. Someone told me it was a sliver of the Wheel of the World, whatever that meant. I didn’t like to think about Vize’s having control of the spear and the faith stone. I had to find a way around him. Even if I couldn’t control who the spear went to, I still had a chance to keep the stone away from him.

I gave up on sleep. One person in Boston was key to both the faith stone and Vize. The whole mess could be stopped if Donor Elfenkonig laid off. I doubted he would, but I at least had to explore the option, if only to close that door.

I left the apartment and walked across town to Back Bay. “Ambassador Core” had chosen to stay at the Teutonic Consortium consulate rather than at the Ritz-Carlton, where his diplomatic corps preferred to stay when they were in town. Of course, the consulate was sovereign Teutonic territory and defended by a contingent of elven soldiers. No doubt the Ritz couldn’t compete with those amenities, which made the consulate a much more attractive residence for an undercover Elven King.

Guards became alert as I turned the corner of Commonwealth Avenue. They had the right to stand on public property, but they had no real jurisdiction outside the consulate. They were an outer perimeter, an early-warning system. They recognized me. I had no doubt. My face was probably plastered in the lunchroom. Before I reached the building, word would spread via sendings that I was coming.

No one challenged me. Through back channels, the Elven King had offered me asylum from the Guild or the U.S. government should I ever need it. Donor saw an opportunity to gain favor with a valuable former Guild agent. I knew plenty of secrets. I found the idea more entertaining than anything else. Despite my troubles, the last person I would make an alliance with was Donor. After my experience with Nigel, I recognized a strategic opportunist when I saw one.

The consulate was a mistake of architecture. Thrust into the middle of a block of Victorian brownstones, the Bauhaus structure was hard to miss. A tall statue of Donor dressed as a warrior guarded the entrance. Now that I had met him in person, I knew the armor wasn’t affectation. Beneath the mannered aloofness of a monarch, I had sensed a fighter.

The reception area resembled an upscale mountain lodge. Empty overstuffed couches faced each other in several groupings, as if the elven staff hung around socializing. None did that I ever saw. Uniformed guards waited behind the desk.

“Connor Grey to see the ambassador,” I said.

“Please declare any weapons,” the senior guard said.

They weren’t going to argue or brush me off. Either Donor expected me or wanted to see me for his own reasons. “Two daggers. Don’t even think of asking for them.”

They exchanged glances a few moments. I had bluffed my way in with weapons last time I was there. They let me keep them, but last time I wasn’t visiting the Elven King. I wondered how many of the guards knew the true identity of the ambassador. “You understand, sir, that the current climate prevents us from honoring your request,” the guard said.

Elven security wasn’t known for its courtesy. Donor must have been eager. “I will leave one dagger here. The other was a gift I cannot replace and will not relinquish. I will keep it in its boot sheath as long as I am not required to defend myself.”

Again, they exchanged glances, the air fluttering with sendings. The dagger was a gift from Briallen, gold-plated handguards and silver-bound pommel encrusted with crystals and gems. The blade had carved runes from different alphabets, bound with spells and essence. Without seeing it, I sensed runes activating in the presence of elves. Briallen never explained how the runes worked—or revealed if she even knew—but they activated on their own according to circumstances.

The senior guard extended his hand. “Agreed.”

I handed over my favorite plain steel one and watched it disappear beneath the counter. I could live without it but preferred not to. They led me through the back of the lobby, past the elevators, to a secure section of the floor. A windowless area was laid out with the comfort of a corporate suite. Beyond a well-appointed living room was an empty, sterile office with an oak desk and several chairs, where they left me to wait.