Mark Del Franco - Unperfect Souls

“I can’t leave with you?”

She back-stepped and smirked. “Nope. I don’t want to be seen with you either.”

On the way through the kitchen, she retrieved a bag from under a heat lamp and went out front. I shook my head. Cloak and dagger with fries.

Out in the alley, I adjusted my stride to the stiff rhythm of an elven security guard. Back when I was working for the Guild, going undercover wearing a glamour was a routine part of the job. Going into the Guild undercover was not something I ever contemplated doing. I didn’t need to. They were impressed with me then.

Near the Guildhouse entrance, I flashed my badge at three different sidewalk checkpoints. Consortium agents didn’t have automatic access to the Guildhouse, but they were extended the courtesy of bypassing the waiting queue during lockdowns. Without an appointment or high-level security badge, they didn’t make it past the reception desk, same as anyone else. I breezed through, though. I guessed Guild directors can wave through anybody they wanted.

The Teutonic section of the Guildhouse was in the rear on lower floors. Not the best location as offices go, but that was the point. While publicly the Guild welcomed all fey in the name of unity, the Teutonic contingent were assumed spies for Donor Elfenkonig. No doubt they were. Guild spies in other places confirmed it.

More badge flashing on the fifth floor earned me an escort directly to Eorla’s office. Despite her stature, Eorla kept a relatively modest yet modern office with glass-and-steel furniture—definitely not Guild issue. The window behind her desk shimmered with a spell that displayed a view of an ancient forest instead of the parking lot I knew was outside that part of the building.

To maintain the facade of the glamour, I stood at attention while my escort announced me. Eorla nodded as she typed on the thinnest laptop I had ever seen. The escort passed her my badge. Eorla stopped to look at it, then returned it with a smile. “Thank you. Has the material I requested from the archives arrived?”

“No, ma’am,” the escort said.

Eorla made a slight frown. “Please call. I don’t want this courier to wait.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The escort bowed and left.

Eorla continued working as she passed me a sending. I’m sorry I have to leave you standing there. They’ll think it odd if you sit down and odder yet if we close the door.

A few moments later, Meryl’s voice sounded out in the hall. “Look, I don’t care if you’re the Elven King’s nephew or his dog handler, I’m not turning over classified files to a hallway jockey. Tell Eorla, if she wants them, she gets them directly from me. If she has a problem with that, she can discuss it in my office.”

Eorla arched an eyebrow and went to the door. “It’s fine, Albrin. Let her through. Ms. Dian is very dedicated to her work.”

“Hey, Kru-chacha. Nice to see you again,” Meryl said loud enough for the guard to hear, and effectively put herself on their enemies-of-the-state list. The Consortium puts more effort into nothing than formality and strict adherence to royal protocol.

Meryl snickered as she preceded Eorla, who closed the door.

“You are incorrigible,” I said.

She grinned as she sat in a guest chair. “And that’s my good side.”

I sat next to her. “What’s the mystery all about, Eorla?”

She leaned back, her eyes shifting between Meryl and me. “I’ve been reviewing the Forest Hills files, and I believe there are some gaps in the report.”

Meryl shifted in her seat. “I sent you everything that was in the files.”

Eorla smiled shrewdly. “Of course you did. I don’t think either of you believe that my own report contained everything that occurred.”

Her admission didn’t surprise me. What had happened when she wasn’t observed was anyone’s guess. Eorla had made a deal with Nigel Martin. That much I knew. In exchange for her help at Forest Hills, she wanted the Guild director position that had been vacated by her husband’s death. Manus ap Eagan didn’t want it to happen, but after Forest Hills, Eorla was confirmed. I didn’t know if anything else happened that she didn’t report.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“If we share information, we may be able to resolve the issue of the Taint to everyone’s advantage.”

“And your credit,” Meryl said.

Eorla shrugged. “I have no issue sharing credit for it. In fact, you can have it all if you wish. It’s more important that the Taint be eliminated.”

I smiled. “You’re afraid the Guild will figure it out and use it as a weapon.”

Eorla shook her head. “Not afraid. I know that is their intention. Isn’t fear of Consortium dominance what the fiasco on Samhain was about? The only thing that keeps war from breaking out between the Seelie Court and the Elven King is parity. If I have anything to do with it, both sides will know the answer or neither will.”

“Sounds to me like you’ll end up committing espionage against the Guild and treason against the Elven King at the same time. Even I make better friends than that,” said Meryl.

“Barely,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.

The Guild had interrogated Meryl for weeks about the purging spell she used on the Taint. Meryl insisted she didn’t know the mechanics of the spell because a powerful fey called a drys actually performed it through her. It wasn’t quite possession, more like having a supercharged battery boosting her already considerable ability, with the drys providing direction. I had more than enough experience with forgetting what happened during extreme essence events, but even I suspected Meryl knew a little more than she was telling.

Eorla steepled her fingers. “I’ll let history judge that. I’ve been out of favor before. I will find favor again. That’s not the issue. The Taint is.”

“Why should we trust you?” Meryl asked.

A slow smile teased at the corners of Eorla’s mouth. “By that question, you confirm my belief that you know something.”

Meryl frowned a smile. “Maybe it was a rhetorical question. I didn’t just fall out of an oak tree, Eorla.”

I suppressed a smirk. Meryl might not have fallen out of an oak tree, but at Forest Hills, I watched her fall into one. Literally. One moment, the bark of the tree formed the face of the drys; the next, Meryl jumped into the trunk.

Eorla pulled a small pad of paper toward herself and sketched a series of runes. Sometimes the act of scribing can activate a spell. Eorla was a pro, though, and broke them into unlikely combinations. For added measure, she smeared essence on the first few to make them resonate differently. She slid the pad across the desk. “Perhaps an exchange of information would make you more amenable. Those are the runes I saw and remember”—she shot me a significant glance—“all of them this time. I believe, Connor, you held back a few as well.”

I picked up a pen and drew three more runes. I didn’t look at Meryl, but sensed her caution through her stillness. Eorla studied the pad. “It’s ancient. It doesn’t have the nuance of the spells we use today. It’s much more blunt force.” She handed me the pad. “Do you see the rhythm of an elven chant in that?”

I saw what she meant. “I don’t follow all of it, but, yeah, I see it.”

Meryl took the pad from me with a mixture of reluctance and curiosity. She scanned the page, then closed her eyes, nodding as if listening to music. She opened her eyes and filled in a few blank spaces. “I think those belong. The syntax looks similar to Old Elvish with maybe an eastern influence.”

Impressed, Eorla nodded as she reviewed the additions. “The runes were bonded to an oak staff. That changed the nature of the spell by combining Seelie and Teutonic modes.”