Mark Del Franco - Unperfect Souls

She scrunched her nose. “Ick. I hate those.”

Only Briallen would react to one of the most fearsome fey with an “ick.” “Keeva said she’d try to get someone to look into it.”

“She must be thrilled that Ryan’s stepping in now that Nigel is leaving,” she said.

“It’s not official.”

“Is that the official unofficial position that came out of your meeting with Nigel and Manus?” she asked.

I chuckled. “I knew you knew about that. Eagan won’t name Ryan. At least, not yet. He wants to drive Ryan and Maeve crazy.”

Briallen chuckled. “I enjoy that myself sometimes. In the meantime, stay away from the Guild, Connor. With Nigel gone, I’m the only ally you have left there, and I’m not there enough.”

“I haven’t thought of Nigel as an ally for months now,” I said. Which was true. After I reached the age of majority, I trained with Nigel. He was my mentor and taskmaster. But when I lost my abilities, he abandoned me and took every opportunity since to ridicule me.

She tasted her stew. “He’s run more interference than you know.”

I scooped sliced onions into the salad bowl. “You mean lately? He tried to kill me last month, Briallen.”

She arched her eyebrows. “I’ve seen news footage of that. Don’t be too sure he wasn’t putting on a show for witnesses. What happened to that leather jacket you were wearing, by the way? I haven’t seen you with it since that night.”

“I lost it when I accidentally destroyed TirNaNog.”

She pursed her lips. “Pity. You looked quite handsome in it.”

“We were talking about Nigel trying to hit me with a deadly essence strike.”

Briallen moved the salad bowl to the island counter. “Look, Connor, you know that Nigel and I don’t agree on everything, but I don’t believe he would hurt you. In fact, if you think about it, his going to Tara will take Maeve’s attention away from you.”

“Tara? I heard Russia.”

She leaned against the counter and sipped her wine. “Via Tara, of course. Trust me, Connor. Maeve isn’t going to forget you anytime soon. Between her worries about the Taint and all the deaths here, you need to be careful.”

“I’m not afraid of Maeve.”

She lifted her chin and smiled. “Good. Just remember that not being afraid is not the same as poking a bear with a stick. Can you get the door?”

The doorbell rang. When I opened the door, Murdock and Meryl stood side by side, each holding a brown-papered bottle. Meryl stamped snow off her Doc Martens. “Guess who tried to give me a ticket for parking in an illegal parking space?”

I cocked my head out the door. “The guy who’s parked at the fire hydrant?”

She mock-glowered at Murdock. “The very one. I mentioned it would be a shame if that hydrant broke in this cold weather.”

She removed her full-length wool coat. Murdock and I smiled at the same time. Meryl wore a black leather top with long lace sleeves, a short black wool skirt, and fishnet stockings. She caught our expressions and looked down at herself. “What? Are the stockings too much? I wore the violet ones because the pink looked kinda trampy for dinner.”

I smirked. “They look fine.”

“More than fine,” said Murdock.

She rolled her eyes. “Children.”

“Hey, you wore ’em. Don’t complain if we look,” I said.

She took her bottle back, and we followed her into the kitchen. Meryl hopped on a stool and said hello. Briallen, I noticed, barely acknowledged her. The two of them disagreed about things I wasn’t privy to. Sometimes I thought it was druidic politics. Sometimes it seemed something more.

Murdock handed Briallen the bottle of wine. She placed it on the counter next to Meryl’s. “You look well, Leonard.”

“Thank you, Ms. Gwyll. You like French wines, if I remember.”

She smiled and brushed her hand down his arm. “Charmer.”

She handed off the bottle to me. “If you could do the honors.”

Murdock and Meryl teased each other about their parking skills while I hunted down the corkscrew. Briallen laid out the salad bowls, and we took seats around the kitchen island. I poured the wine. I may like my Guinness, but a glass of wine in Briallen’s kitchen brought back pleasant memories from my younger days.

Murdock made a curious face as he chewed. “What’s this dressing?”

“Vinaigrette, mostly, with a few special things thrown in,” Briallen said.

“Don’t ask the definition of ‘special things,’” I said. Briallen poked my hand with her fork.

Murdock chuckled. “I never know what I’m eating around you people.”

Meryl poured herself another glass of wine and leaned on her elbows. “So, Murdock, I heard you’re knockin’ boots with someone.”

Murdock choked in surprise. “Why is everyone so interested in my love life?”

Meryl’s eyebrows went up. “Ohhhh! Love life? No one said anything about love.”

He twisted his lips in a smirk. “Are we talking about you, now?”

Meryl smiled as she sipped her wine. “No changing the subject.”

He shrugged. “All I’m saying is there’s a lot of scuffed boots at this table, and they’re not mine.”

Briallen’s brow went down slightly as she parsed his meaning. The on-again, off-again, on-again thing Meryl and I had going was not something I discussed with her. “Hey, isn’t this snow crazy?” I said to change the subject.

Briallen nodded as she brought stew to the table. “That was cailleacha work if I ever saw it. They stayed away from here, though.”

“Maybe they haven’t decided whose side they’re on yet,” I said.

“The solitaries,” said Meryl, around a mouthful of salad.

“Oh?” I asked.

She nodded. “They caused the storm. Zev got word that the Dead were going to attack, so he asked the callies to provide some resistance.”

“I guess it didn’t work,” I said.

“It could have been worse,” Meryl said quietly.

We avoided looking at Murdock.

“Jark’s been released,” he said.

I didn’t expect that. “How? I thought you said you could hold him?”

Murdock poured himself more wine. “Someone put the word out to let him go. The Dead’s legal status is messed up, and the city’s afraid of lawsuits.”

Briallen shook her head in exasperation. “That whole situation down in the Weird is getting out of hand. It’s neglect.”

I dropped my fork and clutched my chest melodramatically. “Finally, Briallen ab Gwyll agrees with me.”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “It’s not your issue to agree or disagree with, Connor. I never said the Guild deals with the Weird appropriately. I said you let it annoy you too much. I’ve lived a long, long time. There’s always a Weird of some kind, and neglect is always the reason it exists.”

“So you just accept its existence?” Murdock asked.

She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not per se. It’s a problem to be managed. Acknowledging that it can’t be eliminated isn’t the same thing as allowing it to flourish or degrade.”

“So how would you manage it, Briallen?” Meryl asked.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. I knew Meryl well enough to know her flat tone was about disagreement and challenge, like I knew that Briallen’s habit of making eye contact then breaking it was a sign of disagreement and dismissal. “By getting people talking to each other,” Briallen said.

“In other words, let other people fix it,” Meryl said.

Murdock and I threw wary glances at each other. The firmness of their responses was feeling a lot like a prelude to an argument. My idea for us all to have dinner with Briallen was on the brink of spinning out of control. As I tried to think of a way to redirect the conversation, Briallen surprised me by laughing. “You’re right, Meryl. It’s never been my nature to step in and solve problems. Maybe I’m a bit selfish that way. No one ever tries to solve mine.”