Mark Del Franco - Unperfect Souls

“Wouldn’t be funny if we died in a car accident?” Murdock said. I stared at him slack-jawed as he laughed. When he saw the look on my face, he laughed harder. I laughed, too. We weren’t wrapped around a pole, and he was right. It was damned funny.

He eased his foot onto the accelerator and turned down Old Northern. Just short of the bridge, the Boston police and Guild and Consortium security manned a checkpoint. We passed them without incident. Murdock stopped at the bridge.

I didn’t move. “Do you blame me for what happened, Leo?”

For a long moment, he watched the snow coating the twisted beams of the bridge. “I don’t know how to answer that. If it wasn’t for you, it wouldn’t have happened, but that’s like saying it’s your fault. I don’t think I can go that far.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I don’t know how you don’t hate me.”

He sighed heavily and ran his fingers lightly over the steering wheel. “You know what’s the hardest part of being a Catholic, Connor? Forgiveness. If I can’t forgive other people, I can never forgive myself. That’s something the fey don’t get.”

Everything about the fey was about winning and revenge and our own brand of justice. Nothing was ever forgotten. Nothing was ever let go. How did you know the point beyond which justice became revenge? How did you forgive the intentional infliction of pain or the needless loss of life? How did you forgive the unforgivable, especially when the failings were your own? The fey had all these rules for getting along, but they always ended up being the cause for resentment and injury instead of the cure. And yet, despite a history of wasted lives and failed happiness, we still strove to make the world a better place. But in the end, we’re flawed—all of us, even the humans. We were all unperfect souls doomed to error. Maybe that was the point. Maybe it was that flaw that made us want more for ourselves, to want to change ourselves into something better. Murdock was right. The fey didn’t know how to forgive, and the humans weren’t much better at it. And, maybe, we needed to learn before we could build something better.

“So,” I said. “Who are you sleeping with?”

He laughed, a natural laugh, the laugh of the Leonard Murdock I knew. “Get out of the car, Connor.”

I grinned and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. He’d tell me eventually.

“Thanks, Leo,” I said. He didn’t respond as I got out of the car. He never says good-bye.

I walked across the bridge. Vitniri clung to the intersecting beams above, watching and howling as I passed. Other fey watched, too, hidden and alert, waiting for the Guild or the Consortium or the humans to make a move.

Uno materialized at my side and accompanied me down Sleeper Street, his dark bulk pressing against my leg. I let my hand trail through his thick fur. Next to the door to my apartment building, the Hound leaned against the wall, his cloak wrapped tightly around him and his hood pulled down to hide his face.

With a languid movement, he tossed something at me. I reached out and snatched it from the air. A shoe. Murdock’s shoe, in fact. “Tell Murdock I couldn’t find it sooner,” he said.

He crouched and whistled. Uno bounded toward him like a puppy. The Hound scratched him roughly under the neck. “He was supposed to protect Shay, but I guess he had his own ideas,” he said.

As I approached, his essence resolved more clearly in my sensing ability, confirming what I had sensed the night of the riots. “He did protect him. Just like you did, Robyn. I’m sorry I didn’t do the same for you,” I said.

Robyn stood and waved his hand at the dog. Uno danced backwards from him, then sat next to me. Robyn shifted his hood back, revealing his face. He looked the same, but the angry punk who protected his boyfriend from the dangers of the Weird had been replaced by a confident young man. Shay would be proud. “My death wasn’t your fault, Grey,” he said. “I was stupid. In the end, it was the best thing to happen to me. I’m not on drugs anymore, and I’m better than I ever was.”

“I don’t understand how you ended up in TirNaNog,” I said.

He shrugged. “The glamour stone I was wearing when I died fused with my essence. At least, that’s what my friend Alvud thinks.”

“Alvud Kruge?”

Robyn cocked his head. “Yeah, did you know him?”

I shook my head. “Never met him. I wish I had, though.”

Robyn pulled the hood up again. “He’s cool. He didn’t want to come through the veil on Samhain. He said the living have enough trouble without the Dead haunting them.”

“Is that why you haven’t told Shay you’re here?”

He wrapped his scarf around his face. “I wanted to know he was okay. I didn’t know I’d get stuck here. If the veil lifts, I don’t want to hurt him again by leaving. I came to ask you not to say anything.”

“I won’t, but he feels bad that you were angry with each other when you died. You might think about that.”

His face was unreadable behind the scarf. “I will.” He walked away, his green cloak fluttering in the wind, and faded from view as the snow fell around him.

People failed. It was what people did best. We tried and tried and tried to do the right thing, even when it was the wrong thing to do. I failed. I thought of Vize, and a knot of anger formed in my chest. He believed he was doing the right thing. What he failed to see was that anarchy wasn’t the solution to Maeve or even Donor. The world was a bigger place than the squabbles of two decaying monarchies. Something new had to happen. Maybe that was what Eorla was trying to accomplish. Or maybe she would end up creating another mess. But whether it was Vize or Eorla, or Maeve or Donor, the Wheel of the World would keep turning as It willed.

All of it was one as far as I was concerned.