Unperfect Souls (29 page)

I shook my head. “I don’t have an answer for that, Murdock. But I do know that there is no more essence in this body, and without essence, there is no reanimation.”

Janey crossed her arms. “I already told him Jark killed Sekka.”

That surprised me. “He’s an eyewitness to his own murder. How do we refute that he said she killed him?”

Janey gestured at Sekka’s body. “Physical evidence. Jark left here with a city-issued coverall as clothing. He didn’t want what he was wearing when he died.”

“I don’t blame him. It did go through the sewer,” I said.

Janey nodded. “But that didn’t wash out the DNA evidence in his clothes. I tested it. They were soaked in Sekka’s blood and his own.”

I pursed my lips. “You’re suggesting he couldn’t have Sekka’s blood on him if she killed him first.”

“Right.”

“But if she was near him when she was killed, her blood could have gotten on him if she was close enough.”

Janey nodded again. “True. But if she killed Jark first like he said she did, she’d have his blood on her. It’s virtually impossible to decapitate someone and not get blood on you. I checked everywhere. The only blood on Sekka is her own. The blood on Jark is hers and his.”

“He killed her first,” Murdock said.

“Which leaves the Hound,” I said.

Murdock stared down at Sekka. “You’re sure this won’t work?”

I shrugged and looked at the clock. “Yeah, but we can wait until dawn if you want.”

He nodded. “I’d like that.”

Janey and I exchanged a bewildered look. Murdock usually deferred matters of the fey world to me. He never disputed the things I told him. For someone who had been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, Janey seemed a lot more understanding than I was. As the only fey person on staff at the OCME, Janey was used to humans making odd requests and ignoring her expertise.

“Okay. We’re here, so we might as well,” I said.

Another twenty minutes would decide the issue either way, and waiting was a small thing compared to contributing to Murdock’s anger and frustration. I didn’t see the need to get into an argument about it.

“You want to tell us what’s going on, Murdock?”

He spread his hands over the body. “Let’s see what happens. I need to see what happens.”

“Okay,” I said.

The clock ticked off the minutes as we waited in silence. Murdock stared at Sekka’s body like it was going to reveal something important to him. Maybe it was. He didn’t like the whole reanimation thing, didn’t like the questions about his faith it created. Yet now he wanted to make it happen.

Dawn arrived. Sekka lay still, no sign of movement. No sign of essence. Murdock continued staring as Janey checked her watch. “It would have happened by now,” she said.

Murdock had a strange look on his face, at once relieved and frustrated. A polite smile flickered on and off his face as he looked at Janey. “I’m sorry. I had to take the chance.”

Janey pulled a sheet over the body. “Don’t apologize. Part of my job is research. We answered a question.”

We didn’t speak as we left Janey to close up the lab. Murdock pulled out of the parking lot and into early- morning rush hour. We crept along the access road to the highway, waiting to cut over to the Southie side of the channel.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” I asked.

“My father ordered the stand-down the night the Dead attacked the neighborhood meeting,” he said.

I nodded. “I thought so. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought you might think I was being cynical.”

“You are cynical. It gets worse. He as much as admitted he’s letting the Guild operate with no oversight,” he said.

“Why the change? He never likes the Guild to get the upper hand,” I said.

“They persuaded him that the issue was critical. The solitaries are hiding something the Guild wants. In exchange for allowing them in to get what they needed, the Guild offered to take care of the solitary leadership.”

I turned my head toward Murdock in disbelief. “Are you telling me your father—the police commissioner—took out contracts on fey people?”

Murdock grunted. “I asked the same thing. My father said the Guild assured him it meant the solitary leaders would be taken into legal custody. Then he said, of course, if someone dies in the attempt, it serves the same purpose. He smiled when he said it.”

“What does Sekka have to do with this?” I asked.

He glanced in the rearview mirror as he cut across the traffic lane. “She knows who killed her. We make an arrest, we expose the whole damn scheme.”

“You’ll expose your father, too,” I said.

“He’ll survive. That’s the point of their plan, Connor. It’s set up so that everyone can deny what’s going on.”

“So why bother?”

Murdock smiled. “Because it will stop. I don’t care what game the Guild is playing. I never have. I just want the killing stopped.”

“So, we’re back to square one, then. Sekka didn’t reanimate,” I said.

He pulled up in front of my apartment building. “Maybe not.” He gave me a sly smile. “So, who’s the Guildmaster sleeping with these days?”

I chuckled. “That’s funny. That’s very funny.”

I pulled the sending stone out of my pocket. The palm of my hand tingled as my body signature interacted with the ward spell on it. I held it near my mouth. “Hey, gorgeous. I have something for the Old Man.”

Her voice floated softly out of the stone.
I hear you, handsome. I’ll let you know when a car’s ready.

 

 

 

 

As luck would have it—my luck anyway—my request to see Eagan fell on the same day as his annual Winter Solstice party. When Tibbet called back and told me Eagan thought the party would be a convenient cover for the meeting, I tried to beg off and arrange another time. Eagan wouldn’t hear of it.

It had been over three years since my last invitation to the party. Three years ago, I was a sought-after party ornament. I realized after I lost my abilities that’s what it really was all about: who could get the prize guest. I was riding high then, solving big-time cases, the go-to guy for advice, and the role model for a career on a rocket. Any host who snagged me with a party invite could bask in my coveted reflected glory. Receiving Eagan’s invitation to the Solstice party put me on the must- have list for everyone else’s events. Getting dropped from his list had the opposite effect. No one wanted to preen over last year’s favorites, and now I was not even that.

The cedar-lined driveway to the Guildmaster’s mansion was a postcard-perfect Yule scene. The car headlights reflected off the snowbanks to either side, and the soft crunch of tires rolling over the snow-softened pavement evoked a warm nostalgia for winters past. At the top of the drive, the cedars ended, opening to the wide vista of the front lawn, a meadowlike expanse of untrodden white velvet. A soft yellow glow lit the windows in the house with telltale flashes of blues, pinks, and yellows from flits dancing in the air.

Dozens of cars and a few limos lined the drive, where brownie security guards jockeyed them into place. They cleared the front as my car approached, and the driver stopped at the front steps. Someone opened the rear door for me, and I got out of Eagan’s official Guildhouse limo. Eagan wanted people to notice me arrive and had used his own car to send the message that he had invited me. Whatever his reasons, he wasn’t bothering with subtlety.

Despite the cold, the front doors were flung open to the outside, framing the party within. People danced and swayed and flew in the grand hall. Enough greenery had been brought in to create a forest. Cedar and fir garlands adorned the doorways and ceiling cornices. Branches were twined around pillars and woven through the balustrades of the staircase leading to the second floor. Sprays of mistletoe hung from the enormous chandelier, and white roses overflowed from tall crystal vases. On the upper balcony overlooking the room, an orchestra played traditional Yule music with flutes.

Tibbet found me before I left the vestibule. She wore a floor-length dress in maroon velvet, her hair in a tangle of long, thin braids with amber crystals threaded through them. She wrapped her arms around me, spinning us both in a circle as we kissed, before pulling away with a huge smile on her face. “You look dashing, sir.”

Her words made me feel better about my outfit. Gone were the days of high-end designer fashion on a regular basis. I was wearing a deep violet silk jacket that I had had for years. I was actually surprised to discover I still had it. Most of the good stuff had gone long ago to consignment shops. A simple black shirt and pants finished off the outfit. People don’t notice old black unless they look more closely than they should anyway. I couldn’t not smile at Tibbet. “And you, my love, look more gorgeous than ever.”

“Promise me we will dance later?”

I slipped my arm around her. “If you promise it will be something slow.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. “Or we can just stand like this and be the envy of everyone else.”

I kissed her temple. “Thanks, Tibs. You always say the right thing.”

She smiled up at me. “Get yourself a drink and mingle. Manus is holding court by the fireplace. He said to tell you he’ll meet you upstairs later.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

She did a little twirl away and pointed at me as she slipped back into the crowd. “And we will dance, handsome.”

The bar was set up under the stuffed elephant. Around me, glances slid away before I made eye contact. The fast fall from grace meant a long climb back up, and three years was nothing in the fey world. I had made matters worse by not wanting to climb in the same direction again. It was still uncomfortable to be snubbed.

I lingered near the back of the hall in a recessed alcove by the French doors, watching Eagan greet his guests. Even though he was near a roaring fire, he had draped a blanket on his lap. Despite his pale and gaunt face, he seemed to be enjoying himself. I didn’t begrudge him the opportunity to be fawned over. He didn’t leave his house for months at a time anymore. I certainly didn’t envy him the apprehensive looks people gave him, like he was going to die any moment.

“I never pictured you as a wallflower,” someone said next to me.

With all the fey folk in the room, keeping track of body signatures was pointless. I hadn’t realized Moira Cashel was standing near me until she spoke. “I’m waiting to speak to someone.”

Moira was decked out as only the rich fey could be. She wore a midnight blue gown shot with white crystals and an evening wrap of gossamer-thin white cloth. More jewels glittered on pins in her hair—true diamonds and sapphires. A glamour completed the outfit, a soft, gauzy halo of golden light that made her look like she floated in a cloud of sunshine. There was no denying she looked incredible or—for that matter—that she knew she did. She sidled closer. “If only it were me,” she said.

I glanced down at her. “What do you want, Moira?”

She lifted a champagne glass to her lips. “I think the moment you could do something for me passed in your apartment, Connor.”

I chuckled. “Yes, well, if you need a good lay, I’m sure you can find someone else here.”

She gave me a tight smile. “Bastard.”

I shrugged. “You’re not the first to call me that, so I’ll ask you again. What do you want, Moira?”

Essence rippled as her face shifted to Amy Sullivan’s softer jawline, and her hair lightened. “A piece of the past, Connor. A piece of me that I’m afraid doesn’t exist anymore. Can you look at this face and feel nothing?”

“Oh, I feel something all right, just not what you intend. I’m going to walk away if you don’t stop using that glamour,” I said.

Tears—real ones, I think—sprang into her eyes. “Why? Because I’m destroying some kind of delusion you had by revealing that perfect Amy Sullivan was more than you knew? That she was a woman with a life and a home that you knew nothing about? That she was in pain, and you appeared at the right moment?”

“I did not seduce you,” I said.

A cold light crept into her eyes. “We seduced each other, Connor. You may not have been a man yet, but you weren’t a child either. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

I shook my head and laughed in disbelief. “If you were a man, I’d knock you on your ass for that. You know nothing about what was between me and Amy. You’re just a manipulative creature from Tara working for an egomaniac who’s afraid that I know she’s responsible for what happened here on Samhain.”

She seemed genuinely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

I stepped closer to her, forcing her to step back against the wall. “Maeve abandoned us to save her own precious skin, and if not for me, this entire city would have died, too. So spare me the feeble little guilt trip about who I slept with years ago. If you really are Amy, then you made your bed and, yeah, you slept in it. And if you want to get in bed with Maeve now, you’ll suffer the consequences. I don’t give a damn, and I sure as hell am not going to fall for whatever game you’re playing now.”

Tears flowed free. She slapped me across the face. “You are a bastard.”

I frowned. “Yeah, well, maybe you helped make me one.”

“What the hell is this?”

Moira gasped and extinguished the Amy glamour. Behind us in a formal tuxedo, Commissioner Scott Murdock looked more angry than I had ever seen him. He wasn’t looking at me, but at Moira. “Commissioner, I’m sorry if—” I began.

“Shut up, Grey.” He shoved me aside and grabbed Moira by the arm. “I asked you a question.”

“Scott, I—” she began.

He shook her. “Scott, is it? Scott?”

I pulled at his coat. “Commissioner, I can explain.”

He dropped his hand, then grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me against the wall. “What game do you think you’re playing with me, boy? Is this another Guild game to make me a fool?”