Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (22 page)

“You know, stoppin’. . . ” Eamon’s voice dropped to a whisper, “the fair folk
.”

Meaghan glanced around the room. Everyone, including the monks, looked as confused as she was. “Stop them how?”

Eamon scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know exactly, but he told me it would.” He glanced around. “What? I’m doing good work here.”

“He is an idiot,” Dustin said. “Dude, what did you do?”

“I kept the archive locked all day. There was a spell, he said, on a warrior we need, and if the archive was locked, then the spell would have to be fiddled with to get it back open and the warrior would be set free.” He beamed. “See? I’m helpin’.”

“And just like that, Sparky’s back in business.” Terry slumped to the kitchen floor. “Shit.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

R
USS EVENTUALLY SNAPPED
out of his awe of Terry and announced he was going back across the street to cook dinner and anybody hungry should follow him.

Natalie pointed at her shiny leather boots. “These are new. I’m not taking them out in this crap.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Russ said.

Steph pointed at Eamon. “What do we do with this?”

Todd, the monk with the glasses and shaved head, stepped up. “I’ll take him back to the archive and turn him over to the brothers. Let them deal with him. Unless you guys want to talk to him some more.”

“Nope,” Meaghan said. She didn’t need any further confirmation that Cooper was behind this. “Take him.”

Dustin offered to head across the street and try to open a door to the archive in the Keeles’ house. If he succeeded, they could take a shortcut.

Meaghan pulled on her coat to follow Dustin.

“Don’t you want to stay out of the snow?” Natalie asked. “You should see this place. It’s like a medieval castle.”

Meaghan felt a swoop in her stomach and realized the idea of venturing through a gateway into another realm felt about as appealing as going into a narrow cave.

Apparently, it showed on her face.

“You’ve got a magical gateway phobia now?” Natalie asked. “Need Owen to hypnotize you again?”

Part of their efforts to get into city hall during the Labor Day mess had involved a cramped underground tunnel. Owen had successfully treated Meaghan’s claustrophobia, in the short term at least, with hypnosis.

But that had led to a flashback of the drug-induced psychic powers she’d gotten on her trip to Fahraya, powers she never would have had if she hadn’t been attacked by a giant scorpion. She’d barely escaped with her life.

The second gateway she’d encountered led her to the stinky space squid.

Meaghan shook her head. “Every time I go near a damn gateway I get attacked by monsters.” She felt her face redden. “And it’s not a phobia. A phobia’s an irrational fear.” She stared at her feet. “Based on my experiences, my fear is totally rational.”

Gee, a little more babbling and maybe you’ll convince yourself.

“Is this what you need to tell me?” John moved to her side. “Is this what’s been going on?”

I wish.

Her face got even redder. “No. That’s . . . different.”

Worse, you mean.

Shut up
, Meaghan told herself.
I’ll tell him tonight.

“I’m going home.” Meaghan stomped out to the front door, stepped into her boots, and pulled on her coat. She yanked open the front door, and the cold hit her like a wall. The snow was falling so fast she could barely see her house in the murky, fading twilight.

Dustin stepped to her side. “That’s a lot of snow.”

John was stepping into his boots. “I’ll go with you. We’ll flash the porch light when we get there so they know we made it.”

“Me, too. This was my bright idea to begin with,” Russ said as he pulled on his coat. “Let’s go.”

The four of them struggled across the street. The snow was knee-deep and blowing sideways. As they got closer to the Keeles’ house, Meaghan saw drifts that extended almost to the second floor. The giant oak tree near the driveway was so laden with snow some of the branches touched the ground.

They clambered up the porch steps and into the house. Russ flipped the porch light on and off a few times. A corresponding flash came from the Donners’ house.

“At least the power’s still on,” Meaghan said.

The house went dark.

“You had to say it,” she heard Russ say. “You had to. Good job, sis.”

“Shut up,” Meaghan said.

Melanie appeared with a candle. “Welcome home. So much for a hot dinner.”

Russ shrugged out of his coat on his way down the hall. “It’s gas. I can still use the stovetop. We’ll manage.”

“Natalie’s back,” Meaghan said to Melanie. “Over at the Donners’. She’s fine.”

Melanie sighed. “That’s a relief.”

“We’re trying to open up another gateway over here so she can cut back through the archive and not get her feet wet,” Dustin said.

“Get on it,” Meaghan said to Dustin. “Use the dining room.”

He nodded and pulled a piece of chalk out of his jeans pocket.

“How’s our prisoner?” Meaghan asked.

“Under guard, but quiet,” Melanie said.

“And Sam?”

“Sleeping,” Melanie said. “He’s still getting his strength back from . . .” She glanced away.

“Melanie, I’m sorry I was so harsh with you earlier,” Meaghan said. “Buzz told me what the stakes were back then. There were no good choices to make, only less bad ones. I get it now.”

Melanie nodded. “Thank you for that, but Sam makes me wonder if we didn’t pick an especially bad option.” She sighed. “Let’s get more candles lit. I gathered up everything I could find when the lights were still on in case this happened.”

“How are we set for heat?” Meaghan asked her.

“The witches could help if they weren’t using so much magic downstairs.”

“It’s a gas furnace?” John asked.

Meaghan nodded.

“There are ways. If I can’t get it to work, maybe Terry can,” John said.

“You’re not going downstairs with that damn elf,” Meaghan said. “No way. Let’s get some light first and if Dustin can get that doorway open—”

“Done,” Terry said, walking from the dining room. “Nice dry little shortcut now between our houses. You got a gas furnace?”

“Yeah,” Meaghan said.

Terry nodded. “Then all you need is a way to power the fan. Let me grab some stuff from my house. I’ll get you set up.”

“I can help,” John said.

“Not a chance,” Terry said. “You need to stay away from the basement for now. But you can help me carry me shit.”

“Thank you,” Meaghan said as Terry and John headed into the dining room.

“Now we don’t have lights?” Natalie stomped out of the dining room. “This keeps getting better and better. I need to check in downstairs. I’m late for my shift.”

“Where are the monks?”

“Luka’s cluing them into the realities of Norse mythology.” Natalie shook her head. “Freaky stuff.”

“Did you know—”

Natalie cut Meaghan off before she could finish her question. “No. Geez. I knew they’d had a checkered past, but the god thing I didn’t know anything about.” She shook her head. “Will you stop being so paranoid already?”

“Candles,” Melanie said. “We have work to do.”

“I’m not paranoid,” Meaghan mumbled.

Melanie patted her arm. “You can be, dear. Occasionally.”

Back in the kitchen, they sorted through the candles and flashlights Melanie had gathered. After a few minutes, a warm glow filled the kitchen. Whatever Russ was doing at the stove filled the kitchen with a delicious aroma.

Steph appeared holding a huge soup pot. “Russ, here’s a pot of chili. I’ve got a gas stove, too, so I can help you with the cooking.”

Russ peered into the pot, a suspicious frown on his face.

“The recipe you gave me a couple of weeks ago,” Steph said. “I used grass-fed beef from the food co-op.”

Satisfied, Russ nodded and took the pot from her hands.

Steph and Meaghan exchanged a glance and tried not to laugh. When she had the giggles under control, Meaghan asked, “Are the phones still working?”

“Let’s find out,” Melanie said.

Russ pulled out his phone. “No service.”

“Mine’s out, too,” Melanie said.

“Terry broke mine with that lightning bolt,” Meaghan said.

“The land line’s out, too,” Russ said.

They heard slow footsteps on the basement stairs and Lynette appeared.

“What are you still doing here?” Meaghan asked. “Who’s down there now?”

“Gretchen and Natalie,” Lynette said in a grim voice, her face haggard with fatigue. “The relief shift failed to show and nobody else is coming. We can’t zap ourselves out and no new witches can get in.” She pointed upwards. “Big barrier, like a dome.”

“The elves?” Meaghan asked.

Lynette nodded. “Probably.”

“We’ve got our own barrier?”

“Yeah,” Lynette said. “For now.”

“Why do they have to zap?” Russ asked. “Why not drive? The roads can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, they can. Last we heard, it’s so bad the governor’s declared a snow emergency with a mandatory curfew. We called everyone we could before the phones went out. Those we could track down were too snowed in to move. Then the barrier appeared a little while ago and now we can’t even make calls.”

“Lynette, go up to my room and lie down, okay?” Russ said. “I’ll bring up some supper in a little while.

Lynette nodded and headed upstairs.

“They’re isolating us,” Meaghan said. “No lights, no phone, and now no heat.”

“Terry will get the furnace working,” Russ said, a worshipful glow on his face.

“Not gonna happen.” Terry loomed in the doorway, John right behind him, both with snow in their hair. As Terry stepped closer, Meaghan could see his face set in grim lines. “Somebody smashed up the generator in my garage.”

“Magically?” Meaghan asked, feeling her anxiety grow.

No help is coming. It’s all on me again.

“No, with a crowbar,” Terry said. “Which means it wasn’t an elf.”

“Wizard?”

“Wouldn’t have to be,” Terry said. “Can’t use magic on a crowbar. And whoever did it covered it back up neatly with the tarp. I haven’t used that generator in a couple of months. It could have happened any time.” He gave a small bitter laugh. “Maybe they want me to use . . . you know.” Slumping into a chair, he buried his head in his hands. “I want a drink.”

“Good thing I’m here then,” John said. “You have been sober this time for how long?”

“Sixty-two years, three months, and five days,” Terry said.

He doesn’t even have to think about it.
She glanced at John, wondering if he could answer with the same unthinking ease.
I’ve been too afraid to ask.

John smiled. “Oh. Then I can’t help you. They don’t make sobriety chips that big. I guess you have no choice then. What can I get you? Wasn’t mead your drink?”

“Screw you, your majesty.” Terry brushed his hair out of his eyes, a hint of smile on his face. “I’m getting schooled on this shit by the deposed king of the fairies who’s got less than a year in the program?”

“So it seems,” John said. “Can you use the lightning to start the furnace?”

“I’m . . . I can’t . . .”

“So you say.” John nodded.

“And if the wizards did this—”

“They have a reason, which we’ll find out soon enough,” Meaghan said. “Forget about the bigger picture for a second. Is there anything you can do to get the furnace on?’

“Not with that.” He pointed his finger at Meaghan. “If I
zzzzt
, all it will do is destroy the furnace. It’s huge heat and huge power, but in one concentrated place. Makes it useless for anything but frying people.”

“And lighting your forge the last time you were sober for any length of time,” Steph said. “Don’t think I didn’t know about that.”

Terry glared at her.

Steph stared back, unimpressed, until Terry looked away.

“Can we go to the archive?” Russ asked. “If it gets too cold here?”

“Not anymore we can’t.” Dustin stood in the kitchen doorway. “The fair folk are crawling all over it. They’ve locked everybody in the wine cellar. They’re threatening to burn the archive unless we give them Sam and . . .” He pointed at Terry. “You. They really want you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight