Unfallen Dead (27 page)

Security agents rushed in, their hands primed with white light. Keeva came around the desk and stood over Meryl’s body. “You’re a little rough on the ladies, Detective,” she said.

Speechless, I sank to my knees and checked for a pulse. Relieved, I found it strong and regular. I pulled her against my chest. Even though she seemed fine physically, her essence wavered in my vision in an odd cycle of white and blue. Something was wrong.

Looking deeper, Meryl’s essence shone with a green haze but with an unnatural geometric shape burning blue in the middle of it, as if she had two different body signatures. I opened her coat. Something heavy shifted in the fabric. I slipped my hand into the inside pocket and found a brick of granite shot through with yellow crystal. Exactly like the ward stones Meryl used at the Guildhouse to amplify essence.

Without the ward stone, the woman in my arms blurred and changed shape. Her hair lightened to an ashen blond, and her features relaxed into the blunt face of someone I didn’t know. Repulsed, I pushed her away.

“Rhonda Powell. You were right, Connor,” said Keeva.

I looked up at Murdock. “How the hell did you know?”

He shrugged. “She called you honey. Meryl never calls you honey.”

I shot to my feet. “Are you kidding me?”

He backed away as he holstered his gun. “I’d be lying if I said I knew it wasn’t her, Connor. You were looking at her face. I keep my eyes on hands until they’re in cuffs. Hers turned white. I’ve seen that enough around you guys to know what comes next. I hit her when I saw that essence shot about to release. I’d do it again even if I was sure it was Meryl.”

Two responses warred within me. I wanted to thank him. I did. With Keeva’s physical condition weakened, he’d probably saved her life. Without her, Murdock would have his body shield, but I would have had no protection. But hearing the truth of the matter, that at the right moment, he put his personal feelings aside and hurt someone he thought a friend, struck a very deep chord. It was exactly what I feared I would do to Dylan. No matter how justified, it didn’t make me feel any better.

Keeva saved me from speaking. “Impressive reflexes, Murdock. I guess I owe you my thanks.”

He inclined his head to her. “You’re welcome.”

Keeva gestured to the Danann agents. “Make sure she’s properly secured. If she tries to escape, you are authorized to use any means necessary to take her down.” The agents wove a binding spell around Powell’s inert body, strands of fierce light winding about her body like rope. With practiced ease, they chanted a levitation spell to carry her out of the room.

“You could have told us you were here,” I said.

Keeva gathered up her necklace glamour. “I don’t believe in using civilians as bait.”

Murdock and I exchanged glances. It was a dig at us. We had used a young human as bait not too long ago. It hadn’t ended well.

“She should be in police custody,” said Murdock.

Keeva sighed. “You’re never happy, Murdock. You complain about the Guild not taking cases, and now you’re complaining that we are.”

“You’re not taking the murder cases. You’re taking a blackmail case,” he said.

Keeva walked to the front door. “Have your father call me. I’m sure the commissioner and I can work something out.”

Murdock’s strange essence surged again, a crimson flickering that enveloped him like a shroud. “Let it go, Murdock. She’s baiting you.”

He nodded without speaking, and his essence settled. “I want to be there for the interrogation.”

I hefted the ward stone Powell had used to create the Meryl glamour. “I think we’re all going to enjoy this one.”

Another day, another visit to the Guildhouse holding cells. Keeva had locked Rhonda Powell in the deepest subbasement the Guild had to offer. The only furniture in the granite-block cell room was the chair that Powell occupied. Five-foot-high quartz obelisks tipped with silver surrounded her to form a triangular essence barrier—standard protection wards. They suppressed most fey abilities. Protocol called for an added calming spell in case the suspect became agitated and tried to use essence anyway. Not that Powell needed it. For someone in as much trouble as she was, she acted like she was bored waiting for a doctor’s appointment.

Against the chill in the room, Powell wore the brown plaid coat that matched Wells’s. Glamours can change clothing, but it makes them harder to maintain over time. Without the glamour, Powell had the kind of bland, round face that’s easily overlooked in a crowd. Like her lover Viten, that plainness was an advantage when using glamours. It’s a heckuva lot easier to maintain strong facial features over slight ones than vice versa.

Keeva leaned against the wall near the door with her hands in the pockets of her black jumpsuit. To anyone who didn’t know her well, she maintained an air of calm. I knew her, though. The set of her jaw and the steady stare meant she was in no mood for games. I couldn’t blame her. The downside of being one of the good guys was you didn’t get to kill someone who tried to kill you. At least not so you would get caught.

Dylan stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He glanced at Murdock and me when we walked in. “We know you arranged the Met robbery with money you extorted from Ardman. We have video surveillance of you at the Met,” he said.

She shrugged. “Lots of people go to the Met.”

“Dead people?” Murdock said.

She sneered at him. “Obviously you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I demand to be released.”

Keeva cleared her throat. “I’ve heard that before. A little over ten years ago, someone else sat in that chair. Someone you know.”

Scorn filled Powell’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keeva strolled closer to the barrier. “We know you were Liddell Viten’s partner, Powell. Viten shot you in the head, yet here you are. I’m wondering if Viten’s not dead either.”

Powell’s gaze fell away. “He’s dead.”

“Then why kill people who could identify him?” I asked.

She looked at me with an impatient arrogance. “I killed no one.”

“I can identify your essence at the murder scenes,” I said.

A crooked smile broke across her face. “I doubt it. You would have to testify to what you truly sensed, and what you truly sensed was not me. I believe you already have the murderer in custody.”

I kept my voice even. I didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of knowing how angry I was. “Meryl Dian killed no one. You had the means and motive.”

Powell feigned surprise. “Meryl Dian? I never mentioned her. But now that you bring her up, I had lunch with poor Meryl not too long ago. She’s very troubled, you know. Something terrible happened to her a few weeks ago, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s become unbalanced. And bitter. Very bitter. She intimated that she would get what was coming to her from the Guild. In fact, she hinted about an old case she knew about with lots of money lying dormant. I have to wonder if there’s some improprieties in her financial situation. Poor thing probably thought she didn’t get enough recognition and decided to take matters into her own hands. I’d look into that if I were you.”

I didn’t exactly count to ten, but I did stop myself from saying anything. Powell was a con artist and, like all con artists, knew how to push people’s buttons. I didn’t let her. Instead, I looked at Murdock. “Meryl’s going to love this story.”

Keeva moved from the barrier and leaned against the wall again. “Nice theory, but it doesn’t quite explain why you showed up at Rosavear Ardman’s disguised as Meryl Dian. That, my friend, will throw more than enough doubt on your story.”

Powell pursed her lips. “Did Lady Ardman ever mention her love of antique jewelry to you? She asked Meryl to arrange something for her, a purchase I believe. Meryl told me she was overworked and feared she wouldn’t have time to complete the transaction with Ardman, so when we had lunch, she asked me to help her. She told me Ardman was a little paranoid so it would be better to glamour myself. I was under the impression it was a legitimate transaction. An old friend involved me in murder and robbery. I feel used.”

Keeva withdrew a dull stone from her pocket. She held high it enough for Powell to see. “This stone was found in your possession. You threatened to crush Ardman’s soul stone unless she cooperated.”

Powell emitted a small surge of essence, the kind that reflects a change in emotion. She shook her head, but her eyes were riveted to the stone. “Soul stones are a myth. Meryl gave me that ward stone for safekeeping.”

Keeva withdrew another stone from a different pocket and looked at it reflectively as she rolled it around in the palm of her hand. “Do you recognize this stone?”

Powell affected boredom.

“It’s an interesting story how I came into possession of this particular stone,” said Keeva. “A long time ago, I had a small case that turned into something much bigger. A con artist was implicated in a murder in New York. I handled the extradition, packed up the evidence we had collected, and sent it to the Guildhouse down there. Things didn’t work out as planned, though, and the murderer ended up dead before trial. Months later, the unopened evidence was returned to me. I sent everything to the archives but kept this stone in my office as a reminder that I should be more vigilant in the future.”

Keeva lifted her gaze to Powell. “It occurred to me recently that it could be a soul stone. Why else would Liddell Viten risk going down to the archives instead of escaping? But, you know what, Powell? I agree with you. The idea is absurd.”

Keeva’s hand glowed white with essence. She clenched her fist, and the stone crumbled. Powell blanched, clutching her chest in panic. Keeva brushed dust from her hands as Powell regained her composure. Keeva took yet another stone out of her pocket. “What an interesting reaction, Powell. That stone was a fake. Lady Ardman told me that you asked her for your soul stone, and you didn’t believe her when she said she gave it to the Guild. Lady Ardman identified it for me. This one’s yours, Powell, the very one you tried to steal out of the archives a couple of weeks ago and were sorely disappointed to find missing.”

Powell finally showed a break in her demeanor. She struggled to remain unimpressed, but real fear crept into her eyes. Keeva placed a hand on the obelisk nearest her and shot a bolt of essence into it. The essence barrier collapsed. She stepped up to Powell. “I’m no fan of Meryl Dian, but I know a setup when I see one. Where are the artifacts you stole from the museum?”

“I told you I didn’t . . .” Powell didn’t get to finish. Keeva’s essence pulsed to life, her wings flaring huge and white. With one hand, she grabbed Powell by the throat, lifted her from the chair, and thrust her against the back wall.

Dylan moved forward. “Director macNeve . . .” he said.

I grabbed his arm, and he stopped. I had never seen her lose her control when she was angry. Her methods could be aggressive sometimes, but she never crossed the line too far. Besides, I liked the look of terror in Powell’s face. She was getting a taste of what her victims must have felt.

Keeva’s eyes blazed white-hot as she leaned in toward Powell’s terrified face. “Listen to me, Powell. You’re legally dead. Know what that means? If I kill you, there’s no crime. If you don’t start answering questions, I’ll keep killing you until I get them.”

Powell’s eyes bulged as she clutched at the hand at her throat. Keeva let out a burst of essence that made the druidess convulse. Powell dropped to the floor. “Start talking,” Keeva said.

Tears poured down Powell’s face as she coughed. “I demand an advocate,” she said.

Keeva tangled her fingers in Powell’s hair. Dylan pulled away from me with enough force to send the message he wasn’t going to be stopped this time. “Enough,” he said.

Keeva ignored him. She yanked Powell’s head up. “I’ll see if we have to allow an advocate in for a dead person. In the meantime, think about your soul stone.”

She released Powell’s hair, turned on her heel, and tossed the ward stone to Dylan. He caught it one-handed.

“You’re welcome,” she said to him as she walked out.

“I demand the return of my soul stone,” Powell said.

Dylan reactivated the protection barrier around Powell. “You’re not in a position to demand anything.”

She stared for so long, I could almost see her evaluating her options. “I have information to trade that the Guild will want to know.”

Dylan held the soul stone between his thumb and index finger. Its pale blue surface had an intricate series of depressions that looked like ripples in the sand on a beach. “So talk,” he said.

“I want a promise in writing to turn over the stone before I will say anything,” she said.

Dylan shrugged. “I’ll need more than that before I agree, assuming I do. Make it worth it.”

Powell adjusted her clothing and resumed her seat. “A terrorist attack on the Seelie Court is imminent. Is that enough for you?”

Dylan twitched a small smile at me. “I already know that. I also know the sun rises every day, the sky is blue, and you’re not telling me anything. The Seelie Court is under constant threat of attack.”

Powell kept her expression calm, but she couldn’t hide her annoyance. “Bergin Vize is going to launch an assault against High Queen Maeve.”

Dylan moved toward the door. “Bergin Vize, Powell? Are you sure? Next you’ll be telling me the Elven King hates Maeve and fairies have wings. You don’t have anything to trade.”

He gestured for Murdock and me to leave.

“He’s found a way into TirNaNog,” Powell said.

Dylan opened the door. “And now we move into fantasy.”

Powell jumped to her feet. “You have less than hours before it happens. Give me the stone, and I will give you the names of all the Boston operatives I know that you didn’t arrest when the pimp was attacked.”

Dylan paused. “Now that’s out of left field. Why should I care about them?”

Powell let a little confidence slide into her posture when she saw Dylan’s hesitation. “Because they’re part of it. Get me that signed promise. Now. And I will tell you what you need to know.”