Gods and Swindlers (City of Eldrich Book 3) (11 page)

“It’ll have to do,” Terry said. “C’mon, Meg.”

They trudged back across the street. Meaghan said goodbye to John and promised him they’d talk later.

She almost succeeded in ignoring the relief she felt at not having to tell him about the attempted rape. She knew she had to deal with it, but not yet. She felt a flash of gratitude to the elf for arriving and giving her something else to worry about.

Gee, that’s not screwed up,
her rational voice said.
Denial by crisis. Nifty.

“Shut up,” she mumbled. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“Do what tonight?” Russ stood in the doorway to her bedroom.

“Goddammit, don’t sneak up on me.”

“Who were you talking to?” Russ said, with a worried look on his face.

Meaghan gave him a haughty look. “Myself. I was talking to myself.”

His face softened into a smile. “Oh, that’s okay then. Dad used to do that all the time.”

Meaghan’s eyes widened.

“Before he got Alzheimer’s,” Russ added. “Said it helped him think to hear it out loud. So, what’s going on? Where is everybody?”

Relieved that he didn’t seem to want an answer to his original question, Meaghan quickly filled him in on the morning’s events.

Russ merely nodded at the bad news, but lit up with joy when he heard Melanie and Steph would be hanging out in his kitchen all day. “I haven’t seen Melanie in months. And Steph promised she was going to show me some old recipes.”

“When did she promise that?”

“Last night. After you and John went to bed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You guys practically ran up here. I got everybody out before it got loud.”

Meaghan stared at him for a long moment, and then, to her surprise and utter mortification, she burst into tears.

Russ, horror on his face, rushed over and put his arms around her. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Meaghan choked. “Nothing ever happens because I won’t let it. Because of Labor Day. Didn’t Elena tell you?”

He rubbed her back and said, “She told me you had a big secret, but it wasn’t her secret to tell. What happened? What about Labor Day?”

The story spilled out and as it did, Meaghan realized it was marginally less painful to tell than it had been the first time with Elena.

“It’s not a contest,” Russ said. “You don’t need to be stronger than everybody.”

“But Marnie—”

“Don’t use her trauma as an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Meaghan said, trying to pull away from him.

“Yeah, it is, and you know it. If you minimize your pain by telling yourself you don’t deserve to feel it, then you don’t need to deal with it.”

Meaghan cried a little more because she knew he was right.

“John says we’re only as sick as our secrets,” Russ said.

“What?” Meaghan pulled away, and this time, he let her go. “Gotta blow my nose. Hang on.”

Russ followed her to the bathroom. “It’s an AA thing. Something Terry told him.”

“Huh,” Meaghan said, wiping her nose with a wad of toilet paper. “He should know. There’s a guy with some secrets. The immortal thing is only half of it. He’s got a past. John knows some of it. Melanie knows more. And they won’t tell me, as usual, but I’ll get it out of them.”

Russ sighed. “Or you could accept that sometimes people keep secrets for reasons important to them, and you need to let them tell you in their own time, no matter how hard it is to know someone you care about isn’t being straight with you.”

Meaghan glared at him. “You . . . damn it. You always do that, you sneaky bastard.” She punched him in the shoulder.

He smiled. “Do what?”

“Say what I need to hear instead of what I want to hear.” She hugged him again. “Bastard.”

“How long you gonna be at the office? Want me to pack you a lunch?”

She shook her head. “No idea. If I get hungry, I’ll grab something downtown.”

Russ nodded. “So, when are you gonna call one of those therapists?” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. “I wrote down the numbers for you.”

Meaghan stared at the paper like it was a snake about to strike.
Not now. I can’t do this now.
“Give me a break. First we gotta deal with the elf and—”

“Another excuse.” His smile vanished. “Make the freaking appointment already. You need to pull your head out of your ass. You’re no good to us like this. Don’t you see that?”

Meaghan stared at him, his words like a bucket of cold water in her face.
So maybe this way you can accept it?

Her rational voice waited for a response. “Yeah,” Meaghan finally said. “I do now.”

Relief washed over Russ’s face. “Oh, thank God. I thought I’d pushed my luck right off a cliff there for a moment.”

She smiled at him, feeling the weight lessen. “Next time, start with the tough love first, okay?”

He smiled back. “And I went with kind and patient. Silly me. I should know better.”

Meaghan said goodbye to everybody and headed into town. The city hall reconstruction project was nearly done, with only the solicitor’s office still to be completed.

The rest of the city departments had been back in city hall since Halloween, while the solicitor’s office had been doing business in the Keeles’ dining room. It had taken so long to complete their space because the attic where the office had been located had suffered the most damage. Plus, the space had been dramatically redesigned, some of it in what had formally been unfinished attic space, to make sure that the work spaces stayed clear of any mystical hot spots.

The building had been constructed specifically to channel and focus the mystical energies that converged on the site, with two points of focus located in the attic where the solicitor’s office now resided. The stronger of the two had been in Jamie’s office, a fact the Order had attempted to exploit in their quest to release their stinky tentacled monsters.

The same monsters Meaghan had vanquished with a stapler. She smiled as she pulled into her assigned parking space near the front door.
I fought monsters with a stapler and I won.

So calling a therapist shouldn’t be too hard, she reasoned. Russ was right. She wasn’t any good to anybody this way.

Meaghan made it all the way in the front door and halfway to the elevator before being intercepted by Emily Proctor, the city council staff director and second most powerful witch in Eldrich after Natalie. Before Labor Day, Meaghan and Emily had hated each other. After Labor Day, against all expectations on either of their parts, they had become friends.

Emily was going through her own rocky transition trying to escape from her former self. Not everyone was inclined to believe Emily’s Labor Day change of heart, particularly Natalie and Jamie, both of whom were convinced Emily was up to something.

“You’re back. Thank God,” Emily said, sweeping onto the elevator with her. “I’ll ride up with you.” As soon as the door closed, Emily looked at her shyly and said, “I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure we’d see you again.”

“Don’t ask me how I am,” Meaghan said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emily said. “Are you here about the carpet?”

“What about the carpet?” Meaghan asked. “I thought I was here to look at samples.”

“Um, well, yes, then Tony got involved.” Emily stared at her feet. “While you were away.”

Tony Diebler was Eldrich’s clueless mayor. He was the most gifted practitioner of denial Meaghan had ever met. Even with all the evidence staring him in the face, including a nearly destroyed city hall and a secretary who regularly talked to dead people, Tony still refused to believe in the supernatural.

Meaghan groaned. “How bad is it?”

“They finished it late last night. I haven’t seen it yet, but I can’t imagine it’s good.”

The elevator door slid open. The landing had been repaired as had the office entrance, which was one of the few things that hadn’t been relocated.

“Tell me it’s not the giant roses. Or the geometric mess. That pattern could give you seizures just looking at it.”

Emily sighed. “It sort of pulsates, don’t you think? I’m sorry.”

“That’s what Tony picked?”

Emily nodded. “Partly. He asked them to use both. I tried to stop him, but, well, he’s not afraid of me anymore. He’s only afraid of you and you weren’t here.”

“Not even Natalie? He’s not afraid of Natalie?”

“She hasn’t been here either,” Emily said, her face growing pink. “I tried calling her, but . . . well, you know how she feels about me.”

“Give her time,” Meaghan said. “You guys were enemies for years.”

“I didn’t mean for us to be,” Emily said, a worried frown on her face. “I really thought I was doing what was best for everyone.”

Emily had spent years wielding the legislative branch of city government like a club, retaliating for every perceived threat or slight, but Meaghan now understood the fear behind it. Even Emily’s betrayal of Jamie back in June, when she’d helped the Order kidnap him, had been motivated by her mistaken belief that Jamie was a threat.

Then came Labor Day, and Jhoro, and Emily’s mystical mind-meld thingy, and Emily had been reborn. Except nobody in city hall, other than Meaghan, believed it. Emily didn’t even always believe it, resulting in a few instances of her old self returning. But Meaghan—although still somewhat a neophyte about magic—was an old hand at politics and could tell the difference. Politics she could deal with. At least now she could talk Emily down when she started overreacting.

“Jhoro left, by the way,” Meaghan said. “He’s in Peru.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “What’s he doing down there?”

Before Meaghan could answer, something in the solicitor’s office exploded.

Chapter Fourteen

“A
GAIN?” MEAGHAN WRENCHED
open the office door and a cloud of smoke rolled out. Except it wasn’t smoke. It was mist. And it smelled like . . . “Doritos?”

Emily shook her head, a dazed look on her face.

“Come on,” Meaghan said, dragging Emily through the door into the new reception area, which was blocked from the rest of the office by a wall and a security window. Visitors had to be buzzed in. No more wandering into the solicitor’s office unannounced.

Meaghan had pushed for the increased security. While the old office had been heavily warded with spells to keep magical bad actors out, not all of their enemies were affected. The Order relied on guns as much as they did magic. Kady now had a panic button to alert the Eldrich police, as well as a hex bag to call the coven.

But security doors only worked when they were shut, which this door wasn’t. “This way,” Meaghan said. “Get a hex ready. We might need it.”

Emily nodded and began muttering an incantation.

“Who’s supposed to be up here?” Meaghan asked.

Emily held up her finger and muttered something else. “There. I’m ready. The designer was supposed to be here waiting for somebody. That’s where I was going when I ran into you. To see if we could do anything about the carpet.”

Meaghan looked down at her feet. “Oh, God. It really does pulsate, doesn’t it?”

Emily eyed it, a suspicious look on her face. “Yeah, it does. This isn’t right. This is—” She stared at Meaghan, fear on her face. “This is magical. Some kind of key.” She pulled Meaghan’s arm. “We have to go. They’re back. The Order is back.”

“Dude,” a male voice said, “that’s harsh. We hate those guys.”

A pimply faced young man, barely out of his teens, wearing a robe of rough brown linen that matched his shaggy hair, stepped out of the steam. He smiled and waved a pudgy hand. “Hi. Are you Meaghan?”

“Who the hell are you?” Meaghan stared. “Is this the designer?” she asked Emily.

The kid looked at her and then Emily, and his smile disappeared. “Designer? No, I’m one of the keepers.”

Meaghan shook her head.

“You know,” the kid said, “the Brothers of the Word? The keepers of the archive? Didn’t the leprechaun guy tell you about us? He’s been bugging us for months. You were supposed to come see us? To explain why you wanted the . . .” He looked around, then leaned closer. “You know. The stuff”—he glanced at Emily—“about the guys? Who do the thing?”

Meaghan shook her head.

“With the magic?” he asked. “You know,” he glanced around, then whispered, “the
war
?”

The pieces fell into place. Meaghan nodded. “My father’s lost journal entries. The fair folk.”

The kid looked panicked and shook his head. “Don’t say their names,” he squeaked. “Never say their names.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Meagan said. “I can’t say their names, remember? Don’t have enough vocal cords. What other euphemism would you like? They who must not be named?”

“Is she a witch?” the kid asked, staring at Emily.

“Yes,” Meaghan said. “A very powerful witch and if you don’t start making sense right now, she’ll turn you into a frog.”

The kid paled. “A frog?”

Emily nodded. “A frog.”

“I don’t want to be a frog.”

“Then start talking,” Meaghan growled. “How’d you get here?”

“How do you think?”

Meaghan scowled. “Not through the front door, I’m guessing.”

“Through the gateway,” the kid said. “The one back there.” He pointed in the direction of the less powerful mystic hotspot in what used to be unfinished attic.