The road proved impassable. It was so steep and slick with ice that he couldn’t get a foothold. Eventually, he went by the back way, up through the backyards of the big expensive estates, breaking the thick crust of ice on top of the snow with each step. It was just as wet and miserable as being on the street, but Jaysus, at least he had traction. For the first time since he’d left the hotel where he’d woken up earlier this evening, he felt as though he was actually in full command of his own limbs, instead of simply trying to keep his balance. Still, the going was slow.
The night was full of sound as he went. He kept hearing the sharp crack of tree limbs breaking, the thumps of the branches falling, the tinkle like breaking glass as the smaller twigs and bits of broken ice went skittering across the crusted ice.
Halfway up he saw the huge limb of a Manitoba maple split from the main tree trunk and come crashing down on the side of a house, stoving in the roof, walls, windows. The house’s security system kicked in and a shrill alarm began to bleat.
Donal paused, wondering if he should see if anyone needed help, but then shook his head and continued on. The fat buggers in these houses thought they shat roses. Let them have a little taste of real hardship. Do ’em bloody good.
The alarm followed him up the hill, until it was suddenly turned off. He glanced back, but the place was out of sight by now. His gaze moved on to take in what he could see of the city through the winter-bare trees. The carpet of lights he’d been expecting was present, but there were patches here and there where areas were blacked out. Power failures. As he watched, another section, a few dozen blocks, winked out, just like that.
Jaysus, what a bloody night. It was like magic, more power to it. The whole world feeling a bit of his own misery. Inconvenienced, are you? Power failed and you can’t run out and spend your cash? Well, sod you. Sod on the lot of you.
He was grinning as he finally made it up through the trees behind Kellygnow, soaked to the skin and shivering, legs aching from the hard trek of breaking through the ice crust with each step.
“In a good mood, are we?” a voice asked him from out of the darkness.
“Why not?” he replied. “It’s a fucking beautiful night.”
One of the Gentry stepped out from the trees, a smile flickering on his lips.
“You’re the hard little shite, aren’t you?” he said.
“Maybe. But not as hard as you lot.”
“Don’t you forget that, boyo.”
All Donal wanted to do was grab him and start pounding his Gentry head against the nearest tree, but that would serve no purpose except to allow him to vent his anger. There was no percentage in it. Nothing to be gained. Donal could be patient. Time enough to deal with them when he had the mask. Until then, they were simply walking dead men, so far as he was concerned. But powerful enough in their own way. No need to test their mettle.
So he put on a friendly mask, the one he always wore around the Gentry, a little hard, a lot wary. They liked it that he stood up for himself, but they liked to think they scared him, too. He could accommodate them. He’d always been good with masks, but then most people were. Who showed their true face, their true feelings, anymore? The Green Man mask would simply be one more, though more potent to be sure. When he had that, all the other masks could be thrown away.
For now he squinted at the hard man. He was looking for something you wouldn’t know was there unless you knew to keep an eye out for it. The heavy sleet continued to pound down on him while the hard man was unaffected and Donal knew why. It was because he stood between, in that uncertain and shifting place that separated this world from faerie. It wasn’t a place Donal could find on his own, but with the hard man there, he could mark its boundaries. He slid a foot forward, concentrated on not looking straight at it, coming to it sideways, and then he was there, too, watching the rain, rather than feeling it, sensing the cold, but untouched by it.
He wiped the water from his face, raked his fingers through beard and hair to break up and dislodge the ice that had crusted on it. That was better.
“What’re you up to tonight, boyo?” the hard man asked him.
“I’ve come to see Ellie, but I got a little delayed by the weather.”
“She’s gone. Drove off in that van.”
With Tommy, Donal thought, translating the shorthand. So they’d actually gone off to make their rounds in the Angel Outreach minivan. Well, good luck to them in this weather. Considering what he’d seen on the way over, the only people they’d be serving up toddies and treats to would be police and repairmen.
“She’ll be back,” Donal said.
The hard man shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. There’s been a problem.”
Donal turned to look at him.
“Your man in the music store,” the hard man said.
“Hunter?”
“That’s a good name for him, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“How he’s up and murdered one of us.”
Donal’s eyes widened slightly, the mask almost slipping. Jaysus, he thought. Good on you, Hunter. I didn’t think you had it in you. But you’d better run far and fast now because you’ve gone and signed your own bloody death warrant, don’t think for a moment you haven’t.
“So what have you done with him?” he asked.
“Nothing. He’s under her protection.”
“Her?”
“An dealbhóir. The sculptor.”
“Ah.”
None of this made sense. What was Ellie doing with Hunter when she was supposed to be out in the van with Tommy? And then there was Hunter himself, killing one of the Gentry. Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. How was that possible? A few days ago Hunter had been incapacitated by a simple sucker punch, and now he was killing Gentry?
“So now what will you do?” Donal asked the hard man.
He shrugged. “We’re thinking on it.”
They were cunning, these hard men, capable of putting together plots of Machiavellian complexity, but not particularly bright, for all that. The thinking could take a long time, so maybe Hunter had a chance. If he traveled fast and far enough.
“Well, I’m off,” the hard man told him. “There’s a thought an dealbhóir might be reconsidering her bargain.”
That made Donal snap to attention.
“She wouldn’t,” he assured the man.
Jaysus, she’d better not, or he’d be left without a bargain himself.
“Then why’s she heading north?” the hard man asked. “Into the mountains where the enemy lives?”
“There’s some reasonable explanation.”
The hard man shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out. The others are already on their way. We’ll follow and see who she meets, and if it goes badly…” He ran a finger across his throat. “We can find another.”
“You won’t have to.”
The hard man gave another shrug. “We can be patient.”
“But to be so close.”
“Aye, there’s the rub. You ask me, we’ve been listening too much to the old hag in her cabin. Since when did we need a mask to have our way? Why rule, when you can simply kill?”
“Because there’s so many of them. A Green Man can run them off the land like lemmings over a cliff.”
The hard man spat. “I don’t like it.”
As he started to walk away, Donal called after him: “Do you mind if I hang about awhile? Stay dry while I’m waiting for Ellie to come back?”
He knew they didn’t like anyone messing about in their territory and if this between wasn’t, then what was?