bound to Maeve’s and yours to his. That doesn’t make you bound to Maeve. Destiny may be transitive, but that doesn’t mean you’re the most important link in the chain.”
“What if you’re wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say I was right. I’m poking holes in your assumption that Maeve’s interest in you is an either/or proposition. You could be a much bigger problem for Vize than you are to Maeve.”
I nodded. “Eorla Kruge said something like that to me once.”
“She’s a smart lady. Maybe too smart. She requisitioned the rune research I did for Nigel,” Meryl said.
“She’s trying to reconstruct the runes on the oak staff,” I said.
Meryl twisted her lips in thought. “I don’t know if I like that.”
“If it means the end of the Taint, yeah, it’s a good thing,” I said.
“What if it means she re-creates the spell that destroyed Forest Hills?”
“I don’t believe that’s her goal,” I said. “She had the opportunity at Forest Hills to take control, and she rejected it. I believe her when she says she wants peace. It’s why her husband died.”
She sighed. “I always have a hard time believing people with noble causes. It usually means someone’s gonna die.”
“Dying can be noble,” I said.
She made an exaggerated shiver. “Yeah, that’s what nobility turns into—the rationale for every authoritarian regime I’ve ever seen.”
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something about the decapitation murders.”
Meryl leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “Severed heads and dinner. Who said romance is dead?”
I leaned forward, lowered my eyes, and dropped my voice to a husky whisper. “Wait until I tell you about the rotting bodies Murdock and I found in the sewer.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Grey, I think something’s happening to my naughty bits. Tell me more, please.”
I tapped her nose. “You are a whack job.”
She picked up her beer. “That makes you a whack-job chaser.”
“You said the Dead can’t regenerate without the head, right?”
The server gave me an odd look as she placed our dinners in front of us. Meryl plucked a fry from my plate. “Honestly, it’s conjecture. Good conjecture, but still conjecture. In TirNaNog, the head didn’t matter. The Dead were in the Land of the Dead. No matter how they were killed there, they reappeared the next day. Here, though, if you killed someone fey and kept the head separate from the body, you denied them entrance to TirNaNog. That much I know for sure. Under the current situation, TirNaNog is closed. No one’s getting in. When someone Dead dies here, they regenerate here. So, by taking the head, I think the Dead can’t regenerate here. Make sense?”
“I think so,” I said.
“We can test it,” she said.
“How?”
She shrugged. “Let’s kill a Dead guy and see what happens.”
I considered the idea. “Is it better to use a sword or an axe to behead someone?”
“Sword. A nice big one.”
I tapped the edge of the table without looking at her. Meryl had access to all kinds of artifacts at the Guildhouse, including weapons.
“Can I borrow one?”
She stole another fry. “Sure.”
I nodded in deep thought. “Okay, after dessert, then. I want to behead someone tonight if you don’t mind bringing me a sword.”
“Okay.”
I sprinkled salt on my burger, tossed the tomato aside, and closed the bun. I took a big bite and stared at Meryl. She stared back. She ate a chicken finger. I put a solemn look on my face and chewed mechanically.
“You’re serious,” she said. I nodded.
“Wow,” she said.
I smirked. “Gotcha.”
Her jaw dropped, then she laughed. “You did, you jerk.”
I hooted and clapped. “It’s about damned time, I did.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged. “Yeah, well, too bad you don’t have witnesses.”
I shook my head laughing. “I think your theory is right. In fact, I think we can test it. We already
“What if you’re wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say I was right. I’m poking holes in your assumption that Maeve’s interest in you is an either/or proposition. You could be a much bigger problem for Vize than you are to Maeve.”
I nodded. “Eorla Kruge said something like that to me once.”
“She’s a smart lady. Maybe too smart. She requisitioned the rune research I did for Nigel,” Meryl said.
“She’s trying to reconstruct the runes on the oak staff,” I said.
Meryl twisted her lips in thought. “I don’t know if I like that.”
“If it means the end of the Taint, yeah, it’s a good thing,” I said.
“What if it means she re-creates the spell that destroyed Forest Hills?”
“I don’t believe that’s her goal,” I said. “She had the opportunity at Forest Hills to take control, and she rejected it. I believe her when she says she wants peace. It’s why her husband died.”
She sighed. “I always have a hard time believing people with noble causes. It usually means someone’s gonna die.”
“Dying can be noble,” I said.
She made an exaggerated shiver. “Yeah, that’s what nobility turns into—the rationale for every authoritarian regime I’ve ever seen.”
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something about the decapitation murders.”
Meryl leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “Severed heads and dinner. Who said romance is dead?”
I leaned forward, lowered my eyes, and dropped my voice to a husky whisper. “Wait until I tell you about the rotting bodies Murdock and I found in the sewer.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, Grey, I think something’s happening to my naughty bits. Tell me more, please.”
I tapped her nose. “You are a whack job.”
She picked up her beer. “That makes you a whack-job chaser.”
“You said the Dead can’t regenerate without the head, right?”
The server gave me an odd look as she placed our dinners in front of us. Meryl plucked a fry from my plate. “Honestly, it’s conjecture. Good conjecture, but still conjecture. In TirNaNog, the head didn’t matter. The Dead were in the Land of the Dead. No matter how they were killed there, they reappeared the next day. Here, though, if you killed someone fey and kept the head separate from the body, you denied them entrance to TirNaNog. That much I know for sure. Under the current situation, TirNaNog is closed. No one’s getting in. When someone Dead dies here, they regenerate here. So, by taking the head, I think the Dead can’t regenerate here. Make sense?”
“I think so,” I said.
“We can test it,” she said.
“How?”
She shrugged. “Let’s kill a Dead guy and see what happens.”
I considered the idea. “Is it better to use a sword or an axe to behead someone?”
“Sword. A nice big one.”
I tapped the edge of the table without looking at her. Meryl had access to all kinds of artifacts at the Guildhouse, including weapons.
“Can I borrow one?”
She stole another fry. “Sure.”
I nodded in deep thought. “Okay, after dessert, then. I want to behead someone tonight if you don’t mind bringing me a sword.”
“Okay.”
I sprinkled salt on my burger, tossed the tomato aside, and closed the bun. I took a big bite and stared at Meryl. She stared back. She ate a chicken finger. I put a solemn look on my face and chewed mechanically.
“You’re serious,” she said. I nodded.
“Wow,” she said.
I smirked. “Gotcha.”
Her jaw dropped, then she laughed. “You did, you jerk.”
I hooted and clapped. “It’s about damned time, I did.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged. “Yeah, well, too bad you don’t have witnesses.”
I shook my head laughing. “I think your theory is right. In fact, I think we can test it. We already
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