I felt a flush of heat. Between her words and the exhaustion in her voice, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing bothered Meryl. Actually, everything bothered Meryl, but nothing usually penetrated. We made sarcastic jokes about Forest Hills. I didn’t realize what lurked behind the jokes. “Meryl, I’m sorry. I thought you were talking about work. I wasn’t considering what you went through.”

She shook her head. “You don’t remember it, Grey. It sucked. Now I have Briallen bitching at me, and Ceridwen prying into stuff that’s none of her business.”

A drys was a tree spirit, one druids held sacred, assuming their philosophy went in the way of worship. I wasn’t so sure it was a demigoddess, but it was powerful and humbling. I did remember Meryl’s being possessed by the drys. She looked amazing. She looked powerful. And scary. Then a cloud descended over my memory. I don’t know what happened after that until I woke up with my face in the dirt. “I don’t believe you let the drys die. Whatever happened, happened because it needed to.”

She shook her head. “You don’t remember it.”

I leaned forward. “I don’t need to. You would never have done anything that drastic if it could have been avoided. You did what needed to be done. I believe that.”

The corner of her mouth dimpled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long time.”

I smiled. “I didn’t say it to be nice. What can I do to help?”

Again with the up-and-down shoulders. “Nothing. I’ll figure out something. It’s just crap that needs to be ridden out.” She gave herself an exaggerated shake. “Okay. Pissy fit over. You look like you haven’t slept.”

“The dream. It’s happening more than once a night,” I said. The same dream had plagued me for more than a week. A stone fell through the sky, fell and fell, until it plunged into a dark pool of water. The impact made ripples that grew into waves. The air filled with mist and a sound like thunder. The images became confused, without any clarity, things moving and rushing and calling. The mist vanished, and two figures appeared in the distance, one all black and the other all red. They struggled, then there was a white flash and I woke up with the sound of screaming echoing in my head.

“I still think it’s a simple cause-and-effect metaphor. Something happens and causes something else. Your metaphors tend to be pretty simple.” Meryl was a Dreamer. She had visions in her sleep that told her things, sometimes things about people, sometimes things about the future. The visions tended to be littered with metaphors that mean something only to the people who have the dreams. Meryl was one of the few people who could consistently interpret her dreams. Mine started after my accident, but I never understood them until too late.

“What about the figures?”

She twisted her lips in thought. “Two many possibilities. You’ll have to Dream more to understand if they’re your generic symbology or a distinct message. They could be two sides of an argument or two real people or a past memory or a future struggle or…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I have to figure out my own personal metaphors. At least I’m not seeing dead bodies this time,” I said.

Meryl looked skeptical. “As far as you know. There is screaming involved.”

I slumped in my seat. “You always have a way of looking at the bright side.”

She shrugged. “Can’t help that. It’s my sunny nature. What are you going to say at the hearing?”

I pursed my lips. “Pretty much what I know. I think the part they’ll be most interested in is the part that I don’t remember.”

Meryl leaned back again. “Lots of politics in that room. Briallen and Nigel Martin have a battle of wills going.”

Before she became my friend, Briallen was my first mentor on the druidic path. Nigel took over after her. I used to think he and I were friends. Now I’m not so sure. “Briallen and Nigel have been bickering as long as I can remember.”

Meryl grinned. “Pretty much everyone is angry with him except, ironically, Eorla Kruge.”

“Eorla Kruge’s at the hearing?”

Meryl’s eyes gleamed with mischievous pleasure. “You didn’t know? She got the Guild Director position. It’s driving Ceridwen nuts. Eorla refuses to testify or recuse herself from the hearings.”

That didn’t surprise me. Nigel made some kind of deal with Eorla in exchange for her help at Forest Hills. When Eorla’s husband was murdered, she became the most powerful elf in Boston. Even though she was a high-ranking member of the Teutonic Consortium, her politics were nuanced enough to let me like her. She had the deft ability to anger her elven comrades as often as their fairy opponents and still get what she wanted. I respected that.

I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of hearings, I have to go.”

Meryl rocked out of her chair. “I’ll walk with you. I need to go upstairs and get some supplies before anyone finds out the budget is being cut.”

Out in the corridor, I slipped my hand onto Meryl’s back and gave it a soothing rub. She didn’t pull away. The elevator arrived empty, and she hit the button for the next subbasement up. I hit 23. “How do you always know so much about what goes on around here?”

She eyed me meaningfully. “Because the people upstairs always treat their assistants like crap, and they tell me stuff while they’re waiting for research.”

Once upon a time, I was one of those people upstairs. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

The door opened, and Meryl stepped out. “Not yet.”

That was when I had my oh-shit moment. “Meryl?” She turned with a smile. “I forgot to mention-I left an angry boggart in your storeroom.”

She swept her hands up under her bangs, as anger flooded her face. “I am going to kill you.”

The door started closing as she stepped toward me. There was no way I was going to stop it. “Sorry! I owe you one!”

Her sending slammed into my mind. Oh, you will owe me more than one. Trust me.

The twenty-third floor of the Guildhouse existed in two different towers connected by a sky bridge. One tower held meeting rooms and the main elevator shaft, the other a few private temporary offices with a separate elevator for executives to whisk in and out. When the main elevator opened on the public side, Guild security agents blocked my way. With a queen of Faerie in town, they went for the full security package-Danann fairies in black uniform, chrome helmets, and take-no-crap attitude. I didn’t pretend to be oblivious to the process. I flashed my badge and the subpoena without waiting to be asked.

An unusual array of the fey worked the hallway outside the conference rooms. Danann fairies and the lesser clans clustered in groups well away from elves and dwarves. True to their name, solitary fey kept to themselves. Neither the Celts nor the Teuts controlled or cared about them, the outcasts of the fey world. Fey on all sides sported visible injuries from the aborted battle at Forest Hills a few weeks earlier. Every time an elevator opened, all eyes shifted to the newest arrival, seeking a potential ally or noting a potential foe.

I had no time to suss out how the proceedings were going. Within minutes of my arrival, a brownie security guard escorted me to a table outside the door of the hearing room. “Weapons must be left here,” he said.

Without my abilities, physical weapons were my only defense. I understood the protocol. Security was security. I pulled a dagger from each boot and placed them on the table. One was a simple steel throwing knife I had owned for years. The other was a druidic blade, laced with charms and spells, that Briallen gave me last spring. “I suggest no one touches these,” I said.

The brownie wasn’t particularly impressed with the suggestion. Everybody probably told him the same thing. He announced my name and escorted me into the hearing room.