by Devon Monk
An arch at the far side opened onto a functioning kitchen, and I expected a bathroom might be back that way. From the layer of grime covering half of everything, the place looked more like a storage unit that had been turned out into a place to live than like a place to live that had storage in the corners.
Collins poured scotch into four glasses, while Shame mooched around the room, probably looking for something to steal.
“Where’s Davy?” I asked.
“He’s quite well,” Collins said. “Don’t worry yourself. But he’s resting right now. Here.” He strolled over and offered a glass to Shame, then two to Zayvion, who handed one to me. Collins kept his gaze carefully on Zayvion’s face, not mine. He, apparently, didn’t want to have his neck broken today.
I didn’t like scotch. And right now, I didn’t care.
“To your health.” Collins lifted his glass. We all shot it back. Yeah, it had been that kind of day.
The scotch burned a hot line down my throat to the soles of my feet, and my eyes watered. I managed to be a grown-up about it and didn’t make the “icky” face as I put the glass down on the shelf behind me.
“So, Ms. Beckstrom,” Collins asked with overt civility, his gaze properly fixed about two inches above my left ear. “How is it I may be of assistance?”
I rubbed at my eyes, ran into the damn glasses again. More finger smudges. Great. I took the glasses off and pulled the hem of my T-shirt, cleaning them.
“I’m here to check on Davy’s progress,” I said. “And I want—” I looked at Zayvion and Shame. “Maybe we all need to stay a while.”
“At least until the booze runs out,” Shame said.
Zayvion nodded once. Good. We agreed this would work as a place to regroup with everyone. At least temporarily.
“Is this your property?” I asked.
“Belongs to a friend of mine,” Collins said. “He’s out of the country right now. Uses it mostly for storage.”
“Do you think anyone would expect you to be here?” I asked.
Collins walked back to the bar and placed his glass there before turning and leaning his hip against the bar. “Which anyone are you asking about, Allison? The Authority? The Hounds? The police?” He was making eye contact again, his gaze slipping to my lips. It was like an old habit that couldn’t be choked out of him.
“Not the Hounds,” I said. “I know they know you’re here.”
He nodded. “I think they’re keeping an eye on the place, though they haven’t been in to check on Davy.”
“I told them to stay low.”
“Well, they are indeed doing that.” He shifted so he could pour himself another drink. “As far as I know, the Authority doesn’t monitor this building or block. It’s one of the reasons why I chose it. As for the police, I haven’t seen many drive by. I keep the lights low and an eye on the doors, just in case.”
“Can we can stay here for a bit?” I asked.
“Too long, and I suppose someone will notice the comings and goings. But there is ample space for beds, and plenty of linens. Food enough for a few days, I’d think. I will, of course, have to add room and board onto the bill you’ll be paying for Davy’s medical care.”
“Of course,” I drawled. I’d hired Collins to give Davy magic and medical care. If Dr. Fisher and every other physician I knew who dealt with magic weren’t also involved with the Authority, and therefore pretty much out to get me, I would have much preferred to take Davy to a hospital.
But Collins was all I had.
For now.
“Shame, would you let your mom, Terric, and Victor know we’re here? Tell her to bring the magic with her tonight, if she can.”
“So many,” Collins said, a hard edge in his voice. “I didn’t realize you’d be inviting so many people for company.”
“Problem with that?” I asked.
“Oh, no. Not at all. I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine.” And then he smiled, which meant we probably would not.
Terrific. Just.
“So,” Shame said. “The bathroom? I need to take a leak.”
Collins nodded to the narrow greenish hall. “Down there, second door on the left.”
Shame clunked his glass on the shelf. “Don’t kill anybody while I’m gone, you two.”
“Anything else you’ll need?” Collins asked as Shame stalked off. “Food? Supplies? Tranquilizers maybe?” He looked up at Zayvion instead of me. Zayvion hadn’t moved since we stepped into the room. He looked like a bouncer who was waiting for the signal to kick Collins down an elevator shaft.
“Where’s Davy?” Zay asked.
Collins immediately became interested in adjusting the bandages on his hands. “Resting,” he said. “Resting.”
That might not be a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.
“Take me to him,” I said.
“I’d rather not,” he said. “He needs the rest.”
“Take me to him or I’ll make you wish you had.” I put my hand on the gun under my jacket and managed not to flinch at that contact. He looked at my eyes, my hand, then at the gun.
“That is not the gun I gave you,” he said, a little offended.
“Davy,” I repeated.
He inhaled, as if weighing a difficult choice. “Tell me you didn’t lose my gun.”
I just glared at him.
“He is doing well, Allison.”
“Heard that. Now I want to see it.”
The shuffling of footsteps from beyond the darkened arch made me turn.
“Yes,” Collins said. “He’s in there. But I don’t think now is the time to see him. He’s still… recovering.”
“Recovering from what? The infection?” I asked.
“I had to make some choices,” Collins said. “Things to save his life.”
“What kind of choices?” I asked. “What did you do to him?”
A sick dread twisted my stomach. We didn’t know how to cure Davy. We didn’t know what would happen if the poisoned magic he’d been infected with wasn’t stopped.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Anthony Bell, who had been possessed by a Veiled and then bit Davy, had died from it. Pretty safe bet Davy would die from it too.
“I saved him,” Collins said, holding his bandaged hands out and down. “I saved his life.”
I pulled my gun, and didn’t care how it made me feel. “Then show me how you saved his life.”
“Put the gun away,” Collins said. “He’s fine. He’s not a danger. And he’s not in danger.”
I wasn’t listening. I was striding toward the shadows, toward the sound that was not quite footsteps beyond the arch. Toward the room Collins had said Davy was in.
“Allison, stop.” Collins somehow managed to outpace me and stood between me and the archway. His eyes were bright, clear. Sober and very, very sane. “He is fine,” he said. “You have my word on that. But I can’t let you in there with a gun in your hand. Give me the gun.”
“Like hell.”
“Then put it away. I don’t want you to do something stupid. I don’t want you to accidentally hurt him.”
I felt the presence of Zayvion loom huge behind me, the heat of his body burning like a fire across my nerves.
“Stand aside, Cutter,” he rumbled.
“I didn’t hurt him, Zayvion,” Collins said, reasoning or bargaining; I didn’t know which.
I pushed past him and into the darkened room. “Davy?” I called softly.
A shadow moved in the far corner.
I fumbled for a light switch on the wall. “What did you do?” I said to Collins. “What did you do to him?”
I found a whole bank of switches and flipped them all on, flooding the room with light.
The shadow in the corner, the thing that was Davy, flinched, and turned away from the light. But not before I saw him. Saw what he was.
He looked like a Veiled—a ghostly man-shaped shadow made of watercolor hues.
“What did you do?” I
whispered.
Collins stepped into the room, and turned off half the bank of lights. “I told you what I did. I saved him.”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. Collins walked toward Davy.
“The light bothers his eyes,” he said softly. “Which is why you caught him… surprised. He is learning to control the shift between solid and incorporeal—”
“Get away from him,” I said.
Collins stopped, turned toward me, calm. “Come see him for yourself.”
I heard a gun cock from behind me. “You’re bothering my friends, mate,” Shame said from the door. “Why don’t you get over to that wall, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Collins did as he was told.
I walked across the room, but stopped short of where Davy was still huddling in the corner. “Davy?”
My eyes were pretty good in the dark. But there was a lot of magic surrounding Davy, like he was wearing a shadow made of thin flashes of black and silver and weird green threads that formed a not exactly human-shaped suit of armor around him.
“It’s Allie,” I said. “Davy?”
He tipped his head up and I squinted to see through the magic to the Davy beneath.
His eyes flashed red in the darkness.
Holy shit.
Davy was there, the Davy I knew, thin, smiling, yellow hair stuck up with a bad case of bed head, smelling of cedar and lemons and wearing a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. But he was something else too, something else that surrounded him.
I’d thought he was a Veiled—a ghost—but that wasn’t quite right either.
“Are you okay?” I asked him. I held my hand out for him. “I don’t think you should be on your feet right now. Let me get you to a bed, okay?”
He hesitated, then took a step forward, but it was like his feet weren’t working. He buckled, caught himself with one hand on the wall, his other hand falling into mine.
No. His hand didn’t fall into mine. His hand fell right through mine.
Somehow he caught himself, pulled his hand back from me and out of the wall. Then he pulled his feet up out of the floor, one by one, and stood there, mostly solid and mostly just Davy again.
“You’re tired, Davy,” Collins said, with quiet encouragement. “Keep calm and try not to strain. You are fine. You are alive.”
“Shut it,” Shame snapped.
“Davy?” I said again.
“I’m,” he said in a voice that sounded far, far away, “trying.” He took another step, and then another. His feet stayed on top of the floor instead of inside it, and with one last step he was out into the light of the room.
“Fuck me,” Shame breathed.
“Shame,” I said, keeping my voice low and my eyes steady on Davy’s face. His eyes were wide with fear. “You’re fine. You’re going to be just fine.”
Davy’s gaze searched my face, looking for the lie. He didn’t find it, though. Because I believed it, had to believe it with all my heart. Everything might not be right at this very moment—Davy might be flickering between looking like a Veiled ghost and looking like a man—but he was going to be fine. Because I’d make sure he was fine. I’d twist Collins’ guts until he made Davy fine.
“Think you can walk over here to the bed?” I asked.
“Is there beer?” His voice was still faint but growing stronger.
I smiled at him. “There better be a beer in it for both of us,” I said. I held my hand out, and Davy stared straight in my eyes and took a breath. He lowered his hand to mine.
And it stopped against my skin, warm, a little sweaty. Davy was solid, just Davy again, though he was sweating, trembling, and working hard to stay calm and solid.
Boy was freaked the hell out.
I didn’t blame him.
“Don’t like that bed much,” he said. “Bad dreams.”
“Then I’ll get you another one.” I didn’t look away from Davy; I didn’t move. “Collins. I need a place for Davy to rest.”
“He can use my bedroom,” Collins said. “I offered it to him once before. He didn’t want to move from this room.”
“Show me,” I said.
I heard Shame and Zayvion shift behind me. “Don’t need your hands to walk,” Shame said to Collins. “Keep them up. Let’s go.”
“Really,” Collins sighed. “Under gunpoint in my own house? After all I’ve done for you? I am not your enemy.”
“Lucky for you, we haven’t decided what you are yet,” Shame said cheerily. “And until we do, I’m not putting this gun down. Probably not even after that, you vengeful bastard,” he added.
“Vengeful?” Collins said. “Wherever do you get such ideas, Mr. Flynn?”
“I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the obits.”
They walked out of the room, and Zayvion paced toward me slowly, quietly, but heavy enough Davy and I could hear his footsteps.
Davy was tensing up the closer Zayvion came toward us, like an animal ready to bolt.
“He’s your friend, Davy. He’s worried about you too, and he’s not going to hurt you,” I said. “Can you let him stand on the other side of you so we can help you walk?”
Davy nodded.
I risked breaking eye contact long enough to look up at Zayvion. “Be careful—he’s still sick.”
“We can do careful,” Zay said in a gentle voice. “We got you, Davy. Now let’s get you in bed so you can rest and we can figure this out.”
Davy shifted his look from me to Zayvion, searching Zayvion’s face as if he was having a hard time focusing on him. Finally, his eyes cleared. “Hey, Zay.”
“Evening,” Zay said smoothly. “Ready to sit down for a bit?”
“Sure,” Davy said. “Sure. Allie?”
“Right here.” I stood next to him and put my arm around his back, gently lifting his arm up and around my shoulder. He was solid; he felt solid. He smelled like Davy should smell, and strangely, the magic that covered his skin like a gauzy veil of color didn’t stink. He was the shape Davy should be.
He didn’t look like what Anthony had looked like at the end before he’d died—rabid, out of control, desperate. But the weave of magic around him did not go away even though I was touching him, touching his flesh. I could not shake the reality of what I had seen. Davy had been a ghost, a Veiled, just a moment ago. He’d put his hand through a wall.
I was going to tear Collins’ heart out through his throat for this.
Chapter Eight
“That okay?” I asked after I got Davy’s arm settled over my shoulder.
“Like I’d complain?” he said.
I smiled. “Like you wouldn’t.”
Zayvion got situated on his other side and we started walking. Got as far as the door, Davy breathing pretty heavily as if he were dragging an impossible weight behind him, instead of like he was practically being carried by Zayvion and me.
“Need to rest?” I asked.
“Need bed,” he panted.
We kept walking. Through the door, down the hall to a room behind another door—this time a wooden door with iron bracers, hinges, and locks that gave it a medieval look.
This was a bedroom. Huge, but a bedroom. There was a potbelly stove in the corner and dressers built into the walls, and an iron four-poster king-sized bed. Collins stood to one side of the room, looking bored.
Shame held the gun level with his chest, looking content as a cat.
“This must be the bed,” I said. “Good enough for you, Silvers?”
“It. Will do,” he panted.
“Almost there,” I said, knowing he was wearing out.
Davy took another step and tripped. I braced to keep him from falling. So did Zayvion.
Something cold slid up my left arm, sticking and grabbing to keep hold of me as Davy’s arm slipped from my grasp. I glanced at my arm.
A lash of magic—black with flecks of colors, the same colors that lay over Davy’s skin—wrapped around my arm like a
vine, like a whip.
No, like a tentacle. I’d seen lines of black like that before. It was what the tainted magic looked like under Anthony’s skin. It was what the tainted magic looked like under Davy’s skin.
It was the tentacles of poisoned magic that were trying to kill Davy.
“Concentrate,” Collins said firmly. “You are alive, Davy. Flesh and bone. Refuse the magic.”
Collins’ voice snapped me back to reality, and I realized Davy was falling, still falling, Zayvion bracing to catch and hold him, but there was nothing to catch or hold.
Davy fell through Zay’s grasp, his feet and shins already sinking into the floor.
“Davy,” I said. “Knock it off.”
The tentacle let go of me, and Davy landed on the floor. Hard. Solid. His feet and legs weren’t in the floor anymore. He was, all of him, on the floor.
“Sure, boss,” he whispered. “Whatever you say.” He panted, covered in sweat and pain and fear.
I reached for him, but Zayvion brushed me aside and bent. He picked him up, then carried him to the bed.
Davy was so out of it, he didn’t even protest the damsel-in-distress treatment.
I pulled the covers back and Zay got Davy in the bed; then I covered him up, except for his chest.
Davy was already asleep, or maybe passed out. His face was slick with sweat, his hair stuck against his forehead. But his breathing was already settling some. He remained solid. That was something, right?
His pale arms were corded with muscle and marks of magic that inked a hard, thick black line under his skin, wrapping like a vine and splitting at his wrist to send thinner tendrils up each finger all the way to his fingernails.
The tainted magic had spread. Was that what had scraped across my arm while Davy fell? Was the tainted magic inside him trying to get out? But it didn’t smell bad. Didn’t smell like the taint.
My arm was still sore from that touch, as if fingers had dug in hard, leaving slightly bruised lines behind.
“What did you do?” I turned to Collins.
He inhaled, caught his breath as if gauging what he should tell me that would keep me—well, Shame—from shooting him.
“Everything,” I said. “Tell me everything.”
“He was dying,” he started. “Transporting him here from the den made his condition worse. Much worse. The poisoned magic was spreading faster. The Syphons I set up on him couldn’t keep up with it. He was… suffocating as it consumed him. I’d done everything I could to keep the taint from spreading through his body, to pull magic out of him.”