Magic in the Shadows

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Magic in the Shadows Page 37

by Devon Monk


  “When you need me, just call, okay?” I said.

  “I will. And Allie?”

  “Yes?”

  “I tested the material.”

  I had to think for a second to come up with what she was talking about. Then I remembered she had taken a sample from the ring of ash in the park.

  “It is from the disks. The signature is there. But we never had these kinds of results in the laboratory. Someone has found a way to use the disks with”—she paused, thinking—“Blood magic, I’m fairly sure, and some form of magic I’ve never seen.”

  My heartbeat sped up. Of course she’d never seen the other magic. Death magic was not known to the general public. “Do you think it could just be contaminated?” I asked. “I did break the spell. I might have messed it up.”

  “Perhaps.” It was clear she didn’t think so. “I’m going to run a few tests in the lab to see if I can duplicate the results.”

  “Well, let me know if I can help.” I hated keeping information from her, but there were too many dangerous things going on in this town. And I wanted her, and my future sibling, to stay far, far away from them.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I will. And you’ve contacted a self-defense coach, yes?”

  “I’ve narrowed it down,” I said. “When I pick someone, I’m sure you’ll know.”

  We said our good-byes, and the flutter behind my eyes stopped. I put on my long coat, which was dry again, and a scarf and hat. It was time to go check on Davy.

  “I’m going out,” I said to Stone, who still stared out the window. “Do you want out, boy?”

  He looked over his shoulder, bat ears shifting back, then up into points. He clunked his head against the window again and cooed down at the street, rocking his head slowly from side to side to watch traffic go by.

  “I’ll take that as a no. Then how about you stay in my room? There’s a window in there too. Lots of doors and drawers to open. Oh, and hey, you could go to sleep.”

  His ears pricked up at the word sleep. He waddled back from the window, tipped his head up at me, and then waddled on two feet off toward the bedroom, his marble-clack sounding like he couldn’t believe it was night again already.

  I chuckled. “Just while I’m gone so you don’t scare Cody and Nola,” I said. Or Stotts, I thought. He curled up at the bottom of the bed and I patted his round head. “With any luck, I’ll be home before them.”

  I shut my bedroom door. No lock on the outside, so I left a note on the door that said Sleeping, and hoped for the best.

  It didn’t take long to get to the hospital.

  I didn’t see any of the Hounds there, didn’t see anyone who might be Davy’s parents. I talked to the nurse on duty, explained I was a close friend.

  Maybe I looked worried or tired or sincere. Whatever it was, she told me his room number and pointed the way.

  I paused outside his door and took a deep breath, calming myself, preparing myself for seeing him before I walked in.

  It was a little darker in his room, a small window placed in just the right position to reveal a generous portion of the gray sky, city, and the hills beyond.

  Davy did not move. Sleeping, maybe. His face tipped toward the window, so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

  “Bring me a beer?” he wheezed, just the breath of sound.

  I walked around the bed and stood in front of him. “Of course. But I had to use it to bribe the nurse to let me in.”

  He rolled his eyes up to look at me. With some effort he rocked his head back so he could see me better. “Hi.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I appreciate your eagerness, but you know I haven’t nailed down the details on that health insurance program for Hounds yet.”

  He raised one eyebrow. He was still pale, his left eye swollen, the bruises on his face worse than the last time I’d seen him. “What’s the holdup?”

  “I’ve been busy.” I glanced around the room, pulled the wooden chair next to the bed so I could sit. “Knitting, filing my nails. You know, baking bon-bons.”

  That got me a ghost of a smile. “Bon-bons are ice cream, stupid. Tomi okay?”

  Ouch. How should I tell him how messed up she was? “She’s okay as far as I know. I’m going to check on her later to make sure. You were right. She got into some bad shit. Bad people.” And not being someone who could let an opportunity slip by, “Did you see anyone with her in the park?”

  He swallowed. “I tried. I thought I’d find her. Who she was with. In the park. She said . . . ” He swallowed again. “She said she screwed up. And she was sorry.”

  “Everybody makes mistakes,” I said, surprising myself. “She has a chance to fix things. Her life. You have to let other people help her do that, Davy. Fix her life.”

  He just stared at me. “I can’t,” he said. “Can’t just give up.”

  “Do you remember her hurting you in the park? Do you remember her doing this to you?” I asked.

  He just stared at me. Belligerent.

  Sweet hells. What was I going to do with a boy who was too stupid for his own good?

  I swore, as soon as I nailed down health insurance, I was going to hire a counselor for the Hounds. Talk some sense into his thick head.

  “I think you need to give her room to make choices,” I said. “She’s not alone. She has all of us, all the Hounds, to help her too. Maybe you should give her some room to try other options, other people.”

  He quirked one corner of his mouth up, and the fire I knew he had sparkled through the pain and pain medications. “Like you have all the answers.”

  I smiled. “Damn right I do. Sometimes a change of strategy is called for, you know? Getting different people involved. And besides, Hounds do not go into dangerous situations without having backup. That includes love.”

  He blinked, his eyes staying shut a little too long. “Sure. How’s that going for you?”

  “What?”

  “Love.”

  “None of your business.”

  “Thought so.” He was slurring now, and I figured I needed to let him get some sleep.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” I reached over, rubbed the back of his hand.

  He surprised me by catching my fingers, even though his eyes were still closed. “Don’t give up,” he said. “It’s worth it.”

  “What is?”

  “Love.” He let go of my hand. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

  Poor kid. He just wouldn’t give up on her, no matter how much she hurt him. I wanted to shake her and make her realize she was screwing up a chance to be with someone who was a really good guy. And I wanted to tell her just to leave, break it off clean and quick so that Davy could grieve and heal and love again. So he could find someone who would be good to him. But I knew Tomi was in pretty bad shape too. I just didn’t know how permanent her wounds would be.

  The wounded loving the wounded. How could that ever end happily?

  I heard the footsteps outside the door before the person paused and pushed the door open. It was Sid, a cup of coffee and sandwich in one hand.

  “Hey, Allie,” he said. “How’s he doing?”

  “Sleeping.” I stood.

  He nodded. “Looks like you got hit by a shit truck. Go home.”

  “It’s suddenly clear to me why you’re not married, Sid,” I said.

  He grunted, a short laugh.

  “Call me if anything changes, okay?”

  “No problem,” he said. “We’ve got it covered.”

  I left the hospital and went home to make sure Stone wasn’t causing a riot. My luck held. Nola hadn’t come back yet. I opened my bedroom door.

  Stone stood in front of my dresser, pulling one of my sweaters on over his head. He’d already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “Maybe I should give you to Shamus.”

/>   Stone crooned, only one ear and one eye sticking out of the neck hole of the sweater. I pulled the sweater off him.

  “Now your foot,” I said.

  I don’t think he understood what I wanted him to do, but I am nothing if not a determined woman. And besides, there was no way I was going to let him stretch all my sweaters out of shape. Once free of my clothing, he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing.

  Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.

  I let him mess with the sink while I cleaned up most of the disaster in my room. By the time I got done shoving clothes back in my drawers, I was thinking Stone would have to learn a few new phrases. Such as “Keep your grubby hands off my stuff” and “Windowsills are not for chewing on.” So much for my cleaning deposit.

  There was a knock at my front door, and I closed the bathroom door on my way by, hoping Stone would stay busy with the sink.

  I looked through the peephole.

  Zayvion Jones stood there, wearing his ratty blue ski coat, a black beanie pulled down over his dark curls. A warmth in my chest, more than just my pleasure at seeing him, spread out.

  I unlocked the door, opened it.

  “Hey, stranger,” I said.

  He gave me a soft smile. “Mind if I come in?” He held up a bottle of wine and a cell phone.

  His eyes were a little bloodshot, and even though it looked like he had changed back into jeans and a sweater, he didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep last night.

  I stepped aside so he could come in. “You do realize it’s ten thirty in the morning?”

  He glanced at the bottle in his hand. “Too early for wine?”

  “Unless you like it in your cereal. Did you sleep at all last night?” I took the bottle from him. He unzipped his coat and pulled off his beanie, then scrubbed his head.

  “No one did. We’ll meet again at five tonight. Thought you should know. Maeve wants you there. Not at the meeting. But in case she needs to ask you questions.” He rubbed at his face, muffling the last couple words.

  “Calling someone?” I asked.

  He frowned, noticed the phone in his hand. “Oh. No. This is for you. Compliments of the Authority.”

  I expected it to be heavy from the silver glyphs that encased it, but it was light, compact.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “My number’s in there. Maeve’s too, I think, and Shamus’.” He yawned.

  I could feel his exhaustion wash through me. Okay, maybe there was a downside to this Soul Complement thing.

  “How about coffee?” I said.

  He rolled his shoulders, nodded, then wandered into the living room. I poured coffee for both of us and took a second to assess myself. I still felt like me, just me. But with Zayvion so near, I did have an awareness of him, of his exhaustion. Maybe with practice I’d be able to have a stronger awareness, feel his emotions and mental state like when we were wearing those cuffs during the hunt.

  Or maybe he would always be just a faint echo in me. Maybe that’s all a Soul Complement added up to.

  Yeah, I doubted that.

  The water in the bathroom had stopped turning on and off.

  I found Zayvion slouched on the couch. He had kicked off his shoes and stretched his legs out, propping them up, but not on the coffee table. I walked around the couch and saw Zay’s stockinged feet resting on Stone. Zayvion rubbed his feet over Stone’s back. Stone looked up at me and crooned contentedly, stretching to angle his shoulder for a better scratch.

  I sat next to Zay, handed him the coffee.

  “Want a pet rock? Give him to you cheap.”

  Zayvion smiled. “Oh, no. He’s all yours.” He stopped rubbing Stone and took a drink.

  Stone belly crawled so that he was positioned on the floor between both Zay and me, and looked up at me expectantly. I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on his shoulder, scuffing my toes against him.

  Stone clacked and crooned, a happy little rock.

  Zayvion exhaled and closed his eyes. He pressed the coffee cup against his chest. Hells, he was tired.

  I drank my coffee, savoring the moment. Yes, there was a gargoyle at my feet, and yes, my boyfriend was mixed up with magic and people who were more dangerous than I’d ever known, and now I was mixed up in it too. And yes, my dead father was still in my head, growing stronger. Even with all that, this was the most normal and right my life had felt in a long, long time.

  “They haven’t found out what Greyson knows yet,” he said softly. Zay had been quiet so long, I thought he had fallen asleep.

  “Why?”

  “He won’t talk, and we can’t make sense of what’s going on in his head. Yet. He’ll come around. We’ll get it out of him. Jingo Jingo has taken over, and he’s good at this kind of thing.”

  Yeah, so good that he told me my dead dad was not in my head.

  “I don’t trust Jingo Jingo,” I said.

  Zay nodded. “I know. You don’t trust anyone. That’s why I like you.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “Not at all.” He still had his eyes closed, but he smiled.

  “How’s Chase?” I asked. Even though I should be angry as hell at her, I mostly just felt sorry for her. For the chance she and Greyson never got.

  “Looking.” He opened his eyes, took another drink of coffee. “For clues of who did this to him. She’s pretty sure your dad was behind it.”

  “So she and I are like this?” I crossed my fingers.

  “More like just the middle finger,” he said.

  “This becoming a part of the Authority thing,” I said. “Pretty complicated stuff.”

  “Smooth as glass here on out,” he said.

  “Really? Gonna promise me that?”

  He shifted his cup into his other hand, and turned so he could better face me, his right arm long enough to drape across the back of the couch.

  “Maybe. What will it cost me if I’m wrong?” He smiled, and those warm brown eyes didn’t look quite as tired as they had a minute before.

  He was a beautiful man. Not just on the outside. There was a strength in him that drew me in like a cat to sunlight, a calm in him that made me believe things might somehow work out if we both kept working on it. I mean, we’d done some good already. Gone on a real date, caught a Necromorph, gotten most of Cody safely into Nola’s care, helped a Hound who was being used, and oh yes, closed down the gates of death and made me an official member of the Authority. Not bad for a couple days’ work together.

  “You have to admit I beat you,” I said. “Knocked you to the mat with magic.”

  Zayvion sparked at the challenge in my voice. He grinned. “And if I see it differently?”

  Instead of answering, I leaned forward and kissed him. I took my time, lingered over the reality of him, here, warm, alive. He tasted of coffee, smelled of pine. And felt like home.

  “How about we negotiate the price later?”

  “Think we’ll have time?” he asked.

  “I think we’ll make the time.”

  He smiled, took my hand. And I walked him into my bedroom, intending to make it very clear to him that we had all the time we needed.

  Read on for an exciting excerpt from

  Devon Monk’s next Allie Beckstrom novel,

  MAGIC ON THE STORM

  Coming in May 2010 from Roc

  Two months of self-defense, mixed martial arts, and weapons training did not make it hurt any less when I was thrown over my opponent’s shoulder and slammed into the ground.

  Yes, I should have tucked and rolled. Would have too if he hadn’t kept hold of my arm and twisted at just the right instant to knock me off balance and make me sprawl like a dead jumper waiting for my chalk outline.

  “Give up?” he asked.

  My right wrist still locked in his grip, I stretched out my left hand and grabbed his ankle, used the leverage to pull my right arm down, and twisted
. I broke his hold on my wrist, rolled up onto my feet. I got off the mat and out of arm’s reach quickly.

  “I’ll take that as a no, then?” Zayvion Jones asked. He was a little sweaty, a lot relaxed, standing halfway across the mat from me. Barefoot, he had on a pair of jeans that, if there were any justice in the world, would not let him flex and move and stretch the way he did in a fight, and a nice black T-shirt that defined the muscles of his chest, his thick, powerful arms, and flat, hard stomach.

  He was every kind of good-looking in the dictionary.

  “Take it as a hell no,” I said sweetly.

  That got a grin out of him, his teeth a flash of white against his dark skin, his thick lips open enough that I suddenly wanted to drop this whole I-kill-you/you-kill-me act and kiss the man.

  Instead, I rolled my shoulder to make sure my arm was still in its socket—Zayvion Jones played for keeps—and tried to come up with a game plan to tip the fight to my advantage.

  My shoulder sore but still attached and functioning, I stepped back out onto the mat.

  I could use magic on him. It might be worth ending up in bed with a fever just to take Mr. Superpowerful Guardian-of-the-Gates down a notch during a practice match.

  “Is there a particular way you’d like to end up on the floor this time?” he asked as he shifted his stance and waited for me to attack. “Or do you just want me to surprise you?”

  “Gee, if I get a choice, how about if I end up on top this time?” I gave him that slow blink-smile combination that always got him into bed.

  He licked his lips, and a flash of uncertainty narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you wanted to fight.”

  I strolled up to him and paused—out of arm’s reach. I’m not dumb. “I thought you were asking me how I wanted this to end.”

  Zay studied me, his brown eyes just brown, no hint of the gold that using magic always sparked there. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t been using magic for the past couple months. Ever since my test to see whether I could become a part of the Authority, and the craziness with the gate between life and death opening right in the middle of the test room, things had been quiet.

 

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