Hell Bent bm-1

by Devon Monk

  Took the word right out of my mouth.

  “Now that magic is a known resource, the government is very interested in what people can do with it. How it can be used as a protection. As a weapon.”

  It made sense. Any government would want to know how magic could be used, and by whom.

  “Okay,” I said. “How do Eli and Brandy fit into this?”

  “Brandy disappeared a year and a half ago,” Victor said. “The official report is that she died from a stroke caused by side effects of the medication she was on. But we know she was taken. Stolen out of the institution. By the government. By this research lab.”

  Terric opened the file again. Thumbed through it. “Thomas was looking for her, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Eli?” he asked.

  “We’d lost trace of him at the same time. I don’t know if he was taken, if he went looking for her, or if he was behind her kidnapping. Our . . . resources aren’t what they used to be. But our goal, that has remained the same. To keep the innocent safe from magic and the things people would do with it. Brandy is an innocent in this. But we believe she was taken by men who would use her as a weapon.”

  “Tell me you know where the research facility is.”

  “From the information Thomas was able to gather, it has branches across the country. We suspect one of them is here in the Northwest. And if they are trying to tap magic, it will need to be near a well.”

  “There are a lot of wells. One under almost every city,” Terric said.

  “And five under Portland,” Victor said.

  “Eli opened a gate,” I said.

  That got his attention.

  “He— What?”

  “He was in my bedroom, and after about two minutes, a gate opened behind him and he was pulled back through it.”

  “He used magic?” Victor asked. “Broke magic to open the gate?”

  I thought about it. “No. I can usually feel when magic breaks.” From the corner of my eye I saw Terric nod.

  “There was magic involved. But there was also technology.”

  “Eli spent too long working under Beckstrom Senior,” Terric said.

  “I think you mean worshipping,” I said. “Spent too much time worshipping Allie’s father and all that experimental tech the Beckstrom fortune funded.”

  “If they have gate technology,” Victor said, “then none of us are safe.”

  “Which means we need to find Eli,” I said. “You didn’t happen to shoot him with a tracking chip over the years, did you?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Victor said. “I wish we’d thought of it.”

  “Have you followed up on everyone connected to Brandy and Eli?” Terric asked. “Her doctors, caregivers? Eli’s contacts, where he’s lived, worked?”

  “Yes,” Victor said. “We hit a dead end about eight months ago. That was also when we fell out of contact with Thomas.” He paused, then, “We think Thomas was killed.”

  “He was,” I said. “Dessa said he was killed by Eli. Said he had marks in him like Joshua.”

  “Was she sure?” Victor asked softly.

  “She saw Joshua,” I said. “Saw the glyphs carved into him. She thinks it was made by the same magic user.”

  Victor took off his glasses and closed his eyes. For a moment, I saw the weight of years change him. He had been in the Authority for longer than I had been alive. He’d seen all manners of horrors committed by both the right and the wrong people having too much power.

  And now this.

  “You have to stop him.” Victor replaced his glasses and opened his eyes. There was the iron strength of resolve in his words. “Eli Collins should have been killed years ago. We thought then that it was a mercy to just take his memories away. To give him a chance to build a normal life. But he turned to darkness. To killing. To murder. Joshua should not have had to pay the price for our mistakes. I want you to stop him. At any cost.”

  “We should let the Overseer know,” Terric said.

  “No. Not this,” Victor said. “It has never been the way of the Authority to kill unnecessarily. It is not the way we want to go forward in this new world of magic. But this is an old wound. An old ill that must be ended. Before more innocent people die. I do not want to be hampered by the Overseer’s decisions.

  “Eli must be stopped. He will kill each Closer involved with his closing, and then he will kill more. Anyone who ever spoke against him or stood for the laws of the Authority. Anyone who ever stood aside, knowing what had been taken from him. If he finds his Soul Complement . . .” Victor paused, swallowed. “Her broken mind will drive him deeper into darkness. And if they break magic together, and use it to shape the world to their desire . . .”

  He didn’t have to tell us what would happen. Having that much power drove people insane. Even people with good intentions were lured by the madness in magic, the temptation of simply making and unmaking the world. And people with bad intentions did things like start the apocalypse.

  “Do not show him mercy, Terric,” Victor said, “for he will refuse it. Stop him before he removes every Soul Complement and every magic user in the Authority.”

  Terric opened his mouth, but I spoke up over him. “The only way to stop him will be to kill him,” I said. “You understand that, don’t you, Victor?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “At any cost?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Terric sighed heavily. Here’s the thing: Death and me pretty much saw eye-to-eye. I knew one of these days someone would have to take me down when I lost control of magic. And Eli wasn’t just a poor magic user caught by an evil government. Yes, he’d been used by the Authority and others. But even if he had once been a good man, that was over.

  He liked killing. Craved it. If the world bowed at his feet, he would want violence, destruction.

  I understood those kinds of dark desires. I had no problem ending it for him.

  Victor looked between Terric and me. Finally settled on me. “Thank you, Shamus. I know your burden isn’t easy. Death magic—”

  “Don’t,” I said.

  “Shame,” he said firmly. “Let me finish. I know the changes magic has made in you and in Terric have been painful. I know you struggle for control.”

  “Hey, now,” I started, but he just leveled a gaze at me. What could I say? It was the truth. And he knew it.

  Victor was not a stupid man. He had known me my entire life. It didn’t take eyes to see how close I walked the edge of disaster every day.

  “Your father was a good man, Shame,” he said. “A dear friend of mine.”

  I hunched my shoulders unconsciously. I didn’t like it when people brought up my father. He and I had gotten on as most fathers and rebellious slacker sons do. Really, he was a lot more patient than I would have been. I missed him, but I’d had enough time to know he was gone from my life for good.

  That wasn’t what bothered me. No, what haunted me was the thing Jingo Jingo had said before I killed that sick bastard. That my father had fallen on his knees and begged Jingo Jingo to end me. To end the monster he knew I would become.

  A Death magic user.

  Only I hadn’t just become a Death magic user—I’d become a vessel that carried Death magic in my body and soul.

  If my dad were alive, I figured he’d want me dead. Before I gave in to the monster inside me.

  “This is something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” Victor said. “Jingo was lying. Your father didn’t beg him to keep you from using Death magic. Your father warned Jingo that if he grew too hungry, if he ever lost control, it would be you, his son, who would stop him. Your father saw the strength in you. Saw how you, of all magic users we had ever seen, have the ability to use Death magic without succumbing to its allure.

  “He was proud of you, Shamus. As am I.”

  Not what I was expecting to hear. And for once in my life, I didn’t know what to say
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  Chapter 18

  Victor gave us all the information he had on Thomas Leeds, which wasn’t much, but it was more than the files Terric and I could access. Actually it was a lot more than the files Clyde and Dash could access too. I found that very interesting, and Terric found it very annoying.

  “We were the head of the Authority,” Terric said, slowing for traffic in the afternoon downpour. “We should have had access to every file on every person we wanted.”

  “Victor doesn’t play by the rules,” I said. “He’ll probably always see a reason to keep the secret organization secret. Or at least as secret as he can. Very old-school skullduggery. I like him for holding to the old, distrustful, cynical standards.”

  “You would.”

  I grinned and folded my arms, carefully, over my chest. The run through the rain to the car had gotten both of us pretty wet, but Terric had on a coat. Even though I was still wearing the sweater, I wished I had my black peacoat instead.

  “Stop by the inn,” I said. “I want a coat.”

  “I have a coat in the trunk.”

  “I want my coat.”

  “We are not stopping this investigation so you can get your comfy clothes.”

  “Investigation? Is that what you’re calling it?”

  “What do you want me to call it?”

  “A manhunt,” I said. “That’s what it is.”

  “We’re going to the office,” Terric said.

  “Why?”

  “I want to tell Clyde what Victor told us, in person. Or at least most of it, so he has the heads-up.”

  “Why?”

  “If I were running the Authority, I’d be furious that I didn’t have this kind of information. Also, I want to find out if they’ve seen Davy.”

  “Fine,” I said. Mostly because I was pretty sure I’d left an old coat there.

  “Why the statue?” Terric asked.

  “What?”

  “Why did you buy a statue of the Grim Reaper with wings?”

  “Caught my eye.”

  “I’ve seen your apartment, Shame. Art never catches your eye.”

  I didn’t say anything. Didn’t care what he thought. This conversation was done.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, at where the statue was carefully propped up so that Eleanor could sit next to it.

  Don’t remember her, I thought. Don’t ask about her.

  Unlike Zay and Allie, we couldn’t read each other’s minds. But we’d known each other a long time. My bluff didn’t hold.

  “It’s Eleanor, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

  I stared out the window.

  “She’s still . . . connected to you,” he said. “I’d forgotten. I’m sorry, Shame. I’d forgotten.”

  “Don’t want your pity. Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Is she still angry? Can you hear her? Talk to her?”

  I dug in my pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, smoked. Didn’t open the window.

  He rolled his eyes at my petty disobedience. “She wanted the statue, didn’t she?” he asked. “Why?”

  I glanced over at him, lifted the cigarette to my mouth, inhaled, tipped the sunglasses down so he could see my eyes. When he looked over at me, I said, “Leave it the hell alone.”

  “Maybe I could help you with her. Maybe we could—”

  “No,” I said. “We did what we could. We tried what could be tried. Now I deal with it my way, and you don’t ever speak of it again.”

  He glanced in the rearview again. “Later,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.” Then he turned his attention to where it might actually do some good—looking for parking.

  Found a spot a block away from the office, which was about as good as we were going to get at this hour. I was not looking forward to the walk in the rain, but I was looking forward to getting out of the car and the silence that was filled with Terric’s promise to not let the Eleanor situation go.

  Pushed the door open before the engine was off, clomped across the sidewalk and under the awning. We were in front of a bank. It was an uphill walk to the office. Not as many people out right now, which made it easier on my hunger. I lit another cig, then put my boots to work.

  Terric was still in the car. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could sense him, his heartbeat, his mood. Being around him so much lately only made me more aware of him. Right now he was angry, but more than that, I sensed sorrow.

  Who knew what he was sad about? Could be any number of things: the loss of his job, Joshua’s death, Eleanor’s not-death, Jeremy . . . or me. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t like the idea I was going to take care of Eli the best way I knew how—by killing him.

  I felt more than heard him get out of the car. Felt more than heard his footsteps in the rain, jogging to catch up with me. Then he was beside me, matching my stride.

  “Just because you don’t think a conversation needs to happen doesn’t mean it isn’t going to.”

  “I said drop it, mate.”

  “Drop it. Drop the fact that you have a ghost—an undead soul tied to you, trapped, haunting you every second of the day? No wonder you’re so damn morose.”

  “Drop it just like I dropped you not wanting to believe that Jeremy is a lying bastard.”

  “This isn’t about me—it’s about you,” he said. “We can save her, Shame. The answer to every problem isn’t always killing or ignoring every damn thing.”

  I stopped, turned to him. “What if I don’t want an answer, Terric? What if I like killing things? What if I look for every opportunity to kill?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “What? Don’t tell you the truth?” I lowered my voice. “You are a piece of work, Conley. You say you want to talk, but you don’t want to listen, do you? I am not you. I am not a good guy. I destroy things. I like it. I like killing. I like that Eleanor is shackled to me. Because it reminds me of the power I have. Power you should not underestimate.”

  I pulled my hand into a fist and arcs of red electricity licked across my rings.

  Terric squared off from me, the Void stone necklace at his chest burning with white-green light.

  And he smiled. The son of a bitch smiled.

  “You don’t frighten me, Flynn. Your magic doesn’t frighten me. And neither do your lies.”

  I lifted my fist.

  He lifted his hand.

  I never even had a chance to draw on magic.

  Pain, hot and twisting, shuddered through my head and down my spine.

  Had lightning just nailed me to the ground?

  Terric hissed, and I knew he felt the same pain.

  I hadn’t cast anything. Hadn’t hit him.

  He hadn’t cast anything. Hadn’t hit me.

  “What the hell?” I breathed.

  Terric’s gaze met mine, his blue eyes wide in the falling rain.

  And I knew it, knew the reason for the pain at the exact moment he did.

  “They broke it,” Terric said. “Someone broke magic.”

  “Zay,” I said, swallowing back the burnt scent of mint and rose. “Jesus. Zay’s hurt. Or Allie. One of them.”

  We ran to the car. Terric outpaced me, but only by a step or two. In the car, doors slammed, engine. Terric tore through the city, heading northeast. Heading to St. Johns. Heading to Zayvion and Allie.

  He tossed me his phone. I caught it without looking, dialed Clyde.

  “This is Clyde Turner,” he answered.

  “It’s Shame. Someone broke magic. We think it’s Zay and Allie. We think they’ve been hit.”

  “Hit by magic?”

  “We don’t know. We’re going out there now.” I hung up. Terric probably would have told him to call the cops, or the cavalry or whoever it was we had to answer to these days, but I did not give a single damn about procedure.

  Terric and I were enough to deal with whatever was going down.

  His phone rang. Dash. I thumbed it on speaker and answered, “Shame.”
>
  “The police are on their way,” he said. “Do you need anything else? Anyone else?”

  “We got it,” I said.

  “Were there any reports?” Terric asked. “Has anyone else called this in?”

  “No,” Dash said. “Just you two.”

  “Let us know if you hear anything,” Terric said.

  “I will. Be careful.” Dash hung up. I did too.

  Terric pulled up to Zay and Allie’s place, double-parking on the gravel lane that ran between their three-story farmhouse and the empty lot in front of the river. They had a front door. We didn’t use it.

  We jogged past their low stone fence, the leafless rosebushes, and the hedge of dormant daisies. Past the garden Allie was so proud of, which held three decent-sized pumpkins and some random gourds and flowers the Hounds had thought would be funny to plant when she wasn’t looking, up the weathered wooden steps of the porch, to the kitchen side door.

  I tried the door handle. It was unlocked.

  Got exactly one step into the room.

  A fist came out of nowhere and hit me in the head like a bull at full charge.

  Holy shit.

  I stumbled into Terric, who didn’t bother catching me on my way down to the floor. He was halfway through a spell.

  “Stop.” Allie’s voice. Allie. I blinked upward. At a very angry Zayvion Jones, who was glowering down over me, his eyes molten gold.

  “Jesus, Zay,” I said. “We came here to help you.”

  “Zay,” Allie said calmly. “It’s Shame and Terric. Let them in.”

  I didn’t think Zay was listening in the language we were speaking.

  “Zayvion,” Terric said. “It’s all right. We got this. The police are on their way. Tell us what happened.”

  For no apparent reason, he listened to that.

  Zay closed his eyes, opened them again. Still gold, but this time there was sanity mixed in with the anger. “We were attacked.”

  “Fuck,” I said, picking myself up off the floor. I wiped the blood off my nose and almost howled. “Also, you broke my nose. Asshole.”

  “Are you all right?” Allie said.

  “I’m fine.” I looked at Zay and he finally moved that mountain of muscle over to one side so I could walk the rest of the way into the room.