by Devon Monk
She wasn’t haunting me. Not like Eleanor. But her absence was a shadow across my soul.
I’d fallen for her too hard to stand up again easily or quickly. She’d left me bruised on the inside. Touched me in places I didn’t even know I had. Places where only pain remained.
I walked up the stairs to Terric’s place. Rang the bell with my elbow. Waited.
Heard his footsteps. A little stronger than when I’d visited yesterday. And while the doctors were stunned with the rate of his recovery, I knew without magic to support him, he might not have made it through the surgery at all.
The door opened.
“Morning, Shame,” he said, stepping aside to let me in.
He was dressed, showered, his hair left to fall with the male-model perfection that he achieved with annoying ease. But the dark circles under his eyes against the sallow pale of his skin gave away his injuries.
I handed him his coffee as I walked in past him with this new morning ritual I’d fallen into. “Morning. Brought you coffee.”
I headed to the living room. Stopped on the threshold to it. There was a fist-sized hole in the wall by the fireplace.
“There’s a fist-sized hole in the wall by the fireplace,” I said.
He walked up behind me, sighed. “Jeremy stopped by last night.” He moved by me, over to the couch where he preferred to sit.
I worked on reminding myself why I hadn’t killed Jeremy yet.
“You still like him?” I asked, covering some of the anger with a gulp of coffee.
He pushed a couple books to one side so he could sit, and placed his coffee next to the lamp and the bottle of antibiotics and painkillers. Then he looked up at me. Gave me that stare that all of my friends seemed to use around me now. Like he was seeing a new person. Someone he wasn’t quite comfortable with.
“He’s funny,” Terric said carefully. “We have the same taste in movies. He’s good in bed.”
I just raised one eyebrow. “Don’t need the details.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t like him like that anymore. He came by last night to tell me he was in trouble again. That he had promised people I would do things for them. Life magic. I told him I wasn’t a currency he could bargain with. Things got heated.”
“Did he hurt you?” I asked calmly. “Did he touch you?”
Terric paused, gave me that cautious look again. “Sit down, Shame. You worry too much.”
I said nothing. Walked to the chair across from him, sat. “Did he?” I asked again.
“No. He yelled for a while, but then, so did I. He punched a hole in my wall.” He shrugged, took a drink of his coffee.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You never liked him.”
“No, I didn’t. Still.” I took another drink of coffee. “Did you break it off with him?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
He paused. “No. I can do it. Just . . .”
When he didn’t pick up that thought, I tried again. “Let me be there when you do.”
“Shame . . .”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
He exhaled. Looked as tired as I felt. “I think it’s a bad idea. But okay.” Then: “Did you drive over?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to take your car or mine?” he asked.
“We’re going to see him now?”
Eleanor stopped studying a photo on his wall, which was when I noticed all the art was removed and a few of Terric’s pictures were back in their place. She drifted closer to me.
He frowned. “No. Allie and Zay invited us over. In an hour. I told you yesterday. And the day before that when I got the invitation.”
I didn’t remember him talking about it. “I can drop you off, but I’m not—”
“You’re going.” He pushed up off the couch, something he did with a fair amount of grace to cover the fact that it still hurt like a mother to move so quickly.
I knew, because I could feel his pain.
We were closer now, since the fight. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.
“We need to stop off at the store,” he said as he picked up his coat from the back of the chair and pulled into it very carefully. “I promised I’d bring flowers.”
It didn’t make much sense to me why we were going, nor why we’d need flowers. But then, a lot of things just seemed . . . beyond me this last week or so. I could not muster the energy to give a single damn about any of it.
He handed me his keys, so I guessed I was driving his car.
Did so, stopping at a florist that Terric insisted had the best bouquets this time of year. I walked with him, my pace shortened for his.
By the time we’d bought a bunch of flowers of which I only recognized two—lilies and the pink ones—and had made it back to the car, the sky was filled with black clouds and it was raining hard enough to back up the gutters.
Terric was breathing heavily from the hurried pace he’d managed on the way back to the car.
“I’m going to be so glad when I can move again,” he said. “Really move.”
I think he talked about flowers or maybe it was salsa dancing while I drove to Allie and Zay’s house. I listened, heard each word, but they all slipped away as quickly as they came, leaving no impression of their passage behind.
Then we were there. And we weren’t the only ones. Cars lined the alley behind their house.
“What is this?” I said right in the middle of his discussion on the nasturtium, which could have been a flower or a dance move for all I knew.
“What is what?” he asked.
“Why are we here? What are we doing here?”
He paused, watched me. I was staring at the cars, trying to remember what he’d said we were going to do.
“It’s just some of us getting together in honor of Victor,” he said calmly. “It’s not a meeting. It’s not business. Just a low-key gathering of friends.”
Frankly, I think it would have been easier if it were business.
“You don’t remember me telling you about it, do you?”
“No.”
“Let’s go in.” He opened the door. I got out too, and we walked through the pouring rain to the kitchen-side door.
Terric didn’t knock, he just walked right into the house. “And here I thought we’d be early,” he said, holding out the flowers for Allie.
“You are just in time. Both of you,” she said, giving Terric a quick kiss on the cheek. “Shame, if you stand on my porch dripping any longer, I will pin you to my clothesline in the basement.”
I didn’t want to do this. Enter this houseful of caring faces, warmth, love. I wasn’t what they thought I was. Not anymore.
But they were waiting for me. Waiting for me to come home to the living.
I dug down deep, down beneath the darkness, looking for the shreds of me that were still Shame. Held that up like a familiar mask.
“You have a laundry line?” I asked. “How eighteen hundreds of you, Beckstrom. What’s next? Indoor plumbing?”
And for the first time, I realized the extent of my disconnect over the last week. Because everyone in the kitchen let out the breath they’d been holding, and chuckled.
It was not that funny of a joke.
But it was a start.
Chapter 32
The gathering was just what Terric said it would be. A bunch of us sitting around, talking, eating, drinking. Nola had outdone herself with the cooking and forbade us all to give her any more compliments about it since she was blushing so hard.
Detective Stotts was there too, being very nondetective. I appreciated that he didn’t ask a lot of questions when certain details came up about Victor’s death.
Like the fact that Terric and I had gone off looking for his killer on our own. Though from the look on his face, he’d have us down to the station soon to talk.
Allie and Zay sat in an oversized chair, curled up with each other,
Stone sitting next to them like their own private guard gargoyle.
Allie had made sure there was a comfortable place on the couch for Terric. Dash sat at the other end, trying not to stare at Terric too much, which I thought was amusing.
The rest of the group included Clyde, a few of the Hounds, but not Sunny, who had been told the bad news of Davy being held captive. She was busy coordinating every Hound in a three-state area looking for him. The police were also looking for him and so were several members of the Authority.
As soon as I got my head clear, I’d be looking for him too.
Eventually Kevin Cooper, who was a longtime member of the Authority and a close friend of Victor’s, showed up along with his wife and Allie’s ex-stepmother, Violet Beckstrom-Cooper, who had been a more recent friend of Victor’s.
They’d also brought baby Daniel, who was a little over three now. He ran through the room, headed straight for Stone, who tipped his ears up and caught Daniel in his arms. Then that big pile of rock wrapped his wings gently around him and snuffled at his neck, making rumble-gurgle noises.
Daniel squealed in delight.
Cody Miller was there too. It wasn’t too long before he was standing in front of me. Looking down at me with ice blue eyes that looked too old and too mad.
“Cody,” I said, holding my Shame mask firmly in place and wishing he would go stare at someone else.
“This will be interesting, I think,” he said. “And I’m going to help you with it, Shame. When you’re ready.” He walked away.
I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. And didn’t ask.
But it was my mum showing up that really made me want to crawl out of my skin.
Terric must have felt it, because he speared me with a look to keep me seated.
Mum looked great, really. Had pulled her red hair up in a loose knot that made her green eyes wider. She was fit, strong, wearing slacks and a sweater, and when she smiled, the lines around her eyes were more from happiness than pain.
She and Hayden had been staying at his place in Alaska for the last couple years, though they came down three or four times a year to check in on the inn, friends, and, I supposed, me.
“Maeve,” Allie said. “It’s so great you made it. When did you get in?”
“Last night,” she said. “Well, early this morning. We got a little sleep before we headed over. I brought a couple pies. They’re in the kitchen.”
Allie stood, gave her a hug. “Wonderful.”
Zay was standing too, shaking Hayden’s only hand. Zay was a big man. But Hayden was a damn giant. Dark hair, trimmed beard, he’d put on a few pounds living with my mum’s good cooking. He grinned at Zay, genuinely looking happy to be back.
“Shamus,” my mum said.
“Hello, Mum,” I said. “Have a seat?”
“Why don’t you help me with the pie?”
“I can—” Nola started.
“No,” Maeve said. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”
I glanced over at Terric. Wanting him to make an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to my mum. He just raised his eyebrows and gave me a mind-your-mother look.
Bastard.
“Shamus,” Mum called from halfway across the room. “Come with me. Now.”
“Better just do it, son,” Hayden said in his rolling baritone. “She is not a woman who likes to be kept waiting.”
He heaved his bulk down into a chair gratefully and got busy catching up with Kevin and Zayvion.
No one was even looking at me.
I wiped my fingers over the top of my lip, clearing the sweat there. I did not want to talk to my mother about what had happened. Didn’t want her to see what I had become.
I didn’t remember walking into the kitchen. One minute I was sitting; then I was in the doorway, unable to make my feet go any farther.
“Do you know where she keeps the serving knife?” She wasn’t looking at me.
I tried and couldn’t find a way to say anything.
“Shamus? Son?” She looked over at me.
Something changed in her as she studied me. She put down the plates and crossed the room. Then tugged me in, away from the door, away from where anyone would see me.
And wrapped her arms around me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Her familiar perfume and warmth surrounded me, comfort I had known all my life. It had been years and more since she’d held me like a frightened, broken child.
But I didn’t pull away.
“Ah, my love,” she said gently. “Someday your heart will mend. Someday the pain will become a part of your memories instead of your every living moment.”
I realized she wasn’t talking about me grieving Victor’s death, though I was certainly doing that too. She was talking about Dessa.
“Wh-who told you?” I asked around the pain in my chest.
“About Dessa? Zayvion.”
I pulled back from her embrace, wiped at my face to keep the tears from falling. “He’s such a mother hen.”
She tipped her head and smiled gently. “He told me you killed, Shamus. With magic.”
“You know what I am,” I said softly. “What I’ve become.” I pulled my shoulders back, wishing I could put more space between us, but not wanting to leave her comfort.
“Yes,” she said, touching my cheek with her fingers. “You are my son. A man I am proud of.”
“No. Not . . . now. I am death.”
There it was, the truth. She studied me, then pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Well, then, death needs a haircut.”
“Mum!” It was such a motherly thing to say.
“It is the truth,” she said. “And much truer than the nonsense you’re telling me. You carry Death magic, Shamus. But you are still a man in control of it. And you have handled that heavy responsibility better than ninety-nine percent of the people in this world.”
“By killing people?”
“Death comes to us all, my child.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed like she was grossly oversimplifying the situation. But then, Mum had seen my dad killed, her friends possessed, destroyed. She’d raised a Death magic user, and had already seen what hellish thing I could become, back when I’d ripped Jingo Jingo to bloody shreds.
She was, I realized, very comfortable with the workings, and reality, of death. No wonder she was nonchalant about it.
“True,” I said.
“Good.” She drew her fingers along my cheek one last time and looked at me as if sizing me up for a new suit. “Now help me with the pie.”
I did that, and mostly managed to handle myself in the rest of the day’s conversations.
The other Soul Complements had cleared out of town. So had the Overseer, though Clyde had kept him informed on everything that was happening.
We knew who we were up against: Krogher. We didn’t know his position in the government yet, nor what his plan, his final plan was for the modified magic users he had controlled.
They had taken Davy, one of our own. And we all agreed that would not stand.
And Eli . . .
Well, no one talked to me about Eli. They didn’t have to. I had my own plans for him.
Because I had a promise to keep.
In the meantime, I tried to smile at the appropriate moments, nodded like I was listening, and dug deep to be the Shame they all needed me to be, not the monster they refused to believe I had become.
When Terric said he was tired, I got up, said my good-byes to my mum and Hayden, then Allie and Zay.
Allie suddenly went domestic on us—this baby business made her weird—and insisted she had to wrap up leftovers for us to take. I left her and Terric to their girl talk in the kitchen.
I needed silence. Rain. Darkness. I needed away from my mother, and all of my friends.
Zay walked with me out to the car.
The rain had let up, but everything was wet, cold. I lit a cigarette and leaned against the hood of Terric’s car.
>
“How you holding up?” I asked him.
Yes, he looked surprised.
“Victor was a father to you, Zay. I know that,” I said softly.
Zay nodded. There was a stiffness to his shoulders, like there was a pain he hadn’t quite figured out how to breathe around.
Welcome to the club.
“I’m dealing,” he said. He came over and leaned on the hood next to me.
I offered him a cigarette.
He took it. Now it was my turn to look surprised.
“Everything really okay with Allie?” I asked as I flicked my thumb over my lighter for him.
He sucked heat into the cigarette, held the smoke for a moment, exhaled with a nod. “We think so. Dr. Fisher is keeping a very close eye on her. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, not even after we broke magic.”
“Good,” I said, meaning it. “That’s good.”
We smoked for a while staring up at the house, the trees beyond it, listening to the river rushing by behind us.
“Did you love her?” he finally asked.
“I barely knew her.” It had become my stock answer. A parry Terric and Dash and most other people who had asked me that very same question would not engage with.
Zay wasn’t most people.
“So you loved her.”
“I thought I did.”
“Did she love you back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Then, since he waited me out, “Yes.”
“You’re going to hunt him down, aren’t you, Shame?”
I inhaled smoke, exhaled. We both knew who he was talking about: Eli.
“Yes,” I said. “You won’t want to get in my way, Zay.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But if I can be there to hold him down while you pull his lungs out of his chest, I will be.”
Terric said no one knew me better than him. I thought he might be wrong about that. Zay understood. Understood pain. Understood love. Understood vengeance. Understood me.
“Call me if you need me,” he went on. “Any day, anytime. And I’ll be at your side.” The door opened and Zay finished his cig, tossing it to the ground.