Magic on the Hunt (6)

by Devon Monk

  I set my Disbursement, calmed my mind, and threw another Sight spell. Up, out, floating down again. Spells drifted by the window; spells clung to every person in every car; spells crawled sinuous lines up the buildings, wrapped around the glass and lead cage-work conduits, sparked along the gold-tipped Beckstrom storm rods.

  The trail was as dark and cold as steel, stretching off to our right, where it literally disappeared.

  “Slippery son of a bitch,” Terric swore.

  Shame slowed.

  “He’s here,” I said. I dropped Sight and pulled magic into the glyph for Smell. I inhaled, sorting through the scents in the car—Shame’s clove and tobacco, Terric’s fresh leaves and old brandy cologne, Zay’s pine and mint, all of our sweat, and the stink of magic we’d been using. I cracked open the window and stuck my head out far enough to get a good noseful of air.

  “In that building.” I pointed.

  Terric and Zay both threw magic. “Are you sure?” Terric asked.

  “Upstairs. Second or third floor and moving. What is this place? It stinks of magic.” And pain, I thought, though I didn’t say that.

  “Proxy pit,” Shame said. He circled the block and found a metered parking place to park, and not pay.

  Great. I’d been to a Proxy pit only once—trying to Hound a Compulsion for a woman who thought her daughter had been Influenced to serve Proxy time—and that one experience had made me want to stay as far away from pits as I could.

  “You have a plan, Z?” Shame asked as we got out of the car, Terric’s Illusion once again in place to cover our weapons.

  “Floor by floor, invisible, silent. If Allie says he’s on the top floor, this should be fast work.”

  “Fast work to find him,” Shame said. “Don’t know how quick we’ll be able to take him down.”

  We crossed the street, shoulder to shoulder, keeping a good pace.

  “We can take him,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. Zay had made a rookie mistake back there, underestimating Henry Aslund.

  That wasn’t like Zay. But only three days of rest after returning from death didn’t leave a lot of reserves for either of us. I worried that his bravado was just a cover for how much he was hurting and how hard it was for him to throw magic.

  His heartbeat at my wrist was strong, steady. I knew if I worried too much, he’d feel it. And maybe Shame and Terric would too. So I did what I did best: cleared my head and got ready to deal with whatever came next.

  Do you know what his crime was? I asked my dad. He didn’t stir, didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure if he had regained consciousness or strength or whatever an undead person needed since we’d thrown that spell at Aslund’s head.

  He was going to be no help.

  “Terric, cover us,” Zay said.

  Terric muttered a few words and cast another slick Illusion around us. I looked over at Zayvion. He wasn’t there. Whoa.

  “Invisibility,” Zay said quietly, and as soon as he spoke, I could see his faint outline.

  “Why haven’t we used this before?”

  “It’s very difficult to manage.”

  “Quiet, children,” Shame’s outline said. “Ter?”

  I glanced over to get a read on where he was.

  “I’m ready.”

  We stepped through the doors.

  The well-lit lobby looked like the entrance to a rich doctor’s waiting room. Comfortable couches, flat screens, plants, fountain, and even a full-wall aquarium oozed with a come-on-in-and-relax vibe.

  But just beneath that icing of calm was pain. Controlled. Mostly. But a lot of it. Enough, my shoulders hitched up and I had to breathe through my mouth not to have my nose filled with the stink of it.

  Zay cast a very light Search, which was a lot like letting a magical bug loose in the room, except instead of sending it bouncing around among the sofas and the half dozen people filling out forms, he sent it into the network of lead and glass that wrapped the building.

  “Up,” he whispered.

  The longer we stayed in the Invisibility, the more solid Zay, Shame, and Terric looked to me. It was sort of like walking out of a dark room into daylight. When you got hit by Invisibility, it took a couple minutes for your eyes to adjust.

  There was an elevator down the hall. I really hoped we were headed for the stairs beyond.

  Zay reached over, took my hand, and squeezed.

  Shit. Elevator for sure.

  The door opened, Shame tossing a quick Mute so it made no sound. Then I stepped in—well, Zayvion literally dragged me in behind him. The door closed.

  I did exactly one thing: breathe. As quietly as I could, as calmly as I could, thinking the most nonscreamy thoughts that I could.

  I could hear Terric exhale through his mouth, then inhale. I smelled his sweat, a peppery sting over the sweet note of his cologne.

  It was taking a lot of energy and concentration for him to hold the Invisibility. I didn’t know why he was holding it in the elevator. Then I spotted the camera in the corner, and it made sense.

  Second floor, third. The elevator finally stopped at the fourth floor. It took everything, everything I had not to run out into the hall.

  After a pause long enough for a small ice age to come and go, Zay stepped out of the elevator. We were still holding hands, so I stepped out with him.

  This floor looked more like a hospital. Long, curved halls led off in two directions; cupboards painted grayish blue against the cream walls caught light from the overheads. There were no windows.

  It smelled like pain. Not just pain covered up by magic, not just pain managed by medication. Pain. But I didn’t hear anyone moaning; I didn’t hear heavy breathing other than my own.

  “Here,” Zay whispered. We followed him to the right, down the hall past the cupboards that stank of medication, past the well-insulated doors that leeched agony through the cracks, past the dozens and dozens of people paying the price for others to use magic in this town.

  I hated it. But most of the people here signed on of their own will. Proxying paid enormously well.

  The hallway eventually ended at a double door. Beyond that was our criminal.

  Terric dropped the Invisibility just as Shame cast Illusion. Zayvion pushed open the door and strode into the room, Shame and Terric on his heels, magic and weapons at the ready.

  Like they’d done this a thousand times before. Which they had.

  I slipped in behind them. The room was some kind of examination room, mostly stainless steel. I caught sight of restraining devices, oxygen tanks, and other medical-looking bits of equipment. Rows of gurneys and dark-faced machines on carts staged one wall. The other wall had six large square drawers carved into it.

  Correction. Half examination room, half morgue.

  I did not see our guy.

  That did not stop him from throwing lightning at us.

  The flash blinded me. Must have done the same for the others, because I heard them swear.

  Then I smelled another spell, the scorch of hot pavement, and hoped it was being thrown by one of us, not at one of us.

  I cast Shield and pulled it around me, just as the scorching wave of heat rolled over.

  Seconds. That was all the time between the Lightning and Fire. But my eyes had adjusted.

  And I saw our man.

  Tall, he didn’t look to be any older than me. I’d guess his roots to be from somewhere in the Mediterranean. That’s all the look I got before he was surrounded by a wall of black.

  I heard his scream, but I was pretty sure no one beyond this room had any idea what was going on in here.

  Terric and Zay were taking turns throwing Mute, Illusion, Diversion, keeping the sound, sights, and smells of magic inside these walls. And they were doing a hell of a job not tapping the network for too long at a time. This wasn’t even going to blip on the building’s Proxy load.

  Shame was smoking a cigarette. I have no idea where he found the time to light up. I was certain a lighted
anything was bomb positive here among stacks of oxygen tanks.

  He was also drawing on a hell of a lot of magic. I could feel it like cold water over my nerves. But he wasn’t pulling magic out of the networks. He was pulling it out of the man across the room.

  I cast Sight so I could keep track of the spells in the room and not make something explode.

  My vision opened; the world caught pastel fire. Zay threw Impact, Terric cast Hold, and Shame pulled so much living energy out of the area around the man that the floor began to darken and crack.

  The man stood there, one hand extended, holding a hell of a Shield, the other hand fingers downward. With Sight, I could see the magic pouring up into his fingertips.

  No, not magic. Life. Souls. He was drinking the life out of the Proxies in the building, and with all of the pain medication they were under, they probably didn’t even realize it. He was killing them. He was a mass murderer. Right in front of our eyes.

  Holy shit.

  And everything Zayvion and Terric threw at him, he absorbed. We were getting nowhere.

  “He’s using the Proxies,” I said. “He’s drinking their lives.”

  “We know that,” Shame growled.

  And that’s when I realized that Shame, Terric, and Zayvion were throwing everything they had at him. Shame was pulling the life, the energy, the magic from Single and feeding it to Terric, who used it against Single.

  They didn’t have any more to hit him with.

  But I did.

  I cleared my mind and made damn sure my Shield was strong. Then I pulled magic from my left hand, the cold bite of it like a winter night, burning across my palm and up to my elbow. I drew a glyph for Impact and threw it at him.

  Black flame gouted from my hand, dark magic burning through the air, visible even to the naked eye.

  It hit him square in the chest and slammed him into the wall. Shame rushed him; so did Zay.

  “No!” I yelled.

  Too late. Single still had magic. Still had lives at his fingertips. He opened his hand, and ghostly souls that were broken and bound by magic launched at Shame and tore into his flesh, biting, feeding. Just like the Veiled.

  Zay was right behind Shame and swung his sword.

  But Single was on his feet. He pointed something at Zay—not a gun; a Taser—and shot Zay in the chest. Zay went down with a yell.

  Holy fuck.

  Terric chanted, something that was slowing the things attacking Shame. Zay struggled to get back on his feet, but his muscles weren’t working. There was no way he’d be steady enough to cast a spell.

  That left me.

  And no time to fuck this up.

  Single lifted a hand toward Zay and smiled as he traced a glyph filled with heart-stopping agony.

  “Single!” I yelled.

  He turned and threw the spell he’d been aiming at Zay, at me.

  Not exactly what I’d hoped for.

  I cast Block, ducked, and ran straight at him. Two steps, and my sword was out of the sheath. Three, and I was casting the glyph for Impact. Four, and Impact was caught on the edge of my blade, ready.

  A spell rolled out above my head and crashed around Single like a wall of rocks. He yelled and drew his weapon—a knife.

  I had him on reach and sheer anger even before I was within striking distance.

  Zay was up. Somehow steady on his feet, somehow with the sword in his hand. He wasn’t casting magic yet. I could smell his blood.

  I hoped no one expected us to bring this bastard in alive.

  I lunged, broke his Shield with the Impact and edge of my blade. He Blocked with the knife—impressive—and threw a wad of magic, of pure hatred, at me. I cast Shield again, let go of it as soon as his spell skittered away, and swung for his exposed left.

  He was sweating hard. I aimed to make him bleed instead.

  He cast Death magic. I couldn’t get Shield up fast enough. The spell wrapped around my left hand, sucked up the Hold I’d been casting, clamped down like frozen hooks in my palm.

  The mark in my hand burned hot, absorbing the magic and spell, drinking it down, and snapping fire back toward him, hungry for more.

  That was the first time I saw fear in his eyes.

  Zay was at my side. Single backed up. I could feel Terric and Shame’s heartbeats, steady, then knew they strode up behind us.

  “Give up,” Zay said, “or die.”

  He was shaking, terrified, angry. Desperate.

  One heartbeat. Two.

  He lunged at Zay with the knife.

  Shame threw magic over my head. Death magic grappled around the man like a black cloud of blades, just as my katana took him through the ribs and Zay’s katana took him through the stomach.

  We held him there for what felt like hours, the weight of his body dragging our swords down as he crumpled to the ground. I pulled my sword free. I think Zay did too. But I wasn’t looking at Zay. I was watching Single because he was staring at me.

  The knife fell from his fingers. His left hand clawed through a spell as his eyes searched my face.

  And then Shame said a word. The magic surrounding Single thickened. He exhaled a final breath, and then the magic, and Single’s life, drained away.

  I stood there, just staring at him. I’d killed a man before. Killed Lon Tragger for what he did to Pike. Killed Greyson, though that was my dad’s direct action, not mine. I didn’t like it. I didn’t think I’d ever like it.

  I wiped my blade across my thigh, over the Blood magic scar Tragger had carved into me, and looked up at Zayvion.

  He was covered in sweat and breathing hard, his left hand pressed over his ribs.

  Reality snapped back in place, and any regrets I might have had for ending Single’s life fled my mind.

  “How bad are you hurt?” I asked.

  He shook his head.

  “You’re bleeding.” I stepped over to him, and he wiped his right hand carefully across the cut that split his cheek.

  “Did he cut you?” I asked.

  “The Taser. I hit something sharp on the way to the floor.”

  I sheathed my sword and pressed my fingers gently on one side of his face, tipping his head toward the light so I could see how bad the cut was.

  “You need stitches. At least a butterfly bandage.”

  “Quickly,” Shame said.

  I glanced over at him. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and it looked like it was taking all of his energy and concentration to lift his lighter up to it. The side of his face was covered in a burn that was already blistering.

  He winced as the lighter snapped a flame to life but managed to keep it steady enough by using both hands to light the cigarette.

  Terric was in the corner of the room retching over a sink. I don’t know if it was the Death magic, the killing, or Shame’s pain that was making him sick.

  Okay. One thing at a time.

  “What are we going to do with the body?” I walked over to the cupboards and started opening and closing them, looking for bandages, painkillers, and maybe something for Shame’s burns.

  “We’ll take him out on a gurney,” Zay said. “Call in Nik and Joshua, who will transport Aslund to the prison and Single to the morgue.”

  I wasn’t surprised the Authority had their own morgue. Or a morgue where Authority members worked and quietly took care of situations like this.

  “I’ll call,” Shame said. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed. “Romero? Think you can meet us behind the west Proxy pit? Van. Two. Just one, but he’s unconscious.” He paused. “On me, my friend, and more than that. Thank you.”

  I finally found a cupboard with the supplies I needed. I grabbed bandages, antibiotics, painkillers, and burn cream. I didn’t see anything for nausea.

  “They’re on their way. Maybe fifteen minutes,” Shame said.

  “Think you’ll be up to casting by then?” Zay asked Terric.

  Terric ran the water in the sink and found a towel to wipe over his face
. “No problem,” he mumbled into the cloth.

  I handed Shame the burn cream. “This goes on the side of your face. There’s a mirror on the inside of that cupboard.” I pointed. “These go in your mouth.” I handed him two packs of painkillers.

  “Thanks, Mum.” He smiled, then thought better of it when the side of his face crinkled.

  “Fix your face,” I said.

  I marched over to Zay, who was still standing near Single like maybe the man was going to get up again.

  I sure hoped that wasn’t the reason he was standing there.

  “Let me fix your face,” I said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “Sure it is, tough guy.” I sprayed the cut with the antibiotic, and Zay hissed. “Hold on.” I tore the bandages out of their sterile packaging and did what I could to close the cut. “That’s going to scar if you don’t get stitches,” I said.

  “It will hold until after we bring down the last prisoner.”

  He finally sheathed his sword and walked over to the gurneys. Well, limped. I didn’t think the effects of the Taser had worn off yet.

  “So now are we calling in some backup for this hunt?” I asked.

  All three of them looked at me like I’d just bad-mouthed their mothers.

  “The more people we involve in the hunt, the more people will be on the hook if we fail,” Zay said. “We keep this tight; we keep this simple.”

  “Besides, no one in their right mind would do this with Bartholomew in town,” Shame said. “That’s what makes us more fun to hang out with. We know how to party.”

  Terric walked over and stood next to Shame. They both looked like they had the flu.

  “Whee,” Terric muttered.

  “Shame,” Zay said, “get the body bag.”

  “If I had a nickel for every time you’ve said that.” Shame glanced around the room and unerringly chose the cupboard that contained body bags.

  I offered to help, but Zay and Shame waved me off as they expertly and quickly stuffed Single’s body into the bag while Terric filled the sink with hot water and disinfectant. He found a mop and cleaned up the blood and mess we’d made of the place.