Magic on the Storm ab-4

by Devon Monk

  Zayvion was way ahead of me. One elbow braced beneath him, he rolled, putting me partially behind him, his right hand already outlining a glyph in the air, though he didn’t pour magic into it yet.

  Another rock, a wet rock-no, an ice cube-hit my hip. More ice hit Zayvion’s shoulder, clattered down his chest to the mat in front of him. Ice rained down around us in handfuls.

  Shamus Flynn stood at the door halfway across the room, a bucket of ice tucked between his arm and chest, and a grin on his face.

  “Thank God I got here in time.” He tossed another volley our way. “You might have gone up in flames. Burst into sex at any minute.”

  “Shame,” Zayvion warned. “Put the ice down.”

  “Like hell. No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for.” He tossed another cube at Zayvion’s head. Zay didn’t even blink as it whizzed past his ear.

  Boy had good aim.

  Zay didn’t take his eyes off Shame, but he shifted so that we were no longer tangled.

  “Do you remember what happened to you the last time you threw ice at me?” he asked calmly.

  Shame shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “It had something to do with you not walking straight for a couple days.”

  Shame grinned. “Oh, you mean what Chase did to me. That I remember. Girl’s got no sense of humor. And she kicks like a mule. Bad combination.”

  “The bucket?” Zay held up his hand where he still held the glyph between ring finger and thumb. “Down.”

  Shame pulled out a piece of ice and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed it-noisily-as he strolled over to us.

  I swear he had a death wish.

  Shame did a fair job at that goth-rocker vibe. Black hair cut with the precision of dull garden shears shaded his eyes. Black T-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt on top of black jeans, black boots. Even his hands were covered by black fingerless gloves. But behind all that black was a man who wasn’t as young as he looked. A man whose eyes carried too much pain to be hidden by that sly smile.

  “That was your last warning.” Zayvion tensed, ready to pour magic into the glyph.

  “Do not burn your best friend to a crisp,” I said, sounding more like a babysitter than a girlfriend.

  Zay just kept staring at Shame. “He’s won’t burn long. Not with all that water on him.”

  Shame laughed. “Bring it on.”

  “No one’s going to bring anything on.” I stood, and took turns glaring at Zayvion and Shamus. “No magic fights in the gym.”

  Right. Like they’d do what I said.

  Time to change tactics. “How about food? Zay and I were just going to do lunch,” I said.

  “Lunch?” Shamus said. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Back in my day we called it fucking.”

  “Shamus,” Zayvion said, “may I have a word with you?” Zay let go of the spell and stood up in one smooth, graceful motion that showed just how many years this man had spent sparring.

  Shame didn’t have time to answer because Zay closed in on him, fast and silent as a panther. He wrapped his arm around Shame. It looked friendly enough, but both of Shame’s arms were pinned and Shame was tucked tight against Zay’s side.

  “You want a word with me, or you want to date me?” Shame asked. “’Cause if it’s the second thing, you’re buying me more than lunch.”

  Zayvion forced him toward the far side of the room.

  I shook my head. Those two acted like brothers, even though they were physically about as opposite as they could get. I glanced at the door, wondering if Chase, Zay’s ex-girlfriend, might have come along with Shame. No one was there.

  My shoulders dropped. Chase and I were not exactly friends, even though we’d had to work around each other the last couple months. She wasn’t done hating me for what happened to Greyson, the man she dumped Zay for. And I was more than done explaining to her that I hadn’t turned him into a half-dead beast.

  What can I say? My relationships were complicated.

  I found the water bottle I’d left on the floor, picked it up, and took a drink. Zay and Shame were far enough across the room I shouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying. But Hounding for a living meant I had good ears. There was a chance I’d be able to spring into action if Shame needed me to save his life or something.

  “. . ever throw ice at me again, I am going to beat you with that bucket. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh, please. Like I should take you seriously. You haven’t raised a finger in two months.”

  “Listen.” Zay paused, lowered his voice. “This is different than Chase and me. More than. . that ever was.” He paused again. “I need you to respect what we have, or you and I are going to have real problems.”

  “Respect?” Shamus asked, just as quietly. “I’m filled with envy.”

  “Then stop being an ass.”

  Shame snorted. “Better to ask the rain not to fall.”

  “Rain,” Zay said, squeezing Shame a little harder. “Don’t fall.” He released his hold.

  Shame got out of arm’s reach and shook his hand, probably trying to get blood back into it. Like I said, Zay played for keeps.

  “Can’t remember the last time you and I had real problems.” Shame stuck his hand in the ice bucket and dug out another frozen chunk, popped it in his mouth.

  “It’ll come to you.”

  From Shame’s body language, I could tell it had. “Yes. Well. Let’s not go there again.”

  Then Shame raised his voice, obviously talking to me. “Aren’t you going to ask why I came by?”

  I shrugged the shoulder that didn’t hurt. “You need a reason to harass Zay?”

  “Hell no. But I’m not here to talk to Zay. I’m here for you.” He strolled across the room toward me.

  Zayvion paced over to where he’d left his water bottle. The man was so quiet that if I weren’t looking at him, I wouldn’t think there was anyone in the room except Shame and me.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Shame stopped and held out the bucket. “Ice?”

  “We’re going to lunch, remember?”

  “You were serious about that?” he asked. “Huh. Well, you might want to eat quick. My mum wants to see you.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind me. “In an hour, the latest. At the inn.”

  “Did she say why?” I asked.

  “Officially?”

  “At all.”

  “There’s a storm coming,” he said, all the joking gone now.

  Zayvion stiffened. I watched as the relaxed, laughing man I’d spent the last few weeks with was replaced by an emotionless wall of control, of calm, of duty.

  “What kind of storm?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure what the answer would be.

  “Wild magic,” he said. “And it’s aiming straight for the city.”

  Dread rolled in my stomach. The last time a wild storm had hit the city, I’d tapped into it and nearly killed myself. Ended up in a coma. Ended up losing more memories than I wanted to admit. Like my memories of Zayvion.

  “And what does that have to do with me?” My voice did not shake. Go, me.

  Wild-magic storms were violent and deadly, and messed with the flow of magic that powered the city’s spells. But that’s why my father invented the Beckstrom Storm Rods. Every building in the city was outfitted with at least one storm rod to catch and channel strikes of wild magic.

  “Maybe nothing,” he said. “She might just want to go over details from your last session with her.” He nodded toward the void stone necklace around my neck. “See that things are going right with you and all.”

  Lie. Lie. Lie. Shamus knew more. Knew what Maeve wanted. Knew why I was being called upon.

  I looked him in the eyes. Raised my eyebrows.

  He just shook his head.

  Okay, whatever it was, he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me. It was hard to remember that Shame was a part of the Authority too. He reported to Jingo Jingo, and abo
ve him was Liddy Salberg. They all used Death magic, which was unknown to the average magic user, and for good reasons. Maybe Jingo had told him not to talk.

  More likely his mother had told him to keep his gob shut.

  I’d only taken a handful of classes with Shamus’s mother, Maeve, but she treated me like a cub who needed protecting from the other senior members of the Authority, people like Liddy; Jingo Jingo; Zay’s boss, Victor; and especially the leader, Sedra.

  She was wrong to think I needed protecting. But over the last month or so, I’d discovered the one thing the members of the Authority had in common. They were all suspicious as hell. Not a lot of trust going around for a group of people who relied on one another’s discretion to stay in business.

  “For that, you couldn’t just call?” I asked, trying to lift the mood.

  “What, and waste a perfectly good bucket of ice?”

  “Tell your mom I’ll be there in an hour.” I picked up my gym bag and headed to the women’s locker room. “Zay, you still on for lunch?”

  “We have time. I’ll take you out to Maeve’s afterwards.”

  Shame followed Zay into the men’s locker room, his voice drifting back to me. “Oh, what’s with the face? Mad your vacation’s over? When was the last time you did any work, you lazy git?”

  I heard the muffled smack of a fist against flesh and an “Ow!” as I closed the door.

  I was the only one in the locker room, and Zay and Shame were the only other people in the gym. The gym wasn’t advertised-as a matter of fact, it was fairly hidden, and not by magical means. It was located on the bottom floor of a fabric store, and no one suspected there was a modern workout facility here.

  Zay had told me it was only one of several places in the city set aside by members of the Authority for members of the Authority. It was like they had an entire hidden city shoved into the pockets and cracks of Portland. And no one got in those pockets if they weren’t part of the Authority.

  The whole exclusivity of the Authority was a little odd to me. I still wasn’t one hundred percent down with the I’m-on-their-team bit, because I wasn’t sure they were on my team.

  Yes, the members of the Authority had magical knowledge up the wazoo, and used more magic in more ways than I could imagine. Yes, I loved learning how to control the magic that filled me. Not that I had been top of the class in the execution of everything they tried to teach me.

  But the price for all this knowledge was that I could never speak of it outside the Authority, never abuse the trust they placed in me, and never use magic in the hidden ways in public. And the public included the police.

  Which made my day job of Hounding illegal spells for Detective Stotts a difficult combination of remembering what I should know and, more important, what he should know I knew.

  I shucked my T-shirt, and traded my exercise bra for something I could breathe in. I didn’t look in the mirror until I’d pulled on my jeans and boots. I dug the brush out of my bag and did a quick once-through on my hair. My hair was dark and short enough I could tuck it pretty easily behind one ear, and I did so on the left side. The right I let fall free, hiding the metallic whorls magic had marked me with.

  Since it was winter in Oregon, there wasn’t a natural tan in town, and I was no exception. My pale skin made the glass green of my eyes look like chipped jade. I held my breath and braced myself for the shadow of my father in my eyes. Nothing but me staring back at me.

  Good.

  If my dad never spoke to me again-better yet, if he faded away into death like a decent dead person-that would be fine with me. I did not like being possessed.

  I shoved my workout clothes into my bag, zipped everything, and put on my hoodie before strolling out of the locker room. Zay and Shame stood by the door. Shame cradled a cigarette and lighter in one hand-neither lit.

  “So, where to?” I asked.

  “The River Grill’s on the way to Mum’s,” Shame suggested.

  “You’re coming with us?” I asked.

  “Like you’re surprised. Free lunch, right?”

  “Wrong,” Zay said. “It’s your turn to buy.”

  I opened the door and stepped out into the hard, cold air. The sun lent the day no warmth, but it was sunny and the sky was a shock of blue that hit my winter-weary soul like a cool drink of water.

  Zayvion followed behind me. Shamus paused to light up.

  “You going to tell us the rest?” Zay asked over his shoulder.

  Shame exhaled smoke. Finally got walking.

  “The rest of what?”

  We’d made it to the car, and Zay unlocked the passenger’s side and touched my arm before walking around to the driver’s side. Shame, still smoking, paused near the back of the car. He’d gotten here on his own-I assumed his car was in the parking lot somewhere.

  Zay turned and gave Shame a look that said more than words.

  One corner of Shame’s mouth curved upward. The wind stirred his hair, pushing it closer over his eyes, and taking his scents-cigarette smoke and cloves-away from me.

  “Sedra called in the crew from Seattle.”

  “Terric?” Zay asked mildly.

  Shame just took another drag off the cigarette. His shoulders were squared, tense, his free hand fisted. He looked like someone who had more pain in him than he had breath left to scream it out.

  “Of course.”

  “Have you seen him yet?” Zay asked.

  “Nope. And if luck holds, I won’t see him at all.” Maybe it was supposed to come out funny, but his voice dropped into a growl, even though he was smiling. Whoa. There was a lot of fury behind that smile.

  “Come to lunch,” Zay said.

  Shame tossed the cigarette to the damp concrete, then clapped his hands together as if brushing away dirt, his fingerless gloves muffling the sound. “Not going to talk about it.”

  “I know.”

  Shame nodded, then strolled off to his car, whistling a punk rock song from the nineties.

  I looked over the roof of the car at Zayvion. He watched Shamus with such intensity, it was like he could see the man’s bones, his soul.

  Who knows? Maybe he could. There were a lot of things about both of them I didn’t know.

  Shamus, walking away, couldn’t see us. Still, he must have felt Zay’s gaze. He lifted his hand in a dismissive wave.

  Zayvion inhaled, his nostrils flaring. When he looked back at me, he was calm. Zen Zay. Private Zay. Controlled. Deadly.

  “Vacation’s over, isn’t it?” I asked.

  Zay shrugged one shoulder. “I think we have time for one last lunch.”

  “As long as lunch involves coffee, I’m on for it.” We both got in the car, and at least one of us, namely me, wondered how long it would be before the storm really hit.

  Chapter Two

  The River Grill was on the Oregon side of the Columbia, and should have been swank if the real estate surrounding it had any sway. Instead, it looked pretty much the same as it did back in the day when the lumberyards were still going strong-a squat, wide building with plenty of windows facing the water, mostly clean tables, and food that was hot, filling, and cheap.

  It was three o’clock, a little late for lunch, and a little early for dinner, so the place was mostly empty.

  Zay and I took a table by the window and Shamus strolled in behind us. He plucked a menu off the stack by the cash register, and read it while walking over to the table.

  “Think it’s the burger today.” He sat in the remaining chair and folded the menu.

  “Big surprise,” Zayvion said over the top of his glass of water.

  Shame held up one hand, and caught the waitress’s attention.

  She was over in a jiffy, took our orders-burgers and sodas all around-and then was off.

  Shame cracked his knuckles. “So, how did sparring go today?”

  “She’s improving,” Zayvion said.

  “She won,” I said, clearly.

  Zay just smiled. I really wa
s getting better. Good enough I knew I could hold my own in a fight. Good enough I was doing more than just knife training-we’d moved on to the machetes Zay and his crew use to hunt down magical nasties. Zay had let me work with the katana, a beautiful blade, heavy with the weight of old magic. Training, being aware of every muscle in my body working in concert to my command of magic, made me feel powerful. And I liked it. A lot.

  “Very nice, Beckstrom,” Shame said. “Zay’s a hard man to take down. Not that he’s much of a challenge for me, of course. I could take him with one spell tied behind my back. And now that he’s all soft from his time off, he’d go down in a hot second.”

  “Are you done?” Zay asked.

  “Done?” Shame said.

  “Not talking about Terric.”

  Shame glared at Zayvion. Zay sipped his water, patient as time. Shame finally gave up, and rubbed his mouth across the palm of his fingerless glove. With his other hand, he cast a very subtle Mute spell. The people around us, not that there were many, wouldn’t be able to hear our conversation. Handy, that.

  “Mum said Sedra’s calling. . them. . down. Said it’s about the storm, but I think there’s more going on.”

  Zay folded his fingers and propped his elbows on the table. He stared at Shamus, waiting for him to talk.

  “I think there’s something wrong with the wells,” Shame said.

  Zayvion’s eyebrows rose. End of reaction. “All of them?”

  Shame took a drink of water. “Like I know? I don’t have access to all of them. But the one beneath Mum’s place. .” He shook his head.

  Zayvion did not look pleased. Then he pulled on the somber mask of Zen, of calm, of duty, and simply looked emotionless.

  Well, that was helpful.

  “Want to tell the new girl what can go wrong with the wells?” I wasn’t a complete idiot. In the time I’d been taking classes from Victor, Liddy, Maeve, and Jingo Jingo, I’d realized that Portland has four natural wells of magic beneath the ground. That was unusual. Other cities had wells-usually one. Sometimes two. Rarely three. But the Portland area had four wells, one of which was beneath the Flynns’ inn, which Shame’s mother ran, just on the Vancouver side of the river, and all of which were a hard-guarded secret.