Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm
“I thought it was agreed we would coordinate our efforts,” he said, his quiet voice filling the room.
“That,” Terric said, “is what I also understood. We would plan for the worst, and meet it head-on. We have time on our side for once. We can plan how to mitigate the magical onslaught.”
With every word Terric spoke, Shamus hunkered into himself, his hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder hitched as if he could deflect the pain.
Sedra gave both men a cool, emotionless gaze. “Closers,” she said, like it was a dirty word she didn’t want in her mouth, “will need to watch for gates opening, for breaches between life and death. I expect you are willing to do your duty and abide by the wisdom of the Voices of the Authority?”
Voices. She meant the highest-level magic users: Maeve, Victor, Liddy, and Sedra herself. My father too, once, though no one had yet taken his position.
“I will do what is asked of me,” Terric said.
“Zayvion?” she asked. “Will you abide by the wisdom of the Authority?”
Okay, I was starting to dislike her imperious, overly formal, condescending tone. Oh, who was I kidding? I hated the way she high-handed people. I’d watched it over the last couple months. When this woman said jump, everyone asked her when they should come back down.
Yes, she was the head of the Authority. But there was something unrelenting about the woman. As if she had to work hard to cover her hatred for everything and everyone around her. And I knew Zayvion Jones, the gate-guardian-do-my-duty-until-death, would bow to her just like everyone else.
“I’ll do everything in my power to keep the city safe,” Zayvion said.
Well, well. Not exactly a “yes, ma’am.” I wondered whether she would let it pass.
“So let me get this right,” Hayden said. The burly giant was standing by the door, arms crossed over his wide chest. If Zayvion’s voice had been loud, Hayden’s was thunder. “No pre-spells, no triggers, no traps, filters, no backup conduits or overload lines? How exactly are we supposed to keep these places, hospitals, prisons, nursing homes, warded from the effects of the storm?”
Victor nodded. “We’ve decided to approach this with as little magic use as possible because of how powerful the storm appears to be. Too many spells and too many members supporting those spells, managing the pain-even with Proxies-will limit how quickly we can react when the storm hits.”
“The big plan here is to wait and see how bad we’re beat before we start fighting?” Hayden chuckled. “There’s a winning strategy.”
Victor glared at Hayden, but the big man just put his hand out, as if to say it wasn’t his bright idea.
“All considerations have been addressed, Mr. Kellerman,” Victor said. “We work together, as we have worked together in bygone times. If we fight each other, there will be consequences that will benefit none of us.”
“Well, then.” Hayden clapped his hands together and so effectively broke the tension building in the room, I wondered if he’d cast a spell. “Sounds like all that’s left is to gut and clean. What part of town am I covering?”
He strode across the room toward Victor. As he passed, people sort of shook off the intensity of the meeting. Smaller conversations cropped up again, and people stood, stretched. Shame was on his feet, and heading to the lunch counter and bar at the back of the room. I turned to watch him. I wasn’t the only one.
Terric shifted in his chair, and stared at Shame’s back. His expression seemed calm, but the tightness at the edges of his eyes, in the angle of his jaw, spoke of restraint. And desire.
Interesting.
Shame slipped behind the lunch counter and dug around for something. I heard the thick clink of beer bottles; then Shame reappeared, three beers caught in the fingers of one hand, the fourth already pressed to his lips.
He lowered the beer, grinned at me, and then strode over, changing his gaze to meet Terric’s straight on.
Boy didn’t run from trouble. That was sure.
Terric stood and walked over to our table. Looked like he didn’t run from trouble either.
Zay turned to face Shame too. Shame was still grinning. Since I was not about to be the only person sitting if this was going to turn into a brawl, I stood as well.
“Allie.” Shame offered me a beer. “You still owe me.”
I took it even though I didn’t like beer.
“Zay.” Zayvion, behind me, reached over my shoulder and took the beer Shame offered.
“Terric.” Shame extended the last beer to him.
Terric took the beer. “Think you owe me more than a beer, Shamus.”
Shame’s heartbeat rose, but I didn’t think the other men noticed. They weren’t Hounds. They didn’t have to live off instinct and the subtle shifts in the people around them to survive.
“Well, today you’re getting a beer,” Shamus said. He tipped his and gave us all a half nod. “To the hunt. To the kill. Till the world stands still.”
“To the hunt,” Zay and Terric said.
I just raised my beer and took a tiny sip. Nope. Still didn’t like the stuff.
“I heard about Greyson,” Terric said.
Shame nodded. “Have you seen him?”
“I just got in a couple hours ago.”
Shame glanced around the room. “It’s not like they’ll let us out of this, but we’ve got a few minutes. Want to see?”
Zay took another drink of his beer. He wrapped his hand around my hip and hooked his thumb in my front pocket, the heel of his hand pressed against my hip bone. This close, I could feel his worry and anger that did not show through that Zen exterior. I didn’t know exactly what he was angry about.
Terric paused, just a beat too long, before answering. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to be,” he said to Shame. “I know I do.” He took another swig of the beer, looked Shamus right in the eyes. “Thanks for the beer.”
Shame nodded. Looked easy. Casual about the whole thing. But that response was a slap in the face.
Terric turned to me. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to meet you, Ms. Beckstrom. I hope to remedy that in the future.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said.
Terric made brief eye contact with Zay. Something changed in his expression. Sort of like ice breaking under pressure. He turned back to Shame. “Don’t take me being here as anything other than it is. Authority business.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Shame said.
“We have an understanding, then?”
“Hatred, with a heaping side of grudge?”
Terric smiled, a fleeting thing that seemed to warm through the ice, flicked to life by Shame’s agreement. “That should cover it. Except for one thing. While I am here, you and I will not get in each other’s way.”
“You know me, Terric. I’d rather be almost anywhere than near you.”
“Shame-,” Zay said.
“No.” Terric held one hand toward Zayvion. Then to Shame, “We stay out of each other’s way. Tell me we’re clear on that.”
“Twenty-twenty,” Shame said.
Terric nodded. “Good. I’ll speak with you soon, Zay, Allie.” He strode off toward the front of the room where people were poring over Victor’s laptop and maps. I realized I’d been holding my fingers spread and ready to cast a spell. I closed my hand and stuck it in my pocket.
“You didn’t have to be an ass,” Zayvion said.
Shame tipped his beer up to his mouth again. Empty.
“You know I love you, Jones,” he said, “but stay the hell out of my business.” He didn’t wait for Zay’s reply. Didn’t have to. He’d known him long enough he could give himself whatever speech Zay had planned.
Shame turned and walked away, to the bar again. He slipped behind it, found another beer, then stormed out the doors there, patting his pockets for a smoke.
Zay leaned into me a little more, or maybe he pulled me back toward him.
“They’ll be okay.” I tried to say it as a statement, but it came out all question.
Probably because Zay’s doubt and concern washed through me. He hurt for Shame like a brother who knew there was nothing he could do to fix the pain Shame had gotten himself into.
“Terric won’t try to hurt him, will he?” I asked. “He’s a good guy, right?”
“We’re all good guys,” Zay said.
Yeah, he believed that as much as I did.
“Zayvion?” Victor was making his way across the room, looking like a man who knew how to wield a sword. And since he was one of my teachers, in magic and in physical defense, I actually knew he could swing a sword. Very well, as a matter of fact.
Zay pulled away so we no longer touched.
I’d never seen Victor looking so ragged. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually clean-shaven face shadowed a beard.
“I’m going to go over the quadrants and coverage with the Closers now,” he said. “Would you join us, please?”
“What about Chase?” Zay asked.
“She’s here.”
Zay took a second to find her in the crowd. I did too, since I hadn’t seen her earlier. I spotted her walking in through the archway at the front of the room. Beyond that arch was the hall that led to sitting rooms and a stairway to the basement, where her ex-lover Greyson currently resided in a cage. She looked angry, shell-shocked, sick. Like she’d just seen something, or done something, very, very wrong.
Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing any better if it were Zay in that cage. Chase was handling this a lot better than I would, even if she hadn’t come to see Greyson before now. And it didn’t take a genius to know she had just come from seeing him.
The woman radiated a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe stronger than any Repel spell she could have cast. It worked like a charm. Everyone steered a wide berth around her and left her alone.
Another person detached from the shadows beyond the archway and walked in behind Chase.
I’d wondered when he was going to show up.
Jingo Jingo was a big man, not like Hayden, who had height to balance out his width. Jingo was just heavy. There was something about him that made him seem even bigger. He had an immensity that took up more room than his bulk justified. He radiated a dark presence as if shadows and other, haunting things clung to him. The light, pouring down from the high rafters, couldn’t clean the room of it.
He bothered me, even when he was laughing like he was everyone’s friend. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him.
He rambled over to Chase, right into her leave-me-alone zone.
Fire, meet oil.
I thought for sure Chase would give him hell. But when he neared, she seemed to cool down, her fire snuffed to ash, her anger suffocated, gone dead as he reached out and stroked her arm reassuringly. Her shoulders slumped, her head fell back to rest against the wall behind her, and she closed her eyes. She looked exhausted.
And when he spoke-a low rumble I couldn’t pull into words-she opened her eyes. She looked like a lost child, hopeful, maybe even desperate for his reassurance, his guidance. She did not look like the powerful, angry Closer I knew.
What was he doing to her? What was he telling her? What had they done down there with Greyson?
“Allie?” Zayvion said.
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