Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm
“You never tell me any good news, you know that?” I tried to make light, but the truth was, I was terrified. I turned the last corner and pushed open the door. “I’m on the ninth floor, by the stair exit. I’ll go find a waiting room full of people.”
“I’ll be there in just a second. Hold on.”
He made it sound like I was going to stop breathing or something. “Take your time,” I said. My phone vibrated. I had another call coming in. “Hold on.” I checked the caller ID. Davy Silvers. “Zay, Davy’s calling in. I need to pick this up. I’ll call you back.”
I hung up before Zay could protest. I wasn’t the only one Greyson had nearly killed. Davy had been right there on his fuck-up list, along with his girlfriend, Tomi.
“Davy, you okay?” I answered.
“Allie? Where are you?”
“Ninth floor. Where are you?”
“I’m downtown.”
“What?”
“Took the bus. I’m going home. You pissed me off. But not enough to make you spend all night looking around the hospital for me. Plus, you have the keys to my car and I want them back.”
“Are you crazy? Why did you do that?”
“Forget it,” he muttered.
“No, wait. Listen. Davy?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s someone out on the street who doesn’t like me very much.”
“And?”
Right, like that was news. “And I think he was part of the attack with you and Tomi in the park.”
He took a minute. The sounds of the bus’s engine filled in for his silence.
“Do you need my help?” he asked.
See, he really was a good kid.
“No, I’m calling Stotts. Zayvion is on his way. I’m probably going to go home and let the police take care of this.” Lie. A big fat one. Good thing we were on the phone; otherwise Davy never would have bought it.
“I want you to go home, and stay there until you hear from me. As soon as I have an update from the cops, I’ll let you know. And if you can’t get home, then get to the warehouse and stay there.”
“Oh sure,” he said, “I’ll just go home and sit there staring at the walls until you tell me it’s safe to go out again.”
“Davy, this is dangerous.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want you to get hurt. More. What I want is for you to see a doctor, but since you won’t do that, you should at least go home and lock the doors. This is police business. Be smart. Stay home.”
“Do you think I’ll just do whatever you say?” Oh, that anger could boil the lead off my phone.
“No. I think you’re my friend. I don’t care how angry you are at me. Just do the safe thing for once. I refuse to beg you to listen to me like I begged Pike.”
His breath caught. “That’s low,” he whispered.
“It’s the truth.” And it was. I’d begged Pike not to go find Trager, not to go take him on alone. I’d begged him to let the police take care of it. Begged. And I am not the begging type.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go to the warehouse. Lock up. Call me.” It all came out short. A little like someone’s hands were around his throat and he couldn’t get enough air.
Yeah, I knew how he felt. I still really missed Pike too.
“Is Bea okay?” he asked.
Right. That was what we’d come to the hospital for. “She has a concussion, but she’s going home. You were right. She got hit by magic. Can’t remember what happened, and can’t remember casting magic. Jack took her home.” Silence. From both of us.
Finally, “Davy?” What more could I say? “Thanks for listening.”
“Yeah.” He hung up.
I hung up too and realized I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Oh, that was a great way to get myself killed.
I was in another hallway, this one wide and lit by fluorescents that weren’t up to the job. I could smell coffee, so there was either a cafeteria nearby or maybe a coffee station. That was a good sign, right? Where there was coffee in Oregon, there would be people.
The hallway curved to the right and deposited me into a waiting area where six people sat. A little girl, maybe five years old, spun around and around, her pink skirt puffing up, her heavy snow boots scuffing the carpet.
“Becca, do you want to come read with me?” a woman, probably her mother, asked.
Becca just kept spinning.
I didn’t take a seat. Being around people was not a sure way to stop Greyson from attacking me. And if he did show up here, I wanted to be on my feet and ready for him.
I’d been doing a lot of learning since he’d attacked me. I knew more physical self-defense, and I knew a hell of a lot more about magic. I hadn’t had a memory loss for two months. That meant that right now I was pretty much at the top of my game.
A little part of me-okay, a big part of me-hoped he would try to take me down. Just so I could show that bastard what I was made of. Pay him back for what he did to Tomi and Davy. For what he did to my dad.
I paced, and kept an eye on both ends of the hallway. I didn’t pull on magic, but I was good at paying attention to details, like whether I caught a whiff of the burnt-blackberry and blood smell of him. My cell rang again.
“Yes?”
“Ninth floor where?” Zay asked.
“I’m in surgery and admissions. By the windows. You?”
“Almost there. Anything?”
“No. Davy’s going to the warehouse, I think. I need to tell you about the job with Stotts.”
“I see you.”
I turned. Sure enough, Zayvion Jones was striding my way, wearing that ratty blue ski coat and a dark blue ski beanie. He didn’t look particularly concerned as he tucked his cell into his pocket, didn’t look like a guy who could throw around enough magic to tear a city apart, raise the dead, and pull the heavens to the earth. Didn’t look like he was on the hunt for a creature that had murdered, destroyed, broken the boundaries between life and death. Didn’t look like a killer.
But he was all those things. And he was mine.
I hung up and strolled over to him. “We headed out?”
“What happened?” he asked.
I frowned. I’d just gone through all that. “Oh. My face?” I shrugged. “A spell kicked back on me.”
He took a breath and looked like he wanted to tear something apart. The little girl stopped spinning and ran over to sit with her mother. Kids. They have great instincts.
“Just a burn?” he asked.
“It doesn’t feel too bad. A little tight, like a sunburn.” I decided not to tell him I’d also been bleeding. No need for the man to go ballistic and make the little girl cry.
“My car’s outside,” he said.
“So’s Davy’s,” I said.
“We’ll leave his car here. Should be fine overnight.” He started toward the elevators and I followed. “Think you can do the elevator?”
Crap. No, I very much did not think I could do the elevator. But that wouldn’t stop me. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to it, thanks for asking.”
He gave me a sideways glance, and wisely said no more. The elevator door opened, and an orderly maneuvered a patient in a wheelchair out, leaving the elevator empty.
Zay stood behind me. Probably blocking me from running away. Damn.
I took a deep breath, held it, and stepped in. Zay moved behind me like my shadow. I recited my “Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack” jingle, trying to calm the screaming in my brain. There wasn’t enough room-it was too hot, too full, too small. Any minute the ceiling would slam down into me, crush me. I couldn’t breathe.
“Breathe,” Zayvion said. “Allie. Breathe.”
Oh. No wonder why it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was holding my breath. I exhaled, but it didn’t do anything to stop the panic. I inhaled too quickly, sucking in more panic than air, and the sound of my gasp only made things worse. I was going to die. Crushed. Smothered, suffocated.
In a damn elevator.
Zay took one step closer to me and a tight whine slipped out between my teeth.
“Don’t,” I squeaked, “don’t, oh, sweethellsplease don’t.” If he got any closer, I’d run out of air. I’d freaking snap and scream my fool head off, then pound my way through those walls and into fresh air.
He didn’t step closer. He reached out and pressed his fingertips down on my shoulder. Mint, cool, soothing, and familiar, washed through me. I didn’t think Grounding was going to do anything for panic.
But my shoulders lowered away from my ears, I unclenched my jaw, and I managed to swallow that kicked-puppy whimper coming out of my mouth.
The bell pinged, and I waited an eternity, two, three. Then finally, finally, the doors opened.
I was out of there faster than a sprinter on fire. I didn’t look where I was going. I didn’t care. Away was all I wanted. Far away. And my feet were plenty happy to oblige.
I jogged only about ten steps before logic kicked back in, and I stopped.
Zay was still near the elevator, his hands loose at his sides. The casual observer wouldn’t notice it, but I trained with him. I knew when he held his wrist at that angle, he was half a thought away from casting a whole lot of magic.
I stuck my hands in my pockets and started back toward him, blowing my breath out in a thin stream to try to stop the ringing in my ears.
“The car?” I asked, all dignified like I hadn’t just been running away like a scared little girl.
“That way.” He tipped his head to indicate the parking structure behind him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as soon as I was beside him.
“Don’t be. It’s kind of cute.”
Lovely. Just what I want to be. Cute.
“Bite me, Jones.”
“Anytime.” He grinned.
We headed along the narrow concrete walkway that took us down into the parkade.
“Where’s Davy’s car?” he asked.
“Down a level. How did it happen?” I asked.
“What?”
“Greyson’s escape. Maeve said he was safe there. Said that cage couldn’t be broken or breached. How did it happen?”
“We don’t know yet. The spells in place to record the area were tapped, tripped, and disabled.”
“Hold on. The ancient order of powerful magic users who can make magic do anything they want got screwed by someone hacking their wards? Why wasn’t there a camera in there? Why wasn’t someone guarding him?”
“No cameras because we don’t want any kind of recorded information about the well, Maeve’s place, or Greyson. No cameras because magic has always been enough.”
“Common sense. Would it hurt you to use it like the rest of us mortals?”
“You sound like your dad.”
“Nice.”
“His ideas for how magic should be regulated weren’t all bad.”
“So you have a man crush on the man I spent most of my life hating?”
“I didn’t say I liked him. I said he had common sense when it came to magic. Backup systems, technological support, hands-on-he believed it could all go together, work together, instead of being sectioned and divided. Magic used by the few, technology used by the masses.”
“Common sense didn’t keep him from being murdered.”
Zay fell silent. That brought us full circle. Greyson was one of the people who had killed my father back when Greyson had been a man working for the Authority. As far as anyone in the Authority could figure it, the murder was a multiple-person, complicated job. James Hoskil, my dad’s ex-business partner’s son, had been involved. And so had Cody, the gifted but mentally limited Hand my friend Nola had taken in to live on her farm in Burns, off the grid, and out of reach of magic.
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