Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm
“Nice to know I have options.”
“You’re welcome to try to negotiate with Maeve if you want,” he offered.
Right. Shut up, Allie. This was as good as it was going to get. And if we did this right, if we were very lucky, we might be able to take care of this problem tonight.
A dizzy flux of magic washed through me again. I broke out in a cold sweat and wiped at the top of my lip. I glanced at Zay, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it. The storm was coming, rolling closer, messing with magic, messing with me. I knew tonight would be our best chance to take Greyson down.
Chapter Twelve
We drove to the meeting point, a twenty-four-hour diner and truck stop. Shame’s car was parked near the gravel back of the lot. Neither Shame nor Chase was beside the car. There wasn’t enough light for me to make out who was inside it. Zayvion stopped the car several parking spaces away.
“Coffee?” Terric asked.
“Please,” I said, “black.” I dug in my pocket for cash.
“I got it. Zayvion?”
“No thanks.”
“Back in a moment, then.” Terric slipped out and headed to the restaurant without a glance at Shame’s car.
Right. They didn’t want to be around each other. Zay and I were currently fighting, Terric and Shame had been avoiding each other for years, and not only was Chase Zay’s ex-girlfriend, but also, the guy she dumped him for was the murderer we were about to hunt down.
For cripes’ sake. Could we be any more dysfunctional?
“Zay?”
“I need some air.” He got out, slammed the door, and started walking toward Shame’s car.
He was just the lord of pissy tonight, wasn’t he? Fine. I was done apologizing for being right, for being strong, for being me. If he couldn’t deal with it, then too damn bad.
I got out of the car. Noticed, in a distracted way, that it was sprinkling. Started over to tell Zay to suck it up and deal.
Zay slowed. He stopped, bent, and looked in the back driver’s-side window.
Something was wrong.
I moved faster. “What?” I asked.
He held up his hand to tell me to stop, and I did. Strong, stubborn, capable, yes. Stupid, no.
He opened the driver’s-side door. An arm fell out of the door and Zayvion leaned in to catch the rest of the body that followed.
Shamus.
I jogged the remaining distance, around the other side of the car to see if Chase was in the other seat. I looked in. Nobody. I opened the door and the stink of used magic hit me so hard, I had to turn my head to take a breath.
I recited my mantra and set a Disbursement, muscle aches one more time. I was going to be a head-to-toe cramp once all these deferred prices hit me. I traced the glyphs for Sight, Smell, and Taste. My senses burst open. Magic had been used inside the car. The ashy remains of Impact stuck like a huge brown and red spider, pulsing against the upholstery of the roof. An overpowering mix of so many other conflicting scents made me think someone had cast an extra spell full of scents just to throw off any attempts to Hound. There were too many smells to sort quickly, if at all. In those smells I caught the edge of Shame’s blood and a hint of sweet cherry. Blood magic?
Tendrils of brown and red from the Impact hooked out the door and into Shame. Maybe in his mouth or chest. Zay had him on the ground, but was blocking my view.
I knew the signature of the spell. I knew who had cast this.
Chase.
Holy shit.
I straightened, turned a slow circle, looking for any sign of her, or which way she might have gone. A trail of magic, thin as a thread, spilled off toward the street. It was dissolving in the rain. I jogged across the back of the parking lot and through a row of bushes out onto the street beyond. The ashes of the spell ended. Chase had come this way. Whether she had continued down the street or turned around, Sight couldn’t tell me.
I shifted my attention to Smell.
I knew Chase’s smell-a musky vanilla perfume. I breathed in through my nose and open mouth, so I could get a taste of the air as well. Maybe just the slightest hint of vanilla, but the heavier smells from the truck stop screwed with the subtleties. I turned another slow circle, sensing for any hint of the way Chase had gone.
Nothing I would swear on.
Shit. I let go of magic.
Shame moaned. Zay was talking to him, telling him not to move. Shame, being Shame, was acting like a smart-ass.
“So you can kiss me? Not on a first date,” he said as I reached them.
“It was Chase,” I said.
Both men glanced up at me. Zayvion cursed.
“Chase hit you with Impact, Shame. Do you remember that?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We were just sitting here, waiting for you to show up. Well, not you, Beckstrom; you, Z., and then. .” He frowned. “I thought. I thought I was tired. Did I fall asleep?”
“It was Chase,” I said again to Zay.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’d testify in court. That was her signature.”
“Shame,” Zay said. “Chase hit you with magic. I think she Closed you so you wouldn’t remember.”
“Well, fuck that little bitch,” Shame said. “I’m going to have her roasted for that.” He pushed at Zay’s hands. “Let me up. I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Might be Blood magic,” I said.
“It’s just my mouth where I hit the steering wheel,” Shame said. “Plus I’m angry now. Does the body good. Move.”
Zayvion stood, one hand down just in case Shame needed it to stand. Shame took his hand and pulled up onto his feet.
“Fucking fuck fuck of a fuck.” Shame dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. His hands shook as he lit up.
“Eloquence, thy name is Flynn,” Terric said from behind us.
Shame didn’t even bother looking up. “Fuck you too,” he said around the cigarette.
Terric was closer now. Close enough to see the details of the scene.
His expression turned into a very carefully constructed, pleasant smile. Okay, that was scary. I knew he was angry at Shame, and I figured he was also aware of the remnants of Chase’s spell. Even a novice could sense it, and Terric was no novice. But that smile made him look like a nice guy, friendly and polite.
Note to self: when Terric smiles that friendly smile, be worried. He was really about to kill something. A lot.
“I’d love some details,” Terric said, still all friendly-like, while handing me a cup of coffee.
“Chase did this,” I said.
Terric’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
“I Hounded the spell that knocked Shame out. It was Chase’s signature.”
“How did it happen, Flynn?” His voice was a little softer when he spoke to Shame, though I doubted either of them noticed.
Shame just shrugged one shoulder and took another drag off his cigarette. “Don’t know,” he said through the smoky exhalation. “She took my memory.”
Terric the nice guy suddenly looked like Terric the killer. He stared at Shame, and Shame finally, finally, looked up, met his eyes, then looked away.
The pain and fear and anger in Shame’s expression disappeared as he sucked on his cigarette, his long, ragged bangs falling to hide his eyes.
Yeah, I knew how he felt. It was hell to lose parts of yourself, to know someone or something had that kind of control over your mind. It made you feel vulnerable, in the worst way.
“Interesting,” Terric murmured. He took a swallow of his coffee, and when his cup came back down, he was Terric the nice, smiling killer guy again.
Well, I saw no need to be polite about this. “This is bullshit. She has no right to do that to him. Do you remember what you and she were talking about, Shame? Did she say anything before she attacked you?”
“I got nothing.”
“Zay,” I said. “Can you think up a scenario that makes Chase innocent?”
“Not at the moment.”
“So we hunt Chase?” I asked, realizing that I liked the idea of kicking her ass a little too much. She’d bitch slapped me something fierce when I’d found Greyson back in St. Johns, accused me of turning him into a Necromorph. She and I hadn’t ever been on friendly terms, and it pissed me off that she would hurt Shame.
I liked Shame. I’d always thought she’d liked him too.
“We hunt Greyson,” Zayvion said.
“Are you kidding me?”
He finally looked at me, his eyes more gold than brown, a different storm of magic roiling there. “Because where we find Greyson is where we’ll find Chase.”
I’m not kidding-that made chills run over my skin.
Magic fluxed again, sucking at my feet like a starved leech. A wave of vertigo teeter-tottered the world, then slowly stabilized. It was a lot like when magic had fluxed and I’d fallen in the bathroom.
The storm was coming closer.
Damn.
“Allie?” Zay asked.
I took a drink of my coffee. Buying time for me to pull myself together.
“Are you hurt?” He raised his hand to cast a spell, probably a form of Sight.
So much for hiding the effects of magic’s fluctuations on me.
“Magic,” I said. “It’s a little. . weird.”
Zay waited, hand still raised.
“I keep getting dizzy. When magic fluctuates, it pulls on me. I’m guessing it’s from the storm, right?” Why it was affecting me and not them probably had something to do with me being the only one stupid enough to tap into a wild-magic storm and get thrown into a coma. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be a part of the hunting crew.
I looked him right in the eye. No lies for me, Mr. Jones. No sirree. Nothing but the truth. I’m in plenty good enough shape to hunt.
He believed me enough to nod. “If you feel dizzy again, tell me. We’ll be on foot for some of this.”
“Are we wearing wrist cuffs?” I asked.
“No,” Shame and Terric said simultaneously.
Zay glared at both of them. “Yes,” he said. “We are.” He walked over to his car and opened the trunk.
I followed, leaving Shame and Terric behind. That didn’t last long. Even though Shame was hurt, and it obviously concerned Terric, they still didn’t like being alone with each other.
I’d gone out hunting with Zay and Shame only once before. Chase had been there too. We’d hunted Hungers, magic-eating, killing creatures that found their way into our world through the gateways between life and death and preyed on magic users and innocents alike. We’d fought the Hungers and, on the way, found Tomi being used by Greyson, and then Greyson himself.
But that time we’d been tucked away off the main roads, our cars covered by the trees and bushes. It was more than a little strange to be standing in the middle of a parking lot, even this late at night, with an open trunk filled with magical weapons. Most of the weapons could pass off as everyday items.
The machetes, for instance, might pass as yard tools. Lots of wild blackberries and ivy in Oregon meant lots of machetes in Oregon. And the knives could just be knives, the chains, just chains. But there were weird bits in the trunk too. Things that looked ancient. Archaic twists of metal and glass and leather that channeled magic, enhanced magic, did almost anything you could think of with magic, if they fell in the right user’s hands.
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