Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm
“When he woke up, the first thing he said was he forgave me. He told me to stop apologizing. That it wasn’t my fault. Everyone thought it wasn’t my fault. Even Zay. He testified in front of court and counsel in my defense.
“But they were wrong. I might have been pushed into it, but I was the one throwing the punches. It was my fault.
“When they told me we had to test to see if we were Soul Complements, I said no. Because I owed him that. Owed him his life. Owed him more, really. A lot more.
“He lost his chance to be guardian of the gates because of me. Can’t tolerate dark magic anymore. Not after nearly dying from it. It’s why he moved to Seattle. He couldn’t watch Zay take the job he wanted.”
He nodded, and rubbed his fingertips along his jeans, as if wiping off a stain. “It’s good we have a state between us now. Good we don’t have to work together.”
He paused again, then, softly, “I’ve never been able to get the taste of his soul out of my mouth.” Shame blinked and seemed to come back to himself. Seemed to notice I was in the room.
“So you want to know if you and Zayvion have a shot at being Soul Complements? More than Terric and I, more than Chase and Greyson. For one thing, neither of you is a screwed-up killer. That’s a step in the right direction.”
“Have you ever told anyone about. . about this?” I asked.
He shrugged, just one shoulder tucking up toward his ear. “They heard what they wanted to hear. They think what they want to think. I know what I was thinking and feeling. I know what I did. Do I regret it? Every damn day. But that doesn’t change what I did.” He fingered a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and exhaled smoke toward the window, which I only now noticed was cracked open.
“You were young. Maybe, what? Nineteen, twenty when it happened?” I asked.
Shame sniffed. “You going to stand here talking about the past all night, or were you actually going to do something to save Zay? ’Cause yakking isn’t doing him much good.”
Okay, I got the hint. Subject closed. For now.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said.
“Why bother? This is bound to get messy.”
“I don’t care. First I shower.”
“And then?”
“Then I’m going to hunt. My way.”
“I’m coming with you,” he called as I shut the door.
I didn’t want him to, not because of his story, but because he looked exhausted. But I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him, short of getting in a fistfight. Which I’d probably lose. I might not be hurting, but I wasn’t at my best either.
I shucked off the pajamas, and got into the hot water. The marks down my arm and hand were dulled to a flat gray. It was strange to see the marks without the metallic shine, without any color or magic in them at all.
But in a way, it made me feel strong. I hadn’t always had incredible amounts of magic surging through me. Sure, I was born with a small magic. I paused, concentrating on if I still felt that small weight within me. It was there, candle-flame bright, but not as powerful as the magic I usually held.
Still, that wasn’t nothing. And I had a feeling it was a lot more than most people had right now.
I finished washing, got out, got dry, and put on my clothes.
My father had been strangely quiet since we’d hunted Greyson. I wondered if he was still in my mind.
Dad? I thought.
The moth-wing flutter brushed against the backs of my eyes. He was there. A little stronger than he had been before. I swallowed, and tasted the familiar wintergreen and leather of his scents, smelled it in my nostrils, tasted it at the back of my throat.
Still possessed by my dead father? Check.
Small magic still inside me? Check.
Pissed off that some skank and her boyfriend tried to kill my lover? Hells, yes.
I found a brush and pulled my hair back. It wasn’t quite long enough to put in a band, but I’d need a haircut soon to keep it out of my eyes. No time for that now. I had a world to save.
I strode out of the bathroom. Shame must have left and returned. He wore a black trench coat. Belted. I had a feeling he was packing a lot of weapons underneath it.
“How you want this to go down?” he asked.
His eyes were a little glossy, like the grips of a fever raged through him. But he was still himself. Still willing to stand beside me and save Zayvion. I probably shouldn’t, but I trusted the man, dark past and all.
Was it a bad idea to take a crazy, bloodthirsty Death-magic user on my little stroll around the city? My dad in my head rubbed at the backs of my eyes. Well, I didn’t care what he thought.
A phone rang. Mine. In the pocket of my coat that hung over the back of the other chair in the room. I picked it up before it could ring a third time.
“Yes?”
“Allie, this is Detective Stotts. I need you to meet me in Eastmoreland, at Southeast Tolman and Twenty-eighth. Now.”
“Hounding?”
“Yes.” He hung up.
I hadn’t even had a chance to tell him that I was busy getting my vengeance on. Or that without magic, I wasn’t going to be any good for tracking spells.
“Problem?” Shame asked. His hands were in his pockets. Fisted, like it was taking a lot of effort just to stand there and not hit something.
“Hounding job. Stotts.” My mind raced through possibilities. Stotts knew some things about magic and the crimes involved with it that other people didn’t. He knew, for example, that Violet was working on the further development of the disks to hold and store magic, and to make magic less costly. He also knew a few of the disks had been stolen before my dad died.
But he didn’t know anything about the Authority. Didn’t know that in my spare time I hung around with people who, according to the law, should be locked away.
I’m sure he and everyone else knew magic was down in the city and working off backup spells. Yet, he still called me.
Shame waited. Waited for me to make a decision.
“I need your car.”
“I come with it.”
“I drive.”
Shame snorted. “Like hell.” He walked across the room to the door. We made good time down the long hall and the two flights of stairs.
“Why did she have to put us on the top floor?” I asked. It wasn’t so much that I was too tired to walk-I was impatient, and the damn stairs just seemed to keep showing up before me.
“It’s well guarded. Not just with magic,” he said over his shoulder. “And it’s as far away from the well as you can get in the building.”
“And that’s good because?”
“Did you think she was kidding when she said magic would probably come back to life? Explosively?”
No, I hadn’t thought she was kidding. But I had thought they’d have some kind of control over it. The thing that spooked me the most was that the Authority, or at least Maeve and Shame, didn’t seem very comfortable with how magic was going to react to this emptying, and to the approaching storm.
“I thought you people had a manual for this kind of thing.”
He laughed. “We have a manual. Magic doesn’t.”
He took a sharp left, even though I knew the main room was to the right.
“And you’re going?”
“Out the door that doesn’t have a million people with questions between us and it.”
Good thinking.
He was right. There was a door down at the end of this hall, maybe something that had been a staff entrance before. He didn’t do any fancy magic, no magic at all, actually. Just opened the door and strode out into the rain.
“What about Terric?” I asked as I followed him.
“What about him?”
“You’re leaving him. Maeve said he was sleeping. Is he hurt?”
The memory of him lying on the ground, Greyson chewing on him, flashed in front of my eyes. The memory of him sitting slouched in pain beside Zay, his hand cold against the back of mine, came to me.
“He’ll get over it.”
“What?”
“If I’m breathing, he’s breathing. None of us gets out of living the easy way.”
Shame was making good time, his anger steadying his steps. I had to jog to catch up with him.
We got in the car. I glanced back at the inn. A lone figure stood on the porch, leaning against the rail. Terric. He waited, watching us.
Shame started the car. Then Terric turned and walked away.
Chapter Sixteen
Shame pulled out of the parking lot. “Where?” he asked.
“Stotts said on the corner of Southeast Tolman and Twenty-eighth. That’s out by the golf course, right? Do you know what’s there?”
He thought a minute, turned the car north and toward the bridge. “Isn’t that where Beckstrom’s labs are?”
“What?”
“Oh, come on. You don’t even know where your dad set up labs for Violet’s research?”
“Didn’t like him, didn’t know her, didn’t care. Which means no, of course I don’t know where the labs are.”
“It never came up in board meetings?”
Interesting question. It hadn’t come up in board meetings, but Violet had told me the subject of the lab, and more specifically the disks that were being developed there, was causing all sorts of suspicions among the stockholders and higher-ups of the company. So much so, she’d moved in with Kevin because of threats.
I felt like I was working a crossword puzzle with no clues. I should be guessing what was going on, but didn’t even know where to begin. People in the company were upset with her for something. The only thing I could put my finger on was that the disks had been used for a lot of bad things. And now Stotts wanted me out at the lab where the disks were made, to Hound something when there was very little magic left in the city.
A break-in? Maybe someone on the board got a judge on their side and was seizing property.
Whatever was going down out there, Stotts had not sounded happy.
“That’s a hell of a long time to think over your answer,” Shame said. “Try a short word like ‘no.’”
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just-I think I’m missing something. That maybe Violet said something.” I pulled out my notebook and scanned back through the entries. Nothing that immediately looked like a clue. “And no, the lab hasn’t come up in any of the Beckstrom Enterprises business I’ve been involved in. But I’m not the CEO. Violet is.”
“And?”
“She told me there was some contention among the board members. They didn’t like not knowing what, exactly, she was developing, and why she wouldn’t let them get their hands on it. Plus, she moved in with Kevin.”
“Cooper? Her bodyguard?”
“She said she received threats. Why don’t you know about this? Kevin’s a part of the Authority. Doesn’t he report in or something?”
“Not to me. Any field agents-hell, all of us-report in to Sedra. She’s the mastermind.”
Yes, I knew that. I’d just never needed to report to her myself. Things had been really quiet the last couple months. All I’d been doing was training and learning. My teachers reported in for me.
“Do you think they can help Zayvion?” I asked. “Maeve, Jingo Jingo?”
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