by Devon Monk
“Very good. How many are in Portland?”
“Just Zayvion and Allie.” Pause. Quieter, “And you and Terric.”
“Gold star.” I glanced over my shoulder. He took another drink of the whiskey, then set it down on the far side of the windowsill, out of his easy reach.
“Why?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.
“The government is suddenly all interested in Soul Complements and what they can do,” I said.
“Break magic?”
I nodded. “Overseer is suggesting we get the hell out of town. Out of the country too. Thinks we’re in a lot of danger.”
He looked over at Terric’s office. Worried.
Jesus. He didn’t just like Terric. He was harboring much deeper feelings for him.
It was strange to see someone fall in love with a person you were connected to. I found the best way to deal with it was to ignore the hell out of it.
Drinking helped too.
“So you’re saying you’re leaving? He’s leaving?” Dash asked.
“No, I’m saying we’re going to make some choices. Or I assume we’re going to. Terric is fussy about me making life-and-death decisions when he’s involved.”
“Is that why you came by today?” Still wasn’t looking at me.
“I thought so.”
The door to Terric’s office opened and closed and then I heard his footsteps. Every plant in the room stirred as if a soft wind brushed over them. The damn things grew, vines snaking out half a foot in just a few seconds.
Someone wasn’t keeping very good control of their Life magic. I wondered if Terric was drunk.
“Gentlemen,” Terric said with a lift in his voice. “Let’s leave the packing for later. I want lunch. Shame, you’re coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you there. Dash, you’re welcome to come if you want.”
Not drunk yet. He still had his clothes on. Definitely buzzed, though. The day was looking up.
Dash pushed away from the wall and pressed his fingers down into his front pockets. “No, that’s okay. I’ll stay here and fill a couple of these boxes. See you later this afternoon?”
Terric nodded. “I should be back.”
“Don’t count on me,” I said. “But don’t pack the whiskey either.”
“Wait. Terric?” Dash jogged toward his office. “I have a message for you.”
He jogged right back with a folder in his hand. “There’s been another missing person report that matches the others.”
Terric took the folder, opened it. “He looks familiar. Shame?”
I took the folder. Printout of a missing person report. Paper-clipped to that was a photo of an older man, gray beard and hair, eyes nearly lost in the wrinkles from his smile.
“I’ve seen him,” I said. “Don’t remember where. And not recently.”
“So we can rule out the bars and gutters,” Terric said.
“Look who finally found his sense of humor,” I said. “I’m thinking a while ago. Couple years. Was he part of the Authority?”
Terric took the folder back and glanced at the name. “Harry Schol. Doesn’t ring a bell. Run his history through our records, will you, Dash?”
Dash took the folder. “Already on it. You two have a nice lunch.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s going to be swell,” Terric said, taking two tries to pluck his coat off the hook as he made his way to the door.
“We still have records the police can’t access?” I asked Dash. “I thought there was a total transparency-of-records thing that went down a couple years ago.”
“Well, there’s transparency,” Dash said with a tilt of the folder, “and there’s the Authority.” He nodded toward Terric.
I grinned. “Maybe things aren’t all that different after all.” I started off after Terric, caught up to him halfway down the hall.
“I think I should drive,” I said.
“I’m fine.” He aimed for the elevator button with exaggerated precision.
“Just the same, mate, hand over the keys.”
The elevator door opened and we stepped in, Eleanor behind us.
“You’ve been drinking,” he said.
“Sure. Three swallows. You tanked a third of that bottle. I drive, or you’re going alone.”
“Why is every conversation with you an argument?”
“Seems a waste of time, doesn’t it? Especially since I’m always right.”
He leaned one shoulder against the elevator wall, half turned toward me. “Like the time you said Victor was going to give up his place as Head of Faith magic? Or the time you bet Allie—Allie of all people—that you knew what Zayvion was thinking better than she did? Or the time when you bet me I could bring that fossil back to life? Or—”
“That,” I interrupted, “is why every conversation is an argument. You just can’t let things go.”
“I can let things go.” He held my gaze, eyes sober and dark with unveiled pain. I looked away.
“I can’t ignore facts,” he went on. “Or the truth when it’s right in front of me.”
I stared at my shoes. “You should practice,” I said quietly, ignoring the slow thud of his heartbeat. “It gets easier.”
The door split and I couldn’t get through it fast enough. I strode down to the front doors. Pulled sunglasses out of my pocket and got them over my eyes. Stepped out into the daylight.
Afternoon was rolling toward evening, the sun giving up the fight to clouds. City was in full swing now, plenty of people on the street.
So many beating hearts.
Enough that it took me a second to realize Terric was walking in the opposite direction than I was facing.
“...way, Shamus,” he called back over his shoulder.
I swore, popped up the collar of my coat, not that it did much to block the living from my notice, but it usually signaled people to stay the hell out of my way.
He’d found street parking just half a block down, and was waiting by the passenger’s side, one hand on the roof in both a possessive and steadying grip, keys in his other hand.
“If you scratch it, dent it, or grind one single gear, I will come over to your place every morning at five, steal your curtains, and sing ABBA at the top of my lungs.”
“Hey, now,” I said, taking the keys from him. “You don’t have to be mean.”
I unlocked doors and slid behind the driver’s wheel. The car was clean as the day it’d been driven out of the factory, with only the scent of Terric’s cologne indicating someone living owned the thing.
I wondered, not for the first time, how a person could go through life leaving such a faint mark on the things he possessed.
He folded down into the passenger seat, buckled his seat belt. “Not a scratch,” he reminded me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I heard you. Burgers?”
“Sushi.”
“Fish and chips.”
“Vegan.”
“Over your dead body,” I said. We were quiet while I eased out into traffic.
“Bar food so neither of us is happy?” I offered.
“That works.”
I decided short drive was better than long, so I headed to Paddy’s. We didn’t say anything else until I parked in a loading zone and Terric had a fit about it. I finally relented and found a place a few blocks away.
Clouds threw gray across the sky, and the wind had picked up. Not as many people on the street here. By the time we reached the bar, I, for one, was glad for the heat of the place.
Terric found a table in the corner where the lighting was low enough I could take off my sunglasses. It was thoughtful of him.
Eleanor got busy checking what the other patrons in the bar were eating and drinking. She finally sat next to a good-looking man who was reading on a screen, and leaned forward just enough to read along with him.
The waitress, a curvy girl with a great smile, came around and took our beer orders. Terric also ordered shepherd�
��s pie.
“Get food,” he said.
“Not hungry.”
“Yes, you are. He’ll have the baby spinach and beet salad.”
“Like hell he will.”
The waitress raised her eyebrows, then reapplied her smile. “It’s a good salad.”
“Just bring me a burger. Rare. Lots of cheese. Fries.”
“Good choice.” She sauntered off.
“So,” Terric said. “We’re unemployed and being hunted. Got any ideas about that?”
“You’re a graphic designer,” I said. “So you’ve that to fall back on. Mum’s inn brings in enough I can skim profits, and she doesn’t care.”
“I was talking about the hunted part. Price on our heads. Wanted by the government?”
I shrugged. “Let them want me. I’m not worried.”
He leaned forward, the Void stone necklace swinging outward just a bit before it settled again against his pale gray dress shirt, and regarded me with a look that was too kind for the sort of hell he’d been through in his life. “You won’t even consider relocating? There’s nothing holding you here, Shame.”
“Sure there is.”
“What? Name one thing that ties you down to Portland.”
Was that a dare? Did he want me to say it was him? Us? Soul Complements and magic?
“I have a better idea,” I said, picking apart the side of the wooden table with my thumbnail. “You just tell me what you want to do, since that’s why we’re really talking, right?”
He inhaled, exhaled, eyes tightening slightly. Annoyed.
“I get that you don’t fear death,” he said. The waitress showed up, set our beers out for us. Mine: dark. His: dark. Huh. I wondered when he’d switched over from the light brews.
“And I know you don’t care if someone tries to kill you,” he continued once she had moved on. “But this isn’t a street brawl, Shame. This isn’t even a magic user after you. This is the government. Bullets are faster than magic. Even our magic. The government has resources and reach you can’t escape.”
“Who says I want to escape?” I said cheerfully. I picked up my beer, swallowed some down. Damn fine. Set it back on the table. “It does sound like fun, doesn’t it? Being chased. Wanted man. Final showdown.”
He leaned back and gave me a courtroom stare. No more happy in those eyes. No more kindness. “Ever think that maybe they don’t want to kill you, Shame? Ever think that maybe they have ways to force you to stay alive? Ways to force you to do what they want you to do?”
“That someone might want to use me, use this thing inside me? Sure,” I said. “I think about it every damn minute. What happens if I lose control. What happens if someone else tries to control this.” I lifted my fingers just a bit and the rings across my right knuckles crackled with sparks of red.
“There isn’t anything out there that scares me anymore, Terric. Not the big bad government, not the big bad Authority. Not life. Not death.”
He took a drink of his beer, set it down, and turned it slowly with just the tips of his fingers clearing away the condensation. Didn’t look at me. “Three out of four, anyway.”
“How’s that?”
Took another drink. Looked at me this time.
“I believe three out of four of those. You might not be afraid of the government or the Authority, or death. But life? I think life scares the crap out of you, Shame Flynn. Why else have you been running and hiding from it for almost two years?”
I just shook my head and drank my beer.
I hated when he was right.
Terric’s phone rang. Which was just as well. I was done with this conversation years ago.
The waitress showed up with our plates. I gave her a hey-baby smile and a thank-you.
When I looked back over at Terric he was frowning at his phone and texting.
I took a huge bite of the burger and groaned with joy. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days. Did a quick count in my head.
Yep. Days.
Terric didn’t touch his food. He hit SEND on the text, then wrapped his fingers around his beer and stared at the table.
“More bad news?” I asked.
“No.” He lifted his fork and dug at his food before putting a bite in his mouth.
I worked my way through half the burger. Watched Terric rearranging the food on his plate.
“What was that text?” I asked.
“Personal.”
“And?”
“Do you really want to know what’s going on in my personal life?”
“Well, no. Not really. But that text made you stop talking. And I am always interested in ways of accomplishing that.”
Faint smile. He sat back, fork left behind in the mashed potatoes. “I’m dating someone.”
“Uh-huh.” I drank beer to wash down salt and grease.
He was watching me. Waiting.
“Terric, you always have a boyfriend. Don’t care.” Half the burger down, half to go. I took another bite.
“That was him on the phone.” Shrug.
“You like him?” I asked.
His eyes skittered away from mine. “Most of the time.” Eyes back on me again. Smile that faded too quickly.
I moved on to the pile of french fries. “And the rest of the time?”
“It’s complicated.”
I ate for a bit, wiped my fingertips on the napkin, then finished my beer.
Terric still wasn’t eating. Wasn’t looking at me either.
“Here’s what I think,” I started.
“Didn’t ask for your opinion.”
“I think when you date guys you like, you smile a lot. You talk about them a lot. And when you talk about them, you don’t lose your appetite.”
“Your point?”
“You haven’t even told me his name, and for a guy who insisted I go out to lunch because you were hungry . . .” I pointed at his nearly untouched plate, then pointed at mine.
Terric shook his head, then leaned off the back of his chair and took a couple bites.
I flagged the waitress for another round of beers and finished the rest of my lunch. My gut was killing me. I think that was more than I’d eaten in a week.
“Maybe it’s time to move on,” I said.
“Which subject are we on now?”
“Boyfriend. Maybe you got what you wanted, and it’s time to move on.”
“He has cancer, Shame.”
“That’s not your fault.”
Terric shook his head again. This time there was some fire in his eyes. “You might not give a damn about people, Shame, but I do.”
“No. What I care about doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’m just telling you what you already know. Guilt is a stupid reason to remain in a bad situation.”
“Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So what do you want to do?”
“About your boyfriend?” I asked.
“No. Being hunted.”
The waitress showed up with our beers and I took a long pull before answering, “Fuck all if I know. Stay here. Watch things blow up. Or make things blow up. Do you know what Zay and Allie are doing?”
“Staying. For now. But they’re making . . . other plans.”
“Like?”
He shook his head. “You should talk to them. They should be the ones who tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Nope. New subject: Who’s the redhead following you?”
I sat back a bit. Impressed. I didn’t think he’d noticed. “Redhead?”
“You’re not blind. You’ve seen her.”
“I have no idea. And you didn’t answer me,” I said.
“About?”
“If you’re staying.”
“With Jeremy?”
“Is that his name? Also, no. In Portland.”
“It makes more sense for me to leave.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes, it�
�s an answer?”
“Yes, I’m going to stay. Also, yes. It’s an answer.”
“I forget how much I don’t miss this,” I said.
“What?”
“Talking with you.”
“Nice try,” he said. “You love it. Because there’s no one who knows you as well as I do.”
“Zay knows me.”
“I don’t see you having lunch with him.”
“So you’re really staying?”
He tipped his head down just enough that his hair fell over his eyes a bit. He gave me a predatory smile. “Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
“Me?” I grinned. “I’m not the one causing trouble in this town.”
“No, but you’ll be right in the middle of it when it happens. You can’t resist.”
“Trouble?”
“Danger.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “I got no stake in this game, mate.”
“Yes, you do.”
He was right. I did. For one thing, I cared about what happened to Zay and Allie. And my other friends like Dash, and Clyde, and some of the people who worked at my mum’s inn. But that’s not was Terric was getting at.
He meant him.
“You mean you,” I said.
“I mean me. You’re worried about me.”
“Please.”
“You asked me about my boyfriend. My boyfriend, Shame. You never ask me about my relationships.”
I opened my mouth, closed it. Sat back. Scowled. And flagged the waitress.
“Leaving?” he asked.
“Drinking. More than beer. And so are you. Because I am done with the talking. And so are you.”
He grinned. “Not even close.”
Chapter 7
A thing I don’t tell a lot of people: Terric is hilarious drunk.
Mostly because as the drinks go down, his clothes come off. It usually starts with the shoes, then socks, belt, and shirt. Sometimes it goes a lot further than that. I’d bailed him out of jail once for indecent exposure. I’ve never let him live it down either.
So, yes. I was thinking about seeing how many layers he was going to shed here in a very public pub, but he’d only taken off his shoes and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt before his phone rang. Again.
He’d ignored it twice already.
