Magic at the Gate

by Devon Monk

  “This okay?” he asked.

  “So good.” I pulled a chair out and sat in the sunlight.

  Terric sat across from me, facing the length of the room, while I had a view of the lunch counter and the few tables and windows beyond it.

  The waitress, Jenny, showed up with a carafe of coffee and two cups.

  “Black, right?” she asked me. “Love the hair by the way.”

  “Thanks,” I said. She poured coffee for Terric, and plunked menus down in front of us.

  “I don’t need a menu,” I said. “Two eggs over easy, bacon, sourdough toast, and hash browns. Oh, and grapefruit juice if you have it.”

  “We have it fresh. And you?” she asked Terric.

  “Just the coffee.”

  “There’s apple-ginger coffee cake fresh out of the oven.”

  He smiled, and I could tell Jenny liked the look of him. “I think I’ll stick to coffee for now, thanks.”

  She picked up the menus, and looked back over at me. “I’ll have that out to you in a minute.”

  I was too busy sipping coffee to answer. Terric seemed content to drink in silence. I stared out at the trees that lined the Willamette, at the spring sky with patchy clouds padding the blue. The murmur of people talking, of laughter, of normal, wonderful, boring, beautiful living, filled me. I closed my eyes, savoring it, lonely for it. Lonely for normal.

  When I looked back at Terric, he was frowning slightly, cup halfway to his mouth, as if he heard a far-off voice.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you seen Davy Silvers?”

  He shook his head and put his cup down. “Should I have?”

  “It’s just that he’s always following me around. I thought he might have stopped in while I was sleeping.”

  “No. And I’d know. We’ve been holding meetings here every night. For members,” he added. “If someone had been by looking for you, we would have seen him.”

  It wasn’t like Davy to keep his nose out of my business. I’d been telling him for months not to follow me around—ever since our friend Martin Pike died, actually—and he never listened to me. I wondered what he was up to. Another thing to add to my To Do list: check in on Davy.

  “Do you have a pen?” I asked.

  Terric pulled an expensive pen out of his pocket. It was the kind of thing I’d expect an architect to use.

  “Nice pen.”

  “Thanks,” he said distractedly.

  I flattened my paper napkin and jotted down a list of people to check on: Davy, Violet, and Stotts. I wanted to look in on them quickly and then be back here to stay with Zayvion for the evening. And since Terric still looked like he was trying to listen to a radio station through static, I opened the napkin and jotted down everything else that came to mind: find notebook, transfer notes, and ask about Mikhail’s history.

  Mikhail might be the best place to start.

  “Do you know anything about Mikhail?” I asked.

  “Some,” he said.“What have you been told?”

  “Not a lot. I met him in death.”

  Terric’s eyebrows shot up. He leaned his elbows on the table and kept his voice low. “Want to tell me about that?”

  “I’d like to know a little background on him first.”

  “Mikhail was the head of the Authority for fifteen years. He and Sedra were lovers. They had a son.”

  “Cody?” I asked.

  “Yes. That’s when things started to go wrong. Sedra almost died in childbirth. When she finally recovered, Mikhail said she had changed. They became more and more distant. Soon that distance turned into anger.

  “Some people thought they might have been Soul Complements, but they never tested. The rumor is they were fighting over how to raise their son, who was obviously magically gifted at a very young age. Sedra wanted him raised outside the Authority, and Mikhail wanted him to be a part of it.

  “They had a fight. Mikhail opened a gate to death and tried to push Sedra through it. If Dane Lannister hadn’t been there, she would be dead. Instead, Mikhail walked through the gate—willingly—vowing revenge on Sedra and the Authority.

  “He never came back, though he has tried. So far, we’ve been able to keep him on that side of death.”

  “And Sedra took over as Head of the Authority?”

  He nodded. “It was a political move, mostly. Mikhail was also the voice for Death magic. It made sense to have the voice for Life magic replace him. A yin-yang kind of thing.”

  “So Jingo Jingo kidnapped her because he wants Death magic to be the head of the Authority again?”

  “Probably more than that. It’s possible he wants to open a gate to death and bring Mikhail through. You making the crossing has all of us worried.” He smiled. “Don’t get me wrong. We’re happy to have you back, safe. But if you can do it, why can’t Mikhail?”

  Why not, indeed? Because he didn’t have a gargoyle for his soul? No, Terric had said he walked through the gate. If that was true, maybe all he needed was enough magic to open the gate. I’d given him my magic, but he hadn’t used it to open the gate for me. He’d taken it back to the woman in the room. He opened the gate, but didn’t step through. If he really was looking for revenge and a way back to life, he’d lost a prime opportunity. This was not adding up.

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to,” I said.

  Three people—a man and two women I didn’t recognize—stared at us as they walked past the window. They headed to the door. I took a drink of coffee, expecting to hear the door behind me open. The door didn’t open. That was odd.

  From where I was sitting I had a good view of the parking lot. The people weren’t there. I looked back down the porch. Nothing. Maybe they had walked farther up the road.

  “What are you looking for?” Terric asked.

  “I was trying to figure out where those people went.”

  “What people?”

  The waitress strolled over and put my plate down in front of me. It looked like fried heaven. “Here you go,” she said. “Need anything else? Ketchup? Hot sauce?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “And you’re sure I can’t talk you into some coffee cake? It’s sweet with a little kick.” She batted her eyes at Terric.

  “No, I don’t have the time,” he said. “Thanks, though.”

  She left, and Terric waited for me to get a few bites in. Then, “People?”

  “Man and two women who walked past our window? Looked in at us? I thought they knew you and were coming in.” The eggs were amazing. Who was I kidding? It was all amazing.

  “No one walked by our window.”

  “Yes they did. You weren’t paying attention.”

  He looked at me for a minute. “No one walked past, Allie. I was paying attention. Very closely.”

  I drank some of the grapefruit juice. Tart. Wonderful.

  “So what, I’m seeing ghosts?” I grinned, picked up the bacon and took a bite.

  Terric leaned back and watched me eat. “Shame told me you’ve seen the Veiled. Ghosts are simply the spirits of the dead. Much like Veiled are spirits of dead magic users. If you can see one, why couldn’t you see the other?”

  “I think it’s more likely you just didn’t see them walk by.”

  He smiled, and it made him look younger, softer. “I’m naturally observant. But you could be right.” He flipped open his phone, made a call. “Are you on perimeter? Keep an eye out for a man and two women wandering around on foot. They might also be ghosts. Yes. Thanks.”

  He hung up. “Never hurts to be careful. Do you see anyone out there now?”

  I looked out. “Nope.”

  “Tell me if you do see someone.”

  I nodded, but mostly paid attention to my plate. Once my stomach was full, I slowed down and picked at the last bits of potato and onion. I sat back, drank coffee, and looked at Terric. Really looked at him.

  Okay, I don’t know how I missed it, but he wasn’t kidding he
was observant. He was keeping an eye on the dining area, the window, the sounds behind him—

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  —and me.

  “I’m thinking you’d make a good Hound.”

  “Low pay, bad hours—I’m thinking I like the job I have.”

  “What job?” Come to think of it, I didn’t even know his last name. I knew he lived in Seattle, but that was about all I knew about his regular life.

  “Other than the obvious?” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Freelance.”

  “Nice way to keep your own hours.”

  “It works for me so far.” He glanced up, watching without looking like he was watching the arch that led to the hallway and stairs beyond.

  Shame came striding out of the shadows. He was back in black again, jeans, heavy black fisherman’s sweater with a hood, fingerless gloves.

  Terric didn’t move, but everything about him changed. As soon as he saw, or maybe felt, Shame coming, he vibrated like a plucked string. I watched as he very carefully slouched, relaxing shoulders, arms, hands, and fingers. He even schooled eyes, mouth, and forehead to be blank, easy.

  For someone who looked like he was just kicking back drinking a cup of coffee, he sure had to work hard at it.

  Shame was flicking his cigarette lighter, the metal lid snicking up and clicking back as he made his way over to us.

  “Mornin’.” He pulled a spare chair away from a table that had just emptied and set it between Terric and me.

  “Get some sleep?” Terric asked.

  Shame’s eyes narrowed. “You know I did, you arse.”

  Terric smiled behind his coffee cup.

  “So you know when Shame is sleeping too?” I asked.

  “I do when I cast a Sleep spell on him.”

  “May you toil in hell’s basement among the devil’s dirty socks,” Shame said.

  “And have to see you there every day? Not on your life.”

  They glared at each other. I knew they wouldn’t get into a fight here in the middle of Maeve’s restaurant. But the longer they stared, the more I worried. Maybe they really did want to break a few chairs over each other’s heads.

  “It has strained my ability to trust you,” Shame said.

  “Nothing new there. Allie might be seeing ghosts.”

  Shame pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one free. “That’s newish.” He stuck the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “Anyone I know?”

  “I don’t think they were ghosts. They were people.”

  “People who disappeared before they got to the door,” Terric said.

  I glanced over at him. “I think you’re reading a lot into this.”

  “Plus, she said she met Mikhail in death.”

  “Aren’t you the celebrity? You still have your da in your attic?” Shame asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Both men leaned back in tandem and waited, obviously not believing me.

  “Don’t want to let us in on your little secret? I thought we were your friends,” Shame said. “Well, me anyway. I don’t blame you for hating Terric. He’s a bastard through and through.”

  “The sleep did wonders for your mood.” Terric rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.

  “Oh, grow up,” Shame said.

  “Grow up? Good God, Flynn, have you looked in a mirror lately? Most men get over the punk rocker look in their teens. And move out of their mother’s house.”

  “It’s her inn, not her house,” Shame said archly. “And most men don’t have the rank and title I have.”

  Terric chuckled. “True. You are one of the rankest”—he made the air-quote gesture—“men I know.”

  That got a genuine smile out of Shame. “You are a bastard. Funny, but still a bastard.”

  The conversation had a lot of hope wedged between the insults. Maybe these two would find a way to get over the pain they’d caused each other and rebuild their friendship again.

  Shame turned his shoulder toward Terric, ignoring him.

  Or maybe not.

  “Smuggled your rock out,” he said.

  “Rock?”

  “Rock, stone, you know.” Shame waved one hand in front of him like the details didn’t matter.

  “Stone?” I’d wondered where he’d gotten off to. “Where did you take . . . it?”

  “Back to your place. Thought it’d be better than Victor taking it apart.”

  “What?”

  Terric hummed, a sort of keep-it-down noise.

  “What is Victor doing with Stone?” I whispered.

  “Nothing. Yet. And you’re welcome. The most recent thing you did with him? It was making Victor and Mum curious. Once they started talking about deep sea exploration and space, I knew it was only going to get worse from there.”

  “I am so not following you.”

  Terric rearranged the salt and pepper shakers on the table and cast a Mute spell to dampen the sound of our conversation from any curious ears.

  “Stone was used as a carrier,” Terric said. “A vehicle.” He waited to see if I understood. Got the idea that I didn’t.

  He tried again. “Stone carried Zayvion’s soul back from death. It brings up some interesting ideas about what can be done if one was willing to take the risk.”

  “Pretend like I have no idea what you’re talking about, and explain it slowly,” I said.

  “It’s the first hard evidence we’ve ever seen that a soul can be contained in an unliving, magical object—an Animate. And that a soul can pass into or out of death in such a way, and still be returned to the living body. Stone showed us that the possibility exists to use Animates to hold living souls. If things weren’t going to hell around here, this would be the biggest breakthrough in magic use since your dad came up with the network lines, cisterns, and storm rods.”

  “And disks,” Shame added.

  Terric nodded. “Those too.”

  “Stone isn’t an experiment,” I said.

  “Which is why I took him back to your place,” Shame said. “Were you not paying attention?”

  “Will Victor want him back?”

  Shame shrugged. “Our hands are full trying to keep the gates closed. Plus there are rogue Authority members on the loose, other members kidnapped, a bunch of stolen disks out there—I bet he won’t worry about one little gargoyle for a while.”

  The weight of what Shame was saying finally sunk in. “Do you need me to help with any of that right now?”

  “You, darlin’, aren’t a Closer. Short answer—no. There is a meeting tonight you’ll want to be at. Why? You in a hurry to get somewhere?”

  “I need to go home. Pack some clothes so I can stay here with Zay—I can stay, right?”

  “I should hope so,” Shame said. “But we brought you clothes.”

  “Not the ones I want to wear. Also, I want to check in with Violet and the Hounds—you haven’t seen Davy, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll be back soon. I think I’ll be gone three or four hours.”

  “And how, exactly are you going to get home?”

  “Cab. Unless you want to drop me off at a bus or MAX station over the river.”

  Shame shook his head. “Unbe-fucking-lievable. No, you will not go home, or anywhere else on your own in a city at war, with magic users out to kill each other.”

  “Yes, I will. You know why? Because I am more than qualified to take care of myself for an hour or two.”

  “No. Absolutely no. It’s not safe.” He did a fair impression of his mother.

  “One, you can’t tell me what to do, and I know how to swing a sword and cast a spell. And two, I just walked into death and back. That proves I can deal with anything life throws at me.”

  He pointed to his face. “See how much I don’t care? You’re just wasting time. Let’s go.”

  “Someone should be here if Zay wakes up,” I said.

  “Terric’s going to stay with him,”
Shame said.

  Terric shrugged. “I’m not due for gate patrol for a few hours. Nik and Sunny are on it right now.”

  I didn’t want Shame to come with me. I really did want some space, some room to breathe, and a break from all the magic users who were out to kill each other.

  “Is there any way to get rid of you?” I asked.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless one of us is dead. And probably not even then.”

  Terric broke the Mute spell and the conversations of other diners in the room rose to a normal volume again. He and Shame stood, in perfect, fluid unison. Unconscious of each other, they carried a sort of connection I’d seen only in brothers, or twins.

  “Be careful,” Terric said. “I’ll call if there’s any change with Zay.”

  Phones. Why did I always forget my cell? “Either of you know where my phone is?”

  “It died on the battlefield.” Shame started off toward the door, and Terric strolled over to a very happy Jenny to settle the bill.

  “I liked that phone,” I said.

  Shame flipped the hood of his sweater up over his head, hiding his face in shadow. “We’ll get you another one. Remind me when we come back. I’m pretty sure Mum keeps a spare.”

  He opened the door, hunched deeper into his sweater, and stepped out.

  It was early afternoon, cool, damp, and clean, with only a promise of spring’s warmth. I took a deep breath and loved it.

  Shame lit his cig while we crossed the gravel to his car. “Zay’s sword came back through with you, though.” He exhaled smoke with each word. “Probably the wards protecting it, the dagger too. Good thing phones are easier to replace.”

  “Speaking of which, I feel a little naked not carrying a sword right now.”

  “Happens when you hang out with Z too long. Think the best way to take care of yourself is with steel. You do have other protections at your disposal. Things you were just convincing me would keep you safe.”

  Magic.

  “I know,” I said.

  “That was the most halfhearted agreement I’ve ever heard.” He stopped on the driver’s side of his car and looked over the roof at me. “You can use magic, right?”

  “Do you even know me?” I held up my right hand, which was wrapped in magic’s colors.

  “The real answer.” He waited.