by Devon Monk
Magic had never felt safe, but right now it didn’t even feel predictable. I mean, black flames? Seriously?
And holy shit, an undead, reanimated Veiled woman-thing who knew my dad had just kicked my ass. So I stood there, hands in my pockets, trying to get my blood pressure and breathing under control.
Hayden buzzed on about a construction job he’d done up in Juneau that involved wrestling grizzly bears, riding moose, and living in an igloo.
Most of Shame’s comments were “bullshit” and most of Hayden’s were disbelief that Shame would question his story.
Hayden spread his hands out and up, like he was done trying to talk to him, and in that motion, dropped the Illusion he was holding.
Victor walked up next to us. I bit back a yelp. I hadn’t seen him coming. It looked like he had walked out of the wall itself. Just as soon as I thought that, the memory skittered away, replaced with a general memory of shadows against the wall, and a man—Victor—walking from the sidewalk to the front of the parked cars.
Which I know I had not seen. Which I knew most people wouldn’t think twice to question if that memory was really their own. Or if it were placed there, in their head, by a masterful Closer who could take memories away, and give you new ones.
I didn’t like it.
“Don’t do that to me,” I growled.
Victor shook his head. “It’s not just you, Allie. It’s for anyone within a half-block radius. You know what you really saw. Simply choose to disbelieve what you think you saw and the true memory will remain.”
He was so calm about it. As if messing with people’s minds was a philosophy to discuss instead of being hurtful and wrong.
He was Zayvion’s teacher, and mine too. I knew he had the Authority’s best interest in mind, and had done everything in his power to keep me safe in the past. But I was so done with this stuff, so done with people messing with me.
“That it?” Shame asked. “ ’Cause I’m freezing my arse off.”
“That’s it,” Victor said.
“Hold on.” Hayden pointed up the street. “I think you’ve got an audience waiting on you, boy.”
Sure enough, another small crowd of art enthusiasts was coming down the sidewalk. When they caught sight of Shame, several smiled and started talking and pointing excitedly.
“Better make it fast,” I said to Shame. “You’re about to be mobbed.”
He exhaled smoke and pushed up onto his feet, shivering hard enough I could see him shake. He wasn’t kidding he was cold. I don’t know how he did it with such shaky hands, but he drew a Cancel spell.
A few people in the crowd were fast enough to cast Sight and hold fingers and thumb together toward Shame’s Illusion. He slashed his right hand from left to right, waist-high, ending the Illusion. The crowd, gasped, smiled, and clapped.
“They’re clapping because?” Hayden asked.
“Because I gave them what they were looking for.”
The pickup was gone. The brick wall looked like a brick wall. And it was. Which meant Victor had Closed the gate. Since I didn’t see any dead magical creatures on the ground, I assumed he had been able to close it before anything got through.
Well, anything other than Truance.
“Fireworks?” Hayden asked.
“Art,” Shame said. “I am so out of here. Victor, Hayden. See you tonight.”
“Be careful, Shamus. See that you get some food soon,” Victor said.
“Planning on it. Allie’s going to cook for me.”
“Like hell.”
Shame pressed his fingertips against his chest. “Must you crush my delicate soul?”
Hayden chuckled. “Boy, devil came calling for your soul before you could walk.”
“How would you know?”
“Maybe I’m that devil.”
“Maybe you are full of shit.”
Victor rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his left, unbandaged hand. “I think it’s time we all get some rest. Allie, why were you and Shame going to your apartment?”
“I need to pack a few things and call Violet. Do you know someone named Truance?”
His shoulders tightened like I’d just swung a cricket bat at his spine. “I used to.”
“Was she a part of . . . ” I almost said the Authority, then remembered there was a crowd of people at the other end of the parking lot. The average person wouldn’t be able to hear us, but there could be a Hound in the crowd.
Victor walked over to me and smiled. It looked genuine. Unless I looked in his eyes. He was worried. Still, I knew how to play along.
He raised his hands to hug me, and I let him do that. No, I hugged him back. If any of the people in the crowd were looking, they’d think we were saying good-bye.
“Where did you hear her name?” Victor whispered in my ear. He smelled like Earl Grey tea and something deep and earthy.
“I think I saw her. Alive. Dead. Today. Just now. I don’t know where she is now. She’s a Veiled, right?”
Victor patted my back. “Pack your things quickly. Come back to Maeve’s. Do not use magic in the meantime.”
That was so not the answer I wanted.
He let me go and was on his way before I realized what had just happened. He thought I’d seen the Veiled because I was using magic—a reasonable deduction since that was usually how I saw the Veiled. But Truance hadn’t been an insubstantial Veiled, or at least she hadn’t been one of the watercolor people who tried to eat my magic every time I cast. She was solid. And a lot more real than the other Veiled I’d seen.
I opened my mouth to tell him he had misunderstood me, then gave up because I’d have to yell, or cast Mute and then yell. I just didn’t have the energy to do either. Besides, I would see him soon. I could fill him in then. I mean, what more could go wrong in an hour or two?
Chapter Nine
“Walk, Beckstrom,” Shame said.“Let’s go see if my car’s been towed.”
I fell into step behind him. Even though he obviously felt like shit, he moved like a man who owned the city. As a matter of fact, he’d treated Hayden and Victor a lot more like equals than like elders or teachers. Maybe his standing in the Authority had changed.
Which made some sense. Liddy had been the head of Death magic, Jingo Jingo next in line below her. Shame might be next in line. Or at least the most powerful Death magic user still on the right side of the war.
He took another drag off his cigarette, then held it low and at his side. Smoke curled off it, the cigarette burning down faster than it should, the smoke forming a glyph for Transference—a wee bit of Death magic there—before it was broken apart by the slight breeze.
That boy was throwing around a lot of magic for just smoking a cigarette. I wanted to use Sight on him, to make sure he was okay, and well . . . not possessed or anything. But just the idea of pulling on magic made me want to barf. I’d already done too much too soon with too many people sticking their fingers in my business.
“Fuckin’ A. Finally, good luck.” Shame turned around and walked backward, his arms extended, the cigarette already gone to ash in his fingers. “The car, she is untowed, and naren’t a ticket upon her.” He grinned, the wind pushing his hair into his eyes. I couldn’t help it. I grinned back at him. He was a good-looking guy, my friend. I’d seen him go through a lot of hell lately. It was good to see him smile, really smile.
“You know what they say about good things,” I said as I caught up with him.
“What do they say about good things?”
“Good things come in threes.” I opened the car door and got in. Shame walked around and was in the driver’s seat in short order.
“I think you have your superstitions on the wrong foot.” He started the engine, then pulled out into traffic.
“Nope. My mom used to tell me that when I was little.” I suddenly felt a little shocky.
“What?”
“I remembered that.”
“Yeah?”
“I remembered something my mother said.
”
“Things you hear in therapy,” he guessed. “Threats at family reunions, boring beginnings to old-people conversations. Can I buy a vowel?”
“Shut up. I haven’t thought about that, about her telling me that, for years. It’s a memory, Shame. A memory I thought I’d lost. No, I know I’d lost. Holy shit.” I tried to remember my birthdays, her face, school, anything. Nothing came to me, but that memory of her, holding my hand because I had done something good, or maybe gotten a good grade or something, was clear and sweet.
“This a memory you’ve lost before?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“You don’t ever get them back once magic takes them from you?”
“No. Never.” I was smiling—I couldn’t stop smiling. If I were more of a girly girl, I might even get a little weepy over this. Instead I patted my pocket, looking for my book. I did not want to forget that I had remembered.
Yes, my life is confusing.
No book, but I found the napkin. “Pen?” I asked.
“Glove box.”
I opened the glove box, and pulled my hand back like there was a cobra curled up in there. A small, plain black box gave off enough magical vibes, I didn’t want to be in the same car with it, much less accidentally touch it. I quickly snagged a pen and shut the compartment. I wiped my left palm over my jeans, trying to ease the itch there.
“Do I want to know what’s in the box?” I asked.
“A good girl like you? No.”
Usually I’d fight him for it. But right now I didn’t want to know what magical nasty Shame kept hidden and handy.
I pulled the cap of the pen off with my teeth and wrote down a quick note about my mom and the memory.
“Anything else?” Shame asked.
“No, just that one thing. Why?”
“Because I hear good things happen in threes.” He slid a quick smile my way. “And we’re almost there. Do you have your key?”
“I don’t have anything. We can talk to the manager, though.”
“I got it.” He parked the car, and pulled a key, my key, off the key chain. I noticed his hands were no longer shaking.
“Anyone else have the key to my place?”
“Nope, just me.” Shame got out of the car and I did too. We didn’t say much until we were in the building, and up three floors at my apartment door. I paused at my door—a habit I had yet to shake—and heard a shuffling inside. Stone. Probably. Just in case, I cleared my mind to cast magic if I needed it.
I unlocked the door and stepped in.
Stone trotted out of the living room, one of my shoes in his mouth, the other perched at an angle over his ear.
“Oh you have not been rummaging through my closet again,” I said.
Stone whuffled at my hand, then moved over to Shame as I caught the shoe off his head.
“Hey, rock dude, are you destroying the house? Causing mayhem? Who’s a ferocious gargoyle? Stoney’s a ferocious gargoyle.”
Stone’s ears pricked up at his name, then he trotted back toward the living room. I turned to make sure my door was shut and locked. Stone waited for me, looking back over his shoulder, his wing pressed down tight against his torso.
“Looks like he wants to show you something.” Shame was no longer joking around.
He stalked off after Stone into my living room, then I heard his footsteps going toward to my bedroom.
“Seriously, Shame?” I called out. “You think anything dangerous would still be breathing in my house with Stone around?”
I wandered into the living room. There wasn’t anyone in the house, or anything out of place. Well, except every one of my shoes was stacked up in a pretty good replica of an Aztec step pyramid in the middle of the floor.
Where did he get the ideas for this stuff? Did he watch TV while I was gone?
Shame strolled out of my bedroom. “No one there. The windows are locked.”
“Thanks.” I was too tired to tell him even I could have figured that out on my own.
“Not a problem.” He tapped out a cigarette.
“Please. Not in the apartment.”
“Right. Sorry. So you’re going to pack?”
I wanted to say no. Wanted to spend the next hour or so alone, to think things out and maybe take a nap in my own bed. But even more, I needed to get back to Zay. Back to Victor and Maeve. So I could tell them about Truance. And Mikhail. “Yes.”
Shame parked it on my couch and exhaled a caught breath. He clunked his boots up on the coffee table. “Don’t let me get in the way.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
“Have a nice nap.” I flipped him off, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Back atcha,” he mumbled. What, could he see through his eyelids?
I took the phone into the bedroom and shut the door. I dialed Nola, and dug around for a suitcase or duffel I could use while the phone rang.
She picked up the phone on the fifth ring.
“Allie! How are you, honey?”
Nola’s voice was soft and warm, and it made me feel a hundred times better.
“I’m good. I know I’m the one who said I’d call every day to keep you up on things. I haven’t called in a while.”
“That’s just fine. Shame called me a few times. I’m so sorry you caught the flu. Are you feeling better now?”
Flu. So Shame had decided it was better to lie to my best friend than tell her what had really happened. Of course if Nola knew what had really happened—that I’d gotten into a magical war and then walked into death to save Zay’s soul, she would either not believe me or be furious that I’d almost killed myself.
But lie to my best friend? I never lied to Nola. I tried to keep her safe from the really bad magic stuff, but our whole relationship was based on me being able to tell her anything. Anything. She was the only person in this world that I told everything to. She was my memory when I lost it, and had more than once read back to me things I still can’t remember doing.
“So was it really a flu?” she asked. I heard water running in the sink, then the sound of a peeler over a carrot or potato.
“It wasn’t a flu. It was magic. But I’m better now. Well, a few things have changed. You’re going to love what I did with my hair.”
“What did you do?”
“Streaked it with white.”
“Sexy. Not the best way for a Hound to blend in, though.”
“No, but I wanted something. . . . Okay, fine. Magic did that to my hair. I’m hoping it grows out normal. You know how impossible it is to lie to you?”
“Yes. So why did you call?”
“Two things, mostly. Well, three. One, to see how you are doing.”
“Well, thank you. Busy with the fields, but Cody’s been a big help to me and the hands.”
“That was two. How’s Cody doing?”
“He’s had some nightmares lately. He’s talking to himself a little more. But if he’s out working on the farm, he’s happy. You should see his cat. She’s queen of the farm. Even Jupe bows to her now.” Nola laughed, and I laughed too.
I’d give anything to be out there on her farm, peeling vegetables, knitting, and not worrying about the end of the world. “Wish I were there.”
“Me too. So why not come out and visit?”
“I can’t. Zay’s still in a coma. The doctors think he’s showing signs of waking up. Maybe soon. I want to be here for him.”
“What? What happened to Zayvion?”
Crap. I really hadn’t kept up with her since everything had fallen apart.
“He was using magic—a lot of magic. And it sort of fell apart on him. Knocked him into a coma. It’s been . . . ” I paused to count on my fingers, gave up. “It’s been a couple weeks at least. I’m so sorry I didn’t call. Things have been crazy.”
“There’s more you aren’t saying, isn’t there?”
“Probably. A lot has happened since I saw you.”
“I was just there a mo
nth ago. How much trouble can you get into in a month?”
“Too much. I’m good at it. Listen, the third thing is, I think Stotts got mixed up in some weird magic stuff.”
“Paul?” The sound of the vegetable peeler stopped. “Is he okay? What kind of weird magic?”
“He’s okay, but I haven’t seen him yet. I thought I’d try to talk to him today or tomorrow. Just, if he seems a little strange, or . . . or I don’t know—call me, okay? There are . . . things I know—and no, I can’t talk to you about them right now—things that might help him if you think he needs help.”
Wow, could I be any more vague?
“That’s a little vague.”
“It’s a lot vague. I’ll tell you all about it. Not over the phone. Sometime when we can have a glass of wine without worrying about if the world’s going to end.”
“The world’s going to end?”
“Figure of speech.”
Nola paused. “Maybe I should come to visit. I’m sure Cody would like the trip. There are plenty of hands here to take care of the farm and Jupe for a few days.”
“No. Very no. This is what I didn’t want you to do. Please. Don’t come to town. Give me a few days to see if Zay wakes up, and handle some other stuff.”
“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
“I’m not. I mean, yes, there are some problems I’m trying to work out. But I’m not alone. Shame’s here, and you know, Violet. Plus, Shame’s mother has been very supportive. I’m okay. I’ve finally made a few new friends.”
“I know,” she sighed. “It makes me miss you more, somehow.”
“Aw, you’ll always be my best friend.”
She laughed. “Oh, please. So is there anything else? Your one, two, three list?”
“I remembered something about my mom.”
“Awesome!” I could tell she was moving around, heard a pen click and a notepad open. “Spill it.”
See, this was why I loved her. She knew just how precious memories—any memories—were to me.
“I was little. I think I’d just brought home a good report card, or a good grade on a project from school. And Mom . . . she was really pretty . . . she knelt down and hugged me. She smelled like apples. And she told me, ‘You know what they say about good things? Good things come in threes.’ That’s it. That’s all I remember, but it’s still really clear. I know I didn’t know this a while ago.”
