Magic at the Gate

by Devon Monk

  “Hey,” Davy said, walking slower behind me. “You did hear what Pike sounded like? Toward the end of the . . . haunting, séance, whatever we just did?”

  “No. What did he sound like?”

  “Proud.” Davy still looked like last-week’s garbage on a slow cooker, but a little of the pain? anger? something, was gone.

  “Well, he better be. We’re working our butts off for this little dream of his.” I gave him a scowl, didn’t really mean it. “See you. Be safe and smart.”

  “One or the other, anyway.”

  I headed to the stairs and straight down before Shame could complain about the elevator again.

  “Nice enough kid,” Shame said.

  “Who we leave out of the line of fire, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I kept walking, didn’t answer until we were in the lobby and safe, I hoped, from Hound ears. “I don’t want anyone in the Authority messing with his head. No questioning, no manipulation, no fake memories, and no Closing.”

  “You’re pretty soft for him, aren’t you?”

  “He’s my friend. And it would be just really damn great if at least one of my friends doesn’t get screwed over because of me.”

  The wind picked up as we walking toward the car. Late afternoon, and the temperature was dropping into the cellar. It was going to be a cold night.

  “Promise,” I said.

  “Or what, you’ll stab me?”

  “If that’s what it takes to get a promise out of you.”

  “I don’t know what’s happened to you. You used to be such a nice girl. Now you’ve gone all stabby and whatnot.”

  “Shame.”

  “I promise.” He slapped his palm over his chest. “From the bottom of my soulless heart, I won’t do anything that would cause your little teen crush harm. Including”—he held up his hand and counted on his fingers—“Blood magic, Death magic, Closing, or any of the other memory manipulations, which I don’t do anyway.” He stuck his hand in his back pocket. “Go bark up another tree. I don’t do the nasty. Well, not that kind of nasty.”

  “And don’t talk to Victor, or your mom about it—about anything that will get Davy Closed.”

  Shame paused by his car. “You can’t catch smoke, Allie.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know, but it made me seem mysterious, didn’t it?”

  “It would be even more mind-boggling if you gave me a straight answer.”

  “All right. Straight. Davy’s too close. He’s also a curious, cynical kid, and he’s a Hound who’s been hurt by Blood magic and Death magic. That means he’s going to start snooping around as soon as he gets on his feet. He’s already almost landed himself on the Authority’s Close list, and if he hadn’t been so hurt from the crap that went down in St. Johns with Greyson and Tomi, I know he would have been brain-wiped whistle-clean.

  “Since that didn’t happen, and since, as far as I can tell, he’s not trying to kick trouble in our face, there isn’t a single reason why I’d even want to mention him to my mum or Victor. There are bigger things at stake here, bigger problems than your Hound friends. That storm started a damn war—a silent war right now—which is almost worse, because we don’t know where the next hit is coming from.

  “Chase tried to kill Zay—kill him—and she used to love him. You never saw them together. I did. They had passion, they cared and trusted and fought side by side to make the world a better place, all that crap. And she turned on him. For Greyson. Because someone screwed him up so bad, he isn’t even human anymore. And now both of them are drooling, brainless casualties.

  “We’re being mutated, broken, killed. That’s what you should be worrying about, not if I’m going to rat out your little Davy. But I will tell you, if it comes down to it, and Davy losing his memory is the only thing that will turn this war in our favor so more people don’t die? I will be the first one in line with a dull screwdriver to give that kid a lobotomy.”

  He pulled his door open and got in the car, leaving me standing there.

  Chapter Twelve

  I took a minute to breathe my anger away so I didn’t just slap Shame upside his head once I got in the car. He was right. Zay had almost died. So had Shame’s mom. And Shame hadn’t exactly come through the last few weeks unscathed. He sported a crystal in the middle of his chest, and I didn’t know if it kept him alive or pushed him closer to death.

  I got in the car, wincing a little as my headache surged. “I said straight.” I buckled my seat belt. “You didn’t have to sharpen the point and shove it through my heart.”

  He was smoking again, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, restless, angry.

  “You are impossible to please.” He pulled out into traffic and kept his eyes on the road.

  “Just tired,” I said. “I didn’t get a nap.” I closed my eyes, hoping the short drive to Maeve’s would be enough time for my headache to let off its vise grip. While I rested, my headache got busy.

  By the time he pulled into the inn’s parking lot, the headache was in full force. I’d stashed some painkillers in my duffel. But the very idea of twisting around in the seat to drag it out of the backseat made me nauseous.

  Shame parked and I unbuckled, then risked cracking open my eyes. Ow. I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead to keep my head from exploding while I carefully turned in my seat and stretched back for my duffel.

  I dug in the bag, avoided the disk, fumbled with the bottle, and shook two pills in my hand. I took a second to really stare at them and make sure they were one: painkiller, and two: the correct dosage. Old Hound habits really do come in handy. Two pills. Good to go. I recapped the bottle and dropped it back in the bag.

  There was no way I could swallow these without water. Just thinking about pills stuck and burning in my throat made me want to gag.

  “Coming?” Shame said from about seven miles away.

  I got out of the car and shut the door as quietly as I could without making it look like I cared. I knew how to hide pain. Hounds did a lot of work under Proxy pain and really, most people didn’t notice.

  “You sick?” Shame asked.

  Shame wasn’t most people.

  “Headache. I could use a glass of water.” It took a lot to push those words out and to make them sound normal. But like I said, I was a pro at this.

  I started off to the porch, the gravel under my feet sounding like I was in the middle of a blasting zone in a rock quarry. Why did they even have gravel here? Surely the inn did enough business to afford nice quiet concrete. Or carpet. I’d really like to be walking across a nice, quiet carpeted parking lot right now.

  Shame caught my elbow. “This way.”

  He led me around the back of the building, which meant more gravel, but less climbing up the porch. I’d come out this door once. Wooden, plain, original to the building, and probably where the help used to enter back when the inn serviced railroad passengers.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Less noise.”

  Oh, I liked how he was thinking.

  He opened the door and the cool, dark interior of the hall was like a deep, soothing river. I stepped in, wanting to drink the darkness down until it filled my belly, my body, my mind. I stood there, wishing my brain would stop barfing in my head.

  Shame walked away. I was going to follow him, I swear I was. But by the time I pushed myself away from the wall I was leaning on, he was in front of me again holding out a glass of water.

  Behind him towered Hayden, both men watching me, as if I was going to do a circus trick.

  “Thanks.” I took the water, and swallowed the pills. Tada! For my next trick: trapeze!

  I finished the water so I’d have something in my stomach if I ended up on my knees in the bathroom.

  The headache was a lot worse than I expected. I tried to remember how many times I’d used magic. Besides in death? Once, when trying to put Zay’s soul back in his body, but
I was pretty sure I’d slept that off in my forty-eight-hour nap. So, once when forcing Victor to promise he’d fix Stotts, another time when casting Sight at the gate Shame was throwing Illusion over. Maybe a half a dozen Sight spells in the last few hours. Then there was the fight with Truance.

  Dad had taken over. I was pretty sure he hadn’t set a Proxy. Or maybe he had. Maybe he was using me for his Proxy.

  “Thanks just a hell of a lot,” I thought at my dad.

  “You’re a hell of a lot welcome,” Shame yelled at me. Okay, maybe he wasn’t yelling, but his voice was full of claws-on-chalkboard and tinfoil fillings on fire.

  “Not you,” I whispered. “Dad.”

  Hayden grunted, then wrapped one big arm around my waist. “Let’s get you in bed.”

  “Do not,” I pushed at him. Wonder of wonders, he let go of me. “Do not haul me around like a doll. It’s just a headache. I can walk.”

  I proved it by making it over to the stairs. Took a step up, broke out in a full-body sweat. Okay, there are times when my big stubborn mouth puts the rest of me through a world of hurt.

  The worst part? Hayden walked up right behind me. I mean, I could hold still for an extra second or two and the big guy would probably pick me up and carry me over his shoulder. I’d be upside down, which meant I’d probably yark, then pass out from the blood rushing to my head.

  That would be one way to shut my big stubborn mouth.

  “Allie, can you take another step?”

  I didn’t know who was talking. I think it was Maeve, which was odd. Then she was beside me, her hand on my arm. “Let me see your eyes.”

  I turned, tried to get my eyes to open. Must have done well enough. She brushed her fingertips over my forehead and the rusty hook stabbing my brain backed off a little.

  I loved her fingers. I was going to knit them little hats and send them thank-you cards on the holidays.

  “Shame, see what she took. Hayden, could you get Dr. Fisher, please? Allie, if you can’t walk, I will have Hayden pick you up and carry you to bed.”

  Oh, I was so not a wilting flower. I’d let a man pick me up and carry me because I couldn’t handle the price of using magic when I was dead. Again.

  I lifted my foot and kept walking. I didn’t count the steps, couldn’t see them, didn’t think. I just kept moving. My world narrowed until it was me, my pain, and my will.

  I knew I made it to the bed when my knees touched the frame.

  I also knew I was in the room with Zayvion again. Not because I could hear his breathing. Not because of his pine scent. But the presence of him, calm, Zen, a little worried, was so strong, I looked up, expecting him to be standing in front of me.

  He was in bed still, sleeping still. I knew, without a doubt, that he was there, really there. Really alive.

  Maeve got around the other side of the bed and moved the covers aside. Shame, I think, helped me crawl onto the bed. The pillow was heaven feathers in six-hundred-count cotton joy.

  I wanted to tell them I was okay, but instead I held very still and waited for the medication to kick in.

  Luckily, Dr. Fisher showed up, played maracas with my painkiller bottle, then stuck something in my arm.

  Wow, like magic, I had my body back.

  “Tell me that comes in a six-pack,” I mumbled.

  She pressed her lips together—not quite a smile. “Afraid not. But it should take care of that headache. How are you feeling?”

  “Like Superman. Woman. Super Someone.” Okay, maybe a little loopy. Someone snickered. That would be Shame.

  “You should get some rest,” the doctor said.

  I wasn’t all that tired. Now that the pain was gone, I could mostly think again.

  “I’m good. How’s Zay?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Maeve said quietly.

  I looked over at her. Okay, moving my head was stupid. The room fuzzed out at the edges and got sparkly in the middle.

  Maeve was a little too thin, and too much shadow carved her cheek and lips. She really hadn’t recovered from the damage Jingo Jingo had done to her. No wonder Shame was worried.

  But her eyes were fierce, and her smile soft.

  “He’s awake?” I asked.

  “He was. Just a bit ago.”

  I had never heard sweeter words.

  I sat, got my feet over on the side of the bed nearer Maeve. She moved off to one side of the room, to where Shame was standing by the window. It took me a minute, but I finally noticed her gait was off. She was walking with that cane. It didn’t look like the left side of her body was moving in concert with the right.

  Shame helped her sit in a soft chair and I put another log of hate on my Jingo Jingo fire.

  I stood. The doctor hovered. Nice, but unnecessary.

  Then I sat down on Zay’s bed. He had moved since I last saw him.

  “Could I be alone with him for a minute?”

  Shame, Maeve, Dr. Fisher, and Hayden, whom I hadn’t noticed by the door, all left the room.

  I touched Zay’s cheek. My fingers shook. It was hard to hold my arm out like that for very long. Even though the pain meds pushed my migraine far enough away that I couldn’t feel it, my body was still experiencing the pain. I pressed my hand on his chest.

  “Zay? Are you awake, love?”

  His breathing didn’t change. His eyes didn’t open. I thought about shaking him. Decided it was a bad idea. Not only was I not up for it, I didn’t know how much physical damage he’d suffered from Chase and Greyson’s attack and with his soul chained in death. It was safe to say he could probably use some TLC.

  “Zay, it’s Allie. I’m here now. Maeve told me you were awake. Can you wake up again for me?” I waited. Nothing.

  “Sweet hells.” I hated that I had missed out on seeing him wake up. I wonder if he had said anything. Wondered if he understood where he was and what had happened.

  They say people in a coma can hear the people around them. I couldn’t remember if I had heard Nola or Zay when I was in a coma, but I had a fleeting memory of not feeling alone.

  Sitting wasn’t doing me any favors. I settled down next to him, moved his arm and rested my head on his shoulder, my leg tucked up over his. He’d shifted and there wasn’t a lot of room on this side of the bed, but I made it work.

  “Fine,” I said. “Be that way. But I’m going to talk until you wake up and tell me to shut up. Do you remember the fight with Chase and Greyson? We were trying to find them, and they attacked you. They dragged your soul out of your body and shoved you through a gate into death. I was there. I was trying to get to you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  “I never seem to get to anyone in time. First Pike, then Davy, then you. Hells.” I was quiet for a bit. His breathing changed a little. Was he waking up?

  “We brought you back here. You’ve been sleeping for a while. No, not sleeping. You’ve been in a coma. Missed the wild-magic storm and the fight. The Authority fractured, like you’ve been telling me it would. People were hurt, damaged, changed by magic. Shame. I don’t even know what to think about Shame. I’m worried for him. I’m worried for Maeve too.

  “I went through a gate to try to get you back. I went into death. Just for a little bit. Dad was there with me, and Stone too. Do you remember that? Mikhail trapped you and was draining your magic.”

  I frowned. I probably should go over everything for Victor or Maeve. Especially since Truance had mentioned Mikhail too. I couldn’t remember if I’d told that part to Shame.

  “Shame says there’s a meeting tonight. The gates keep opening and they’re getting harder to close. There are ghosts running around. Pike’s a ghost. I talked to him. And the Veiled are somehow using disks to give them real bodies. They want my dad. They want immortality. We don’t know where Jingo Jingo is or if he’s the one making the Veiled solid. He kidnapped Sedra.”

  I tucked my head closer to his chest. “It feels like I stepped out of death into the wrong world. Everything’s going to hell.r />
  “I wish things could just be normal for just five minutes. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Probably,” he breathed.

  I lifted up. His eyes were closed.

  “Zay?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Open your eyes. Please, please open your eyes.”

  He took a deeper breath, let it out. I worried he hadn’t heard me.

  “I’m right here.” I shifted so I could touch his face. “Right here. Please open your eyes.”

  He frowned, a line creasing between his brows. Then, finally, opened his eyes. His eyes were yellowed, fever-glossy, but the corner of his mouth lifted when he saw me. “Hey, beautiful.”

  I grinned like a fool and worked on not crying. If I fell apart, I’d miss the chance to tell him everything was going to be okay.

  “Hey, handsome. Don’t you look sharp? How are you feeling?”

  “Like Super Someone.” The smile got a little stronger.

  I laughed, even though it made my head hurt. A rush of relief filled me.

  “Maeve said you were awake already. Do you remember that?”

  “I remember you. You came in a dream?” He frowned. “Did I dream you?”

  “No, I’m real.”

  “Mikhail? He trapped me. Your dad . . . ”

  “That all happened, but not here. You were pushed through a gate by Chase and Greyson. Your soul was pushed, your body stayed here. And I found you, and brought you home.” I waited to see if he would be angry. He had certainly been angry at me in death when I wouldn’t let him go. Not until this very moment had I considered that there was a very good chance this could be a problem in our relationship.

  “You didn’t. No. Allie. No.” His voice was soft as a worry stone.

  “I did, and it worked out okay. You’re fine. Stone’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” The way it came out, rushed, overly happy, I wasn’t doing a very good job of convincing anyone everything was fine.

  “Your magic.” Zay stared at me. No more frown. He’d reverted into Zen mode. Which meant either he was feeling better or he was really angry. “What did you do?”