by Devon Monk
“Are you sure?”
He held his wrist in front of my nose so I could see his watch.
I went through the math. “I was just upstairs with Zay,” I said. “It only took me a minute to get downstairs, maybe another to step outside and then turn back around.”
Hayden stopped in front of the door to Maeve’s office. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s been five minutes since I left Zay’s room. Maybe ten.”
He looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“A damn lot of things are wrong,” he said distractedly, sliding a key in the lock. “Victor thinks he’s the king of the world, and Maeve won’t stand up and tell him otherwise. I know I’m not a part of this local squabble among the voices, but there’s more than a war going on. They don’t start working on the same page, there’s nothing going to hold this side of the fight together. Come on in; I think she has a phone in the drawer.”
I started after him, but stopped at the door. The smell on my skin was more than licorice. It was licorice mixed with chemicals. And that mix belonged to only one man. Jingo Jingo.
“Jingo,” I whispered.
That got Hayden’s attention. He stopped, gave me a hard look. I suddenly realized Hayden was a man I did not want to fight. Not in a physical battle. I might be able to take him magic-to-magic. If there were enough magic to fight with. If I were feeling normal, instead of feeling like I’d just woken up to find myself sleepwalking along the edge of a cliff.
Dad? I thought again. What’s going on?
Nothing.
“What about him?” Hayden asked.
Took me a second. He meant Jingo Jingo, not Dad.
“I think I smell him. Maybe smelled him outside.” I didn’t like the look in Hayden’s eyes.
“That so?”
I still hadn’t stepped into the room. Wasn’t going to either. Alarm bells were rattling through my head. Something was wrong. Wrong with this whole thing. And I didn’t know if Hayden was a part of it or not.
“You hear that?” Hayden asked someone behind me.
I pivoted to see who had snuck up on me so quietly, and to put a little more wall at my back.
“We’re already looking.” Shame pocketed his phone. “Wondered where you got off to and came looking for you. You missing time or memories?”
“Both. I think both.”
Shame cast a variation on Sight. “Well, well. You’ve been working dark magic, girl. What’s that all about?”
Okay, there were two ways I could handle this. I could either freak the hell out and have a nice cozy breakdown. Go upstairs, curl up with Zayvion, and wait for the world to sort itself out. Or I could get angry and get even.
Angry and even every time, baby.
“Did someone Close me?” I asked nice and calmlike—thank you very much.
“Let’s find out.” He pointed toward the room and I walked in.
Hayden was still giving me that look. As soon as Shame shut the door and the wards automatically engaged, Hayden cast a spell.
“Wasn’t Victor,” he said, walking over to me, his wide hand held thumb and ring finger tucked, palm outward in front of him. “Not his signature.”
“I didn’t know you were a Hound,” I said.
“I’m not,” he said, still distracted. He let go of whatever form of Sight he’d been using and cast another with his left hand. Looked like he knew tai chi. “But I know how most of the Closers around here use magic. It’s easy to see their mark if you know what you’re looking for. But this . . . ”
Shame pulled out his lighter, and flicked the metal lid, open, shut, open, shut. Waiting.
Hayden’s eyes narrowed. “Allie, I’m going to put my finger on your forehead.”
“Why?”
“I just need a physical connection. I’m a forehead guy.”
“Don’t mess with my head. At all.”
“I’m not going to touch your mind.”
“Running out of time here,” Shame said.
“Hold your panties, Flynn,” Hayden said.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Hayden placed his fingertip on my forehead, then just as quickly pulled it away. He cast one more spell, and I felt a pressure on my ears, like I’d just climbed a very tall hill. The pressure eased, and my ears popped.
“No Closer I know,” Hayden said. “But Allie, it looks like you did it. You used magic to Close yourself, push your memories away. I’ve never seen anyone use magic like that and I think it’s a bad idea. You should never Close yourself. Too easy to screw up and end up brain-dead.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. And you wouldn’t remember that you did.” He walked over to the desk. “I’m not your teacher, but my god, woman, don’t ever do that again. It could kill you.” He tugged open a drawer, paused, then moved things around and pulled out a phone.
“I didn’t do it,” I said to Shame.
“I know. You’re a little anal about your memories. I can’t think of a reason why you’d wipe your own mind.”
“Thanks.” It meant a lot to have someone believe me. Especially after Zayvion’s vote of nonconfidence earlier.
“She wiped her own mind,” Hayden repeated.
“That doesn’t line up for me,” Shame said. “We don’t know who might be working with Jingo Jingo. Maybe someone from outside the area came in and hit her.”
“Terric looking?” Hayden asked, dialing his phone.
“Around the inn,” Shame said. “Allie, you should stay here.”
“What?”
“You were attacked, and it wasn’t just some random thing. They were aiming for you, darlin’. With all the magic users coming and going, they hit you. You knew something they didn’t want you to know. It’d be stupid for you to go out there until we have a better idea who’s behind it.”
“Like hell. I’m going.” Yes, I said it with a little more heat than he probably deserved. Intellectually, I understood his concern. But I was angry, and sitting around while someone else fought my battles wasn’t going to do any good for anyone.
“I am going to check the well, and I am sure as hell not going to sit here when I could be out there looking for Jingo Jingo. Terric said my Hounding skills would come in handy. I might have been Closed, but I am still the best Hound in the city.” I strode across the room and held my hand out for the extra phone. Hayden dropped it in my palm.
I think he was talking to Victor on the other line.
“You just had your brain hacked,” Shame said. “By yourself, or by someone else. That makes anything you do, or say, or want, a little suspect, don’t you think? You could be a danger to us.”
I thumbed the phone on, stuck it in my pocket, and turned on Shame. He lounged against the wall, snicking the lighter open and closed. He didn’t look nearly as concerned as he sounded. His gaze measured me.
“I think it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me lately. I can handle it. If I’m dangerous to you, you have my permission to take me down. But I know I smelled Jingo Jingo’s scent on my skin. I know he’s part of it.”
“Jingo Jingo’s not a Closer,” Hayden said, done with the phone call.
“I don’t care. Jingo Jingo is the only person I smell on me. On my skin. He was there, here. He touched me.” I swallowed hard to keep the terror at bay. Anger. Anger made me strong.
Shame stopped clicking his lighter. “You don’t think—”
“What?”
“Could it be your da?” He pointed at his head. “Inside job?”
The alarm bells went into high mode. “Son of a bitch.”
“Shame told us he thought your dad possessed you,” Hayden said. “Gotta say you Portland people take weird to a new level.”
“My dad isn’t a Closer,” I said.
“Your dad’s dead,” Shame said. “Who knows what he can do?”
“Think he did it?” Hayden asked.
Dad? I thought. Did
you do this? Did you take my memory? Nothing. Not even the slightest sense that he was in my mind.
“I hate this!” I yelled at the ceiling. Counted down from ten. Twice. Didn’t help.
“Shame,” I said through my teeth, “can you look in my head and see if my dad is there? And if you find him, let me know, ’cause I’m going to tear him apart.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “I can. It will take time and finesse. Two things I’m short on right now. He was in your head when you ran into Truance, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he used magic through you, took over your body, right?”
“Yes.”
“How did he take over? Did he knock you out or something?”
“Truance used magic to freeze me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t pull on magic much, or cast a spell. Dad picked me up and put me back somewhere in my head where I could hear what was going on but I couldn’t see it. And he used magic.”
“If he’s got that kind of understanding of your brain, then there’ll be no chance of finding him the easy way,” Shame said. “Nothing personal, love, but I don’t feel like taking on your da right now. If he’s quiet, and you think you’re in your right mind, I can go with that.”
“Someone should watch you,” Hayden said. “Shamus?”
“I’m still coming,” I said.
“I know,” Shame said. “Being possessed never stopped me from taking a girl out on the town. But it’s best we take a little precaution.”
“Garlic?” Hayden asked.
Shame grinned. “Only if it comes with pizza and a beer.”
He pushed off the wall and dug around on the bookshelf. “Void stone.”
“That’s huge,” I said.
He nodded like a kid who’d just found X-ray glasses at the bottom of the cereal box. “If you, or your da, tries to pull on magic, you’ll have to get around this beast. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Um, no.”
It wasn’t. The last void stone I’d worn was a beautiful black stone caught in vines of copper and silver. It looked like a necklace, a piece of art, really. This thing was spud-ugly. The size of a tennis ball, green as river slime, and pocked with splotches of white like it was rotting, or being taken over by fungus. A plain leather cord looped through it.
“What’s the matter, suddenly develop a fashion sense?”
“Give me that.” I grabbed the thing out of his hand and dropped it over my head. Hello, relaxation. The headache that had been creeping back up my neck was gone. I must have been too angry to pay attention to how much magic had been pushing at me, filling me. The void stone lifted a weight off my head, off my shoulders. I took a deep breath, savoring the respite from pain and magic.
“I have always had fashion sense,” I said.
“Tank tops and jeans every day isn’t fashion.”
“This is a sweater. And like the goth look is something original?”
“Goth? Who’s goth?”
“You, Mr. Nothing-but-black-from-head-to-boot.”
“I like black. It makes me look dangerous.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s what it does,” Hayden said. “Get going, danger man. There’s work to do.”
“That hurts right in the soul.” Shame pounded a fist on his chest.
“We all know you don’t have no soul, boy,” Hayden said. “Go.”
Out in the hall, Hayden locked the door and tried the handle to make sure it was set.
“I’ll see you two dark and early. Be careful. Call if anything goes sideways.” He strode toward the dining area, phone in his hand again.
“Who’s he going out with tonight?” I asked.
“He’s not. Pulled shift here. Making sure nothing gets in, or”—he paused to stick a cigarette in his mouth—“gets out. Holds the fort, keeps in contact with all of us, reports on gates, critters, and such. Backup Proxy if anyone gets in over their heads.” He pushed the outside door open—the same door I’d exited before—and was lighting his cigarette before his boot hit gravel. Exhaled smoke. “I hate doing it, ’cause you can’t leave the place no matter if it’s burning to the ground.”
“Why not?”
“The well. Can’t ever be unguarded. Ever.”
The sound of an approaching car filled the night, and Terric pulled up in Shame’s car. Terric swung out, strode around the car. “Evening. You driving?” He tossed Shame the keys. Shame snatched them out of the air without looking.
He took a step, which would have put him in rhythm with Terric. He paused, a subtle hesitation to purposely walk in a different stride. I could tell he wanted to relax and fall into pace with Terric. I could see he fought that instinct. Constantly.
And I thought I was stubborn.
“Any sign of Jingo?”
Terric shook his head. “We searched. Thoroughly. Nothing. Are you sure, Allie?”
“I’m sure he was around me. I’m sure I smelled him. I’m sure I’m missing five minutes. After that, I’m not sure of anything.”
Terric opened the front door for me. “Well, I’m sure he’s not here now. Nice rock. You should know better than to let Shame dress you.”
“I needed a void stone. He gave me a void stone.”
“You just can’t keep your hands off that ugly thing, can you, Flynn?”
Shame grinned. “This is a magical emergency. It was the closest stone I could find.” He ducked into the car.
“There are at least a dozen void stones in any private room of that place,” Terric said as he got in the backseat. “You’re just torturing the girl.”
“I don’t care what it looks like so long as it works.”
“See?” Shame said.“She appreciates my thoughtfulness.”
“Plus paybacks are hell,” I said.
Terric smiled. “You said you lost five minutes?”
“Someone Closed her,” Shame said.
Terric had stretched out to lean on the driver’s-side door, one long leg across the seat, his arm up over the back.
“That’s interesting,” he said.
“Hayden couldn’t suss who. Said she did it to herself.”
“Did you?”
I glanced back at him. “I’m horrible at Closing. I’d never try it on someone else, much less myself.”
“Plus, she has that whole, ‘I-keep-losing-my-memory’ thing she whines about,” Shame said. “Gets all prickly and whatnot when anyone so much as glances at her past.”
“Payback, Flynn,” I said. “Hell.”
“So who?” Terric asked.
Shame took a breath to answer.
“Holy shit, you’re kidding? Her father?”
“I hate when you do that,” Shame growled.
“Read your mind? You think like you’re yelling into a bullhorn. It’s hard to ignore you, Flynn. Trust me, I try.”
“To hell with you,” Shame said.
Terric motioned to include the interior of the car. “Already there. Your dad Closed you, from inside your head?”
“Probably.” It sounded as angry as I felt.
“We should make sure we write this down. Whatever you remember of it. I’ve never heard of a Closer doing that—of conceiving of the way to do that. How does he Proxy his magic use? Are you bearing his cost of pain? How does he use magic without you knowing exactly what he’s doing before he does it? He must be blocking you in some manner.”
“If I knew any of that, I’d stop him and get him the hell out of my head.”
“So you have no control over what he does?”
I thought about it. I had some control. I’d found my own ways to block him, to construct walls between us, to push him away and push him down. But it hadn’t gotten easier. Every day, Dad seemed to grow stronger. Sometimes he’d do something and falter—like when Greyson had tried to eat his soul, or when he fought with Truance—but he always recovered. And came back stronger.
He was like an undead boomerang. A zomberang.
“Not enough control,” I said. �
��I can hold him back. That’s about it.”
“What have you tried on him?”
Terric was way too interested in this. I didn’t know if it was because he was a Closer and had once been up for the job as guardian of the gates, or if he just wanted a conversation that had nothing to do with Shame.
“I haven’t really thought about it. Mostly block spells. Influence, I think.”
“You have your father—one of the strongest magic users of modern times—possessing your mind and you’ve used Magic 101 on him? Allie, I’m disappointed. Shame?”
“Give her a break, Terric. You don’t know what it’s like for her.”
“I don’t know what what is like? Being steamrolled by magic and death? I actually think I have a pretty good bead on that.”
“Fuck it all,” Shame muttered.
“Don’t.” I lowered my voice, softening it. “It’s been a hard day. We’re all tired. Let’s not make it worse. I’m used to my dad screwing with me. I don’t like it, but I can deal. I just don’t know how Jingo Jingo got so close and no one noticed. How can that happen?”
They were silent. We were already on the Portland side of the river. Soon Shame was navigating city streets toward Belmont, where two-story houses of questionable color palettes with barbecue grills up on their porch roofs sat side by side with brick plumbing shops, spray-painted coffeehouses, and solid historical buildings teetering on the edge of disrepair.
“He was a part of us,” Terric said.
“Terric,” Shame warned quietly.
“I’m not out for a fight,” Terric said. “But that’s why he could get through, Allie. Jingo Jingo was a part of us, of the Authority, of the people who swore to see that magic would always be in the right hands and used correctly. Safely. He knows us. Knows our ways. It’s . . . worrisome.”
“Haven’t things been swapped out since he left? Different wards? Different shield and protection spells? Different locks on the doors?”
“Casting a new ward doesn’t make it different,” Shame said. “Not in a substantial way. It’s not like changing locks. Magic is magic. It only follows certain paths, glyphs, spells.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that.”
“No,” Terric said. “He’s right.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Shame said. “You doubt?”
