by Devon Monk
On the other side strode a happy-looking woman who wasn’t much taller than Violet. Her long dark hair was caught mid-escape from the clip that held it away from her face. She wore no makeup to disguise her clever brown eyes set in a round face. The bulky knee-length sweater over her business suit and skirt looked two sizes too large for her.
Melba Maide, Beckstrom Enterprises’ highest-paid attorney. A tenacious litigator, she had a win-to-loss ratio that was bar none, and her jovial, even occasionally messy exterior hid piranhalike instincts. Behind her back when they were polite, they called her Sweet and Low, for how she clinched her arguments. In front of her back they always called her ma’am.
My dad had spoken highly of her. But then, he respected any woman who could bring him to his knees.
“Wow,” Violet said. “Look at your hair.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears. I hoped she was just talking about the streaks of white. “Hey.” There. That brought my lame response quota up for the day. “How are you? What are you doing out of bed?”
“You were in trouble with the police. They were going to press charges. There is nothing that could keep me in bed.”
Kevin shifted a little uncomfortably. I had a pretty good feeling he’d tried to do just that.
“You remember Melba?” Violet said.
I offered her my hand. “I do. Good to see you again.” We shook.
“Nice to see you too, Allie. Although I prefer my socializing to happen before midnight.” She laughed, a silly little giggle that somehow still felt genuine.
I couldn’t help but smile, even though I knew the woman wouldn’t think twice about carving my heart out and using it as a cup holder if I ever crossed her in a legal sort of way.
“Sorry about that. It was a misunderstanding. I was Hounding. Shame was with me. We ended up in the graveyard, and Detective Stotts got it in his head we were messing around with things.”
Violet’s eyebrows went up. “Theft, magical impropriety, illegal tapping, and Proxy don’t sound like misunderstandings.”
“Well, they were.” I wanted to tell her more. That Stotts had a disk. That I’d told him she knew ghosts were attracted to it. That bad things were happening. But I couldn’t say any of that with Melba around, because as far as I knew, Melba wasn’t a part of the Authority.
I’d asked for a list of names once. They wouldn’t give it to me. Afraid it would fall into the wrong hands. I didn’t need it in my hands—I just wanted to at least read it once so I’d know when to keep my mouth shut.
I glanced at Kevin. He gave me an odd look. Like there was a spider crawling on my face, but he was too polite to mention it to me.
Okay, whatever.
“So do I need to fill out any paperwork? Go to any hearings?” I asked.
Melba shook her head, freeing a bobby pin that clattered on the floor. “You just need to go home, get some sleep, and stay away from the graveyard and people who get you into trouble.” She chuckled again. “And if you are going to get into trouble, at least do something that’s challenging. This almost wasn’t worth leaving my bowl of ice cream for. Good night, Violet.”
“ ’Night, Melba. Thank you. Sorry to get you up so late.”
“Oh, you know I’d pout if I couldn’t come out and play. It’s been fun. Stay out of trouble, Allie.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Melba strode off, leaving a trail of bobby pins behind. She paused for a second to say something to Shame.
Whoa. Maybe she was a part of the Authority.
“So what really happened?” Violet asked.
“Not here,” I said.
She glanced over at Shame. He was on his cell. I tried to catch what he was saying, but he was fumbling with putting a cigarette in his mouth, which was a perfect cover to keep me from both reading his lips and hearing his words.
Maybe Hayden? Maeve?
“How about we go out to my car?” Violet asked. “We’ll take you home.”
“Could you take me back out to the graveyard instead?”
“Allie, never return to the scene of crime,” Violet chided.
“I’m not. Shame’s car is there. I want to get it back for him.”
“We can do that,” Kevin said.
By the time we walked over to Shame, who was only a few feet away, he had hung up his phone and pocketed it.
“Give you a lift to your car,” Kevin said.
“Thanks. You coming?” he asked me.
“Yes?”
“We’re all going,” Violet announced. She started off toward the doors at a purposeful waddle. She buttoned her coat—a nice heavy wool in lime green—and Kevin held the door open, letting her walk through.
I followed. Shame avoided eye contact and lagged behind. I didn’t know why. He’d practically sprinted to get out of here before.
Violet’s car was down a block and a half. Kevin strolled along like he wasn’t paying particular attention to every shadow, rustle, and movement around us, except I knew he was. Shame, behind me, smoked. I just kept walking and wishing I didn’t feel like hell. I should have asked Violet for an aspirin.
Kevin held the front door for Violet; Shame and I took the backseat. Shame left the door propped open, one boot out on the concrete, and sucked the flame out of the cig. He exhaled smoke in a thin stream, then put his foot in the car and shut the door.
He still looked like he was hurting. I wondered if he was feeling Terric’s pain. They’d used magic together, Blood magic, Death magic. Maybe they were tied together even closer now.
Shame leaned his elbow on the doorframe, closed his eyes again, and rested his head in his hand. Kevin eased into traffic.
“Does it have something to do with Daniel?” Violet asked.
Since Shame wasn’t talking, I did. “Not directly. It’s about the disks. Stotts recovered one of the stolen disks.”
“He called earlier today to tell me he found it in the St. Johns area,” she said. “I was going to examine it tomorrow.”
Okay, good. She knew that much.
“He had it with him in the graveyard.” I said. “And I told him it attracts ghosts.”
Kevin shot me a warning look in the rearview mirror.
“Why would you tell him such a thing?” she asked.
“Because it’s true,” I said holding eye contact with Kevin. He rolled his eyes and looked away.
From where I was sitting, I saw Violet in profile. She didn’t look surprised, just resigned. “Is that what happened tonight? Ghosts?”
“Part of it. I told Stotts you knew about the disks attracting ghosts and he’s going to ask you if that’s true. I’d like you to say it is.”
“Allie, you’re not asking me to lie.”
“I’m asking you to back me up on this one thing.”
“Ghosts.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts. I’m a scientist.”
“Okay, then it might not be ghosts, but there is something, maybe a magical interference, or an echo of spells clashing, or swamp gas or something that is very interested in the disks. And it can hurt. See?” I pushed my collar down to reveal the finger burns.
She flicked on the overhead light, and I moved so she could see without having to twist much.
“Those are from ghosts?”
“They’re from whatever attacked Stotts and me back in the graveyard. If you think I’m lying, ask Stotts to let you see his burns.”
She frowned. “Document this for me, please. With pictures of the burns. I haven’t seen anything like that before.”
It wasn’t a promise that she would go with my ghost story, but at least she wouldn’t completely brush it off. That was as good as I was going to get.
The truth was, the Veiled hadn’t been interested in the disks before the wild-magic storm. I wondered if channeling the wild-magic had changed the disks somehow. Violet was the expert in the technologies. She might know.
“Did you work any kind of s
afeties into the disk? In case of overload or tampering?”
“They are still in the developmental stages. We never expected them to be outside the lab. But I have a redesign in mind that will be implemented in the next version. Ways to make sure only certified users can access the magic.”
“Passwords?”
“Much more than that.”
Kevin glanced at me in the mirror again. From that look I could tell he’d had some input on safety measures. Well, good. The Authority had done a pretty good job of keeping the most dangerous disciplines of magic out of people’s hands. Hopefully he had used some of those techniques to put safeties on the disks.
“What about wild magic?” I asked.
“The disks aren’t affected by it.”
“Not even if they’re directly hit?”
“Difficult to reproduce in a laboratory experiment, but let’s assume a disk were . . . strapped to a storm rod that just happened to be hit by wild magic. . . . ” She frowned. “I don’t know. There is always, I suppose, a possibility that the disk could be reglyphed under strong enough force.” She paused, the corner of her eyes tightening as she worked through the calculations. “The price to reglyph, to actually rewrite a disk would be . . . deadly. I suppose it’s possible, but not at all practical. But if it were hit by a storm, maybe.”
She shifted in her seat a little, pulling the seat belt into a better position. “If the conditions were right, wild magic might override the magic and glyphwork in the disk, and might re-create the paths of magic the disk holds. It’s a sobering thought.”
A disk had been changed or reglyphed to make Greyson half man, half beast. I could only assume people had died to pay that price. And Frank Gordon, the man we were pretty sure had turned Greyson into a Necromorph and had gotten me possessed by my dad, was dead now too.
Kevin drove through the graveyard. We weren’t far from the gate when Stotts had found us. Shame’s car was still there.
Shame opened his eyes, rubbed his face, dragging his hair out of the way. “This is it. Thanks to the both of you. I appreciate you bailing me out and going out of your way. Good night, Mr. Cooper, Mrs. Beckstrom.” He got out, shut the door, and headed to his car.
Ditched me. He ditched me.
“Do you want us to take you home?” Violet asked. She had pivoted as much as her belly allowed. She glanced at Shame, then back at me, curious. Like she was trying to figure out what was really going on between Shame and me.
Welcome to the club.
“No, I think. Um, I think I need to—” I looked out, watched Shame peer into the backseat of the car before he opened the driver’s-side door.
“Tell me how I can help,” she said.
My heart leaped at those words. I felt like I’d been holding up, holding tough for about a century and a half, dealing with all these life-or-death decisions, literally, alone. Zay wasn’t talking to me much. Shame wasn’t talking to me now either. I couldn’t tell Nola or anyone else my troubles, because I’d be putting them at risk of being Closed no matter what I said. I was feeling pretty damn lost right about now. It wanted to tell her I just needed a couch for a night, a few hours of peace, a solid week of sleep.
I considered it for a moment, then went with logic. Where should I be right now? Back with the Authority, telling them about what had happened with the well. And with Stotts.
“I think I need to go check on Zay. Get some sleep and get rid of this headache. Could you take me to the inn over in Vancouver?”
“Of course,” Violet said.
“It’s late,” Kevin said.
She frowned. “We’re not going to call her a cab. We’re taking her.”
“Violet. You hired me to keep you safe.”
“Safe doesn’t mean smothered.”
He didn’t look at her, but didn’t say anything either. Finally, he nodded. “That’s true.”
Wow. I was seriously impressed with his ability to not escalate this into a fight. Took a big man to swallow his pride. The steering wheel, however, looked like it was bending inward from his grip.
“We’ll take you,” Violet said. “It’s not that far out of the way.”
Actually, it was completely out of their way, and now I felt bad asking them for the ride.
My door flew open. Shame stood there.
“So are you coming or what?” he asked.
I looked at Violet. She frowned. Nodded. “That makes sense if you’re comfortable going with him. I am a little tired.”
Half of the tension drained out of Kevin and the steering wheel flexed back to round.
“Thanks,” I said. “For everything. I’ll call you soon. Take care of that baby, okay?”
Violet smiled. “Planning on it.”
And then I was out of the car, in the cold air, and hoping Shame’s heater was going full blast.
Chapter Twenty
“Are you okay?” I asked as soon as Shame had started the car.
He sighed. “Let’s not talk. I don’t like you much right now.”
“I know. I have a knack for pissing men off tonight.”
“Stotts and me?”
“And Kevin and Zay.”
“Zay? Did you talk to him? Did he wake up?”
I was an idiot. I’d been so wrapped up in everything else, I hadn’t even told Shame his best friend had regained consciousness.
“He woke up.”
“Was he talking? Did he know who you were?”
“Yes. Things were going fine. I was trying to fill him in on what had been going on, and then I told him I’d brought him back from death and he didn’t want to talk anymore.”
“He finally regains consciousness after being dead and you have a fight?”
“It wasn’t a fight. He just needs some time. To think things through. To deal with what’s happened.” To get over the fact that I went into death and brought him back.
I rubbed at my forehead. My headache was behind my eyes, sinus pressure and a sore throat. I hoped the cold symptoms would pass soon.
“He would have done the same,” I mumbled against my palms. “He would have gone into death after me.”
“That’s not what it’s about,” Shame said. “It’s about love.”
“I think it’s about pride.”
“No. When you hurt someone you care about, when you break them. . . . ” He swallowed hard.
I waited. Finally, “You get angry?”
“You wonder if you can . . . care enough to find a way to let go of them. So you won’t hurt them again. So you won’t destroy them.”
“That’s called sacrifice,” I said.
“That’s called caring.”
“How’s that been working for you and Terric?”
“Jesus,” he said with no heat. Then, “Not well, really. My life was miserable without him, and it’s not so hot with him here either. At least you and Zay have the kind of thing that ends up with wedding rings attached to it. And you know, babies. Terric and me? Matching restraining orders. Maybe simultaneous murder charges.”
I thought he was wrong about that. But him bringing up Zay and wedding rings and babies—things I hadn’t even taken the time to think about—made me want to change the subject fast. “I would really love to change the subject,” I said.
“Thank God. See the Blazers game the other night? Double overtime. I lost a fortune to Hayden. Speaking of, call him, won’t you? Tell him I’m going to drop you off and we’ll be there in about ten.”
I dialed. “Where are you going?”
“To spring Terric.”
“Shame, you can’t march into a hospital and break him out without clearing it with the doctors.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Shame?” I said.
“Hello?” Hayden asked.
“Say hello to the nice man,” Shame said.
I rolled my eyes. Bad idea. Headache. “This is Allie. Violet and her lawyer got Shame and me out. We’re headed to the inn, but Shame’s
going to go check on Terric in the hospital. Tell him staging a prison break is a bad idea.”
“Terric’s already out. He’s on his way here.”
“Is he all right?”
“He says so. Dr. Fisher will look at him when he gets here. How long until you arrive?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Good. Don’t get arrested between now and then, hear?” He hung up.
“What did he say?” Shame asked.
“Terric’s okay. He’s been released from the hospital and will meet us at the inn.”
“Hmm.”
“Also, we are not to be apprehended by the law before we get there.”
“Why do you think I’m driving?”
I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. Tried my best to relax, to meditate. Only ended up falling asleep, which was probably for the best anyway.
I snorted awake when Shame parked.
We were at the inn. I had the sleep-shakes. I was craving sleep something fierce and ten minutes of shut-eye hadn’t done it for me. I needed sleep. Big squishy bunches of it. Soon.
The night was quiet with the kind of stillness that made you feel like everything was holding its breath for dawn. We walked up the front steps and wandered in, even though the porch light was off and the CLOSED sign hung in the window.
The wards were in full force, and I tasted the slick Earl Grey tea of Victor’s handiwork as I stepped across the threshold.
Inside, lamps scattered among the tables cast lemon yellow circles of light throughout the main room. Victor, Hayden, Maeve sat at one table, talking quietly, coffee cups at their elbows and a map spread out between them.
Sunny and the three Georgia sisters were in the middle of a card game, and Joshua and Nik leaned chairs against the wall, feet propped on spare chairs, arms folded over their chests, catching some sleep. I didn’t see the twins, or Dr. Fisher. Maeve looked up.
“Good, you’re here.” She motioned both Shame and me over. “Are you all right?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Tired.”
