Magic Without Mercy

by Devon Monk

  The floor was just a floor again. Locked tight.

  In the sudden un-magicness of the room, things seemed too quiet. “I think we should be going,” I said.

  “I’ve been saying that for an hour,” Shame said, “and you get twitchy only now?”

  We started across the floor, Stone trotting along behind, then ahead of us. Shame opened the door for him.

  “Did you contact the others?” I asked.

  “Yes. But that’s not going to do us a lot of good if we don’t know where to meet.”

  Stone sniffed at the bottom step of the staircase back up to the outer world, then took off up it, half climbing, half winging and clawing. If anyone was coming down those stairs, they were about to get a face full of gargoyle.

  We started up after him, listening for sounds of people above.

  I thought through possibilities of where we could meet up. The den was out. Not only did the Authority know that I owned it, but so did everyone else, including the police. We could return to Shame’s place, but after that Gate Roman opened I was pretty sure it would be under observation, or wrapped in yellow tape by now. Not Maeve’s place at the inn, not Zay’s place, not my place. Maybe Grant’s under Get Mugged. No, I’d already used him as a cover once. Twice felt like pushing it.

  Collins, Dad suggested.

  There’s someone I wasn’t sure could be trusted. Sure, I’d hired him to take care of Davy after Davy had been bitten and infected. I knew Collins had no love for the Authority, for how they had Closed him, and nearly destroyed his ability to use magic.

  But he had business dealings with my dad back in the day, and even though he’d said he was a doctor, Shame told me they had a fun little nickname for him: Collins the Cutter.

  He was currently in hiding, trying to keep Davy alive. Maybe going to Collins would be a very good idea.

  Why Collins? I asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my dad. Okay, I wasn’t sure if I trusted him or not. He’d been really great recently, saved my life, maybe saved all our lives with that recorded box Roman had taken with him to England. Still, old habits were hard to break. And I had a long-standing habit of being suspicious. Not that I don’t think it’s a good idea, I added.

  He has access to tech devices that may be far better equipped than Stone to contain the magics from the wells. He’s tending Davy. You want to check on Davy. And, he said, a little hesitantly, Davy’s condition may give us more clues as to how magic is tainted and what can be done about it.

  And that was my practical-nigh-unto-coldhearted father. Let’s go study the guy fighting for his life to see what this epidemic could do to someone up close.

  Still, it was the best plan we had.

  “What about us meeting wherever Collins is?” I said. We’d gotten about halfway up the stairs, Zay in front, then Shame, then me, Stone ahead of us all making gurgling sounds like he was talking to the walls. Which he probably was.

  Zayvion was still moving stiffly, as if his left hip hurt with each step. He covered it pretty well, but I knew him enough to know when he was trying to bull through an injury.

  “Where is old Cutter?” Shame asked.

  “Bea told me he was in the warehouses under the water tower,” I said.

  “Anyone who trusts Collins the Cutter, do a cartwheel,” Shame said, his voice slightly slurred. That fever must be a special sort of fun while climbing the stairs. “No?” he continued. “Well, there’s your answer, Allie.”

  “He has Davy,” I said. “And we need a place to meet.”

  “He’s gonna rat us out,” Shame said. “And if he rats us out, I get dibs on killing him.”

  “I don’t think—,” I started.

  “You get first blood,” Zayvion countered. “I get to break his neck.”

  “But that’s what we did with the last rat bastard,” Shame whined.

  “And how well did that go?” Zay asked.

  “Grand,” Shame said. Then, “Fine, be that way. You get to break his neck.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked. “He’s a doctor. He’s looking after Davy. We don’t kill him.”

  “We?” Shame said. “I never took an oath not to hurt him.”

  “No one hurts him until we know for sure that Davy’s okay,” I said. “We just don’t go in there guns a-blazing.”

  “Us? Guns a-blazing?” Shame said. “No, never that.”

  Chapter Seven

  No one was on the hiking trail when we stepped through the door back into daylight. We must have been down there for longer than I realized. The light of afternoon was headed toward that hard gold of presunset, and the temperature had taken an uptick. It was at least in the high seventies, the kind of weather that made me want to go to the coast and put my bare feet in the sand.

  Or used to make me want to do that. All it did today was make me sweat as we clomped down the trail back toward the bridge.

  I’d told Stone to hide and find me tonight. I wasn’t sure how much of that he actually understood, but he got the hide part at least. He clattered up the hillside, disappearing in the greenery. He was fast and he was smart. He looked like a rock if he held completely still. I was pretty sure no one would spot him. He’d find me again.

  On the downhill side of the bridge that crossed the bottom of the falls, Shame lifted his wrist and glanced at it, like he was checking the time. Only I knew he didn’t wear a watch.

  One of the Pooh Sleuths must be checking in.

  He glanced at Zay and nodded. They didn’t clue me in, and I didn’t ask until we’d gone across the walk and over to the parking area again, where the highway traffic covered the sound of the falls.

  “How about I drive?” Shame asked.

  “No,” Zay said.

  Shame turned to me. “Allie, he needs time. I’m not being a dick about it, but I do not want to be in the car if he hits a flashback of something he pulled out of someone else’s head and suddenly can’t feel his own extremities.”

  “That can happen?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I looked over at Zayvion. He had his sunglasses on and looked every inch the cool, urban tough customer.

  “Let me see your eyes,” I said.

  He tipped his sunglasses down. Gold and brown. Gorgeous. He didn’t look out of his mind. But he didn’t argue with Shame. Which meant what Shame was saying was true and he knew it too.

  “I think I should,” I said. “I’ve been doing the least heavy lifting. It’s my turn to pitch in.”

  I held out my hand. After a slight hesitation, Zay dropped the keys into my palm. I unlocked the car and we all piled in, Zay in the front next to me, and Shame in the back.

  “So who sent the message?” I asked.

  “Victor,” Shame said.

  “What was it?”

  “He said Violet’s safe with Kevin and out of danger.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s in the book?”

  “Forty-two, three, four, and forty-two, three, eleven: ‘quite safe with him’ and ‘out of all danger.’”

  I just shook my head. “I still can’t believe you use that book.”

  “You know I like to keep things simple.”

  “Well, until I hear straight from Victor that Violet’s not only okay but cleared the hell out of this town with my baby brother, I’m not going to stop worrying.”

  “Of course not,” Shame said. “Worrying is what you do best.”

  Zayvion reached over and put his hand on my thigh. Even through my jeans, his palm was hot, heavy, welcome.

  I was careful to drive under the speed limit as we headed back to town. I didn’t know exactly where Collins was, and didn’t want to have to use a Tracking spell to find him. There were several old warehouses under several water towers in Portland. I wished I’d asked for specifics when Bea told me where Collins was hiding out with Davy.

  “Do you know which warehouse?” Zayvion asked.

  “Sort of in process-of-elimination mode,” I said. We were rolling
down streets, trying not to look too suspicious as I scanned the buildings for any hint of where Davy might be. If I could use magic, I’d just flick out a Tracking spell. But I couldn’t do that. The few spells I could see clinging to the buildings weren’t exactly big neon signs telling me my dying friend was behind the burger joint.

  “Careful,” Zay warned.

  A car cut in front of me and then slowed to almost a complete stop.

  “What the hell?” I muttered. Then I realized it was Jack Quinn’s car. Jack was a Hound and Bea’s boyfriend. The left blinker flashed on for just a second, and then Jack drove at speed again.

  “Zayvion, I’m sorry to tell you I think I have a crush on another man.”

  “Who is this unfortunate and soon-to-be-dead fool?” he asked.

  “Jack. That’s his car. He must have been waiting for us, or maybe he followed us.”

  “Jack Quinn has been following us?” Shame said.

  “And now he’s taking us to Collins, I think.”

  “Or a trap,” Shame said.

  “He’s a Hound, Shame.”

  “My statement stands.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” I turned left, following the car. “Hounds are loyal. Jack and Bea told me they’d help me if they could. They’re not going to turn against me while I’m in trouble.”

  “What happens when you’re not in trouble?” Shame asked.

  “Don’t know. It’s never happened.”

  Jack slowed again to a complete stop and flicked on the left blinker.

  I looked left. There was a narrow alley between two buildings and what looked to be an open garage door. Since there was also a water tower nearby, that must be where Collins had Davy.

  “Nice hiding place.” I turned left while Jack continued on forward and drove away.

  “Nice place for a trap too,” Shame said.

  “And I worry too much?” I pulled into a garage next to a car that had a cover pulled over it. It was the kind of shop people probably used to use for metalwork of some sort. A repair shop. There was one door to the left that appeared to lead into the main building.

  We got out of the car. I strode over to the door and tried it. It opened, revealing a brick hallway that led to a rusted yellow metal wall at one end. Halfway down the hall was an old white and dust-redbrick arch. Faint gray light filtered through that arch.

  We went that way. I heard Shame pull a weapon, his gun, I thought, and Zayvion drew his blade. Since I was in the front of this exploration, I felt a little dumb not arming myself, so I carefully drew the gun out of the holster.

  The gun was warm and heavy in my hand, having retained the heat of my body under my coat. It was strange. And uncomfortable.

  I stepped through the archway into a huge, open room. There must have been some renovations done to the place since the structure was originally built. Metal beams crisscrossed the ceiling like someone had gone a little crazy with giant Tinkertoys. A huge square skylight filtered dirty gray light down to wash the wide, scarred plank wood floors with a watery patina.

  More brick walls lined the place, more white and rusty red arches opened to spaces that were too dark to make out. Steel girders that looked like they were once railroad tracks ran down the center of the floor, plumb with the wood.

  The room was empty, except for an old hunting trophy—a huge moose head—mounted on the wall to the right.

  I didn’t want to call out, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to play what’s-waiting-to-kill-you-behind-door-number-two either.

  Zayvion and Shame stood on either side of me. I could literally feel the heat of pain rising off Shame from all the magic he’d thrown, though he wasn’t acting like he was in agony.

  I pointed at the arches on either end of the room, indicating they should each take one, and strode off toward the arch directly across from us.

  Zayvion caught my arm, and jerked me back toward him.

  “We do not split up,” he whispered.

  “We don’t have time for this,” I whispered back.

  “Ah,” a man’s voice echoed out among the timbers and steel. “I see you’ve finally stopped by. So good to have company.”

  And then Eli Collins strolled through the archway to our left.

  Collins was probably no more than ten years older than me, and knew how to work the intellectual, shy-with-a-side-of-crazy look. But his short sandy hair was a little messier than usual and he was sporting dark circles behind those wire-rimmed glasses.

  He had on his usual button-down white shirt, with a charcoal pin-striped vest and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his right forearm wrapped in gauze, the left burned red. He also had an impressive bruise spreading from his hairline down the right side of his face and neck.

  He smiled, and opened his hands wide. I noted his right thumb and two fingers were also wrapped in gauze, as was the palm of his left hand.

  Looked like something had chewed him up and spit him out. If I had to guess, I’d say that something was magic.

  “You have come by to see Davy?” he asked when none of us moved.

  “Yes,” I said, pulling my arm out of Zayvion’s grasp. “We have.”

  “Please.” His eyes roved over Zay, Shame, and then stopped on me. He slowly and pointedly looked me up from boot to gun, short jacket, chest, neck, lips, eyes, where his eyes narrowed just a moment from my icy stare, then to my hair, and finally back to my lips again, as if they fascinated him. “Allie,” he breathed. “You look stunning.”

  Zayvion pushed past me and was across the floor in four strides. He grabbed Collins by the shirt and shoved him up against the wall.

  “Keep your hands,” he growled, “and eyes to yourself. Or I’ll hang them on my walls for trophies.”

  Whoa. I’d never seen Zayvion lose control like that.

  “Zay, don’t,” I started.

  Collins tried a brief smile, but lost that when Zay tightened his grip on his collar. “I meant no harm, Zayvion,” he wheezed, “and intended no slight. Accept my apology.”

  “Zay,” I said again.

  Shame walked over to Zay and patted him on the shoulder. “Let him go, Jones. You promised I’d get first blood. No first blood, no neck breaking.”

  Shame started off toward the archway. “You’re welcome, Collins.”

  Zayvion showed no intention of backing off.

  Collins just held very still, and honestly, I was pretty sure there was more curiosity in his eyes than any sane man in his current predicament should possess. He was either used to getting roughed up or too stupid to know that he was teetering on the edge of a beating.

  “Are you sure I’m the person you want to hurt?” he finally said.

  Zayvion released his shirt, but didn’t step back.

  Collins nodded. “It’s been a challenging day for us all, I think.”

  “Is there booze in this place?” Shame’s voice drifted back from beyond the arch.

  “Yes.” Collins slid sideways to get out from between Zayvion and the brick wall. “Let me pour us drinks.”

  He rubbed at his throat and headed through the archway. I stuck my gun back in the holster and walked up behind Zayvion.

  “Done defending my honor?” I asked.

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stared at the wall.

  “Zay?” I walked around to stand beside him. “Love?”

  He punched the wall, and at the last second opened his palm. I rocked back half a step as dust shifted down between the bricks to powder Zay’s boots.

  I waited while he breathed, his fingers digging into the edges of the brick. Hard, too hard, as if he was trying to dig his way through something, or dig his way out of something.

  And then I knew what it was. Minds. The memories of the men he’d killed. Shame had said he could go through flashbacks.

  I shifted so I could see his eyes. Hard and gold with dizzying emotions clashing through him. Too many memories, lives that were not his. He was s
orting, sifting, claiming and reclaiming his center, his mind, his life, over and over again, pushing away the lives of the other men, but he wasn’t getting ahead of those images faster than they were piling up.

  “Zayvion. I’m right here. And so are you.” I placed my hand gently on his cheek.

  The contact was like lightning. Forget Grounding. Forget meditation. Forget sorting and sifting. Zay came back to himself, back to me, like a lightning bolt seeking iron.

  He twisted and pulled me against him so quickly, I didn’t even have time to catch my breath. He pressed me back to the wall where Collins had been.

  Then he was kissing me, hard, searching, hungry, needing this, needing us, needing me.

  Desperate.

  I opened my mouth, licking him gently, matching his hunger with patience, with gentle sliding strokes of my tongue, until he seemed to finally feel me, really feel me, there, against him, there, touching him, there, kissing him, breathing him as my own breath.

  His heartbeat settled, the desperate hunger eased, and his mouth softened into the familiar caresses of the man I loved.

  I pulled away from him, and looked up into his eyes.

  Brown. Deep and warm. With only a glint of gold dusting them.

  “Welcome home,” I said.

  He leaned back enough that he could drag one thumb down my cheek.

  “Did I kill him?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, trying not to be surprised that he didn’t remember the details of what had just happened. “Shame wouldn’t let you.”

  “Hm. Probably for the better. We’re not alone here, are we?”

  I shook my head. “We came to see Davy.”

  Zayvion closed his eyes, gathering himself, then pushed back. The absence of his body left me painfully tingly.

  “I remember that,” he said. “Which way?”

  I started off toward the arch. “Apparently, there’s booze.”

  The darkness of the hallway was interrupted by pools of gold that made the scars and divots of the old wood plank floor glow like stripes of tigereye. The room opened up into a living area with chairs set in a nice sitting space along with tables and reading lamps. The brick walls were covered by heavy shelves made of girders and I-beams in rusted orange.