by Devon Monk
“What about Davy?” Shame asked. “Are the Veiled staying away from him?”
Oh, I hadn’t thought about that. Davy had magic worked into him. He might look like a very tasty treat to the Veiled.
“None of them approached,” Zay said. “Davy can see them too. Very clearly. Allie, what about your dad?”
“I’ll check again.”
I closed my eyes, blocking out Shame, Zay, and Terric’s quiet conversation.
We’re out of time, Dad, I said. We need your help.
Dad formed next to me, as if he and I were standing together in a dark room. He looked haggard, the lines in his face more pronounced, his bottle-green eyes faded to a thin silver sheen.
However, even here, in the middle of my head, he appeared to be wearing a three-piece suit, his gray hair combed back and neat, his shoulders set square as if he were ready to end the negotiations of a very long business meeting.
Open your eyes, Allison, he said. I’ll be no good to you blind.
Before we purify the last well, I have a question, I said.
He waited.
We need some way to make sure the Veiled don’t attack the living once we close the well. Do you know of any way to get rid of them all at once?
I’ve never experimented with removing Veiled from the living world. It seems to me, Zayvion would be able to open a gate to death and perhaps force them through, Close them.
Wouldn’t that risk letting more Veiled through into life? I asked.
Yes. He was quiet for a moment. I don’t know, Allie. It is not a tested method.
I had to admit that surprised me. It didn’t seem like there was any magical problem we’d faced that Dad didn’t have some kind of answer to or plan for.
He could Ground them, he said.
But I’d seen Zay Ground a mob of Veiled before. It had almost knocked him unconscious and that had only been maybe a couple hundred Veiled. There were a thousand out there.
I don’t think that’s going to work, I said. Don’t you have any other ideas?
I am not a Death magic user, Allison.
He sounded irritated. So: normal. I couldn’t believe I was actually glad to hear that tone of voice, well, thought from him.
Why don’t you ask Mr. Flynn if he can’t do something with them, he said. End of conversation.
I opened my eyes.
“Well?” Shame said.
“Dad said you should do something with them.”
“Me?” Shame said. “No. And you may stick a hell no up that no.”
“Shame,” Zayvion said. “We don’t have the luxury of you saying no.”
“Fuck you, Jones. I have sworn off interaction with the dead. Permanently.”
Eleanor, who was sort of hovering in the seat behind him, slapped him across the back of the head. Shame twitched.
She started talking again, though I couldn’t hear her. I didn’t know if Shame could hear her either, though one shoulder hitched up as if he were trying very hard not to turn around and look at her.
“Shame,” Terric said. “I think Allie’s right. You and I…we can take care of the Veiled.”
“We? You’re no Death magic user,” Shame said.
“No, I’m not. But if they want life, I can give them all they want.”
“Jesus, have you all gone mental? You’re going to feed them?”
“I’m going to keep them away from Stone and the well.”
“Good,” Zay said opening the door. “It’s settled. Let’s go.”
I didn’t think anything had been settled. But Zay was right. The longer we sat in the van arguing, the more chance there was Leander and Isabelle had tracked down another Soul Complement pair.
Terric got out of the car.
Shame reached over for the side door. Eleanor’s hand was already there. He hesitated, then gripped the handle and pulled anyway.
“You can see her, can’t you?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Eleanor.”
Eleanor stopped midrant and slid through the seat and Shame so that she was hovering in front of him.
He shivered at her passing, but didn’t look at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eleanor threw up her hands in exasperation.
“Lying won’t change anything, Shame.”
He took in a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not…I’m not going to talk about it now. I can’t,” he added in a whisper.
Then he started off toward the cemetery gate. Eleanor gave me a considering look, then nodded and mouthed “thank you.” She drifted off after Shame. We might not be able to hear her, but she could hear us and it was clear she was going to remember Shame wasn’t the only one who could see her.
Stone cooed.
“You ready for this, Stoney?” He squeezed around from the back of the van and rested his chin on the seat so I could rub his head. I did so. Yes, I was procrastinating. As soon as I got out of this van, I would be only minutes away from having Dad use magic through me again.
The idea of going through that much pain so soon made me want to slip into the driver’s seat and drive this van until I ran out of land.
But that wasn’t going to happen. We were going to lock magic down. We were going to fight Leander and Isabelle. We were going to save the world.
And if it meant I’d have to go through a little pain for that to happen, so be it.
I shoved at Stone’s nose and he rubbed his forehead on my arm. “Come on, you big lug. Let’s go be heroes.”
Stone clomped out of the van and toward the graveyard.
I walked over to Zayvion, who was still on this side of the open cemetery gate.
“We have a plan?” he asked.
“We go in there, open the well. That will keep the Veiled interested enough that I don’t think they’ll notice Collins opening the gate.”
I glanced over at Collins, who was only a few yards away. He wore a jacket and leather gloves, and was setting up something that looked, at the moment, like a pair of tripods.
Davy was watching. Intently. Probably so he could set the thing up himself if he needed to. Boy was smart that way.
Sunny was keeping an eye on both of them. They had all changed into dark coats and gloves, and were carrying backpacks. Probably supplies they’d need if they had to go into hiding or were on the run.
Not for the first time, my stomach clenched at the thought of throwing Davy and Sunny into the path of Leander and Isabelle with Collins at their side.
“That’s it,” Collins said.
Davy nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked over to me. He was frowning, and his shoulders were hitched up against the cold.
“Don’t power that thing until Shame and Terric give you the all clear, okay?” I said.
Davy nodded. “Boss? You’re not looking too good. There are a hell of a lot of dead people in there. Someone got your back?”
I gave him half a smile. “Zay’s got my back. Shame and Terric too. If you get in too deep, if things get too tight, I want you to haul ass for home, you understand me, Silvers?”
“If there’s one thing I’ve found that I colossally suck at, it’s dying.” He glanced at Sunny, who was keeping close tabs on Collins, then at Collins, who was adjusting a netting of thin silver wires in a circle around the tripods.
“I’ll make sure we find our way back. Breathing,” he added. “Do not do some damn stupid heroic thing while I’m gone, okay? Pike would kill me if he found out I left you alone.”
“I promise not to do anything heroic—stupid or smart.”
Collins dusted his hands together. “We should be going, Mr. Silvers.”
“See you soon, Davy,” I said.
“See you soon,” he said.
There were no good-byes between Hounds, unless it was spoken to a gravestone.
“Shame, Terric,” I said. “When Zay opens the well, and when you think we’re making enough magical noise to keep
the Veiled off Collins and his machine, tell him to fire it up.”
“Been thinking.” Shame exhaled smoke from his cigarette. “This could be suicide.”
“Don’t like the odds?” Terric asked.
“Dead people, untested magic, untested technology all stirred up together?” Shame paused and brushed his trembling fingers through his bangs, his bravado broken. A shadow crossed his eyes. Sorrow, or maybe fear. “I’m sure it’s all going to work out perfectly,” he said softly.
Chapter Fifteen
Zay stepped through the gate and headed down the road that cut the graveyard east and west. I was at his right, and Shame and Terric were at his left. The graveyard was only about the size of a city block, and tucked right in the middle of what were busy streets and bustling businesses during the day.
During the night, with all the spells stripped from the buildings and city, the cemetery glinted like cut obsidian, slices of electric light sliding off the polished edges of tombstones and statuary, shining white on marble carvings, catching deep indigo ink under the branches of tall pines, firs, hollies, and maple trees.
Sliding among the shadow and light were the Veiled. Flashes of watercolors, pastel shades that had once been people and were now shabby opalescent reflections of their lives. Hungry, lost, and restless.
They stirred as we passed, looking our way with empty pits where their eyes should be, mouths open. They were silent. They were always silent. But they did not move toward us, did not follow us.
Almost, I felt as if I were the ghost in their world. Felt that as I walked that long ribbon of gray concrete toward the shadows, this might be a dream. I might wake up and find myself curled in bed next to Zayvion in a world where dead magic users didn’t possess their daughter’s mind, where friends weren’t crippled and mutated by magic, where immortal monsters didn’t walk in flesh hunting down Soul Complements and killing them.
But I knew this was not a dream. It was a living nightmare. And it was up to us to make sure the good guys won.
Even if we weren’t standing by the end of the fight.
The crypt was off the path, tucked up against several old cedar trees. We’d been here before, well, Shame and Terric and I had been here before. Zay had been in a coma then. We’d closed the Death well, thinking it would stop the spread of Veiled.
Boy, had we been wrong.
“How do we get in?” I asked, eyeing the iron-worked fence that surrounded the crypt. There were so damn many Veiled, I was having a hard time seeing through them to the actual building.
“Let Shame and me handle that.” Terric paced back to the middle of the roads that met from east, west, north, and south.
He chanted the words to an old blues song and a flood of gold white light poured out around him.
Along with the light he’d gone super-beautiful. As the magic around him grew, he shifted from beautiful to cold, then alien, burning with power.
The Veiled were suddenly still, caught by his voice, caught by the light and magic. Then they rushed toward him and lapped up the magic that poured from his fingertips and the ground around him like droplets of fiery rain.
Shame threw his cigarette to the dirt, his words carried by smoke. “Get on with it,” he said, not looking at me or Zay. “We’ll try not to destroy the world while you’re gone.”
He walked through the Veiled toward Terric. Where Shame passed, the Veiled bowed down on one knee, reaching out hands to catch at the blackness that lashed around him like fire, as if trying to touch the coattails of a god.
Eleanor was there too, but stayed as far away from the Veiled as she could, mouthing, “Careful, careful,” over and over.
Shame stopped in front of Terric. “And you say I have suicidal tendencies.”
He turned his back on Terric, and Terric turned his back on Shame. Magic rolled to them, leaping to their call, filling Shame’s hands with darkness, and Terric’s with light. That mesmerizing loop of inhale, and exhale, magic turning from one man’s hand to the other, changing from light to darkness, like a pulse of blood between them, caught me so I could not look away.
My eyes closed. Allison. There is no time.
Dad. He had closed my eyes. And when I opened them, I was facing the crypt, Shame and Terric behind me.
Shame whistled once, a hard piercing blast. “Fire it!” he yelled.
Magic poured in a ribbon of muted red and black, snaking across the graves, between the trees, to answer Collins’ gate device.
We needed to get in that crypt to that well to lock it down.
Zay called on magic and casually blew open the locked fence.
“Allie,” he called, holding his hand out for me.
I was walking toward him. I really was. But it was like quicksand up to my ankles. Every step was slower and slower, harder and harder. I was sweating, hurting. This much magic, this close to me, even though the Veiled were no longer covering the crypt quite so thickly, made me feel like I was trying to breathe through a sandstorm.
There wasn’t enough air in the air, and there was way too much magic everywhere else.
Zay grabbed my hands and pressed a disk into my palm.
“You got this,” he said. His words, his strength, cleared my head a little.
Just enough that I could feel how damn much pain I was in. My skin was on fire. A part of my mind was already screaming. I hurt. Yeah, well, I was going to hurt a lot more by the end of this.
But the well would be purified. The well would be closed. The spread of the poison magic would be stopped. Portland’s magic would be shut down. And without magic, Leander and Isabelle would be vulnerable. Killable.
I wanted them killable. More than I wanted to get away from the pain.
“I got this,” I said to Zay. “Go. Open it.” My words sounded like I was underwater.
Zay pushed the door to the crypt and stepped inside.
I pulled the disk up to my chest, holding it with both hands to make sure I wouldn’t drop it. I was having a hard time feeling my fingers.
By the time I walked into the crypt, Zay had already opened the well. I swallowed back a moan as the weight of that magic dug hooks into my flesh.
Dad? I thought. Ready?
Yes.
Dad stood beside me in my mind, a steady, powerful presence that bolstered me. My vision cleared, and so did my mind.
We Beckstroms were determined people when we needed to be. Stubborn as hell too.
Dad said a word or two, and the pain slipped away. It was still there. In one corner of my mind, I was still screaming, but that part of me was so far away, I could no longer feel it.
What I felt was Zayvion on the other side of the crypt, which was ten times as large as it looked from the outside, drawing magic up from the well and throwing it out to the perimeter of the room. He’d set some kind of spell to circle the room and was filling it with so much magic, the Veiled who weren’t outside gorging on Shame and Terric were here, gorging on that spell like pigs at a trough.
Which meant that here, inside that circle of protection, the magic was at least a little less concentrated, though it radiated out of the well like a roaring fire.
Dad, or maybe I, walked to the edge of the well. Stone, who had been awfully quiet this whole time, was right there beside me.
I tried to convince myself I could handle this. Too bad most of me knew I was lying.
Stone and I stopped several feet away from the well. Magic was making me a little dizzy—well, a lot dizzy—and I didn’t want to accidentally fall in when Dad took over.
Be careful, I told Dad. I’m not…I’m not as steady as I’d like to be.
I’ll be done as quickly as I can.
Don’t do it quickly. Do it right.
Always, he promised.
I set my mental feet and let Dad take over. He started the spell, drawing it with my fingertips and whispering it with my mouth.
Pain rushed at me, crashing down and swallowing me whole. I tried to hold
on, to see if Stone responded to Dad’s spell, to see if Dad could also trigger the magic out of the disk and get everything all blended up and tossed into the well together.
But I was having a hard time seeing anything, thinking anything. The pain grew stronger and bigger with every syllable Dad spoke, with every line of the glyphs he drew.
Until it was an agony, and there was no escape.
I remembered falling to my knees and wondering why that didn’t hurt. I remembered wondering how Dad kept his concentration when the world was tearing apart and magic was ripping holes in me.
He was nothing if not a very determined man.
Darkness folded in around me. Even the hard shush of blood in my ears and stuttering beat of my heart were replaced by a distant cool grayness.
And then I wasn’t wondering about anything anymore.
I was walking. There was no pain. There was no worry, no sorrow. Only peace. I was content. Complete.
Dad was walking next to me, silent.
Ahead of me the world seemed to be filled with light.
The softest, most beautiful light I had ever seen.
It welcomed me, beckoned me. I knew I belonged there. In that light. I knew I would never feel pain again. I knew I would be loved.
Was that wrong? To want that? To want peace? To want comfort and ease?
And then, even that faint worry was whisked away. There was no wrong here. Everything was as it should be.
I was almost to that soft light. Just a few steps more and I would be there. Could stay there forever.
Someone stood in the light. Waiting for me.
My father. The younger him, his hair dark instead of gray, his smile kind.
“Allison Angel,” he said. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? So soon?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s nice to be here.”
“Was there no other choice?” he asked older Dad, who stood next to me.
“I still have some hope,” older Dad said. “There are factors still working in our favor.”
Younger Dad shook his head, but he was smiling. “I had hoped there would be years for you yet, Allison. We both wished things could have been much different.”
