by Devon Monk
“I’m, um, sh-shot,” I stuttered. Great. That sounded tough.
Dr. Fisher smiled. “Leave you alone for a few days and you take on a gunman? Allie, what am I going to do with you?”
She tugged my robe off my shoulder to better see my arm, which hurt and made me whine.
Victor reappeared from down the hallway. Terric handed the doctor a wet towel and Shame a blanket, which he then wrapped around me. I was glad they all seemed to know what they were doing, because everything was a little fuzzy around the edges.
Shame still looked like he’d taken the three-day cruise to hell and back. But his eyes, which had once been green and then so dark they were almost black, seemed a little more normal. They were greenish around his pupils and fanned out into ebony toward the edges.
“I let you out of my sight for one lousy minute and you come back covered in bruises. What happened to us all getting a little rest?”
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea. Zay okay?” I asked. Or at least I think I did.
Shame was holding my right hand while Dr. Fisher did painful things to my left arm, then had me roll even more onto my right hip so she could inspect my left. Everything went away while I dealt with the pain.
In the distance I finally heard Shame say, “He’s not shot. You, on the other hand, are on the way to a new record. This is what, three times you’ve survived a gun pointed at you in one year? Who was it?”
“Dane,” I said, because someone needed to tell them what happened. “And five men.”
“Did you recognize the men?” Victor asked.
“No.”
“We’ll have you look through some photos later. Terric, would you come with me, please?”
Terric hesitated, looking between me and Zay. From the expression on his face, I didn’t think Zay and I were in very good shape.
“I got them,” Shame said.
Terric nodded and followed Victor, who was already out the door.
“This is going to sting a little,” Dr. Fisher said. “But it will help with the pain.”
She gave me a shot that stung like a fifty-foot wasp nailed my arm. Then the pain was gone, and even though I was a little shaky, I felt like myself again.
“Rest for a little bit, okay?” she said. “Shame, why don’t you make her some tea?”
“Do you own tea?”
“Maybe. Check under the coffee.”
I looked over at Zay. Dr. Fisher gave him a shot too and called his name. He woke up, groggy. Then angry. He pushed into a sitting position and hissed, wrapping one arm over his ribs.
“Allie?”
“Right here.”
Those brown eyes were flecked with gold. I didn’t have to touch him to know he was furious.
“No one left to kill,” I said. “Victor and Terric are looking, I think.”
“What happened?”
Well, that was a switch. Usually I was the one who couldn’t remember.
“Dane and five other men came into the house, waved around guns and crowbars and magic and stuff. Wanted to know where Sedra is. Dad didn’t say, but he did help me knock them all out. Except for Dane. He had a disk.”
“Disappeared?” Zay asked.
I nodded. “And now I have to drink tea.”
“Get to drink tea,” Dr. Fisher said, trying to help Zayvion out of his shirt so she could assess the damage.
“Yes. That.”
“Zayvion, if you don’t hold still, I will knock you back out.” Dr. Fisher had a spell caught in her left hand. I didn’t know if it really was something that would lay him low. More likely it was some sort of healing or siphon or Sight spell.
Still, she got her point across. Zay stopped trying to get up on his feet and instead did what he could to get out of his shirt, then leaned against the wall while she looked him over. Someone, probably Terric, had brought a blanket for him too, and Zay tugged it closer over his shoulders.
“Other than your ribs, anything hurt?” The doctor had already gone over his head and eyes and checked the sensation in his feet and fingers. She was quick.
“Just sore.”
“No bullets, which is what I like to see,” she said. “One of you being shot is enough.”
Zay looked over at me. I didn’t think he could get any angrier. I was wrong.
Shame strolled back into the room. “Tea. It’s black, but I didn’t see any herbal in there. Take it down a notch, mate,” he said to Zay. “You’re gonna boil paint off the walls.”
“Where’s Dane?”
“We’re looking.” He handed me the tea. “I added milk and sugar.”
I didn’t like milk or sugar in my tea. But one sip and I highly approved of his choice.
“Okay.” Dr. Fisher finished bandaging Zayvion’s ribs, pulling so tight, he grunted. She stood. “Help me get Zayvion on his feet first. Let’s get you to the couch.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Good. Let’s see it.”
Shame and the doctor helped Zay stand, supporting him without pressing too hard on his ribs. They let go of him, and he walked across the room to the couch and back.
“Tender, but I’ll live.”
I’d have believed him too, if he weren’t sweating so hard. Man was in a world of hurt.
“How bad is it?” I asked the doctor.
She gave me a smile. “Not as good as he wants to let on, but nothing fatal. He’s probably had worse from street fights. Still”—she shifted her focus to Zay again—“I want you to keep those ribs wrapped, and contact me immediately if you cough up blood or see blood in your urine. That goes for you too, Allie.”
I nodded. “Can I get some painkillers for when this shot wears off? I think I used magic without setting a Proxy.”
“Oh, for the love of breakfast, Beckstrom,” Shame said. “Why?”
“I was a little preoccupied trying to stay alive to worry about a headache.” I frowned. Come to think of it, I wasn’t hurting nearly enough. Either the medicine the doctor had given me was amazing, or using magic in tandem with my dad had unexpected side effects. Wouldn’t it be something if he paid the price for once?
“You should be on the Authority’s Proxy pool, Allie,” Dr. Fisher said. Then, to Shame, “Why haven’t we done that?”
He shrugged. “You know how things have been. Crazy. I’ll talk to Mum about it.”
I hated other people Proxying for me. I was plenty strong enough to pay my own price for the magic I used. I didn’t tell them that, though. I didn’t have the energy to argue right now.
“Your turn,” the doctor said. “Let’s get you on your feet.” Zay took a step toward me. Shame cut him off.
Dr. Fisher and Shame knelt and helped me stand. My arm hurt even though it was in a sling, and so did my hip, which was bandaged. My back hurt too. That was from the punch to the kidneys.
I wasn’t going to win any beauty awards, but I was a long way from being down for the count. I walked, my hip not hurting as badly as I expected, and sat on the couch. Lowering myself down hurt more than walking. I groaned a little.
Zay could be the tough guy and lean against the wall in his underwear with his cracked ribs and pretend he wasn’t hurting. I didn’t have pride.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Fisher asked.
I gave her the rundown, much more detailed than Zayvion because I wasn’t ashamed of my wounds. I knew I’d been lucky.
“How long for the sling?” I asked.
“Your arm is just a graze, and the bullet clipped your gluteus maximus. From the bleeding, I thought for sure you’d have a bullet buried in there, but you don’t. You are very, very lucky, Allie.” She paused so I could acknowledge that fact.
“Yay?” I said.
“So your arm will hurt if you move it too much. The hip will hurt most when you bend or sit. Both wounds are incredibly minor for the circumstances. You can take your arm out of the sling if you need to, but if there’s no reason to be using it, I want you to keep it as immobile as p
ossible for at least the next three or four days. As for your hip, leave the bandages on—they’re waterproof, so showers are fine, but no baths—and come see me in a week, okay?”
The door clicked open again, and I’d be lying if I said the sound didn’t make my heart race.
It was Terric. He couldn’t have been gone more than a few minutes. I glanced at my clock. At least an hour had passed since I’d crawled out of bed. I was not tracking time well.
“We haven’t caught trace of him,” Terric said. “Victor’s calling a meeting. He wants all of you there if you can make it.”
“When?” Shame asked.
“Three o’clock. Victor’s place.”
Dr. Fisher made notes on a handheld she’d pulled out of her pocket. “I’ll need to move some appointments around, but I’ll be there.” She dug in her bag and pulled out a couple sample packets of pills. She handed me two packets and the same to Zay. “Take two in two hours, when the shot wears off. I’d like you to get some sleep before I see you at Victor’s.”
“So would I,” I said. But I was so rattled, I didn’t think I’d sleep for a week.
“Good.” She packed up and paused for a moment, studying the oil black ring of ash near the door. She shook her head. “I will be so glad when these disks are taken care of.” She stepped over the ashes and closed the door quietly behind her.
Terric locked it. The ward Zay had set there a few months ago was blown. I could smell the burnt-stone stink of its failure.
“How about we help clean this up?” He pointed at the floor.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said. “I can get it.”
Shame snorted. “Don’t be a ninny. Zay, want some tea? Food? Maybe less nakedness?”
Zay stood away from the wall, took a deep breath, but gave up on that about half a lung into it. He sighed, more of a growl, and gave me a look.
I held up one hand. “I’m sitting here. Drinking my tea.”
“Don’t let anyone in.” He walked off, slowly, toward our bedroom.
“No, I’ll check on him,” Shame said to Terric. Terric hadn’t asked a question. That was sort of odd, but then, those two had a connection ever since Terric used Life magic, Death magic, and Blood magic to accidentally implant a crystal into Shame’s chest. Even though Shame didn’t like it, it had probably saved his life on the battlefield. And now each knew where the other was at all times and, apparently, what the other was thinking.
Shame walked off after Zayvion, and Terric sat down in the chair by the couch. “How you really holding up?”
“Still not dealing with the horror of it all.” I took a gulp of tea. “I plan on ignoring it for as long as I can. Tea’s good, though. And I’m starving.”
“Did you have breakfast?”
I shook my head.
“Let me see what I can get you.” He left for the kitchen, and I closed my eyes, holding the tea tight against my chest, the warmth against my skin only making the hollow hole where my small magic used to be colder. I was still doing my best to ignore that too.
I couldn’t hear what Zay and Shame were talking about, just the murmur of their voices. Or, mostly Zay’s. Pretty soon I heard Zay growl and Shame laugh.
Terric must have found something to put on a plate. The microwave started up, and the smell of eggs and bacon wafted out of the kitchen. My mouth watered.
Not exactly the relaxing breakfast I’d hoped for, but I had a feeling those eggs were going to taste like heaven.
Chapter Two
Terric brought breakfast out not only for me, but also made a plate for Zay and stared him down until he accepted it. I ate every last crumb of toast. Near-death events make me hungry. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Using magic—and Dad and I had pulled on a shitload of magic—always made me hungry.
Zay, still angry, didn’t say anything as he ate, but at least he sat at the table by the window and chewed his way through the meal instead of standing or pacing.
Terric gathered our dishes after we were done and washed them, which was above and beyond. Shame did what Shame does best. Lazed around shooting off his mouth and drinking coffee.
“I never did like Dane,” Shame said. “Too quiet, didn’t cheat at poker, didn’t drink. That’s what should have tipped me off. No one’s that pure-hearted in our line of business. And he smelled like … I don’t know. Something musty.”
“Old vitamins,” I said.
Shame snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Which means he was a health freak too. Another thing that should have tipped me off. A man without a single visible vice always has dozens stashed behind closed doors. Probably had a puppy-skinning ring on the side.”
He took a drink of coffee and frowned. “But I didn’t think the bastard would try to kill you, Allie. Or you, Zay,” he added. “Did you do something to make him mad?” Shame shifted in his chair so he could better see Zay. “I mean other than what he says he wants, maybe he’s holding a grudge? Come on, now, you can tell your mate. What’d you do, Zay? Did you steal his puppies?”
Zay looked up from his plate and gave Shame a glare that could draw blood.
“Shame,” I said, “don’t make him hurt you. I don’t need more blood on the floor.” I plucked at my sleeve, which was still damp and sticky. Then I set my empty teacup on the coffee table and stood.
“Where are you going?” Zay asked.
“To get clean and dressed.”
“Let me help.” He pushed away from the table with a grimace.
“No,” I said, “I can get dressed on my own. I’ll be right out. Try not to murder Shame.”
I went to the bathroom first and washed all the blood off my arm and ribs and thigh. There was even blood on the side of my face. I had no idea how it’d gotten there. What I probably needed was a shower, but I didn’t want to take the time unless I could soak, and I didn’t want to deal with waterproofing the bandage on my arm.
I stripped and looked over my body to make sure there weren’t any new scars I didn’t remember getting. It was a habit, a way of dealing with the new trauma, of putting it in perspective with the other traumas in my life.
No new scars. Everything was pretty much the same. The finger burns and other cuts and bruises from fighting the Veiled were fading or gone. The black mark of death was still in the middle of my left palm, black bars at each of my knuckles, wrist, and elbow, and all the ribbony magic ran up from my right fingertips to the edge of my eye. My hair was still streaked with white from going through death—literally. I had two other bullet scars in my collection—one under my left collarbone and one under my left ribs. Other than the Blood magic scar on my upper biceps and thigh, I was pretty much how I always was.
A mess.
I took a deep breath, pushing away the tears that threatened to fall. No time for that, Beckstrom. There was work to do, people to hunt, asses to kick. Crying could wait for another day.
I wrapped up in a clean pink towel and shut the bedroom door behind me. After I’d gotten into one of my looser pairs of jeans and a red T-shirt, both my arm and hip were aching, even through the painkillers. I slipped my arm back into the sling.
I ran a brush through my hair and stuffed my feet into my running shoes. I suspected it was going to be a busy day. Feeling mostly human, I walked back out into my living room, right into a heated conversation.
“Like hell,” Shame said.
All three men shut up as soon as I stepped into the room.
“Fighting over who gets to hunt Dane?” I asked.
Shame was slouched on my couch, his feet up on the coffee table. Terric sat at the round table by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. Zayvion was on his feet again, leaning against the wall where the bullet had buried itself. That was so coming out of my cleaning deposit.
“Do we look like we’re going out to hunt Dane?” Shame asked.
“Yes. Whose toes are we stepping on?”
“Victor’s,” Terric said. “And Carl’s and Nik’s. They’re all
out already hunting.” He directed that at Zayvion. “And if we go out, we’ll only get in their way. Which is why we should coordinate with them.”
“Why wouldn’t we coordinate with them?” I asked.
“It leaves some options open,” Shame said. “Like if we ‘accidentally’ stumble across the guy and kill him before we have the chance to call Victor in on it, we’ll get in less trouble than if we’re following Victor’s rules and reporting in every fifteen minutes.”
“They aren’t Victor’s rules,” Terric said, exasperated. “They are the Authority’s rules. When a member turns against a member, neither may be involved in the containment or examination of the people in question.”
“When did you become such a Polly Playbook?” Shame asked.
“When did you decide the rules applied to everyone except yourself?”
“I think we should get the Hounds involved,” I said over the top of Shame’s answer.
“No.” That was from Zay.
“Why not?” I asked.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“The Hounds.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “Hounds know how to stay alive. I say we hire a couple, ask them to look around town for Dane and report back with what they find. We don’t have to tell them what Dane did. If all we’re wanting is reconnaissance, Hounds are the way to go. Big eyes, tight lips, empty pockets.”
“Victor won’t like it,” Terric said into his coffee.
“I’m not asking Victor.”
“You will,” Zay said.
I glared at him.
“Z, you are the mother of all wet blankets, you know that?” Shame asked.
He shrugged one shoulder but answered me. “If you can convince Victor to drag more people into this, I won’t stand in the way. I’m tired of chasing shadows through this fucking town.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked off into the bedroom.
Wow. I’d rarely heard him grumble about his job. Maybe he was hurting more than I thought.
“Is he okay?” I asked Shame and Terric.
“We were going to ask you,” Terric said.
“He’s just angry,” Shame said. “He let Dane in and almost got both of you killed. Rubs the knickers a bit.”
