by Devon Monk
“Are we going on foot?” I asked.
“No time for that,” Shame said. “We’ll stay in the car and see if we can catch a whiff of the vitamin-swilling bastard. Doubt Victor would be pleased if we ran him down on foot and brought his head home on a stick.”
“It’d make me feel better,” Zay mumbled. He opened his eyes, took a breath, and let it out.
“Yeah,” Shame said. “Well, maybe if we’re good soldiers, Victor will let you get in on the interrogation of Dane. That’d be worth a little restraint, right?”
Zay gave a half nod. “Probably.”
“How are the ribs?” Terric asked.
“Feels like a tank ran over them. Otherwise, fine. Did Victor really tell you to stop me if I went too far?”
Terric twisted so he could look back at us. “Yes. What does that say?”
“Either Victor is tired and overreacting, or I’ve been in a very bad place.” He gave that grin again. The one that looked like he wanted to chew through bones.
“Or,” Shame said, “he knows you have every right to go ballistic on Dane’s ass. I can’t believe the bastard pulled a gun.”
“I didn’t expect it.” Zay was quiet for a while. “I let my guard down.”
“None of us thought Dane would go rogue,” Shame said.
“Now we know,” Zay said calmly. “And now we’ll take care of it.”
Zay could fake all the calm and cool he wanted to. I knew as soon as he got his hands on Dane, he’d kill him. Even if it meant going against Victor and the Authority to do it.
Chapter Three
The hunt did not go well. We drove around for almost two hours and didn’t do much more than keep Shame and Terric from stabbing each other over the radio channels.
Well, maybe we did some good. We knew where Dane was not, and Zay had managed to get his temper under control, although the rage lingered just below the veneer of his calm.
I’d been smart enough to bring along our painkillers, and we stopped at a drive-through coffee stand. I ordered an iced vanilla latte. Not my usual black, but I needed all the sugar I could get to deal with the headache Shame and Terric were giving me.
Filled with painkiller and caffeine, I was ready to take on the lunch with Nola.
“Hey,” I said over the top of the music—currently smooth jazz that made me want to gouge my eyes out, and with which Shame and Terric were playing chicken to see who caved and turned the channel first. “Can you drop me off at the Turntable?”
Terric switched off the radio.
Thank God.
“What?”
“I’m meeting Nola for lunch.”
“I’ll go with you,” Zay said.
I turned to tell him I didn’t need a babysitter. The flash of gold in his eyes made it pretty clear he was going whether I wanted him to or not.
“You can’t follow me everywhere. I’ll be fine with Nola.”
“I’m following you to this lunch. Dane wanted you, not me. You and your dad.”
Okay, that was true. Which I hated. I felt as though I hadn’t had a minute alone in years, and while I loved the man—really and truly did—I was hoping I’d get a chance for some girl talk.
But I could be practical. These were not normal times, not safe times. Meeting with Nola might put her in danger. It would be better for her too if he was there to look out for trouble. And Zayvion was nothing if not hyperalert right now.
“Fine,” I said. “Are you coming too, Shame?”
“No. Have a few loose ends to tie down before the meeting. How about I drop you off at Z’s car? We’ll meet up at Victor’s later.”
“That works,” Zay said.
It didn’t take long to get back to my apartment. I got out of Shame’s car and took a minute to stretch. It was warm enough that I wondered if winter was gone for good. Birds chattered in the trees lining the back lot, and the air smelled of traffic, cut grass, and beef with garlic from the gyro stand on the corner.
If I were living a normal life, I’d go for a run in the park, maybe watch the dragon boats practice for the races. Instead I watched Shame and Terric drive off, Gregorian chanting pouring so loudly from the radio, I could hear it through the closed windows.
Zay scanned the parking lot, which was empty except for us, then turned to face me. He reached out, fingers digging a little too tightly into my hips, and pulled me against him.
I wanted to slip my arm out of the sling so I could get closer to him, but that would take too long and probably involve pain. Instead, I draped my good hand around his neck and tipped my face up.
“Allie—”
I didn’t know what he was going to say. Didn’t care. I pulled his face down and kissed him. I caught his bottom lip, then nipped up, dragging my tongue into the corner of his mouth and across the edge of his upper lip until he opened for me. I made a little sound as I slid my tongue fully into his mouth, and savored the warm taste of him.
He shifted his hold, wrapping his thick arms around me, one hand catching my right hip, the other thrust up into my hair, fingers clenched. His tongue plunged into my mouth, hot, insistent, hungry, as if we hadn’t touched in years. He stroked my hip, his palm cupping the curve of my butt. Then he rumbled, almost a growl, and dragged me in so tight against the hard length of his body, I had to stretch up and arch back and back to keep kissing him. Then it was only his arms around me that kept me from losing my balance.
He was worried. Angry. Terrified he’d almost gotten me killed.
I was worried. Angry. And so damn glad he was alive and breathing.
Too hard, too desperate to begin with, the kiss slowly shifted away from fear to love. We gentled our lips, slowed each stroke of tongue until our mouths moved in languorous, pulsing rhythm. We took our time. His hand in my hair finally relaxed. He dragged fingertips down the edge of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. Goose bumps washed over my body as he slowly straightened so I was standing, once again, on my own two feet.
I wanted more, a lot more, but we slowly inhaled together and gently pulled apart. I tucked my head against his chest, my good arm around his ribs, but not too tight. I could feel the heat of pain coming off his body, mixing a sour scent with his familiar pine. Not quite a fever, but a sure sign he wasn’t at his best right now.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said. We both wanted to say it. We both were feeling that gratitude for life, right on the heels of a very real brush with death.
“It won’t happen again,” he said. “I was stupid to trust him.”
I nodded, my cheek brushing over the nylon of his ratty ski coat. “Me too.”
I stepped back because all I really wanted to do was take him upstairs to my apartment and curl up in bed with him.
“We’d better get to lunch,” I said. “Nola’s probably there already.”
We held hands walking to the car. I got in first. It hurt, but along with the pain meds that were numbing things, I was also getting the hang of how to bend and sit without making my hip feel like someone was stabbing a dull knife into it.
Zay slid behind the steering wheel with a grunt. Those ribs weren’t doing him any favors.
“Want me to drive?”
“I got it.” He started the car and maneuvered it out of the parking lot.
“Nola said she has Cody with her,” I said.
“Mmm.”
“Will that bother you?”
He glanced at me. “Why?”
“You’ve Closed him. Twice. Does it bother you to see what’s left of his brain?”
Okay, that came out a lot harsher than I’d intended. But it was the truth. Cody was a living casualty of the Authority’s rule of taking away people’s memories and abilities to use magic if they didn’t do what the Authority wanted them to do.
“His was a special case,” Zay said. “The first time I Closed him, he was fine. I saw him afterward, checked in on him. There was no sign of any loss of mental acuity. Then … I don’t know. I’ve Closed
a lot of people. I’ve never had anyone come out of it so damaged. He’s a savant with magic. Rare. We thought that his unusual abilities with magic, more than what I did, caused his mind to fail.
“I Closed him very carefully. Nothing I did should have damaged him.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the pain of the twist, and changed lanes. “Makes me wonder.”
“What?”
He started to shrug, thought better of it. “If someone else got to him after me.”
A few months ago I would have told him that was ridiculous. But now, with Jingo’s betrayal and Dane’s visit at gunpoint, I wasn’t so sure Zay was wrong.
“Will it bother you to have me there?” he asked.
“Not you,” I said. “It bothers me that Cody was broken.”
But Cody’s spirit, his ghost, who seemed somehow older and wiser than the childlike Cody Nola was looking after, had told me he didn’t mind being broken. He told me the living Cody was happy the way he was. It still seemed like he’d gotten a raw deal to me.
“I know there’s no changing it,” I said. “Is there?”
“Who knows?” Zay sighed. “The way things have been going lately, I don’t know if anything follows the rules anymore.” He glanced at me. “Yes. I should be able to un-Close Cody. I don’t know how much good that will do him since he’s had a mental break.”
“He’s not a bad kid,” I said.
“No. But you didn’t know him before. You think Shamus can get out of hand. Cody was hell on a bender. No sense of caution. Got in with the mob, owed money, then art, then magic, then other favors. Found a patron who pumped enough money into his sinking ship, he didn’t get gunned down in the streets.” Zay shook his head. “Anything his mother was against, he was all for. It was a mess.”
“Sedra, right? His mom?”
“Yes. She’s the one who finally decided he was too reckless with magic, too untrustworthy with the Authority’s secrets, and needed to be Closed. After Mikhail’s death … nothing was ever right with her.” He turned into a parking garage and took the ticket.
No wonder she was such an ice queen. Her lover dead, her son Closed, the Authority her responsibility—she hadn’t had it easy.
“She became a much harder person. Driven to rule. No one stood in her way. Not even her own son.”
He parked and didn’t make a big show of how much it hurt for him to stand out of the car. I could tell, though. I could smell the pain on him.
I wasn’t nearly as graceful. I groaned at any little jab or bump to my arm and hip. My sling got caught on the side of the door, and I had to pull my arm out of it to get free. I made a lot of noise and swore just for good measure. Good news, my arm moved pretty well. Better news, my hip wasn’t giving me nearly as much trouble.
Zay waited while I got my arms in the right arrangement; then we walked to the street. Plenty of people out today, the city waking up and coming to life after a long, rainy winter.
But all the activity made me twitchy. I jerked at every loud noise, loud engine, loud color. The day was too bright, too sunny, and I felt naked and vulnerable out in it.
I wanted my sword or, hell, a gun. I wanted more than magic to keep me safe. I wanted bullets to fight bullets.
“You okay?” Zay mumbled. He didn’t look at me but wrapped his arm around my waist.
His calm anger did a world of good to clear my head. He walked the streets like he could take on all comers with his bare hands. Untouchable. Fearless.
Didn’t act like a guy who’d almost been shot to death.
Well, if he could do that, I could try not to duck at every bike riding by.
The Turntable was in the corner of a building filled with shops and offices. Zay opened the brass and wood door, and I stepped in, my sneakers making a thick sound on the hard green tiles. The decor was mostly wood and brass, booths in dark green, tables with mismatched cloths, and flower arrangements scattered here and there. Vinyl records and covers in frames filled the walls. It should look corporate but somehow managed to hold on to its hometown roots and seemed inviting and genuine.
The sign told us to seat ourselves. Zay chose a table, not a booth, facing the front door, with a good view of the rest of the restaurant.
The waitress—a woman with skin darker than Zayvion’s, and so pretty she should have been a model—bustled over with menus. Zay told her we’d have two more people joining us. She left and returned with four glasses of water.
I’d had just enough time to decide on the club sandwich when Nola walked in.
My best friend looked how she always looked—no, she looked better than I’d ever seen her. She smiled and waved as soon as she spotted me, her long honey hair tucked behind both ears, showing the blush on her cheek and the tan that was gotten the old-fashioned way—by working outdoors. She wore a nice pair of black slacks and a pale blue cardigan over a white T-shirt.
Cody was indeed with her. It still surprised me that he was twenty-one. Thin as a rail, he’d added good muscle to his willowy frame so he at least didn’t look like he was going to blow away in the wind anymore. As a matter of fact, his shoulders and chest were a lot wider than when I’d last seen him, and he’d grown an inch at least. He was no longer a boy; the time on the farm had given Cody a man’s body. He also looked a lot less frightened or confused than other times I’d seen him.
He followed Nola and smiled when he caught sight of me.
“Allie! It’s great to see you,” Nola said. “You too, Zay. I heard you just went through a tough medical stay recently.”
He stood—man had good manners—shook her hand, and gave her a soft smile. “I do not recommend comas. All that sleep, and I still don’t feel rested.” He shook Cody’s hand too.
I stood up too. Not to be polite. I wanted a hug.
Nola reached out for a hug and embraced me very gently. “What happened to your arm?”
Oh. I hadn’t come up with a good cover for that.
“We were sparring,” Zay said, as smooth as old whiskey. “I was showing her some flips, and I twisted her arm a little too hard.”
Nola frowned. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes. And Zay’s being nice. I was stubborn and put myself in harm’s way. It wasn’t his fault.” And the good thing about all that was not one thing I said was a lie.
Cody had already sat down and drank half a glass of water. He kept looking at Zay and smiling like he wasn’t sure whether he knew him, then switching that look to me and getting a wide, goofy grin. Me, he recognized.
By the time we had all settled into our seats, Cody looked like he couldn’t contain his happiness any longer.
“I saw him,” he said to me.
“Saw who?” I switched into the closest thing I had to a mom voice—patient and interested but expecting most of the conversation to be nonsense.
“I saw the monster.”
Nola sighed. “He’s been saying that since we got to town yesterday.”
“What monster?” I asked.
Zay turned his attention to the menu, even though I knew he was listening to every word Cody said.
“My monster.” He was still smiling.
“Is he a good monster?”
“Uh-huh. I like him.”
I looked over at Nola. She shrugged. “I haven’t met the monster yet. But Cody promised he’d show him to me the next time he sees him.”
Cody nodded. “He’s a good monster. Very good.”
“Let’s not talk about the monster now. What do you want for lunch?” Nola asked.
“Anything?”
“Anything the restaurant makes.” She handed him the menu. To my surprise, he read it quietly to himself.
It was hard to put Cody in a category. He was a man with a childlike mind, but he had been much more in the past. Brilliant. An artist with magic like no other. It showed in the grace of his slender fingers, now calloused and tanned from whatever work Nola had him doing out on the farm.
His
spirit self, the older, wiser part of him that had broken away when Zay Closed him, was now a ghost and attached to Mama Rositto, the woman in Saint Johns who had gotten mixed up in my dad’s murder. Well, her son, James Hoskil, had been charged for it. But now I knew James wasn’t the only one behind killing my father. Greyson and Dane had been a part of it too.
Cody’s ghost seemed like an intelligent, kindhearted person, even though Zay had just said he was a real hellion. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that the living Cody knew how to read. I’d underestimated his abilities.
“I like linguini. Chicken. And raspberry ice tea.” Just for a moment, I could hear the Cody he might have been before.
Hell-raiser, Zay had said. Looking into those guileless eyes, it was hard to imagine Cody getting into trouble with anyone, much less the mob.
“All right,” Nola said. “Linguini. It will take a little time before we get it. I’ll order you some bread too, okay?”
“Yes.” Cody got busy running his fingers along the seam of his cloth napkin and humming quietly. Bach, I realized.
“So how are you two doing?” Nola asked.
I looked at Zay. Over the top of the menu, he flicked me a quick glance filled with heat and followed it up with a smile. “We’ve been staying busy.”
I blushed. I didn’t have to be touching him to know exactly what was going through his mind.
“Yes, we’re good.” I put my menu down. She was grinning at me. “Zay came up out of the coma a few days ago. Less than a week?”
“Four days,” he agreed.
“And he’s been staying at my house while he gets on his feet. The doctor says everything looks good for a full recovery.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Nola said. “What kind of accident were you in, Zay?”
“Magic.” He shrugged.
“The people you work for?”
“Yes.”
Huh. I didn’t realize Zay had told her anything about the Authority. Or maybe he hadn’t. He’d stayed out on her farm for a couple weeks while I was unconscious. I’m sure the subject of who he worked for had come up over dinner. I’d just never been smart enough to ask him what his cover story was.
