by Devon Monk
My concern must have showed on my face. Halfway across the room he gave me a crooked grin, and once he reached the table, he sat—carefully—in an empty chair. “Morning, loves. Save me a crumb or two?”
“Shame,” Zay said, worry thick in his voice. “Want some coffee?”
“You are a gem, my friend.”
Zay got up and walked over to the counter, exchanging a look with Terric.
Terric sat in the other chair and shifted it so he could see the majority of the shop.
“How are you?” I blurted out. “How are you both? Are you sure you should be here? I mean, shouldn’t you be taking it easy?”
“Whoa. How much coffee have you had today, Beckstrom?” Shame asked.
“We’re good,” Terric said. “Still not one hundred percent.”
“Speak for yourself,” Shame said.
“I’m speaking for both of us. Dr. Fisher had a specialist come in and look at us. Look at Shame.”
Shame sighed and drummed his fingers lightly on the table.
“He’s lucky he’s alive,” Terric said.
“Correction,” Shame said. “I am always lucky.”
Zay was back with two cups of coffee. He put both down on the table and took his seat again.
“How are you really?” Zay asked.
Shame glanced up, stared at Zay for a long moment, then looked away. “I’ve been better. Had to get away. From the doctors and tests and … you know how Mum can be.”
Terric exhaled and leaned back in his chair, taking his coffee cup with him.
“So you’re supposed to be in bed?” Zay asked.
He looked back at Zay. Smiled. “Maybe.”
I glanced over at Terric. “You snuck him out of his hospital bed?”
Terric shrugged. “He was going anyway. I didn’t want him to drive. We wanted to see you. Both of you. Have you heard that Victor was removed as the Voice of Faith?”
“What? No.” Zay said.
“Sunny mentioned it,” I said.
Terric leaned in a little so he could talk quieter. None of us threw a Mute spell. I don’t think all of us together could muster the energy for it.
“Melba kept him from being Closed. She also kept Maeve from being replaced. Bartholomew was going to do a clean wipe—get rid of everyone in the Authority in a place of responsibility and replace them with his men. Bringing in the prisoners and tracking down Sedra did a hell of a lot to change his mind. For now.
“He wants to see you. Both of you. He’ll want your sides of the story. He’s … thorough.”
Zay scowled. “The last thing we need is less experienced people in charge. Who does he think can step into Victor’s shoes?”
“I don’t know,” Terric said.
“Not just Victor.” Shame was holding his coffee between his palms but hadn’t taken a drink yet. “We’re down four out of five. Liddy, your da, and Sedra. Only Voice who hasn’t been killed or removed is Mum.”
No one said anything for a minute. With those odds, it might have been better for Maeve to step down. Before she was killed.
“But we know Isabelle was behind all that now,” I said. “Whether directly or indirectly. And we took care of her,” I said.
“No,” Shame said. “We got rid of the body and bit of soul she’d held on to all these years. No one’s come out and said it, but we’re in worse shape now than before—Leander and Isabelle have found each other and are loose, likely in the city. It’s only a matter of time before they possess another body.” Here his voice faded, and he frowned, as if bad memories rolled behind his eyes.
Terric touched his arm. The contact seemed to bring him back to himself.
“What was I saying? I swear I have holes in my head today.”
I looked over at Terric, who gave me a steady gaze. Shame was not nearly as recovered as he looked.
“You were telling us Leander and Isabelle are still out there,” Zay said. “And that we’re going to hunt them down and kill them.”
Shame grinned. “Don’t think I got that far, but yes. That’s where I was going with it.”
“Do we have any leads?” Zay asked.
Terric shook his head.
My phone rang. I had forgotten I had it on.
“Beckstrom.”
“Allie? This is Kevin. I’ve been trying to call you all night.”
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Violet is having the baby.”
“What? Now? Which hospital? Where?”
“We’re at Emanuel, maternity ward. The doctors say any minute now.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up, shoved my phone in my pocket, and stood. “I have to go now.”
All three men stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Violet’s having the baby!”
“And?” Shame asked.
“I promised I’d be there. Zay, can you drive me, or give me your keys? God, I haven’t even bought the baby a gift. Should I bring something? Can we stop off at a store? Maybe Nola knows what I should bring.”
I dug in my pocket for my phone, while Zayvion got on his feet.
Shame and Terric stayed at the table. “Good luck with that,” Shame said, nodding toward me.
“We’ll talk,” Zay said. He walked around to Shame and gently placed his hand on his shoulder. Shame tipped a slight smile up at him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
“Damn well better not.” Zay gave him a stern look, then shifted it to Terric.
“I got him,” Terric said softly.
Shame just sighed. “I got myself, thank you.”
I was already dialing Nola’s number. Zay took my elbow, and we started walking.
“Nola?” We were already across the shop by the time she answered.
“Allie? I’ve been trying to call you. Where have you been?”
“Violet’s having the baby.”
“Now?” She sounded as excited as I was.
“I didn’t buy her anything. I was going to go get a blanket or a card or something, but I ran out of time.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you there. Which hospital?”
“Emanuel.”
“See you in a few minutes.” She hung up.
Zay still had ahold of my elbow. We were out of the shop now and walking up the sidewalk to the car. “Should I stop by the apartment? Maybe I should get a change of clothes? Bring her coffee? We should have bought her scones.”
“Allie,” Zay said, opening the door of the car for me. “Get in.”
I got in the car, and then Zay was there too. He did not drive nearly fast enough, something that I pointed out to him. Repeatedly.
“Balloons,” I said. “No, flowers. I should have brought her flowers. God, Zay, I’m a horrible friend.”
“You,” he said, maneuvering the car into a parking space at the hospital. “Are hilarious. Calm down. It’s just a baby.”
“It is not just a baby. This is my sibling being born.”
Zay flashed me a quick grin. “Babies are born every day.”
“Not this baby.” I got out of the car and started off toward the door. I did not care if Zayvion followed me or not.
I crossed the lobby, found a receptionist, who directed me to an elevator. I walked to the elevator and pressed the button. It was the fastest way to get to the maternity ward. I was going to take it.
I felt Zayvion as he approached; the heat of his emotions—mostly just amusement—washed over me.
“Shut up,” I said.
“Wouldn’t dream of saying anything.”
The elevator door slid open. I stood there, staring at it.
“Going to step in?”
“Working on it.”
Zay hooked his arm around my waist and stepped in with me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, chanting my Miss Mary Mack mantra to stay calm.
Zay grunted once. “It really is hell, isn’t it?”
“What?” I gritt
ed.
“This … claustrophobia.”
“Stop breathing all the air.”
Zay pressed the button for the floor, and I didn’t open my eyes until the elevator pinged.
I was out of the elevator in a flash, almost running over an elderly man who was waiting to enter.
“Allie.” Zay pointed. “That way.”
I turned and finally took stock of my surroundings. Lots of plants huddled in corners to take the edges off of the area. The walls were a soft buttercream yellow, and the carpet was a blend of gray and blue.
Zay stood there, his hands in his pockets, watching me. No, smiling at me.
“Don’t want to hear it,” I muttered.
“I’m not saying it.”
We walked down the hall, through a set of doors, and checked with the nurses behind the station. “Has Mrs. Beckstrom been moved up here yet?” I asked.
The nurse checked her computer. “Yes. She’s just been brought up. It’s down the hall, second to last room on the right.”
Zay caught my hand and walked with me. He practically radiated calm, and by the time we made it to the end of the hall, I was feeling a lot less stress and worry.
I knocked on the door softly.
The door opened. Kevin, who looked tired but also surprisingly happy, smiled. “Come on in. They’re both here.”
I walked in.
Violet looked … I don’t know. Glowing. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had her glasses on. In her arms was a little bundle of blankets.
I stood there for a dreamlike minute, wanting my feet to take me forward but unable to move.
And in my mind, my dad lifted from his silence to stand with me, to look out through my eyes as I looked. Only I was looking at my sibling.
My father was looking at his child.
“Hey,” Violet said quietly. “Come on over and meet your little brother.”
A son, my dad breathed in my mind.
I walked over to her bed. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“A lot better now,” she said. “Tired, though. He took a while to get here. Already willful. Just like his father.”
She tipped the bundle of blankets, and I looked down at the little round face of my baby brother.
“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to do it wrong.”
“Nonsense.” She lifted him up in her hands. “Arm under his head. Good. That’s right. You’re a natural.”
She transferred the baby into my arms. Memories of holding a child, memories that were not mine, surfaced. Dad’s memories, and along with them, an overwhelming wash of love.
I tucked the baby up close and put my other arm beneath him just in case.
He yawned, which was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
“He’s beautiful,” I said. Or Dad said. We said.
“He looks just like Daniel,” Violet said.
I tried to see my father in that little face, but saw only cute.
“What are you going to name him?” I asked.
“Daniel,” she said. “I think he’d like that.”
From the wave of pride and love, I knew my dad did indeed like that.
Dad pressed against my mind. Please, Allison. Let me, just this once, hold my son.
I shouldn’t. Nothing good ever came from letting my father have his way. But I could feel his love for this baby. And even if he couldn’t love me, I knew that at this moment, before the baby could grow up and become a disappointment to him, he truly loved him.
I slowly stepped away from the front of my mind, letting him fill that space, letting him feel through my hands, see through my eyes.
“He’s amazing,” Dad said through me. “You’re amazing.” He looked up at Violet, and she smiled.
“Thank you. Do you want to stay a while?”
“Very much.” Dad held him for several minutes while Zay and Kevin and Violet talked about how long she’d be in the hospital and whether she was taking the baby back to the condo or to Kevin’s.
I didn’t know if anyone had gone to the condo to clean it up after Mikhail had stepped into the world. I wasn’t sure if Kevin knew about it.
“There might need to be some maintenance on the condo,” Dad said through me, picking up on my thoughts. He looked over at Kevin. “The elevator lock was broken. And I think someone may have broken in.”
“How do you know that?” Kevin asked.
“I went by the other day, to pick up a few of my things in storage there. I didn’t see anything missing, but you’ll want to check into it before you take Violet there.”
Kevin gave me a considering look. He could probably tell that wasn’t me talking. He might even be able to tell it was my father.
“I’ll look into it,” he said.
“Good,” Dad said. “I’m trusting you to keep Violet and her son safe, Mr. Cooper.”
Kevin blinked. Surprised. Then he nodded. “She’s in good hands,” he said.
“I know.”
I nudged my dad to move over so I could be in the front of my mind again. Wonder of wonders, he didn’t fight me but let me join him.
There was a knock at the door.
Zayvion opened the door, then stepped aside. Nola and Cody walked into the room, Nola carrying a pretty gift bag with yellow tissue paper sticking out the top, Cody carrying a big bouquet of flowers.
“I hope you don’t mind us stopping by,” Nola said.
“Not at all,” Violet said. “It’s good to see you again, Nola.”
They knew each other? Oh, right. They’d probably met when I was in the coma. I’d spent some time at the hospital before Nola had me moved out to her farmhouse.
“I understand congratulations are in order.” Nola handed Violet the bag. “This is from Allie and me.”
“You didn’t have to. How sweet.” She dug through the tissue and pulled out a tiny little shirt and hat set, and a blanket that I knew was hand knitted. “Oh, this is lovely. Thank you.”
“And flowers,” Cody said. “From me.”
“Thank you,” Violet said.
Cody put the flowers on the counter.
You need to say good-bye, I told Dad.
I could feel him hesitate. Then he lifted the baby to my lips and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “Welcome to the world, little Daniel Beckstrom,” he said. “May your life be long and filled with joy.”
And then Dad let go, and I was me again. I reached out to feel where he was in my head. Nothing. I knew he was there, but he had retreated to a far corner of my mind. I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t know what to say to someone who had to face the things he could never have: a wife, a child, a life.
Nola, meanwhile, had sidled up to me to peer at the baby. “Aw, he’s such a cutie. Looks a little like you, Allie.”
I grinned. “I think he looks like his mama. Want to hold him?”
Nola held out her hands. “Thought you’d never ask. Is it okay, Violet?”
She nodded. “I have a feeling I’m going to need all the hands I can get with that one.”
“With this little angel?” Nola said. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
Cody stepped over to Nola to look at the baby. He had his hands behind his back, like he was in a museum where he was not allowed to touch the exhibits. He smiled. “Oh,” he said, freeing one hand to make a gesture in the air. “Pretty.”
I knew that sign. Knew it meant he could see magic. I hoped it was just the Hush spell worked into the hospital blanket, a light little thing that helped soothe the baby.
I glanced up at Zay, then walked over to stand next to him.
“You look good with a baby in your arms,” he murmured.
I took his hand, careful with his fingers that were still wrapped in tape.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Jones. I’m not the settling-down type.”
“Want to bet on that?” he asked.
“Sure.”
I made a fist; so did he. We pumped three times.
I threw paper. Zayvion threw scissors.
I’d lost. Startled, I looked up at him. “Two out of three?”
Zay grinned. So did I.
Read on for an exciting excerpt from Devon Monk’s first Age of Steam novel,
DEAD IRON
Coming from Roc in July 2011
Cedar had stared straight into the killing eyes of rabid wolves, hungry bears, and charging bull elk, but Mrs. Horace Small had them all topped.
With dirt brown hair piled in a messy bun at the back of her head and a pinch of anger between her eyebrows, the storekeeper’s wife always seemed a half tick from blowing a spring.
“Two dollars,” she repeated, her fist stuck wrist-deep in the fabric at her hip, her jaw jutted out like a bass on a hook.
“Cornmeal, coffee, and a bit of cheese,” Cedar said mildly. He knew better than to let his anger show, especially this close to the full moon, in a store full of townsfolk eager to get their hands on the fresh supplies and gears from the old states. “Might be I’m missing something.” He looked back down at the receipt with Mrs. Small’s tight penmanship. “How again do they add to two dollars?”
He knew math—knew it very well. He’d spent four years back east in the universities and had plans of a teaching life. History and the gentle arts, not the wild metal and steam sciences of the devisers. He’d done his share of tinkering—had a knack for it—but not the restless drive of a true deviser, who couldn’t be left in a room with a bit of rope, metal, and a hammer without putting them all together into some kind of engine or contraption.
No, his needs had been simple: a teacher’s life filled with a wife and a daughter, and his brother, Wil. But that life had been emptied out and scraped clean. Leaving him a changed man.
Leaving him a cursed man.
“It’s written plain enough,” she said. “You do read, Mr. Hunt?”
“The part there that says ‘fee,’ ” Cedar said without looking up. “What fee is that?”
“The rail takes its due. You aren’t part of the railroad, Mr. Hunt. Not a farmer, miner, rancher, or deviser. Not a member of this good community. I’ve never seen you in church. Not one single Sunday the past three years. That fee for the rail is less than all those months’ dues you owe to God.”
“Didn’t know the collection plate took hold to my provisions,” he said with a little more irritation than he’d intended, “and I don’t recall offering my wages to the rail.”
