by Devon Monk
Zay stopped staring at the chart and leaned against an open space on the wall. “I don’t think he’s convinced that Leander and Isabelle are really loose in this world.”
“Excuse me? He doesn’t believe you? Or Victor?” I said. “What about Terric or, hell, Shame? We’ve all told him the same thing—the truth.”
Zay frowned. “He hasn’t said he believes any of us.”
“Hello? Truth spells. How could we lie?”
“His job isn’t to believe us—even under Truth. It’s to stop the hemorrhaging of deaths, to end the magic battles, join the factions, and make this branch of the Authority strong again. He wants to do that before someone above him notices the problems and before the public is harmed or finds out about us.”
“We’re on his side. We want all that too,” I said.
He shrugged. “He’s the Watch, Allie. They see things differently.”
There was a soft knock on the door and Dr. Fisher walked into the room. She looked tired but she smiled, her strong, yet motherly face falling quickly into concern.
The door shut behind her and I smelled the slight metallic spark of magical wards and locks activating.
“Who has been casting magic on you?” No preamble. I liked that about her.
“Melissa Whit.”
“Missy knows better than this.” Dr. Fisher sat in the other chair across from me and dug something out of a locked desk drawer. It was a chain of beads, separated by gold, copper, and silver links. The beads were either crystal or glass, round and flat and the size of her thumbnail.
Each bead was etched with what looked like glyphs.
“Hold this in your right hand, curled in your palm,” she said.
I took the necklace and swirled it onto my palm. It was heavier than it looked, and warm.
“I’m going to cast an Activation spell,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel anything at all. If you do, let me know immediately.”
She inhaled, paused—probably to set the Disbursement of what price she’d pay or to make sure she knew how she was going to Proxy the pain of the spell—then drew a fluid, clean-lined spell in the air between us.
The beads in my hand went individually warmer or colder, which was weird but not extreme. And then three beads glowed neon blue.
“It’s glowing,” I said, kind of amazed. I’d never seen a necklace react to a spell like this.
“That’s what I was hoping for.” She leaned forward, studied the beads but did not touch my hand, or even exhale.
She sat back, cast another spell, and the beads stopped glowing. “Let me have that.”
I gave her the necklace and rubbed my palm over my jeans. It hadn’t hurt, it just felt heavy with untapped magic. Made me a little itchy.
“Zayvion, would you please stand behind her, and Ground if needed?”
“What are you going to do?” I asked. Sure, I trusted her, but this was magic we were talking about, and my latest brush with it—well, before the beads—hadn’t gone so great.
“I’m going to set a Dispel to get the residue of that spell off you.”
“Like a Syphon?”
“Yes, but more gentle.”
Gentle sounded good. I nodded.
Zayvion placed his palm on my right shoulder. He wasn’t Grounding me yet, so I didn’t feel mint from his touch.
Dr. Fisher pulled magic from the networks surrounding the building as if she were selecting a book from a shelf, and cast Dispel.
I braced for the sensation of magic surrounding me, but instead felt a light breeze wrap from my feet up to my head and then pull away, taking the ache with it.
I was covered in sweat, my T-shirt soaked through. The fever had broken.
“How’s that feel?” she asked.
“Really good,” I said. “Even my chest feels better.”
“Your chest is bothering you?” she asked. “In what way?”
“The spell hurt the most there. When Melissa broke it—the spell, not my chest—it burned.”
Zay’s hand tightened on my shoulder.
“Let me take a look.” She stood. “I can get you a gown to change into.”
“No, that’s fine. I have a bra on. Zay, you’re going to have to let go of my shoulder so I can get my shirt off.”
He removed his hand. Didn’t say anything. But I’d learned a long time ago that when that man went silent, someone was going to turn up dead.
I got my arms out of my coat and left it in the chair behind me. My shoulders didn’t hurt to move. That was something, right? I pulled my shirt up and off over my head and looked down at my chest for the first time since the Truth spell. “Well, shit.”
A wide red welt plunged from the top of my right shoulder between my breasts and down to the edge of my jeans.
“Let’s get you on the table so I can look at that a little closer,” Dr. Fisher said.
Zay had paced around from behind me and taken a look at my injury.
Man was not happy. Man looked like he was going to break someone.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to pull my shirt back over my head and doing a poor job of it. “I’m fine. It’s going to be fine.” My brain finally caught up with my mouth and I realized I’d said the same thing three times. I was babbling. Worried and feeling exposed. I didn’t like people seeing my wounds. Didn’t like showing the pain that magic put me through.
“Allie,” Zayvion said so softly it was no more than a breath. He held out his hand and nodded at the table. Didn’t say anything else, but I saw the sparks of gold in his eyes.
I’d probably have had to knock him down to get out of the room. Dr. Fisher was already standing and talking about it not looking to be too bad of a wound, but she just wanted to check it out to make sure.
For the record, I didn’t know who she was talking to because I hadn’t heard her, and I was pretty sure Zay didn’t believe her.
I was certain neither of them would let me go without her finishing the exam. I took Zay’s hand and stood. He walked with me over to the table like he was delivering me down the aisle at a shotgun wedding.
“For cripes’ sake,” I said, climbing up on the table and lying back. “It’s a burn. I’ve been burned by magic lots of times.”
“Never hurts to be careful,” Dr. Fisher said. She put on a pair of latex gloves and stood at the side of the bed farthest from the door. She leaned over a bit and studied the burn.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not as much. It was burning a lot when it happened. And afterward for a while.”
She pressed one finger gently on the mark. “Does this make it worse?”
“It kind of stings. Listen,” I said, looking from her to Zayvion and back. “It’s not bad. It feels like the burns I’ve gotten from the Veiled, only bigger. Those always go away in a week. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Dr. Fisher nodded. “I’m going to press along the entire burn. Let me know if the pain gets more severe anywhere, or if you are unable to feel my touch.”
She did so, working from my shoulder down to my hip.
“Do the muscles hurt when you bend or breathe?”
“Not anymore.”
“And what changed that?”
“The Dispel you cast.”
“Is there any area that’s more tender?”
“No,” I said. “It’s all sore.”
“All right.” She took off her gloves and threw them away, then washed her hands at the sink in the corner. “I’m going to give you some burn cream. Non-magic. It should help you heal faster. You,” she said, pulling a sample box out of the cupboard, “will call me if you feel any worse than you do at this moment.”
“Sure.” I sat up and pulled my shirt back over my head. Zay, who hadn’t said a word, handed me my coat.
I put it on and gave him a look. “You okay?”
He smiled. There was nothing but anger in his eyes. “All good.”
Dr. Fisher glanced over at him, but didn’t say anything. Zay was
usually good at hiding his emotions. Not right now.
“So, will you both be attending the funeral tonight?” she asked as she walked over to me with the sample cream.
At that, Zayvion completely closed down. No more anger in his eyes. No pain, no sorrow. Which was a lie. The funeral was for Chase. She had been killed because of all the crap going on with the Authority. Chose the wrong side of the fight. Since her lover and Soul Complement, Greyson, was on the side she had chosen, I couldn’t really blame her. When Leander decided that possessing Greyson was his best option, he’d killed Chase with her lover’s own hands.
Chase used to be a Closer, trained beside Zayvion, was his lover before she dumped him for Greyson. He used to love her. Maybe part of him still did.
“We’ll be there,” I said. “Are we done?” I held up the cream.
“That should be it,” Dr. Fisher said.
“Thank you.”
I got off the table. My stomach and chest didn’t hurt as much as before, but the fever had left me weak, hungry, and tired. I’d take any one of those over the pain. As far as I was concerned I’d come out on the sunny side of this situation. I had a feeling Zayvion didn’t share my opinion.
He didn’t say anything as we walked down the hall, but from the pressure of his arm around my back, fingers hooked into the belt loop of my jeans, he was full into angry and protective mode, heading straight for furious and overbearing.
Three people sat at a distance from one another in the waiting room, two reading magazines, one talking on her cell phone. None of them looked up at us as we walked through.
I shifted a little away from Zay’s grip as we reached the street, but he pulled me in closer and silently walked the half block or so—I didn’t remember walking that far when we got here—to his car.
He opened the door, and stood there, holding it and watching me as I got in the car, like he expected me to fly into bits at any moment. It was sweet. And annoying.
“I’m fine, Jones,” I said. “Let it go.”
He opened his mouth and took a breath, then looked up like he’d heard a sudden noise. He scanned the street and buildings around us, looked back at me, flat, expressionless. Except for the chips of gold glinting in his eyes.
Man had a choke hold on anger. “Let it go” was not in his repertoire at the moment.
He strode around the front of the car, got in, and started the engine.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Home.” I opened the glove box, which contained a neat stack of paper, a pen, and was otherwise clean and dust free. I was starving. I had an orange in my backpack, but that was long gone now. “Got anything to eat in here?”
“No. What do you want?”
“A burger. Anything.”
He took the next turn and headed away from the general direction of my apartment but toward the general direction of fast food.
“So are you going to smolder or are you going to talk about it?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Whatever you are so damn angry about.” I could usually get a good read on him—hell, we could usually hear each other’s thoughts if we were touching—but he had closed down so tight that it was uncomfortable, bordering on claustrophobic, to be in this small space with him and his anger.
“No.”
“Fine.” He wasn’t the only one in a bad mood. I was too hungry, too tired, and too damn cranky to pry anything out of him.
He pulled onto Hawthorne and into a Burgerville drive-through.
“What do you want?”
“Pepper bacon cheeseburger, Coke, large fries.”
He ordered that and nothing else.
“Hunger strike?” I was pretty sure he hadn’t had lunch—we were supposed to meet for that, and there wasn’t time for more than a sip of coffee before he whisked me off to the doctor.
“Not much of an appetite. I’ll eat . . . later.”
“That pause something I should worry about?”
He turned and gave me a smile. “Of course not.”
And that said it all. There was more than a pause to worry about. That man had the look of vengeance.
“Holy crap, Zay, can’t you just drop this? I got hurt by magic. Whoop-de-doo. I always get hurt by magic. That’s how magic works.”
“Truth spells,” he said, a little too loudly.
I raised an eyebrow, and he inhaled, his nostrils flaring.
“Truth spells,” he repeated in a slightly quieter tone, “should not leave burns.”
Well, he had me there.
Whatever snappy reply I was fishing for slipped away as the girl behind the window handed the food to Zay in exchange for cash. Exact change. Yes, he was like that.
Zay gave me the bag, and I wouldn’t have cared if the city suddenly fell under zombie attack. Nothing was getting between me and that burger.
I was so hungry my hands were shaking, but that didn’t keep me from practically inhaling the food. Burger, fries, gone.
I belatedly noticed the Coke Zay had set in the cup holder. I picked it up and took a few drinks, feeling more human than I had for hours.
Before the Truth spell. Before the punch in the stomach. Before my backpack had been stolen.
The food was doing a good job of clearing my head, and we were just pulling into the parking area behind my apartment.
“You know what I really want right now?” I said as Zay turned off the car. “A shower. And a nap.”
“Are you going to report your backpack stolen?” he asked.
I thought about it for a second. The way my life was going, I was pretty sure it hadn’t been a random crime. But if it was for nefarious reasons, I had no idea how my sweaty gym socks could be used for evil.
“No, I don’t think so. There wasn’t anything in it except my gym clothes and a couple oranges. I’ll just get a new bag.” I opened the door. Got one foot out when I realized Zay was not moving.
“You coming in?”
“I have some things to take care of.”
“Do I want to know about it?”
His brown eyes flashed with chips of gold. “I doubt it.”
“Don’t get killed, okay? We have plans tonight.” I put my other foot on the concrete.
“I’ll be home in a couple hours.”
I stood and, despite myself, smiled. I didn’t think he’d noticed it, but he’d started referring to my apartment as “home.” I didn’t think he’d even stopped by his own place for months. I hadn’t asked him to move in. It had just sort of happened, slowly, naturally. I liked it.
He drove off and I headed to the door. A familiar shadow shifted from the corner of the building and stepped into the sunlight.
Davy Silvers grinned, and I wondered once again how old the kid was. If I had to guess, he was old enough to be in college, but shouldn’t be drinking.
“Hey, boss. How’s it?”
I shrugged. “It’s been worse. What are you doing here?”
“Just keeping an eye on my favorite employer.”
“What do you want?”
He feigned an innocent expression. “Nothing.”
“Did Zayvion call you?”
“That would be telling.”
I opened the door to the building, stepped in. Davy was quick. He caught the door and stepped in right after me.
“Davy, I’m in a bad mood. Do you really want to find out if it’s bad enough for me to dock your paycheck?”
“He told me to stick around until he came back.”
I thought back on it. It was possible Zay had called Davy while I was eating the hamburger. I had been hypnotized by the cheesy beef goodness. “He called you?”
“Text.”
Well, that made more sense.
“I don’t need you hanging around. Zayvion’s just being sensitive today.”
“Today?”
Okay, that made me smile. “He is a little overprotective, isn’t he?” I said.
“Lik
e condoms at a retirement home.”
I laughed. “Go home, Davy. I don’t need one man, much less two, looking after me.”
“I was going to stop by anyway,” he said.
I was at the bottom of the stairs, and paused to look back at him. “Why?”
“Drew the short straw. The Hounds have been talking.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, we cannot upgrade the electronics in the den. If they want to play online all day, let them pay for it themselves.”
“Not that.”
“No personal chef, no sick-day pay—no pay, period—no living there permanently, no roof parties, and no, I will not ask Violet to invent a holodeck.”
“Who wanted a roof party?”
“Bea.”
Davy smiled. “You have to admit, it would be fun.”
“No.” I started up the stairs. “Have I covered their demands?”
“I didn’t say there were demands.”
“So?”
“I’d rather talk in private,” he said.
We clomped up the three fights of stairs, and I paused outside my apartment door. I leaned in without touching it because that Ward Zay had slapped across my threshold didn’t like it if you stayed in contact with it for too long.
No sounds from inside. Stone, my pet gargoyle, hadn’t been around since he’d revealed himself to my best friend, Nola, and the young man she was fostering, Cody. I figured he was hanging out with Cody, since Stone and Cody got along like two long-lost pals, or maybe he’d found a nice cozy rooftop where he could nest.
I missed the dumb rock, but I had to admit it was nice not having to constantly unstack everything in my house. Stone was all about the stacking.
I inserted the key, which canceled the Ward, and walked into my apartment.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I said as I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on a hook by the door. “I’ll make coffee.”
Davy strolled past me into the living room. “So, it appears you and Mr. Jones are a going thing,” he said.
“It appears,” I said. “You been seeing Sunny lately?”
Sunny was a Blood magic user and part of the Authority. She’d taken a shine to Davy when we’d ended up at the den, recovering from a fight.
I pressed the button on the coffeemaker and walked into the living room.
