by Devon Monk
He shrugged. “They had to put the blame on someone they could discipline. That someone was me.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“No.” He looked at me, his eyes hard with anger. “I am very much not okay with that.”
“They’re idiots for what they’ve done,” Zayvion said, pretty much voicing my opinion. “I don’t know how I can follow that man. He doesn’t even understand what he’s doing, much less how to use magic—”
“Your job,” Victor said. “Following him means you are doing your job. And your superior’s capabilities aren’t yours to question, Zayvion. You might not like him, but you will do as he says. No matter what he asks you to do.” Here he gave Zay a hard look. This was obviously a point of contention between them. “That is your duty. To follow orders.”
Zay scowled.
Victor didn’t seem to care. “It’s important we get things back on an even keel. This is no time to be questioning our jobs, our duty, or the methods of those who are in charge. This is the time to make sure all the loose ends get tied up and things go back to normal.”
“He fired you,” Zay said quietly. “If you’re not a part of ... it,” he said, to avoid saying “the Authority,” “it will never be back to normal.”
Victor pressed his lips together in a hard line. This had all the earmarks of the argument they’d gone over many times.
“Making hasty and uninformed decisions won’t help anything, Zayvion,” Victor said, though he was looking at me. “You getting angry does none of us any good and it certainly won’t serve your ability to perform your duties.”
“So how about another beer?” I handed Zay the beer and he took it. He was carefully reconstructing his mask of calm again, though I could feel his annoyance. “What’s up with Anthony?” he asked.
“I told him he could come by if he called. He called. He came by. He has lousy timing.”
Zay checked to see where Davy was in the room—still next to Sid, though Sunny had left the poker game to join them. She took Davy’s hand and wandered off to the far side of the room with him. She walked until his back was against the wall, then took the beer bottle away from him. Davy was smiling now.
Sunny stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Thoroughly.
Well, looked like things were working out for those two.
“Zayvion tells me you had your backpack stolen,” Victor said, in a very nice small-talk segue.
I looked away from the lovebirds. “Nothing in there but my gym clothes, so they didn’t get anything. Stupid and annoying, though.”
“Did you track him?”
“What?”
“Did you use magic to track him?”
“I tried. Blew the spell. I wasn’t feeling very well after my meeting with the new boss.”
Zayvion slouched so his hip was propped against the windowsill.
“Have you been using magic much, Allie?” Victor asked.
“As much as always, I guess. Why?”
“I was curious. I heard you had a strong reaction to magic when you saw Bartholomew. Dr. Fisher told me,” he said to answer my unspoken question. “And Zayvion also brought it to my attention.”
That was interesting. Victor wasn’t a Voice anymore, which should mean he didn’t have any sway in the Authority. Or at least no more than any other person. And yet both Zay and Dr. Fisher had gone to him with concerns about me. For Zay it made sense, I guess. Victor had been his teacher, mentor, and boss for years. But I didn’t expect Dr. Fisher to go to him about me.
“We’ve all used more magic than normal lately,” he said. “I wondered if it contributed to your discomfort.”
“Could have.” I walked up closer to Zayvion and looked out the window. “Or it might have been because his right-hand chick is a bitch and took her time to make sure that Truth cut deep.”
“Oh?”
“She put pain in it, Victor. On purpose. And she enjoyed it.”
“Hmm,” he said.
Zay didn’t glance at him, but I could tell this was another part of the argument they’d been having.
I didn’t know what good arguing with Victor would do. He had no more power than the rest of us now.
“Has he assigned someone to your place?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Victor said. “Though I suggested a few people I thought would be well suited to the position.”
“Who?”
He shook his head. “Let’s see what he does, who he chooses.” He drank the last of his scotch. “It will say a lot about him.” He gave me a steady look, glanced at Zay, who had gone back to staring at the city beyond the window, and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to refresh my drink.” Victor placed his hand kindly on Zayvion’s arm, then strolled off to the kitchen.
I leaned my shoulder against Zay and felt the heat of his anger, mixed with frustration and sadness. And, almost like a top note on too many deep scents, his relief that I was there, next to him.
“And everyone says I worry too much,” I mumbled as I slipped my arm around his waist, hooking my finger in the belt loop of his jeans.
He shifted his beer to his left hand and draped his arm around me. “You do,” he said.
“So do you,” I said.
“I hide it better.”
That was true. I stared out at the street, content in his arms, content in this moment, content that he was sharing some of his sorrow with me, holding me instead of pushing me away.
Evening was coming on, the day not yet ready to give up to dusk, but the sunlight gone a deep tangerine orange and gold, cutting yellow edges over the buildings and casting blue shadows below. A few people walked the street, many of them headed to Get Mugged or coming out of it, and I realized once again that Grant had set up a very successful business that seemed only to be getting more popular.
I wondered if he would ever give it up, sell out, turn it into a franchise. I heard him laugh, and Terric chuckle. Things were certainly changing. All of us were changing. It was strange to suddenly notice that I, and my friends, wouldn’t be this way forever. That we might choose paths that took us far away. That we might take paths that meant we’d never see each other again.
Zayvion’s arm tightened for a moment. He might not be able to tell exactly what I was thinking, but he could probably feel my melancholy. I leaned my head on his shoulder and watched the people walking on the street below.
A flash of green caught my eye. I focused on the source, hoping it was nothing more than an odd reflection off a store window, a car windshield, or maybe a camera flash.
But it was a man, wearing a brown sweater and a green scarf and a painter’s cap. He was walking up the block, keeping pace with the rest of the crowd. The green flashed again. He paused, slowed his steps, and pressed his hand against his chest.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Zay.
Zay glanced down. “Asthma attack?”
“He flashed green.” I used my right hand to draw a very small Sight spell, set my Disbursement—muscle aches—and set magic into the glyph. Magic poured up into me and down my arm in a sticky, nauseating wave.
I held my breath to keep from throwing up my lunch and calmly focused on the Sight. A man-shaped, watercolor shadow stepped out of the guy on the street, stretching out of his chest, head, then legs one at a time, and last, his arms and hands. It was almost as if the watercolor shadow had been stuck inside and had grown too large. Like a crab shucking its shell, the shadow—the Veiled—pulled completely free and walked down the sidewalk, not exactly solid, but less insubstantial than before.
“Do you see that?” I asked.
Zay had also cast a quick Sight spell. “It doesn’t look solid.”
“It’s not just a ghost either.”
The Veiled strode up the block, then paused. It turned, looked straight at the den—straight up at Zayvion and me. And then it started toward us.
It got halfway across the street before it faded from sight, both magical and mu
ndane.
“Um,” I started.
Zay pulled away and strode across the room. A few people looked up as he passed. He walked out the door and I was on his heels. He took the stairs—faster than the elevator—and so did I. Within a second or two I heard more footsteps. Davy, for sure. After a floor, someone else.
Zay took the lobby in a few strides. I jogged to keep up. Once we hit the sidewalk, Zay poured magic in a very precise Sight spell.
I paused beside him. I wasn’t feeling very well. That Sight I’d cast made me feel like I had a horrible case of motion sickness. And pounding down the stairs hadn’t helped any. I was going to lose it. I jogged to the bushes and weeds on the corner and retched.
Good-bye, wine. Good-bye, lunch.
The breeze pulled over the back of my neck and across my bare arms. I sucked down lungfuls of it, trying to get the cold to settle my stomach. My right arm itched. It felt like hot oil was trickling down every line of magic there, scratching me bloody and leaving behind a hot, uncomfortable, cramping sensation.
To sum up, I was feeling fresh as a tulip, thank you.
“Need some water?” That was Davy.
“Napkin?” I asked. He produced one from somewhere, and I used it to wipe my mouth with shaking hands. I felt like I’d just been kicked in the gut by the worst and fastest flu ever. As I straightened, I was no longer nauseous. Even the pain in my arm was already easing.
Weird. Really weird.
I blew my nose and wadded the napkin up in my fist. Then I stepped back and looked around.
Zayvion was up on the corner past Get Mugged. He seemed to be smoking a cigarette. He didn’t smoke. So, that was an Illusion. I was surprised to see Anthony across the street, where we’d last seen the Veiled, and walking up to the next block. What was he doing out here?
“You do know we have a bathroom,” Davy said.
“What?”
“You could have puked there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Zay, avoiding, I noticed, looking at Anthony. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I thought I saw something out here. Zay decided to check it out. Let’s go see what he says.”
“What sort of something?” Davy asked as we walked. He paced himself to my stride, close enough he could catch me if I stumbled, but far enough away that his shoes wouldn’t get dirty if I got sick again. He was a pretty smart young man.
“I don’t know. A flash of magic I’ve never seen before.”
“Maybe a new ad?” Davy didn’t pull Sight, but he took a closer look at the buildings around us. “Art? They’re doing those magic art walk shows all the time now.”
“Maybe.” We passed in front of Get Mugged and I peered through the window, looking for flashes of green. Nothing.
I inhaled the deep burnt-chocolate scent of coffee and it didn’t bother my stomach at all. Other than the lingering heat radiating off my arm, it was almost as if I hadn’t been sick.
I stopped next to Zayvion. “Hey.”
He threw down his cigarette and rubbed it out with the toe of his boot. That motion was mostly just to cover him letting go of the Sight and Illusion and whatever other spells he’d cast that he didn’t want people to see. Worked pretty well. I don’t think anyone on the street would look his way twice, though I knew Davy saw right through it.
Zay turned, his eyes filled with the gold fire of magic use, and put his arm around me, tipping his head in close. We started back toward the den. “You feeling okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m okay now. Well?”
Zay kissed my temple gently. In that touch, that intimate contact, I could tell he hadn’t found anything, hadn’t felt anything, hadn’t seen the Veiled.
Didn’t mean it wasn’t there, couldn’t maybe still be there on the street. The Veiled were the leftover bits of dead magic users. Ghosts who wandered the city, and usually weren’t any problem. But recently, they’d become more than a problem. Leander had crossed over into life, and then he had found a way to use the experimental technology my father had made—disks that could hold magic and let the user access that magic without a price—to make the Veiled solid. And when dead fragments of powerful magic users came back to life, they tended to be angry. The last batch had tried to kill me, and my friends.
Luckily, there was a swift way to deal with them—remove the disks from their necks and drain the disks of magic. Disks weren’t easy to recharge, and as far as I knew, Leander didn’t know what spells it took to do that. Without the disks, the Veiled were insubstantial ghosts.
But the Veiled I had seen just a few minutes ago didn’t seem to have a disk in its neck. It had stepped out of a man. That was something new.
Davy lingered a moment, looking up the street after Anthony. Then he shook his head and followed behind us.
“So?” Davy asked. “You see anything, Zay?”
“Not really.” That was mostly the truth.
“I’m getting pretty tired of you two keeping secrets from me,” Davy said. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m on your side?”
“What side are we on?” I asked.
Davy shrugged. “Don’t care. Just can’t keep an eye out for you or for danger if you don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for.”
“Beer,” Zayvion suggested. “You should be looking for beer. Because that’s all I want right now.”
We started up the stairs, and Davy did not take the elevator, which meant Zay and I had no chance to talk.
Once we reached the second floor, the sound of everyone talking and laughing washed out into the hall, and I decided I didn’t care. So I’d seen a Veiled. They were all over the city. Yes, it had appeared to be inside someone, but we saw no sign of a dead body, or the man actually being harmed in any way. Maybe it was just one of those things where the living and the dead were accidentally occupying the same space at the same time, and somehow, temporarily, merged.
Whatever. I wanted some tea to settle my stomach.
We walked back into the room. The party had gotten a little louder. The poker game had gathered a few onlookers, and the pile of cash in the middle of the table was respectable. Only three people were still in for that hand—Jack, Jamar, and Maeve.
Victor was sitting with some people I didn’t know. He had refilled his glass, and looked comfortable.
Shame stood behind his mother and was dividing his time between watching the poker game, with his arm around Tiffany’s waist, and glancing over at Terric.
Terric must have had another shot. Okay, maybe two. His tie was off, tucked into Grant’s back pocket and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of his very toned chest and stomach. Grant and he were across the room from the poker game, near my desk, both standing, though Terric leaned against the wall, probably for support. Grant had a beer. Terric was grinning and describing something using a lot of hand motions to get his point across. Whatever he was talking about, it looked dirty.
I glanced at Shame again, and he didn’t look angry. No, when he looked at Terric there was concern and a kind of compassion I hadn’t ever seen in his eyes before.
He caught me staring and just held eye contact with me, not explaining, not ignoring. There was a sort of pained reluctance to that look, as if he were trying to make a decision and having a very hard time of it. Then he turned his attention back to the poker action.
Terric laughed. Shame shook his head and slid a smile his way. Terric had the kind of laugh that was contagious, and I found myself smiling too.
Maybe the two of them, Shame particularly, would get it through his thick head that they were both pretty good guys who could have a decent friendship, if they’d just forget about the Soul Complement angst.
“Stop babysitting.” Zayvion pressed a cup of tea into my hands.
Aw, I hadn’t even asked for tea. I took a sip. Peppermint. Even though I am a coffee drinker, my stomach probably couldn’t have handled much more than this. “Thank you,” I said.
&
nbsp; He nodded once toward the poker game. “I’m gonna get in on the next hand. You want to play?”
I shook my head. “You bring home the money, baby. I’m going to drink my tea.”
Zay hesitated a second and took in the whole of the room as if just now realizing it was filled with people. His gaze held a moment on Terric, and then he looked at Shame, who was convincingly entranced by the cards.
Zay walked over to Terric.
Oh, I was not going to miss this. I walked that way too, hoping to catch whatever Zay was going to say to Terric.
Unfortunately, Zay just said hi to Grant and exchanged small talk about the great job he did catering the event.
I found a comfy spot on one of the oversized leather chairs and drank my tea. Zay, having finished his sudden need to be social, with no more than a “How’s the tequila?” to Terric, and likely had also satisfied his curiosity of what was going on between Terric and Grant, strode over to the poker table.
Tension was high as the last hand was called.
A cheer roared out from the crowd. Maeve stood and bowed. Shame was quick to help her gather the spoils of her win, and pocketed a wad of it before she slapped his hands away. Then the six chairs around the table filled up with new players, Zayvion among them.
With a room full of Authority members and Hounds and civilians, I did something I never thought I could do. I sat there, relaxed, and didn’t worry about a damn thing.
Chapter Five
The gathering started breaking up about midnight. I made Davy call cabs for anyone who’d been drinking, including Victor, and, wonder of wonders, no one argued with me about it.
Grant had left just before midnight. He didn’t need a cab because he lived below Get Mugged next door. To my great surprise, Terric had not gone home with him. Terric had, however, shed his shirt, his shoes, his socks, and his belt in that order over the last three hours or so. He’d spent most of the evening barefooted, wearing nothing but his black slacks.
Not that the women in the room had seemed to mind.
Let me put it this way: it wasn’t the clothes that made that man.
Pretty soon it was down to Zayvion, me, Davy, Shame, Terric, and a few of the other Hounds—Jack and Bea, who were snugged up and sleeping on one of the bunks along the far wall, and Sunny, who was sitting cross-legged on a top bunk, unbraiding her hair and watching every move Davy made.
