Magic on the Storm Read online

  “The big plan here is to wait and see how bad we’re beat before we start fighting?” Hayden chuckled. “There’s a winning strategy.”

  Victor glared at Hayden, but the big man just put his hand out, as if to say it wasn’t his bright idea.

  “All considerations have been addressed, Mr. Kellerman,” Victor said. “We work together, as we have worked together in bygone times. If we fight each other, there will be consequences that will benefit none of us.”

  “Well, then.” Hayden clapped his hands together and so effectively broke the tension building in the room, I wondered if he’d cast a spell. “Sounds like all that’s left is to gut and clean. What part of town am I covering?”

  He strode across the room toward Victor. As he passed, people sort of shook off the intensity of the meeting. Smaller conversations cropped up again, and people stood, stretched. Shame was on his feet, and heading to the lunch counter and bar at the back of the room. I turned to watch him. I wasn’t the only one.

  Terric shifted in his chair, and stared at Shame’s back. His expression seemed calm, but the tightness at the edges of his eyes, in the angle of his jaw, spoke of restraint. And desire.

  Interesting.

  Shame slipped behind the lunch counter and dug around for something. I heard the thick clink of beer bottles; then Shame reappeared, three beers caught in the fingers of one hand, the fourth already pressed to his lips.

  He lowered the beer, grinned at me, and then strode over, changing his gaze to meet Terric’s straight on.

  Boy didn’t run from trouble. That was sure.

  Terric stood and walked over to our table. Looked like he didn’t run from trouble either.

  Zay turned to face Shame too. Shame was still grinning. Since I was not about to be the only person sitting if this was going to turn into a brawl, I stood as well.

  “Allie.” Shame offered me a beer. “You still owe me.”

  I took it even though I didn’t like beer.

  “Zay.” Zayvion, behind me, reached over my shoulder and took the beer Shame offered.

  “Terric.” Shame extended the last beer to him.

  Terric took the beer. “Think you owe me more than a beer, Shamus.”

  Shame’s heartbeat rose, but I didn’t think the other men noticed. They weren’t Hounds. They didn’t have to live off instinct and the subtle shifts in the people around them to survive.

  “Well, today you’re getting a beer,” Shamus said. He tipped his and gave us all a half nod. “To the hunt. To the kill. Till the world stands still.”

  “To the hunt,” Zay and Terric said.

  I just raised my beer and took a tiny sip. Nope. Still didn’t like the stuff.

  “I heard about Greyson,” Terric said.

  Shame nodded. “Have you seen him?”

  “I just got in a couple hours ago.”

  Shame glanced around the room. “It’s not like they’ll let us out of this, but we’ve got a few minutes. Want to see?”

  Zay took another drink of his beer. He wrapped his hand around my hip and hooked his thumb in my front pocket, the heel of his hand pressed against my hip bone. This close, I could feel his worry and anger that did not show through that Zen exterior. I didn’t know exactly what he was angry about.

  Terric paused, just a beat too long, before answering. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to be,” he said to Shame. “I know I do.” He took another swig of the beer, looked Shamus right in the eyes. “Thanks for the beer.”

  Shame nodded. Looked easy. Casual about the whole thing. But that response was a slap in the face.

  Terric turned to me. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to meet you, Ms. Beckstrom. I hope to remedy that in the future.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said.

  Terric made brief eye contact with Zay. Something changed in his expression. Sort of like ice breaking under pressure. He turned back to Shame. “Don’t take me being here as anything other than it is. Authority business.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” Shame said.

  “We have an understanding, then?”

  “Hatred, with a heaping side of grudge?”

  Terric smiled, a fleeting thing that seemed to warm through the ice, flicked to life by Shame’s agreement. “That should cover it. Except for one thing. While I am here, you and I will not get in each other’s way.”

  “You know me, Terric. I’d rather be almost anywhere than near you.”

  “Shame—,” Zay said.

  “No.” Terric held one hand toward Zayvion. Then to Shame, “We stay out of each other’s way. Tell me we’re clear on that.”

  “Twenty-twenty,” Shame said.

  Terric nodded. “Good. I’ll speak with you soon, Zay, Allie.” He strode off toward the front of the room where people were poring over Victor’s laptop and maps. I realized I’d been holding my fingers spread and ready to cast a spell. I closed my hand and stuck it in my pocket.

  “You didn’t have to be an ass,” Zayvion said.

  Shame tipped his beer up to his mouth again. Empty.

  “You know I love you, Jones,” he said, “but stay the hell out of my business.” He didn’t wait for Zay’s reply. Didn’t have to. He’d known him long enough he could give himself whatever speech Zay had planned.

  Shame turned and walked away, to the bar again. He slipped behind it, found another beer, then stormed out the doors there, patting his pockets for a smoke.

  Zay leaned into me a little more, or maybe he pulled me back toward him.

  “They’ll be okay.” I tried to say it as a statement, but it came out all question.

  Probably because Zay’s doubt and concern washed through me. He hurt for Shame like a brother who knew there was nothing he could do to fix the pain Shame had gotten himself into.

  “Terric won’t try to hurt him, will he?” I asked. “He’s a good guy, right?”

  “We’re all good guys,” Zay said.

  Yeah, he believed that as much as I did.

  “Zayvion?” Victor was making his way across the room, looking like a man who knew how to wield a sword. And since he was one of my teachers, in magic and in physical defense, I actually knew he could swing a sword. Very well, as a matter of fact.

  Zay pulled away so we no longer touched.

  I’d never seen Victor looking so ragged. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually clean-shaven face shadowed a beard.

  “I’m going to go over the quadrants and coverage with the Closers now,” he said. “Would you join us, please?”

  “What about Chase?” Zay asked.

  “She’s here.”

  Zay took a second to find her in the crowd. I did too, since I hadn’t seen her earlier. I spotted her walking in through the archway at the front of the room. Beyond that arch was the hall that led to sitting rooms and a stairway to the basement, where her ex-lover Greyson currently resided in a cage. She looked angry, shell-shocked, sick. Like she’d just seen something, or done something, very, very wrong.

  Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing any better if it were Zay in that cage. Chase was handling this a lot better than I would, even if she hadn’t come to see Greyson before now. And it didn’t take a genius to know she had just come from seeing him.

  The woman radiated a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe stronger than any Repel spell she could have cast. It worked like a charm. Everyone steered a wide berth around her and left her alone.

  Another person detached from the shadows beyond the archway and walked in behind Chase.

  I’d wondered when he was going to show up.

  Jingo Jingo was a big man, not like Hayden, who had height to balance out his width. Jingo was just heavy. There was something about him that made him seem even bigger. He had an immensity that took up more room than his bulk justified. He radiated a dark presence as if shadows and other, haunting things clung to him. The light, pouring down from the high rafters, couldn’t clean the room of it.

  He bothere
d me, even when he was laughing like he was everyone’s friend. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him.

  He rambled over to Chase, right into her leave-me-alone zone.

  Fire, meet oil.

  I thought for sure Chase would give him hell. But when he neared, she seemed to cool down, her fire snuffed to ash, her anger suffocated, gone dead as he reached out and stroked her arm reassuringly. Her shoulders slumped, her head fell back to rest against the wall behind her, and she closed her eyes. She looked exhausted.

  And when he spoke—a low rumble I couldn’t pull into words—she opened her eyes. She looked like a lost child, hopeful, maybe even desperate for his reassurance, his guidance. She did not look like the powerful, angry Closer I knew.

  What was he doing to her? What was he telling her? What had they done down there with Greyson?

  “Allie?” Zayvion said.

  Right. He had been asked to do something. Look over Victor’s plans or something.

  “See you soon,” I said.

  Zay walked off with Victor, both heading toward Chase.

  Even though Jingo Jingo did not turn around, as soon as Victor and Zayvion were on their way toward Chase, he dropped his hand off her arm.

  Chase seemed to come to, and get her bitch back on. She scowled at Zay and Victor, and made it clear she didn’t like following them to one side of the room where Terric and a small group of other people—Nik and Joshua and maybe three others, probably all Closers—stood.

  Closers. People who could reach into someone’s mind and take away their ability to use magic. People who took away memories.

  Maybe I wanted to know what they were talking about. Especially if it had to do with the removal of memories—I had Hounds on the street I needed to look after.

  Got halfway across the room too before Shame fell into step with me.

  “Don’t know what’s stuck in your craw,” he said, his breath heavy with beer and cigarette smoke and that clove scent that was all his own, “but you got company.”

  “What?”

  I’d been so focused on studying the faces and body language of the group of Closers at the front of the room, I didn’t notice everyone was looking over at the main door.

  And standing in the doorway was someone who most definitely should not be here.

  Davy Silvers.

  Chapter Nine

  Davy hadn’t stepped through the doorway. He had good instincts. The ward on the door would push him out or knock him unconscious if he stepped in. But the room wasn’t covered in Glamour or Illusion. Instinct might tell him not to step in, but his eyes showed him exactly what was going on.

  People went back to talking, ignoring him, and acting like this was just a normal sort of meeting for some normal sort of business social.

  I don’t think Davy was convinced. But it wasn’t the confusion on his face that I was worried about. It was the pain.

  I turned and strode across the room, Shame ghosting me, and made it to the door in a few seconds flat. Davy’s bad habit of following me around since Pike’s death didn’t make living three lives, all filled with secrets, and none of which could be shared equally, any easier. Every time my lives crossed, like now when Davy the Hound was sticking his nose into the secret business of the Authority, it set my teeth on edge.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Boy looked like death on a bender. He didn’t smell of alcohol. No, he just stank of sweat and pain.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  He shook his head.

  “Hello,” Maeve said, coming up beside us. “Can I help you?”

  Davy squinted over at her, like the light in the room was too much. Migraine? Concussion? “I need to talk to you,” he said to me, eyeing Shamus. “Allie. Could I talk to you? Now.”

  “Do you need help?” Maeve asked, a little less hostess, and a little more concern. I liked that she didn’t immediately try to send him on his way. Maeve was one of my favorite teachers.

  “This is probably Hound business,” I said to Maeve. “I got it, thank you.” I walked through the door and Davy backed off. The ward was good. Built to let the right people out and to not let the wrong people in.

  Davy paced the porch. I reached back, intending to shut the door, but Shame was there, and stepped out with us.

  “You want me to drive you to the hospital?” I asked. I’d long ago learned there was no use being subtle with Hounds. Too much substance abuse, too many overdoses, from dealing with the constant pain of using magic, for subtleties to get through to a reasonable mind.

  “I didn’t do it,” he said, his voice tense, too high.

  “All right. Do what?”

  Davy turned, the yellow light of the porch lamp revealing his tortured expression. “I think it’s Bea.”

  “What’s Bea?”

  “I think she’s hurt.”

  My phone rang, and Davy and I both jumped.

  I fumbled with my jacket pocket and pulled out my cell.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Stotts. I need you to Hound a case. Meet me at Third and Southwest Main.”

  “When?” I heard the sound of traffic behind him.

  “As soon as you can.”

  I did a quick calculation. How long would it take me to drop Davy off at the hospital, or at least get him in the hands of someone else who could keep an eye on him? Like maybe over to the warehouse and have Grant look in on him, or, hells, back to his own apartment, not that I knew where he lived.

  “Can you give me an hour?”

  “Allie.” Stotts paused, took a breath. “One of your Hounds is down. I’ve called 911. She’ll be on her way to the hospital soon.”

  “She?” I glanced up at Davy, who had his arms crossed over his stomach and was standing there, rocking a little on his feet, miserable.

  “Beatrice Lufkin,” Stotts said over the sound of a siren growing louder in the background. “Whatever happened to her, there’s a hell of a lot of magic involved. But it’s fading fast.”

  My heart punched my ribs like a fist.

  “I’ll be there.” I shoved the phone in my pocket. “Shame? Tell Zay—no, tell your mom that I had to handle a Hounding job. Thank her for inviting me to the get-together tonight.” What more could I say with Davy listening? “I’ll call her later tonight if I can. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

  “Are you going alone?” he asked.

  “No. Davy’s going with me.” Davy’s head lifted at the mention of his name. His eyes, for the briefest of seconds, flashed red.

  It might have been my imagination. Or it might have been magic.

  Weird.

  “You have the keys to your car?” I asked.

  Davy fumbled in his jeans pocket, held out a set of keys with a plastic frame attached to it. In the frame was a picture of him and Tomi in one of those photo booths. They were kissing, Tomi’s hand stretched out to try to cover the camera.

  I put my hand on Davy’s arm to help him down the porch steps.

  “Stotts, right?” Shame asked.

  “Yes.” We were already on the gravel. “I’ll have my phone on.”

  Davy walked with me, not nearly as light on his feet as he usually was. He breathed a little too hard, and was covered in sweat even though all he was wearing was a T-shirt and jean jacket in the below-thirty-degree weather.

  We made it to his car, and he didn’t even argue when I helped him slump into the passenger’s seat.

  I got in the driver’s side, started the car, and got us across the parking lot and onto the access road.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “How badly are you hurt?”

  His eyes were closed, his head against the headrest. He’d tried to buckle his seat belt, pulling it across his chest, but given up short of actually clicking it into place.

  He didn’t say anything until I hit the road that ran parallel to the river and would get me to one of the bridges and back across the river to Portland.

  “Ever since I g
ot out of the hospital, I’ve felt it,” he said quietly. “When Hounds are hurt. I told you that, right?”

  He had. Well, he’d told me he could tell when Tomi was hurting. But he sure as hell hadn’t mentioned how debilitating it was to him. “You said you felt Tomi. You feel the other Hounds too?”

  “Sometimes. When the pain’s big. When it’s magic.”

  “Is it always this bad?”

  “No. Headaches. Muscle aches. But this . . .” He was quiet for a little bit and I noticed his breathing was more even.

  “It felt like I was on fire. And where there wasn’t fire, I was numb. Freezing.”

  “You Proxying for anyone?”

  “No.”

  “None of the Hounds? Not even Tomi?”

  His breathing hitched, and it took him a little longer to answer. “No.”

  I didn’t smell a lie on him.

  “Where were you when this happened?”

  “Here.”

  “The car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Driving?”

  “Parked outside the inn.”

  “Davy, how many times do I have to tell you to stop following me? That was a private business meeting between a lot of investors who want their interests in Beckstrom Enterprises kept quiet. If they find out I have a Hound on my heels, it could seriously damage my dad’s company.”

  I’d kept that lie ready for months now.

  He mustered a small smile, but still hadn’t opened his eyes. “You don’t like your dad’s company.”

  “No, but I like Violet and her baby having enough income to keep them out of the poorhouse. Hells, everything I’ve done to get the Hound warehouse up and running was funded by my stake in that company. And my dad is dead. It’s my company now.”

  “Like they’d kick you out if I followed you.” This time he turned his head and opened his eyes. Red flashed there again, and I smelled a different scent on him. Something sweet like cherries, but different, muddied by other smells. Magic. That was certain. But whether he was using it, or it was being used on him, I didn’t know.

  How long could the effects of what Tomi had done to him last? It would help if I knew exactly what Tomi had done to him, but the only one who knew that was caged in the basement of the inn, and he was not the talkative type.