Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“There was a gargoyle,” I said. “Right there.”

“And you broke it?”

“I interrupted the feed of magic, I think. Through the chain.”

Zayvion touched the chain, frowned. “There is no magic here. Are you sure there was a statue?”

“Well, I touched it. And it touched me, so yeah, I’m pretty clear on that.”

He made an isn’t-that-interesting sound and brushed off his hands. “They’ll probably charge you for it,” he said. “I bet you reach over the velvet ropes at museums and fondle the statues there too.”

“Zayvion, this is serious.”

“Really? Why?”

“What if it’s loose?”

“Allie, they’re statues. Magic and art, yes. Alive, no. There’s probably a hydraulic lift under each statue so they can take them underground to do maintenance on them. I don’t think touching the chain could break the magic or the chain. Unless you have bare-handed stone-crushing abilities you haven’t told me about? No? Then I think it’s more a strange sense of timing.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“No.” He smiled at my look. “But if there’s a gargoyle loose in the city, I’m sure we’ll hear about it.”

“Ha-ha. Funny.”

He caught my hand. “Thank you. And for my encore, I’m going to take you home before you cause more trouble.”

“You call this trouble?”

“Yes.Yes, I do.” He put his arm around me, and I wrapped my arm around his waist.

“Then I’m not sure you’re going to be able to handle our second date,” I said.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” He pressed the palm of his hand against my lower back, and the warmth of mint spread out from where we touched.

I leaned into him a little more, enjoying him. Enjoying us. For as long as I could.

Zayvion walked me to my apartment door. We paused there, caught in the proverbial unspoken question of first dates: to kiss or not to kiss?

“I have company,” I said.

He nodded. “Would you like me to come by and take you to class tomorrow?”

“How very college of you, Jones. Does this mean we’re going steady?”

“Now who’s old-fashioned? And yes. Say, around five?” he asked.

I thought about it. I hadn’t told Maeve when I would stop by her place, but if she could do something about my dad in my head, then the sooner, the better. I pulled my journal out of my pocket and made a note.

“Make it one o’clock,” I said. I tucked the journal back in my pocket.

“I will.” He held both my hands in his. “So, this is good night, then.”

I switched my hold, my fingers around each of his, and leaned against my door. I tugged him close, until our bodies were almost touching. I didn’t let go of his hands.

“This,” I said, “maybe this doesn’t have to be good night.”

But Zayvion, damn him, eased back. He let go, took a step, out of sheer willpower or the knowledge that I would have gladly dragged him back, kissed him, taken him into my apartment and into my bed.

“Good night, Allie,” he said evenly.

I swallowed, finally found my voice. Maybe I was acting like an idiot. Pushing him away and trying to pull him close at the same time. “Night.”

He moved off a couple paces, walked toward the stairs, silent and sexy as always. Halfway down the hall, he paused. “Lose the key?”

Right. I was supposed to be going home. Not watching his very fine ass.

“No, no,” I said. “Found it.” I dug it out of my coat pocket and unlocked the door. Zayvion waited until I opened the door.

“See you tomorrow,” he said.

I didn’t trust my voice, so I opted to wave and just shut the door.

I glanced into the living room and guessed that Nola was on my couch, since her luggage was still leaning against one side of it.

I unzipped my boots, wanting to be out of the heels, and then padded off toward my bedroom.

“You should have invited him in,” Nola’s sleepy voice said from across the room.

“Trust me,” I said. “I tried.”

“You make falling in love look hard,” she muttered as she rolled over.

“Give it a whirl again one of these days,” I said. “Show me how easy it is.”

Nola snorted. “I already did it once. The right way. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

I smiled. She couldn’t fool me. She and John had been crazy in love all through high school, and through the few years they had together before cancer took him. And even though I knew she loved her husband with unwavering devotion, it had been years since his death, and Nola was my age. She had plenty of life ahead of her.

Her answer, I noted, was not a no. Maybe she was ready to open her heart again, to love again. For no reason I could put my finger on, that made me really happy. After all, if I had to trust, love, and be vulnerable with someone, she could do it too. Misery loved a crowd, and all that.

I yawned my way into the bedroom, stripped, and fell asleep almost before I could pull the covers over me.

I drifted, not dreaming, aware of the warmth of my blankets, the curve of my pillows, the rhythm of my breath.

“Allison?” My father stood just outside my open bedroom door, one hand on the doorjamb. Something was wrong about this. I was in my old bedroom, the one I used to have when I lived with him in the condo, but I was not a little girl, I was an adult.

A part of my mind realized this was just a dream. Nightmare, more like it, since my father was a part of it. The rest of me was too tired to care.

I put the book I’d been reading aside, and my dad took that as an invitation to come into my room.

He rubbed his hand over his hair, grayer than I remembered, messing it up in a way I’d never seen him do in real life.

Dream. .

my mind whispered. Right. Got it.

He sat on the bed next to me.

“I need your help.” He looked uncomfortable saying it. As well he should. Because he’d been mean. . treated me badly. . done something bad to me recently. I couldn’t remember what, but I knew I was angry with him. I knew I had every right to be angry with him.

“This hasn’t gone the way I expected.”

“What?”

“Everything.” He laughed, one short sound that was almost a sob. He stared down at his shiny black shoes. “My life. Your life. My death.” He nodded, as if thinking that through for the first time. “Not at all what I’d planned.”

“I don’t think I want to be here.” I stood.

“Please,” he said. “Hear me out, Allison.” He softened his tone by holding one hand out toward me. “This is only a dream,” he soothed. “What harm in a dream?”

And I could taste it, the familiar honey of his words. When he spoke like that, with magic behind his words, I knew he was trying to make me do as he said, trying to Influence me.

“Please. Sit.”

I sat so quickly, the springs of my bed squeaked.

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t do that.”

He looked surprised. “Do what?”

“Push me, Influence me, touch me like that. This is my. . dream,” I managed to say. “You can’t push me around here.”

His surprise melted quickly away. He scowled. “This is no longer about you. No longer about what you want. This is about making sure the right things happen. Making sure magic is in the right hands and used correctly. By the right people, for the right thing. You can’t tell me you don’t want to keep the people you care about safe.”

Here he stopped, his eyes flicking from side to side, as if he were reading words printed on my forehead. “You do want the people you care for-Nola and Zayvion and. . Violet?” He frowned, but continued, “You do want them safe, don’t you? And now those Hounds. You have the entire. .”