Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“That’s odd,” Stotts said. He walked away from me, making a wide circle around the center of the gazebo.

I looked down at what held his attention.

A perfect circle of black ash, glossy as crow feathers, lay against the floor. And yes, that’s weird, because magic doesn’t usually leave something quite so physical behind. Especially when the spell is gone.

I’d seen that kind of circle before. I knew I had. I dug around in my head, searching for the memory.

Stotts knelt on the other side of the circle and stuck his fingers out toward the ash.

“Wait!” I warned at the same time my father’s voice echoed in my mind,

Don’t touch it.

Stotts’ eyebrows lifted. He pulled his hand back and rested both elbows across his knees. “What is it?”

“I’ve seen it. I know I have. Give me a sec.” I took a deep breath and stared off into the mist and the green, clearing my mind before I pulled out my journal. It was starting to rain, just an intermittent tapping like distant drumming.

I’d been taking notes of my life for long enough I had a pretty good coding system worked out. Anything dealing with spells was marked in the upper right corner of the page and underlined in text. I flipped through the pages. Even though I’d had this notebook for almost a year, and had noted several Hounding jobs and other spells, I didn’t see anything in it about circles of burned-out magic.

So what is it?

I asked my dad. Just because I didn’t have the memory didn’t mean I couldn’t get the information out of him.

I sensed his hesitance. I could tell he was weighing something. Probably his options and whether or not telling me would work to his advantage. For just a second I wished I were dreaming because at least then I could tell exactly what he was thinking. Of course, he could tell what I was thinking too, so it wasn’t all good.

The disks

, he said, his voice stronger and clearer, just as if I were wearing an earbud and he was a tune. Yes, it worried me that I could already hear him clearer than I could just a day ago, and that he was interacting with me easier too. I tried not to think about how if he kept getting stronger, more comfortable, more active, maybe he would just keep going until he took me over completely.

Heck, why panic about that when I could panic about this illegal, possibly unknown, certainly forbidden spell that I had completely destroyed?

What about the disks?

Oh. That was it. I remembered, or, hell, maybe Dad gave that info a nudge toward my consciousness. There was no trail left behind from magic used through the disks. When the disks were used, all that was left behind of the spell was a burned black circle of ash.

Holy shit.

“I think we need to talk to Violet,” I finally said.

“Beckstrom?” Stotts asked.

I nodded. “I think that circle is the residue of a spell cast using the disks that were stolen from her lab.”

Stotts looked back down at the ashes, then shook his head. “Is that why you destroyed the spell?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, needing an easy out right now in the worst way. “Can I use your cell phone? We need Violet to confirm this.”

He exhaled and brushed his hands over his thighs before standing. He dug his cell out of his pocket. “I’ll get it,” he said. He pushed one button and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. Violet Beckstrom was on the magic cop’s speed dial. Wasn’t that an interesting thing?

While Stotts asked her to come on out to the park, I walked around the circle of ash, trying to get a scent off it. Just a slight greasy tang. I remembered that too, though the familiar smell did not bring any more of my memory back to me.

Dad was no help in that area either.

I tried to decide what I should tell Stotts. Just because the spell was gone didn’t mean I hadn’t seen exactly what it was. There was no trail to be traced back to a user. I could honestly tell him that I had no idea who cast it. But should I tell him that it was Transmutation?

I walked down the gazebo steps while Stotts talked to Kevin, Violet’s bodyguard, on the phone. My sneakers and cuffs of my jeans got soaked while I made a slow circle around the structure. I set a Disbursement-those sore muscles were going to last for more than a few hours-and cast Enhancement to my sense of smell. The world broke open in a bouquet of odors, rich loamy grass, wet pine sap, musky hints of small animals who had been through the park recently, rotting wood and molds.

Lighter, but still present, were the smells of burnt blackberry, licorice, the chemical taint of formaldehyde, a burn of copper, and more. Strawberries, candy sweet, like bubble gum and booze. Tomi’s scents.

Holy crap. I followed my nose, heading toward the stink of fear, pain, and death.

A hedge of bushes overgrown by ivy and tangled, dry blackberry vines filled the space beneath a small copse of trees.

I peered into the shadows there. I didn’t even have to wait for my eyes to adjust to the low light to know what was spread out beneath the trees: the remains of an animal, maybe a dog or a small deer. There wasn’t enough of it left to tell. There was, however, a lot of blood.

Fresh enough, everything was still wet, and the flies hadn’t found it yet.

Hells.

“Tomi?” I called. There was no answer and no movement in those shadows. I inhaled again. Her scent was faint. She had certainly been here, but she was not here now.

I let go of the Enhancement and backed away until I could breathe clean air.

The wind lifted, reluctant and lazy, and I smelled warm cedar and lemons, soured by sweat and booze. Davy Silvers, a Hound and Tomi’s ex-boyfriend, was here somewhere. Upwind, which was where he would be if he wanted me to notice him.

I scanned the park, finally spotted him leaning against a tree closer to the street. He had on a rain jacket with the hood up. He wasn’t looking my way, but he wasn’t trying to hide either.

After that bender at Pike’s wake yesterday, I was impressed he was walking. But, damn, that boy needed to stop following me.

I walked back up to the gazebo. Stotts pocketed the phone.

“She’s on her way,” he said. “Want to fill me in on that?” He nodded toward the circle of ash.

“I’m not really sure what kind of spell it was,” I started. Something was niggling at the back of my mind. I frowned, thinking. Then it came to me. I’d just pulled on magic, cast an Enhancement so I could smell out traces of magic in the air, and I had not seen the Veiled, had not been touched by the Veiled, had not been hurt by the Veiled. Not one painful burning fingertip bruise.

That was the first time I’d pulled on magic and hadn’t had to fight them off since I’d first seen my dad’s ghost several weeks ago. What did that mean?

A smug satisfaction filled my mind.

You’re still protecting me from them, aren’t you?

I asked my dad.

We can work together, daughter

, he coaxed.

We could help each other through these trials. My knowledge, your power.

“Allie?” A hand landed on my upper arm, and I literally jumped.

Stotts raised his eyebrows. “Are you still with me?” he asked.

I blinked a few times, clearing my mind. Talking to my dad was a bad idea. Too distracting, for one thing. For another, I had the very bad feeling that given the chance and my own inattention, Dad could actually Influence me to do what he wanted. From inside my head.

A chill ran down my shoulders and arms, and I shuddered.

“Okay,” Stotts said, “why don’t you come over here and sit down?”

I let him lead me over to the bench that ringed the outer edge of the gazebo’s covered area. He probably thought I’d set an immediate Disbursement, and was bearing the price of using magic already. That wasn’t true, but the truth-that I was dealing with the growing horror of my father living in my mind-wasn’t something I cared to share with him. He’d take me in for a psych review.