Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“Yes, it changed when I got marked.”

“When did that happen? How?”

I didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t want to be vulnerable, exposed. Have I mentioned I have trust issues?

“Do you really need to know that?”

“If you want me to stand as your advocate at the testing ground, yes, I really need to know that.”

“Testing ground?”

“In three days, your control of magic will be tested in front of the members of the Authority.”

This must be the test my dad kept talking about.

“Is that when you decide if I deserve to use magic? If you should just erase all my memories about the Authority and put limits on what I can do?” It came out angry, which was no surprise since it pissed me off that someone else thought they could tell me how to live my life.

Yes, I knew that wasn’t the worst thing they could do to me. Zayvion had told me they could go so far as try to kill me if they thought I was too much of a danger or risk to myself or others.

Of course, I wasn’t going to just stand around while they threw rocks at me, or whatever they did to get rid of people they didn’t want in their little club.

Maeve stood and sat back in the plush chair. “It may not seem fair, or lawful in the ways of the modern world. It is an ancient custom. A test to discover your abilities, your limits, your control. Things that can mean the life or death of those you would stand beside. It is necessary. Every person in the Authority has gone through it.”

“So I don’t have to like it, but I still have to do it?”

She nodded.“Tell me when magic claimed you with those marks.” Woman was all about getting down to business.

I did some quick thinking, something I hadn’t done enough of lately. Since I didn’t want to bring undue attention to Nola, I decided to skip the part where I explained I didn’t actually remember getting the marks, and tell her instead what Nola had told me I told her. Confusing, but hey, when you have a memory with more holes than a pair of hand-me-down fishnet stockings, you make do.

“I was trying to get a man to the hospital. He was injured, and when I tried to help him, he reached through me and connected to magic. Then he. . um, pulled magic through me and into me. It fed the magic I already carried, made it stronger so that it burned”-I thought about that, nodded to myself-“burned these marks into me.”

“And where did this happen?”

“Over in St. Johns.”

Maeve’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure?”

I thought back on it. I was sure Nola told me I had found Cody down by the river in St. Johns. I’d been running from gun-toting Bonnie at the time, but was slowed by trying to carry Cody and his cat. I’d told Nola that Cody was nearly dead when I found him. But she said by the time Zayvion had driven Cody and me out to her farm, his wounds were gone.

“I’m sure. St. Johns.” I suddenly realized why she looked so surprised. St. Johns was off-grid. A dead zone. There was no naturally occurring magic there, and Portland hadn’t seen fit to budget in a network out into the fifth quadrant of the city.

Which meant I should not have been able to pull on that much magic like that there. Which meant Cody should not have been able to pull on that much magic like that there either. “Who was the man you were helping?” Maeve asked.

“I wasn’t formally introduced-”

“Allie,” and there was tangible weight behind her words and a familiar honey taste. “Tell me the name of the man you helped in St. Johns.”

“Cody,” I said, under the spell of the Influence she’d just used on me. “Cody Miller.”

Maeve didn’t ask me anything more. All the color washed out from beneath her skin. She traced a circle in the air and drew her finger across it in a slash, breaking the Influence she’d used on me.

I hated Influence. “I would have told you without the push,” I said.

“I’m sorry. It was-it is-very important.” She wasn’t looking at me anymore, but instead over my shoulder at the middle distance there. She sounded distracted, her voice thin.

“Maeve?”

She cleared her throat and visibly pulled herself together enough to give me a small smile.

“Thank you for your honesty. I won’t Influence you again-it is rude. Most people don’t notice it, though,” she said. “Tell me how you’re feeling. Is the stone helping with the overflow of magic?”

I took quick inventory. I felt great, actually. A little tired, but a lot less pushed around by magic. As a matter of fact, even my headache was better. I felt light, like someone had just pulled a lead blanket off me.

“Better,” I said. “What kind of stone is this?”

“A void stone.” At my look, she waved her hand dismis sively. “Some stones have the right combination of chemical compounds and exposure to magic that they actually become void to it and are able to project a calming or negating effect on magic.”

I looked over her shoulder and around the room and noted several more small, round river stones in grays, greens, browns, and blacks scattered among the tables and shelves.

“How much does this thing cost?”

Maeve’s smile, this time, was genuine.

“That one stays here. Most stones are much smaller. I’ll see if I can find something for you, if you want. Now, on to the matters at hand. I need your permission to look into you again.”

I nodded. “You have my permission.”

Maeve placed her hand on my wrist and did her silver-eye trick again. This time I felt the press of magic filtering into my mind, and I leaned back, away from Maeve. I could not look away from her eyes. The white magic around her cast red shadows against the back of my eyes like a flashlight pouring light toward the back of my brain.

“Breathe,” Maeve said gently, without Influence. I realized I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled. While I was at it, I loosened my death grip on the rock in my lap.

“That’s good. You’re doing fine.” Maeve, Magical Proctologist.

I didn’t know if the wall I’d built between my dad and myself was still standing. Found that I couldn’t really turn and assess anything in my own head. Not while magic and Maeve’s gaze held me still.

But I could still feel my head, could still think. Something, like a small, many-legged thing hiding from the light, scrabbled across the back of my skull.

Nauseating. As comforting as a tapeworm.

Maeve looked a moment longer, then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were green-just green-and the magic around her was gone.

“More water?” she offered.

“No. Did you see him?”

“I saw something that needs to be looked at by someone more familiar with the transitional magic of life and death. It’s not my expertise,” she said apologetically. “Jingo Jingo should be by this evening. I’ll have him look into it as soon as he’s here.”

As if on cue, a short, sharp set of knocks rapped on the door. Maeve flicked her fingers, releasing, for my benefit, I realized, the Ward she’d put on the room when we had entered. A Ward I hadn’t seen her cast, even though I’m usually good at paying attention to those sorts of things.

Okay. That was spooky. If she was always that smooth with magic, she was a hell of a lot more dangerous than she looked.

Maybe my dad was right about her.

Fantastic.

The door opened and a kid-okay, he looked a few years younger than me, maybe twenty-one-stepped into the room. Thin as the pages of a fashion magazine, he wore black head to toe: black hair in ragged edges around his pale face, black T-shirt over a black long-sleeved thermal, black fingerless gloves, black pants with dull silver buckles running down both legs to the black tips of his combat boots. He gave off a sort of goth mixed with reluctant rock star vibe.