Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“And Shamus, eat a decent meal. Then I don’t care how drunk you get.”

“You’d think I was a bloody child,” he muttered beside me. “She never lets up,” he whispered, loud enough his mom was sure to hear. “Personally, I think she needs to get laid.”

Maeve lifted her hand over her shoulder and made a little waving motion that somehow also managed to level the threat of a particularly uncomfortable spell-something in the line of an embarrassing rash-at him.

“Love you too, Mum,” he called after her as she walked through the adjoining, empty room out into the restaurant area.

He paused and touched my arm.

“What?”

He patted his pockets for a cigarette, pulled one out, and offered me the pack.

“No, thanks.”

He nodded, lit up, and took a hard suck. “Balls, woman,” he said, exhaling smoke with every word, “you pack a punch. Where did you learn to throw magic like that?”

“On-the-job training.”

“Well, don’t let my mum fool you. She was impressed.”

“She didn’t look impressed. She looked angry.” The memory of her standing tall, pale, and burning above me flashed behind my eyes.

“Naw, not angry about what you did. Just pissed she was wrong about you.”

“Oh?”

“She argued against you getting trained. ’Cause of what your da did to my da-not a lot of forgiveness in the Flynn blood. She said you were too old, too stubborn, too likely to be the sort of person your da was-a prick,” he added, in case I’d forgotten what he thought of my dad.

“But Z-Jones-” he explained, “wouldn’t give up on giving you a chance. He pushed hard for you, took it all the way to the top-and I mean the top. Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have to pay something for that.”

“Huh,” I said rather ungracefully.

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Zayvion.”

I focused on Shamus, his body language-leaning against the wall like he was just being casual, but the smell of fatigue mixed with the cigarette smoke told me he was leaning there because keeping his feet wasn’t going so well. Shamus was no slouch. He had Proxied a lot of pain. A hell of a lot of pain. And since I didn’t know what he thought of Zayvion, I didn’t know what answer would do Zayvion the least harm. Especially since I’d just found out Zay might have put himself in some sort of debt to get me training.

It was like the frickin’ magic mafia around here. I didn’t know whom to trust.

I went with the truth. What else?

“I like him. And that’s none of your business.”

Shamus pushed his hair away from his face and smiled. “Aren’t you the sweetest? Now I see why he has it so bad for you. Tough on the outside and sweet in the middle. Well.” He shoved off of the wall. “Good on you both, and I mean that with all my cheating little black heart. It’s about time Mr. Somber had some fun in his duty-unto-death life. And watching my mom eat crow hasn’t been half bad either. As a matter of fact, for that alone, I’ll buy you a drink.” He pushed away from the wall, found an ashtray, and ground out his cigarette.

“What’s your pleasure?”

“I don’t care,” I said. “Anything.”

He walked through the door, and I followed him.

I felt the tingle of a Mute spell slide over my skin as I passed through the doorway.

The noise of people talking came on suddenly. The entire room was full now, every table occupied with people eating, drinking, talking. The light outside the windows was diving into evening. I’d been back there with Maeve and Shamus for hours. No wonder I was so tired and hungry.

“Pick it up, Beckstrom,” Shamus said.

I did so, and followed as he wove his way between tables. He was aiming at the lunch counter, although in the dim light I didn’t see any available seats there either. Just suits, fancy dresses, T-shirts, and jeans. A mix of Northwest just-off-work and out-for-the-evening. Shamus made his way through the noise and down the length of the counter, then turned left, where eight or so stools held the end of the lunch area.

Two of those seats were free. Shamus slid down into one and was already yelling over the loud conversations for the attention of one of the girls behind the counter. The stool next to him, toward the wall, was open. And in the seat next to that was Zayvion.

He was partly turned, his elbow resting next to a half-empty glass of beer on the countertop, his back toward me.

Being six feet tall gives me some advantage. One is I could look around Zayvion and see whom he was talking to.

A woman, about my age, brown hair cut in straight bangs across her forehead and pulled back in a single long braid. Her face reminded me of a movie star’s-wide, catlike eyes, high cheekbones, and lips most women would mortgage the house for. She had on a black tank top, over which she had thrown a long-sleeved plaid flannel shirt, black jeans, and boots. No makeup-and she didn’t need it.

She looked over Zayvion’s shoulder at me, and her eyes were sapphire in sunlight.

“Allie?” Zayvion said-had been saying, I realized. I hadn’t heard him over the din. Well, that and I was still thinking a little slow.

“Sorry.” I looked over at him. “Kind of loud in here.”

His Zen was on full strength, making his face a dark, unreadable mask. But his gaze held some worry as he searched my face.

I smiled to let him know I was okay.

“This is Chase Warren,” he said.

I stepped around Zayvion enough to shake her hand. Calluses on the girl. Strength. She obviously worked for a living.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“So, you’re

the

Allie Beckstrom,” she said. “Zay’s said a lot about you.” She gave me the oh-so-female up-down appraisal that made me want to grind my teeth. Really, I didn’t care what she thought about me, my faded jeans, or my sweaty, messy hair. And I smiled at her to let her know it.

“That’s nice,” I said to cut this little convo short. I took the only seat between Zayvion and Shamus, and leaned both elbows on the bar.

Shamus had finally managed to snag the attention of one of the girls behind the counter and she stood there, a small pad of paper in her hand.

“What are you buying me, Shame?” I asked.

“Beer. Wait. Bet you’re a wine girl.”

“Beer’s fine,” I said, even though I didn’t like beer much, “dark.” Then to the waitress: “Could I get a glass of water, burger, and fries, please?”

She nodded and headed off.

“Nice shiner,” Zayvion said to Shamus. “How did she do?”

Shamus leaned back so they could talk behind my back.

“She’s sitting right here, you know,” I said.

“Fucking amazing. I can’t believe the amount of power she pulled on-and you were right-she took it in her body, right through it. Got my mum’s panties in a knot, seeing all that. Might even make your bullshit about you two being Soul Complements a little easier for the Authority to swallow.”

Zayvion made a little

huh

sound, then took a drink of his beer, hiding his smile. He was exceedingly pleased. It rolled off him in waves.

“Did your mother actually say she was impressed?” Chase, who had leaned forward so she could see around Zayvion, asked. I caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume.

“As much as.”

“That’s a no, then.” Chase gave me a hard, flat look, and I wondered what the hell I’d done to piss her off.

Maybe it was just hate at first sight. Lucky me. ’Cause that’s what I needed-another person who didn’t like me.

I turned away from her. “What do you mean ‘bullshit about Complements’? We are, aren’t we?”

“Not without Authority sanctioning you’re not,” Chase said.