Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“Yes.”

“That’s because of how much magic you use. Hold in you. The Wards on it help with that.”

“Great,” I said, feeling like he and I were talking around whatever was really going on. “Is everything all right?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It is.” At my look, he said,“It’s just a job. I need to take care of something. I thought I had the rest of the day before. . before I had to go.”

He went silent and somber. I tried to lighten things up. “No rest for assassins.” I caught myself on the last word, and Zayvion gave me a sharp look.

“You aren’t going to kill someone, are you?” See how understanding and supportive I could be?

“No,” he said. “Not today. Not this job.” He gave me a hard smile, and I had no doubt that he had killed in the past. And would kill again.

Hells. Now, that was a way to blow all of the fun out of the room.

Still, that’s what Zayvion was-an assassin, a magic user, a Closer. He was also a lover, my lover, and someone who had done his best to help me, and other people in the past. I wondered whether one thing balanced the other.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

“No. It’s fine. I know. . it’s fine.” He took a breath and let it out again, pulling his Zen back over the top of the killer.

“Do you want me to pick you up here?” he asked.

“Why?”

“To take you to Maeve’s today.”

That’s right. I’d forgotten about class again. Ten o’clock or she’d get demon diaper rash or something.

“Sure,” I said. “Around nine thirty.” I gathered up our plates and coffee cups and took them to the kitchen sink. I walked back to the living room.

Zayvion stood at my window, curtains back just enough so he could see the street below. It was six o’clock, and false dawn was beginning to polish the edges of night.

“Huh,” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He let the curtain drop, picked up his coat, and put it on.

“Good luck,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “Be safe.”

“I will.” He touched my arm. “Be careful.”

With that, he walked out my door.

I stood there, not doing much more than staring at the walls and thinking about too many things. A lot had happened in a day.

Which reminded me. I was seriously behind in my journ aling. I pulled my book out of my coat pocket, and the small manila envelope that Violet had given me fell out onto the floor. I was surprised I hadn’t lost that in the fight.

My self-defense list. Might need to make a few calls on that before Violet sent the Beckstrom Enterprises henchmen out to get me.

I took the envelope and journal with me back to the living room and tossed the envelope on the table. That could wait. I found a blank page in my journal and quickly recapped everything that had happened in the last day.

Just reading it made me tired.

I got up and pulled back the curtains, looking outside just like Zayvion had. I didn’t recognize anyone on the street. The city looked normal. I looked across the street and up. There, on the rooftop opposite my building, sat a hunched and familiar form.

I doubted anyone except Zayvion would even look up and see the gargoyle sitting on the roof of the building, his wings pressed against his back. Not because you couldn’t see him in front of the heating vents. But most people did not look up as they went about their daily motions.

Stone’s head was tipped so he looked not out over the building like most gargoyles in architecture, but down at the street. Specifically, down at the street in front of the door to my building.

Well, it looked like I had myself a big ol’ watchdog.

I stared at him for a bit, but he did not move. I didn’t know if that was because dawn was coming on, turning him to inert stone, or if he was pulling the immobile-statue bit for his own reasons.

Either way, I liked the thought of him being out there. Sort of like a big, dumb pet rock guardian angel.

The memory of him tearing into the Necromorph flashed behind my eyes. Correction: big, dumb, deadly pet rock guardian angel.

I let the curtain fall, and straightened the living room and kitchen-not that either needed much cleaning. Nola visiting had some extra advantages. I tried reading one of the several paperbacks I’d been picking my way through, but didn’t have much luck. After reading the same page three times I gave up and opened the manila envelope.

Violet knew how to do her research. Five brochures fell out, each with a photo of the instructor and staff, and a note card with her list of pros and cons attached.

I scanned them. Put two back in the envelope just because the instructors looked too damn smug, and spent some time comparing the remaining three. Two male instructors, one female. All offered a variety of training, from weekend self-defense classes to lifelong fighting disciplines. Not having much to go on, I decided to just call all three and make appointments to meet them.

But before I could dial, the phone rang.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Allie?” The voice was young, a woman. I couldn’t quite place it.

“Yes?”

“This is Tomi.”

Davy’s ex-girlfriend, the cutter Hound. The one who had kicked the shit out of him. The one who was running with a rough crowd. The one who hated me.

“Hey, Tomi,” I said. “Are you okay?”

I think the question surprised her. I could hear her catch her breath, could hear the sound of traffic in the background as she paused.

“Tell Davy to leave me the hell alone or I’ll get a restraining order for him.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Yes. He won’t listen to me. It’s over. It’s so fucking over.”

I rubbed at my forehead. She sounded angry and sad and a little afraid. Hells, I hated breakups.

“He’s worried about you,” I said. “About who you’re with and that maybe you’re hurt. Tomi, if you are hurt, or if you’ve gotten in a bad situation, you know the Hounds are here to help you. I know some doctors, lawyers, who would help straighten things out for you if you needed it. I’d make sure they got paid, so you don’t have to worry about the money.”

She paused again, inhaled, held her breath. I could almost feel her thinking it over Finally: “Tell Davy to back off or they’ll kill him.”

And then she hung up.

I stood there with the dial tone buzzing in my ear while I tried to think this out. I could call Stotts, tell him Tomi was mixed up with someone who wanted to kill Davy. Of course, a lot of new boyfriends want to kill old boyfriends, so it might be an empty threat.

It hadn’t sounded like an empty threat. She sounded afraid.

But Tomi was a Hound, and Hounds did a lot of things to manage pain-drugs being one option. She might be high and hallucinating, for all I knew.

I hung up the phone. Stotts already knew I had scented her at the job yesterday. I assumed he was following up on that, so there was a good chance the MERC’s had their eyes on her.

Which meant what I should do was try to find Davy. I didn’t have his number or address.

Note to self: get phone numbers of Hounds.

But I could still make the meeting at 7:30 and see him there, or get his number from someone else.

Since my last attempt to walk the street had ended with me sporting a raft of new cuts and bruises, I called a cab, waited for it to drive up before I left my building, and took it down to Ankeny Square.

The driver dropped me off at a corner with a light. It was cold out but not yet raining. I put my head down and walked as quickly as I could, not looking right or left. Not looking at the buildings or the street. Not looking at the people who hustled through here, like winter ghosts waiting for this graveyard to come back to life in the spring, waiting for the courtyard to fill with booths and music, the smell of incense, handmade soap, and food from carts.