Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“Sorry you can’t stop thinking about my ass.”

Shamus grinned. “True. It’s just so tight and muscular. Want me to shove these in your trunk?”

“I’d rather you put them in the car.” Zayvion opened his car, and motioned for me to get in the passenger’s side while Shamus put the contraptions in the trunk. Zay walked around and stood by the open trunk with Shamus, like two men comparing guns or tackle boxes or something.

Satisfied with the inventory, they slammed the trunk shut, and Shamus crawled in the backseat while Zayvion got into the driver’s seat.

“There might be some blood back there,” I said.

Shamus shrugged one shoulder. “What’s new?”

Zayvion took a moment to adjust the seat for his legs, and the mirrors. “Safety first,” he said.

“Always,” Shamus agreed.

Zayvion started the engine and turned the car toward St. Johns.

“So, tell me what to expect,” I said.

“Blood, death, horror.” Shamus sat forward so he was nearly between us. “The usual.” He pulled out his cell, hit a button.

“Who?” Zayvion asked.

“Who do you think?” He sat back and answered the phone. “Chase, darlin’. Want to do a job?”

At the mention of Chase’s name, Zayvion tightened. It was only for a second before the Zen took over and he looked relaxed, calm again. But I could tell it was an act. That woman bothered him.

“Should I be worried?” I asked while Shamus kept right on talking behind us.

“About the hunt?”

“Yes. And Chase.”

Zay stopped at a light. Even though it felt like the longest day ever, it wasn’t even dark yet. It was three or four at the latest, and as light as a cloudy day in Oregon could be. To the west, a patch of blue sky opened up, and sunlight shot down in liquid gold, painting the wet city in van Gogh fire. It seemed strange to be going out hunting nightmares in such nice weather.

“Chase is a Closer,” Zayvion said. “She’s good at her job. You don’t have to worry about her.” The light turned green, and Zay moved along with traffic, angling north toward the St. Johns Bridge.

Why did I not believe him?

“The hunt isn’t something I want you to be involved in. At all,” he added, like maybe I hadn’t heard him before. “If we’re dealing with Hungers, they are creatures that have crossed through the gates from death to life.”

“Like the Veiled?”

Zay shook his head. “The Veiled are the thoughts and memories and bits of magic users’ souls impressed on the magic that runs beneath the city. They aren’t so much dead people as a recording of people who were once alive.”

Recordings with burning fingers that like to eat magic.

“What did the Hungers used to be?” I asked.

“Some say they are failed spells from the ancient days when magic was first used by mankind. Some say they are the fears, the panics, the horrors of all the world’s tragedies, the nightmares of mankind’s dreaming mind. Some say they are hunters, killers, creatures that dwell in the world beyond the gates, hungry for the blood and magic of the living world.” He shrugged. “Your basic denizens of death.”

“Huh,” I said.

“What?”

“I was just trying to remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who used the words

dwell

and

denizens of death

in the same breath.”

“Your point?” he asked.

“You are a seriously strange man, Zayvion Jones.”

That got a surprised grin out of him. “You don’t know me very well, then.”

Well, well, look at who had gone all Mr. Tough on me. It looked natural, easy on him. I had a feeling there was a side to Mr. Jones that I hadn’t seen yet. The bad-boy hunter side. And I liked it.

“So, the Hungers?” I prompted.

“Right. Cross over from death. It happens, but not very often, and usually only one at a time. You saw more than one?”

“Six, I think.”

“That’s a large crossing. It would have taken a lot of power behind the spell to crack the gate that wide.”

Maybe that was why Tomi looked so exhausted.

“Is Davy being hurt a part of it?” I asked.

“Yes. Death magic takes a sacrifice. It doesn’t have to be a life, just an exchange of energy. But the old ways, dark ways, always use a sacrifice.”

“You said those ways were forbidden.”

Shamus, who was done with his phone call, laughed. “They are. But first someone has to catch you doing it. Death magic is hard stuff to Hound.”

I didn’t know that. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse, knowing there was a kind of magic less detectable to Hounding.

“There’s something else,” I said. “Davy said Tomi mentioned a man named Jingo. Is she part of the Authority?”

They both got quiet. Finally, Zay spoke. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Told you he’s a freak,” Shamus muttered. “Gonna be a fuckin’ war.”

The muscle of Zay’s jaw tightened. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we’ll find a way to fix this first.”

Shamus snorted. “Optimism does not suit you, my friend.”

“So is Jingo Jingo using Tomi some other way?” I asked. “For Hounding? A little light on the subject would be nice.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Zayvion said. “I don’t know if Jingo Jingo is involved with Tomi at all. There are. . people who would plant his name. Make false trails to cover their own tracks.”

“Backstabbing and double-crossing? Fantastic show you’re running,” I said.

“There’s a lot of unrest among magic users right now,” Zayvion said. “Especially since your father’s death. A lot of finger pointing, blame of magic and knowledge being improperly supervised, leaked, used.

“But right now, we need to deal with the Hungers,” Zayvion said, changing subjects.

I still wanted to know what Jingo Jingo had to do with all this, but for all I knew, Shamus was more than his student. He could be his spy.

Where was that secrets spreadsheet when I needed it?

“Do you still think they’re in St. Johns?” I asked.

“Probably. There’s a reason the gate was opened there. There isn’t magic in St. Johns. Nothing is piped in, nothing natural beneath the ground. I think Tomi didn’t want us knowing the gate had been breached. It’s possible the Hungers are waiting for nightfall to slip into the rest of the city.”

“And once they’re in the city, what do they do?”

“They kill,” Shamus said.

“So why haven’t I heard about this on the news? Dead bodies? Rampaging nightmare creatures? That’s got to be good enough to at least hit the morning shows.”

“You don’t hear it because we are very, very good.” Shamus grinned.

“No, if someone dies, it’s noticed,” I said. “By a neighbor, a friend, a coworker.”

“We don’t hide the bodies,” Zayvion said, “when there are bodies. We just make sure the cause of death never points toward the magical.”

“That doesn’t sound easy,” I said.

“After years and years of training?” he said. “It’s not.”

“Crap,” I said. “Training. Shame, would you call your mom and tell her I’m going to be late-later? Please?”

He just shook his head. “You’re gonna owe me for all this sugar I’m pouring on her.” He dialed, and spent several minutes explaining exactly what we were going to be doing.

Finally, he hung up. “Says she’ll consider it extra credit, but no getting into the middle of anything really dangerous. Thinks I’m gonna look after you.”

“I can look after myself,” I said.

Shamus nodded. “Of course you can.”

I was demure enough not to flip him off with both fingers.

We drove past the park. Police tape closed off the parking lot, but North Bradford Street was clear. Zayvion parked the car several blocks away, tucked down a one-way gravel and bramble dead-end road, then popped the trunk.