Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

Pain twisted his face while contortions changed his body.

Chase caught sight of Stone and Greyson and paused midstride. She seemed to catch herself and finished the march to my side. She dimmed the light to nonnuclear levels and stopped next to me.

“Greyson?” she breathed.

“Please,” he said, his voice still more man than beast, “let me go.”

The spell in her right hand flickered and died, but the orb still burned, deep yellow now, like dying candlelight that caressed Greyson’s face, blurring the edges until it seemed only the man rested within its glow.

She was losing concentration. Probably going into shock.

I didn’t blame her, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her shock get me killed.

“Oh, Grey.” Her words caught. She swallowed, tried again. “I–I can’t.”

Greyson lifted one hand toward her but did not touch her, even though he could have. “Then look away. Please look away.”

Chase was shaking. “No. We can help you. We can undo this.”

Greyson shook his head. “No one can. Not even Zayvion.”

Chase’s breath caught in her throat. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as if she could somehow keep the sorrow behind her lips. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, but I knew she was doing mad work to clear her mind. Her heart at my wrist fluttered like a hummingbird in flight.

When she spoke, she was no hummingbird. She was steel and ice. “Tell me who did this to you.”

“Daniel Beckstrom,” he growled.

Chase swung on me so fast I didn’t even have time to exhale. And that bitch knew how to throw a punch. I took it just below the eye, and fell. Blood poured down the back of my throat, and the dust from the floor filled my mouth. She’d put something else behind that hit. I couldn’t move. Not even to pull the knife out of my belt.

I’d spun before I landed so now the only thing in my line of vision was the bent metal opening at the back of the building.

I could still hear, which was something, I suppose. I heard Stone growl and jump. I heard Chase chant and throw magic. The ground shook as Stone hit the floor and was silent. After that, I heard Greyson getting onto his feet.

“Chase?” Greyson said.

“Go.”

I heard the sound of four feet running, watched as Greyson headed toward the opening in the wall.

She had let him go. She had let my dad’s murderer free.

But just as Greyson reached the opening, a figure stepped through it. Zayvion, with a two-by-four over his shoulder. He swung at Greyson like a batter aiming for the far wall, and connected with his head.

Greyson flew out of my line of vision. Zayvion adjusted his hold on the board and drew a glyph in the air with his left hand. He threw the spell at Greyson. I didn’t hear any other movement from that part of the room.

“Looks like this worked out to our advantage after all,” Zayvion said. “Do you want to explain this to me, Chase?” He left my vision, weaving another spell, walking toward where Greyson fell.

For a second I thought Chase had left to be beside Greyson too. But she squatted down next to me, her boot inches from my face.

She tugged my chin to one side so I could see her cold, cold face. “You have screwed with the wrong woman, Beckstrom,” she whispered. She pressed her fingertip into the center of my forehead.

And then everything went black.

It didn’t take me long to decide my dreams sucked. I dreamed Zayvion and Chase were yelling at each other, angry about me, about Greyson, about Tomi. I was a little fuzzy on the details, but it sounded like Chase wanted to Close me or maybe kill me, and Zayvion was having none of it.

My hero.

A third voice spoke up. Shamus. Told them to shut the hell up. Told Chase to take care of Tomi. Told Zayvion to figure out how to move the rock. Told them he would handle Greyson. There were a lot of moving-around sounds. Some silence, during which I drifted. Then more noise.

They were talking about Tomi. About the glyphs cut into her to bind her with Blood and Death magic. Talked about whether Greyson had done this to her, or if someone was working with him. Greyson had been a Closer before he’d been changed. And they could tell he had closed Tomi’s mind over and over to keep her from knowing what she was doing, how she was being used.

None of them seemed to know why he picked her, of all people, though they did begin to question why she had mentioned Jingo Jingo, and whether he or someone else in the Authority was part of this.

I heard Chase say she’d take Tomi to someone, see if her mind could be mended, her body healed.

Then someone dragged fingers across my forehead. It was nice, warm. Plus, I was awake again.

Shamus sat crossed-legged next to me. He gave me a small smile.

“Trouble.”

I swallowed to say something, but could not find my voice.

“We’re going to take care of Tomi. Get her some help, then take her home to heal if that’s the best way to go. She won’t remember any of this.

“Greyson is a bit of a problem.”

I raised my eyebrows-because that was as much sarcasm as I could manage.

“We’re taking him in. Have ways we can make sure he doesn’t wake up for a while. Hopefully, we’ll be able to get into his head and find out who he’s working with. Find out who did that. .” He swallowed, shook his head. “Did this to him. Don’t know that there’s a cure, but if there is, we’ll find it. Fix him.” He took a deep breath. I didn’t think he’d been saying most of that stuff for me.

He patted his pocket, found his cigarettes, and lit up. He inhaled and pulled the cigarette away.

“But the gargoyle? Damn, girl. I’d love to know how you did that. The only Animation I’ve ever seen done that well was on a much, much smaller scale. It’s sentient, or at least free-willed, isn’t it?”

Since I couldn’t talk, I just stared at him.

“Right. Sorry. We’re taking it along with us. With you. Next time you wake up, you’ll be at my mum’s, okay?”

Somewhere behind me, I could hear Zayvion take a breath, hold it, then begin singing softly, casting a spell.

Shamus glanced up, away from me, toward where I thought Zayvion must be. He shook his head. “Beauty.”

Then he looked back down at me. “Hell of a day, love. Not bad for your first day in the field. Took care of all the Hungers, in case you wanted to know. Now get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

He brushed his fingers over my forehead again, and, really, I did the only thing I could. I slept.

“ Come on, now. Wake for me,Allison Beckstrom.” I didn’t recognize the voice. Deep, male, almost a purr. I could not resist it. Influence, most likely.

I opened my eyes. I was lying in a soft bed, not my own, in a clean room that smelled like honeysuckle. I’d never seen this room before. Maybe a hotel?

I had, however, seen the man who sat in the chair next to the bed. He had been at my father’s funeral.

Big didn’t begin to describe him. He was the kind of guy who needed all three seats on an airplane. His eyes and skin were almost the same color, coffee dark, and there was a gentleness to his expression that was at odds with the intensity of his gaze. He might look like a nice guy on the outside, but he creeped me out. I inhaled and caught the sweet scent of licorice and something more chemical that tasted like death.

“My name is Jingo Jingo.” He smiled, and fear rubbed fingers across my stomach. At the sound of his name, an image of candy in his pocket and little bones came to me. What was it my father had whispered to me at the funeral? He had a thing for the bones of little children?