Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“I got a call from Sid Westerling a couple hours ago. Davy’s in ICU. He’s in critical condition, but stable.”

“Are any of the Hounds staying with him?”

“Sid said everyone’s gone home for the day, but they’re going to take turns looking in on him tomorrow. He also said they’ve done what they can to contact his parents; they don’t live in the area.”

“Okay, good. Any luck with Cody?”

“Yes. I got the call today. They’ve approved his release.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise. As soon as Zayvion had Closed him, Cody was free to go live three hundred miles away on an extremely magicless farm.

“I’m going to go pick him up in an hour or so,” she said.

“Alone?”

“Paul, I mean, Detective Stotts is going to go with me.”

“That’s really great, Nola,” I said. “Are you heading right back to Burns?”

“Of course not! You and I have hardly had a chance to talk since I’ve been in town. You’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

I glanced at Shamus. He didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to the conversation. And since he was not a Hound, he might not have heard what Nola asked.

“Hang on.” I palmed the phone. “Think I’ll be home by tomorrow night?”

“Who knows?”

I drew the phone back up to my ear. “I’ll try to be home tomorrow. If something comes up I’ll call.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Yes.” I put as much cheerfulness as I could into that lie. “I’m great. Just trying to take care of something for the Hounds. I’ll be home soon, promise. Please ask Sid and the other Hounds to keep you up-to-date about Davy, okay?”

“I already have. Take care.”

“I will. Bye.” I hung up. I hated lying to Nola, but didn’t want to worry her. I handed the phone back to Shamus. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He tucked the phone in his pocket and headed toward the door. “Get some sleep, if you can. You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”

“Shamus?” I asked before he was out the door.

He turned and looked at me.

“You did this, right? The test? And came through it okay?”

“I did something like this. But you’re different, Allie.” He gave me a tight smile. “Lucky you.” He turned out the light and shut the door.

Ididn’t think I would sleep. Too worried about Davy, about Tomi, Stone, about the dead, the living, and everyone in between. Too worried about the test.

But I did sleep, the soft darkness of the room eased by a little night-light that glowed amber in the wall outlet against the floor. It reminded me, for a moment, of the little room at Nola’s house, one of the safest places in the world to me. Home of my heart.

No dreams this time, no conversations with my father.

I woke and stared at the darkness, listening to the movements of the big inn. There were people here, footsteps, and sometimes laughter. The lonely call of the far-off train filtered through the walls, but I could not hear the drone of the big engine. When the clock on the nightstand said it was seven, I got up, checked to make sure the bathroom door had a lock, and took a long, hot shower.

The vanity had a care package complete with toothbrush, toothpaste, some generic deodorant, and a comb. I used all of them. Even though my clothes could use a washing, I felt better, my muscles looser, the ache at the back of my head from hitting the floor gone. The ribs that I had sworn I’d cracked felt sore, bruised, but not broken.

Give me a hot cup of coffee and a couple aspirins, and I could take on the world.

I figured they had Wards or maybe a guard on my door, so I used the last fifteen minutes or so to clear my mind and relax. Magic filled me, rippled through my body from the ground and well deep beneath the inn. I worried that it would fail me, or worse, that I would fail to control it. I worried that the Veiled would appear during the test. If they were eating me alive, pulling magic out of me, there was little chance I could handle anything else. The Veiled hadn’t bothered me when I tested with Maeve, but my father had been strong. He was the one who kept them from hurting me. Without him, I was vulnerable again.

Dad?

I thought.

There was no answer. Not even a faint flutter.

If he was still with me, his presence was very, very small.

No help there.

I jumped at the knock on the door. Stupid.

“Yes?” I stood.

Maeve stepped into the room. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

She walked over to me, took both my hands in hers. Her fingers were warm, strong. “You can do this, Allie. Do not doubt yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said. And I meant it.

She released my hands and strolled out of the room. I followed her down a white hall with walnut woodwork and old oak floors. Down to a staircase with wood that arched downward again, to another short hall, then down once again.

I don’t know what I’d expected. Secret society stuff. Maybe a dungeon, torches, cast-iron braziers, pillars, weird statues. Something archaic. Mystical. Magical.

But the huge room-and I mean the room must spread out beneath the entire inn, and then some-looked more like a ballroom. The stone floors, maybe marble or granite, laid out in a glowing and subtle shift from white to gray to black all the way to the far end of the room.

The ceiling was two stories high and supported by columns carved from the walls that arced wings across the ceiling, graceful tips crossed at the center. Adding to the winged effect were thick ribbons of cast iron molded into the columns, and lead-lined glass panels that caught glittering wedges of light falling upward from the fixtures set cleverly along the walls and within the nooks and curves of the winged arches.

Grand. Beautiful. The walls were done in rich reds and browns and forest green, light scattered here and there to the room’s best advantage.

It was difficult to remember this was a basement of an old inn.

The room itself was enough to make me pause on the last stair step. But the people who lined the walls of the room, perhaps a dozen or so, made me want to call a cab and go home.

No ceremonial uniforms, they all looked as if they’d just stepped out of their everyday lives and come here. A few were familiar faces. Kevin, Violet’s bodyguard, stood next to Chase, and tall, stern Victor, whom I’d seen at my dad’s graveside. Shamus slouched next to Jingo Jingo, and mousy Liddy, whom I’d also seen at the funeral.

My dad’s accountant, Mr. Katz, stood next to a dark-eyed woman and man who looked like they could be twins, and another man who must have been a linebacker in collage.

But even in a room of magic users whom I could only assume were incredibly skilled, my attention was pulled toward one woman who stood at exact east, if the room were set on a compass rose.

There was no reason why she should stand out among the crowd. Maybe thirty years my senior, her light brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun, lending her delicate features a razor’s edge. She had a wide mouth that might be pretty if she were smiling, and the kind of flawless grooming that gave her a brittle, premeditated beauty.

She wore a black, or maybe very dark blue, suit with a red shirt beneath-neither colors doing her pale complexion any favors, and both managing to downplay her figure. At her neck, a medallion caught silver and copper light.

She reminded me of someone. I didn’t remember ever meeting her, but there was a frailty beneath that hard exterior that made me think of summer and blue skies. Maybe not her, but someone similar. Someone I had liked.

Weird, since she was currently scowling death at me.