Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

No, I didn’t know how to let go of the magic. Have I mentioned I suck at Grounding?

I was full, every inch of me stretched and thrumming with magic, his magic. There was no room in me for more. But that didn’t stop me.

My head swam. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. I drank and drank and drank. He did the same.

Zayvion’s grip loosened slightly.

I pushed down and away, broke free. I wove a spell for Hold. Cast it blind with all that magic I held inside me.

He froze. Long enough for me to cast Shield, something strong enough to surround me and keep him from touching me physically again.

Zayvion lifted his hand and muttered a word. Hold shattered like cheap glass.

So not fair. I didn’t know the magic words he knew.

He chanted, drawing magic in multicolored ribbons out of the floor, singing it into a jagged ball in his hand, which he then threw at me. It hit my Shield and broke into bits that scrabbled over it like spiders trying to climb ice.

He followed it up with a wave of darkness that clung to my Shield, blinding me.

Fuck.

I’d have to drop the Shield to see. And he’d be waiting for me.

Think, Beckstrom.

What did I have at my advantage? Not my father’s memories or skills. Certainly not Maeve’s training.

No, all I had was the magic inside me and a knack for Hounding. I also had a burning determination not to fail myself, not to lose my memories, my life again. Not even for Zayvion Jones.

I took a deep breath. Calmed my mind. Then I called to the magic in the well beneath the room. To hell with fighting fire with fire. I needed some napalm.

I dropped the Shield.

Zayvion threw everything he had at me.

Pain-hot, slicing, deep-shook me. I screamed, but couldn’t hear the sound over the spell he threw.

An explosion of lights blinded me again, and all I could taste was pine, mint, and blood.

He meant to kill me. He really did. I don’t know why I hadn’t believed it before. Zayvion had proven himself to be a dangerous man, a killer, a Closer. And now it was me he was going to end.

Screw that.

The magic from the well poured into me, and I knew I could hold it-could claim all of it for myself, keep it in my body and my bones.

So I did.

The pain disappeared. Everything around me suddenly slowed. I watched, from somewhere above myself, as magic spun from my fingers, from my soul, from the inexhaustible well beneath the earth. I was wrapped in ribbons of light and color and shadow. I was living, breathing magic, and I could make magic do anything I wanted it to do.

I didn’t aim the magic at Zayvion. I aimed it at all the other magic users in the room.

No glyphs, no words, no songs. Just my need for magic to do as I desired. Gold threads followed my thoughts and sank deep into the chest of each user. Some of them were able to disengage, to turn the magic away before it knocked them out. A few fell.

And that’s all I needed.

I threw magic at the walls. At the Wards. Magic users scrambled to reinforce them so I didn’t blow the walls out and bring the whole building down on our heads.

That is what I call a proper distraction.

Now to deal with Zayvion.

Zayvion wove a glyph like a massive net and threw it toward me slowly; everything was still running in half-time.

I knew that the moment he released the spell, he would be overextended. Vulnerable. I could take him down. Take him apart. I could tell the magic to wrap around his heart, his brain, and squeeze. It would stop him. I wondered if it would kill him.

Was this test worth that? Was it worth ending Zayvion’s life to save my own?

I had never been good at these kinds of decisions.

Zayvion told me once that I was not a killer. I remembered that now. Remembered him laughing, remembered him reaching out to me as a bullet tore through me. Strange, the things you think of in the last moments of your life.

I walked over to Zayvion, letting the net he cast glide over my head, then continue on to land somewhere behind me. I stood so close to him, I could feel the heat of his body.

The memory of his smile, of his body, strong, warm, naked, against mine flashed through me. He had been there for me, more than anyone but Nola. If I had the time, I would mourn the loss of that, the loss of him.

I placed my hand on his chest. Even though I was fast, too fast, and all the world was too slow, I know he felt my touch. His body tensed.

I am not a killer. Not if there is any other choice. And I was making another choice. A choice for both of us.

I reached into his mind. Just like he told me Soul Complements should not, because once Soul Complements touched mentally, they would not be able to let go. And now I understood that.

Oh, baby, it felt wonderful to be touching him like this. It felt right.

Zayvion arched his back in pleasure, and I felt his pleasure under my skin as if it were my own. Sweet loves, this was good.

I felt him laugh inside my mind, inside my mouth, echoing through me, as if we were one person, not two. Joined. Soul Complements.

I gloried in it. Never wanted it to end.

But I am a stubborn woman.

“Tag,” I said. “You’re it.” Then I knocked him unconscious.

Zayvion crumpled at my feet.

And somebody threw a lead coat over my shoulders. All the magic in me, all the magic I was pulling out of the well, pumped out of me in a heartbeat.

I was suddenly emptied.

Whoa.

I lost my knees, fell on my ass next to Zayvion, who stirred, already waking up. Gotta love a man with stamina.

Maeve stood above us. She didn’t look happy. I didn’t know what her problem was. We were both still alive. Wasn’t that the point of all this?

“I am going to remove the void stones,” she said like a traffic cop telling me which way to go and how. “You are not going to draw upon the magic in the well. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” Weird, but my voice came out all breathy, like I was exhausted or something.

Maeve removed the lead coat, and I got a look at it. Not a coat, but a blanket with tiny, round, black river rocks sewn into it. Void stones, like the one she’d put on my lap. Smart woman.

“This was not a test to see if you were Soul Complements,” she admonished.

Zayvion moaned, swore. And yes, Maeve was angry at me, but I couldn’t help but grin as Zayvion blinked up at me and realized where he was. Namely, flat on his back on the floor.

He moaned again. “I can’t believe you did that.” He dropped his hand on my knee, and levered to sit.

“Hey, I was supposed to use anything and everything to survive, right?” And even though I was smiling, a sick sort of dread gripped my throat. What if I had done permanent damage to him? What if I had done permanent damage to us? What if I had failed the test and now they were going to take all my memories away? My life away?

Zayvion’s hand was still on my knee. “They’re not going to take all your memories away.”

“Did you hear me think that?” I asked.

He nodded, and in my mind I heard him say,

Loud and clear

.

His voice in my mind was not at all like my father’s voice. His voice was familiar, comforting, warm.

Are you always going to be able to hear my thoughts?

I thought.

We’ll have to find out.

He pulled his hand away from my knee. We were close, just inches away from each other, but we were not touching.

“Think something,” he said.

I thought how maybe I’d like to get the hell out of here.

He shook his head. “I didn’t hear you. Can you hear this?”

I listened, strained to hear him in my mind. Nothing.

“So only when we touch?” I asked.