Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm

“Do you need me for anything else?” I asked before he came up with questions I didn’t want to answer.

Stotts shook his head. “If I do, I’ll call.” He walked me to the door of the room. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything more.”

I pocketed the crystal and started down the hall.

“Allie?”

I slowed and glanced over my shoulder at him.

“Whatever it is that you’re thinking of doing. Don’t. We’ll handle it.”

I wondered what he saw in me. Was it my anger? My fear? Or did I just have a bad reputation for doing stupid things when magic was screwing with the people I loved?

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. Stotts and I were enough alike, we both knew that when people I cared about were hurt, there was no way in hell I was going to just stand aside and let other people handle the problem.

It was colder now and darker outside the lab, but at least it wasn’t raining.

“Want a lift?” Shame stood on one side of the police tape. Even though he had no magic, he still managed to blend in and look like he was just another citizen out ogling the police and pony show.

I strode down the walk toward him and didn’t stop. “Where’d you park?”

“Up a block. What’s the hurry?”

I had to press my lips together to keep from yelling. I shook my head.

He got the hint and paced me, then unlocked the car so I could get in. Shame got in the driver’s side, which was fine with me. Even though Shame still looked like death on a low simmer, I was angry. And I didn’t want to kill us on the highway.

As soon as Shame started the car, a coo called out from the backseat.

I knew that coo.

“Stone!” I unbuckled so I could sit up on my knees and reach back for him. “Where’d you find him?”

“He found me,” Shame said.

Stone filled the entire backseat; his head rested on his outstretched arms like he was really tired. But at the sound of my voice, his ears pricked up into sharp triangles and his wings shifted against his muscled back. He tipped his head enough he could look at me and gave me a toothy smile.

“I missed you, boy.” I reached back and petted his head.

Three things sank in: one, Stone was cool, not cold, but not his usual cozy temperature. Two, he wasn’t moving as fluidly as he should, his motions catching like he was full of gears that had rusted up. Three, his eyes were different. Usually his eyes shone with a sweet kind of intelligence. Right now they were dull, like someone had taken a sandblaster to them and left behind clouds.

“Hey, boy,” I said more gently. “Who’s my good boy? Who’s my big hunter gargoyle? That’s right, that’s you. You’re a good boy.” I rubbed his head and scratched behind his ears. He angled his head for a better scratching, but did it slowly. His coo and his happy marble sound were too soft, like all he had left in him was a whisper.

“Stay there, boy, okay? Sleep time.”

He gave me a rock-garbled reply and dropped his head back down to rest on his forearms.

“He’s not moving very well.” I don’t know why I said it. It was obvious. Shame knew it. I knew it.

“I’m amazed he’s still moving at all,” Shame said. “Maybe he has his own backup spell battery in that belly of his.”

“Is there anything we can do to help him?” I asked.

“Besides getting magic up and running again?”

“What happens if he runs out before then?” I asked.

Shame just shrugged. “You tell me. No one’s been able to pull off an Animate this big for years.”

I rubbed at my forehead. I had no idea what would happen. I didn’t want to think about it.

“At least we know where he is,” Shame said.

True. I could probably get him up into my apartment if I had to. And if he ran out of magic there, at least I’d know someone wasn’t breaking him up into gravel or turning him into a table or something.

“You want to tell me where I’m driving?” Shame asked.

“Legacy Emanuel. Someone broke in and stole all the disks.”

“All?”

“Hundreds. Charged with magic.”

Shame’s eyebrows shot up. Yeah, it freaked me out too.

Then he started laughing. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Now? Really? Hundreds of disks on the loose with a goddamn storm bearing down on the city? Perfect. Just perfect.”

“Do you know what the disks will do when the storm breaks?”

“Not a damn clue. Might be nothing. Might be a lot. If we see a mushroom cloud suddenly blow out half the damn city, we’ll know for sure. Fuck it all. Did you Hound for Stotts?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Shame slanted me a look that was pure appreciation. “I’d be interested to know how you pulled that off.”

I tugged the crystal out of my pocket and held it up for him to see. It was still cool, but not frostbite cold. “Ever see this before?”

Shame glanced at it. “God’s balls, woman. Where did you get that?”

“In there.”

Shame made a quick right turn and nearly hit a car that honked as it went past us. He stopped in a lot behind an office building and twisted in his seat. “Give.”

Yes, I was hesitant to give it to him. But whom else was I going to trust with this? Whom else could I even ask about it? Maybe Violet. If she were conscious.

I handed it to him. Shame held it like it was made of gold and unbroken dreams. “It’s natural,” he said. “Who-no, how can this even exist?”

“It carried magic. Enough I could Hound the room.”

“Still does. It’s weak, thin, but it is refilling, slowly. . like the heartbeat of the world.” Shame licked his lips and swallowed hard. Then he slowly pressed it against his mouth. He closed his eyes and a shudder shook him.

“Shame?”

With visible effort, he lifted the stone away from his lips and held it out to me, without looking at me, without looking at the stone.

“Take it. I’d drink it dry.”

I hesitated. Shame wasn’t looking good, but the stone seemed to have brought a little color into his lips. Maybe letting him use the magic in the stone would help. “Maybe you-,” I started.

“No.” He looked away, looked out the window at the dark city. “You don’t want me to have that. It will only make me want more.” I saw the reflection of his smile in the glass, and it was pure hunger and need, coupled with a willpower I didn’t know he had.

I shoved the stone in my pocket and Shame rubbed his hand on his thigh, as if trying to rub off the sensation it had left behind. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and held it between his fingers, but didn’t light it. He went back to driving like nothing had happened.

Except I could tell his hands were shaking, and he was sweating. Not pain. Hunger.

“What did you see when you Hounded?” he asked as if we were talking about the weather.

This was the weird part. Shame had been raised in the Authority. He knew more political backstabbings and payoffs among the people in the Authority than I’d ever get the inside skinny on. His mother was a voice in the Authority, essentially speaking for every user who trained under Blood magic. He had more connections than Velcro.

If I told him the Authority was behind the breakin, whom would he tell? Did he already know someone in the Authority wanted the disks enough to attack my pregnant stepmother?

There is a reason I am not a spy. I do not do the cloak-and-dagger bit worth a shit. I prefer to lay my cards on the table, and then draw a gun to clear up any misunderstandings.

That meant it was default mode again-the truth.

“Someone from the Authority broke in. Fought with Kevin. Hurt him. Hurt Violet. With magic.”

Shame was silent. I watched his body language. Something like curiosity or like he was trying to figure out where that information fit in with other information.