Devon Monk - Hell Bent

I took a deep breath and savored the silence and bliss filling me.

It had been a long time since I’d felt so good.

Dessa picked up her beer, then sidled over to me and slipped her arm around my back. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed her temple. She took a drink of beer, then tucked her head into my shoulder.

“Shame,” she said quietly against my chest.

“Hmm?”

“This is nice.”

“But?”

“No. Just this is nice,” she said. “Better than I expected.”

I chuckled. “How badly did you underestimate me, darlin’?”

“No.” She took a drink of beer, was quiet for a minute. “I underestimated myself. How . . . how I would feel about you.”

“That makes two of us,” I said. “I’m surprised how much I feel about me too.”

She slapped my stomach.

“Ow,” I chuckled.

“What about me?” she asked, shifting so she could look up at me.

I didn’t want to lie to her. So I didn’t.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else in my life,” I said evenly.

She nodded, understanding, I thought, the rarity and truth of that statement. She let go of the breath she was holding. “To tomorrow,” she said, holding up her beer.

“And all our days after that.” I clinked my bottle against hers, took a drink.

A simple toast to hide a lingering promise. That maybe we’d do this together for a while, see if two lives could become one.

That’s when I heard the car engine approaching, the gravel shifting beneath the tires. Someone was coming our way in a hell of a hurry.

Here’s the thing about having an assassin as a girlfriend: she didn’t ask me who I thought it was, didn’t ask if she needed to grab her things, didn’t ask what she should do. She was out of the kitchen before I was, and up the stairs for her things.

I went to the window, looked out.

It was Terric’s car.

This wasn’t good. This couldn’t be good.

He parked as close to the door as he could without plowing into the place and left the engine running.

I strode over to the door, wishing I’d put on my boots and grabbed my coat before I’d come downstairs. Or wishing I’d told Dessa to get them for me.

I pulled the door open. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

Terric was shock-pale, his hair pulled back in a band tight against his head. His eyes were bloodshot red, and his heart was pumping too fast, erratic.

“Victor,” he choked out. “He’s been hit.”

“How bad?” I asked.

Terric just shook his head.

“Fuck. Where is he? Terric, where is he?” I reached out, dropped my hand on his shoulder. My touch seemed to help him focus. He swallowed.

“I don’t know, Shame. I think his house.”

I didn’t ask him why he had come all the way out to the inn before going to Victor’s to check on him. I didn’t ask how he knew he was hurt. I’d find that out on the way over.

“Give me your keys.”

He dropped them into my hand.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Here are your shoes.” Dessa was right behind me.

I turned. She’d put on her coat and shoes, and from the cut of her jacket, and the duffel bag in one hand, I knew she also had her guns.

But along with her things, she’d had the foresight to bring me socks, shoes, my sweater, and the baseball bat.

I loved a woman who was steady in a crisis.

“Get him in the car,” I said. “I’ll drive.”

Dessa took Terric’s hand and said something to him in a soothing tone. He went with her, and sat in the backseat of the car, which showed me how confused he was. She got into the front.

I pulled on socks and boots, pulled on my coat, and picked up the baseball bat. Then I locked and shut the door and ran to the car, Eleanor right behind me.

I slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted it for my legs instead of Terric’s, and got us out of the parking lot as fast as I could.

“Tell me what happened, Ter,” I said. “Tell me what you know about Victor.”

“I got a call. From Davy. He only got a few words out. That Victor had been hit.”

“Did you call Victor?”

“Yes. He didn’t answer.”

I was taking the fastest route I could to Victor’s house, and was going eighty-plus. This time of night at least I didn’t have to worry about traffic.

“Did you call the police?”

“N-no.”

“You just drove straight out to the inn?”

“Yes. You were there.” He was starting to sound a little clearer. I don’t know how he’d managed to drive in the state of mind he was in.

“Do you have your phone?” I asked.

He sat up a straighter and checked his coat pockets. “Jesus,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Hand it to Dessa.”

“I can do it,” he said. “Hello,” he said to Dessa, as if just noticing her in the car.

“Hey,” she said back.

“Call Stotts,” I said. “Dessa, do you have a phone?”

I’d left mine in the room, but she pulled hers out.

“I need you to dial this number.” I told her Allie’s number. She dialed.

I took the phone from her, each ring an eternity. What if Victor wasn’t the only one who’d been hit?

Stotts must have answered almost immediately because Terric was already talking, and as far as I could tell, his voice was steady, and he was giving clear information.

“Jones,” Zay answered.

“This is Shame,” I said. “Victor’s been hit. Davy got a message to Terric. We’re on our way to Victor’s now—”

I braced, ran a light at speed, and avoided a head-on collision with a garbage truck.

“Shame?” Zay said.

“Keep your eyes open and be ready in case anything’s coming your way,” I finished. “I’ll call in when we know more.”

“Keep it tight,” he said. “Listen to Terric.”

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Terric looked like he’d finally shaken off his confusion and had gotten his head straight. “I’ll do that,” I said.

I handed Dessa the phone, then slowed to seventy or so as I navigated the neighborhood streets.

Came up on Victor’s house. The cops hadn’t made it here yet. We were out of the car before the engine stopped growling.

Dessa pulled her gun. My gun was also somewhere in my room with my jacket. Neither Terric nor I carried any weapon other than the magic at our fingertips. I glanced over at him, checking to see if he was together enough for this.

“I’m clear,” he said without looking at me.

I got to the front door first. It was locked. But then, if Eli had used that gate technology, he wouldn’t need to open the door.

“Shoot it,” I said.

Dessa stepped up, shot it without hesitation. Then she shouldered into the room, gun raised.

Damn it. I did not want her in harm’s way.

And there was the drawback to having an assassin girlfriend.

“Victor!” I yelled. No answer. “Fuck.”

I took off running to the living room and kitchen. Terric ran past me to the bathroom and bedroom.

Victor was an uncle to both of us—no, more than that. A father when my father died. A trusted counselor when Terric had lost his ability to use Faith magic. A steady wisdom and calm voice throughout all the pain and struggle and uncertainties of magic, the Authority, and our place in the world.

He had, in a very real way, made us the men we were.

He trusted us, demanded the best of us. He stood by us when we took on the challenge of building a world where magic was no longer a secret.

I knew the moment when Terric found him. Knew it even before I heard Terric’s anguished moan. Could feel the pain and sorrow like a shot straight through Terric’s heart, tearing through mine.

Victor was dead.

I knew it as I ran to Terric, knew it as I stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. Terric knelt on the floor next to the bloody, broken form of Victor.