Devon Monk - Hell Bent

I dug down deep, down beneath the darkness, looking for the shreds of me that were still Shame. Held that up like a familiar mask.

“You have a laundry line?” I asked. “How eighteen hundreds of you, Beckstrom. What’s next? Indoor plumbing?”

And for the first time, I realized the extent of my disconnect over the last week. Because everyone in the kitchen let out the breath they’d been holding, and chuckled.

It was not that funny of a joke.

But it was a start.

The gathering was just what Terric said it would be. A bunch of us sitting around, talking, eating, drinking. Nola had outdone herself with the cooking and forbade us all to give her any more compliments about it since she was blushing so hard.

Detective Stotts was there too, being very nondetective. I appreciated that he didn’t ask a lot of questions when certain details came up about Victor’s death.

Like the fact that Terric and I had gone off looking for his killer on our own. Though from the look on his face, he’d have us down to the station soon to talk.

Allie and Zay sat in an oversized chair, curled up with each other, Stone sitting next to them like their own private guard gargoyle.

Allie had made sure there was a comfortable place on the couch for Terric. Dash sat at the other end, trying not to stare at Terric too much, which I thought was amusing.

The rest of the group included Clyde, a few of the Hounds, but not Sunny, who had been told the bad news of Davy being held captive. She was busy coordinating every Hound in a three-state area looking for him. The police were also looking for him and so were several members of the Authority.

As soon as I got my head clear, I’d be looking for him too.

Eventually Kevin Cooper, who was a longtime member of the Authority and a close friend of Victor’s, showed up along with his wife and Allie’s ex-stepmother, Violet Beckstrom-Cooper, who had been a more recent friend of Victor’s.

They’d also brought baby Daniel, who was a little over three now. He ran through the room, headed straight for Stone, who tipped his ears up and caught Daniel in his arms. Then that big pile of rock wrapped his wings gently around him and snuffled at his neck, making rumble-gurgle noises.

Daniel squealed in delight.

Cody Miller was there too. It wasn’t too long before he was standing in front of me. Looking down at me with ice blue eyes that looked too old and too mad.

“Cody,” I said, holding my Shame mask firmly in place and wishing he would go stare at someone else.

“This will be interesting, I think,” he said. “And I’m going to help you with it, Shame. When you’re ready.” He walked away.

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. And didn’t ask.

But it was my mum showing up that really made me want to crawl out of my skin.

Terric must have felt it, because he speared me with a look to keep me seated.

Mum looked great, really. Had pulled her red hair up in a loose knot that made her green eyes wider. She was fit, strong, wearing slacks and a sweater, and when she smiled, the lines around her eyes were more from happiness than pain.

She and Hayden had been staying at his place in Alaska for the last couple years, though they came down three or four times a year to check in on the inn, friends, and, I supposed, me.

“Maeve,” Allie said. “It’s so great you made it. When did you get in?”

“Last night,” she said. “Well, early this morning. We got a little sleep before we headed over. I brought a couple pies. They’re in the kitchen.”

Allie stood, gave her a hug. “Wonderful.”

Zay was standing too, shaking Hayden’s only hand. Zay was a big man. But Hayden was a damn giant. Dark hair, trimmed beard, he’d put on a few pounds living with my mum’s good cooking. He grinned at Zay, genuinely looking happy to be back.

“Shamus,” my mum said.

“Hello, Mum,” I said. “Have a seat?”

“Why don’t you help me with the pie?”

“I can—” Nola started.

“No,” Maeve said. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”

I glanced over at Terric. Wanting him to make an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to my mum. He just raised his eyebrows and gave me a mind-your-mother look.

Bastard.

“Shamus,” Mum called from halfway across the room. “Come with me. Now.”

“Better just do it, son,” Hayden said in his rolling baritone. “She is not a woman who likes to be kept waiting.”

He heaved his bulk down into a chair gratefully and got busy catching up with Kevin and Zayvion.

No one was even looking at me.

I wiped my fingers over the top of my lip, clearing the sweat there. I did not want to talk to my mother about what had happened. Didn’t want her to see what I had become.

I didn’t remember walking into the kitchen. One minute I was sitting; then I was in the doorway, unable to make my feet go any farther.

“Do you know where she keeps the serving knife?” She wasn’t looking at me.

I tried and couldn’t find a way to say anything.

“Shamus? Son?” She looked over at me.

Something changed in her as she studied me. She put down the plates and crossed the room. Then tugged me in, away from the door, away from where anyone would see me.

And wrapped her arms around me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Her familiar perfume and warmth surrounded me, comfort I had known all my life. It had been years and more since she’d held me like a frightened, broken child.

But I didn’t pull away.

“Ah, my love,” she said gently. “Someday your heart will mend. Someday the pain will become a part of your memories instead of your every living moment.”

I realized she wasn’t talking about me grieving Victor’s death, though I was certainly doing that too. She was talking about Dessa.

“Wh-who told you?” I asked around the pain in my chest.

“About Dessa? Zayvion.”

I pulled back from her embrace, wiped at my face to keep the tears from falling. “He’s such a mother hen.”

She tipped her head and smiled gently. “He told me you killed, Shamus. With magic.”

“You know what I am,” I said softly. “What I’ve become.” I pulled my shoulders back, wishing I could put more space between us, but not wanting to leave her comfort.

“Yes,” she said, touching my cheek with her fingers. “You are my son. A man I am proud of.”

“No. Not . . . now. I am death.”

There it was, the truth. She studied me, then pushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Well, then, death needs a haircut.”

“Mum!” It was such a motherly thing to say.

“It is the truth,” she said. “And much truer than the nonsense you’re telling me. You carry Death magic, Shamus. But you are still a man in control of it. And you have handled that heavy responsibility better than ninety-nine percent of the people in this world.”

“By killing people?”

“Death comes to us all, my child.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed like she was grossly oversimplifying the situation. But then, Mum had seen my dad killed, her friends possessed, destroyed. She’d raised a Death magic user, and had already seen what hellish thing I could become, back when I’d ripped Jingo Jingo to bloody shreds.

She was, I realized, very comfortable with the workings, and reality, of death. No wonder she was nonchalant about it.

“True,” I said.

“Good.” She drew her fingers along my cheek one last time and looked at me as if sizing me up for a new suit. “Now help me with the pie.”

I did that, and mostly managed to handle myself in the rest of the day’s conversations.

The other Soul Complements had cleared out of town. So had the Overseer, though Clyde had kept him informed on everything that was happening.