Devon Monk - Magic In the Blood

“I work alone,” I grumbled behind him.

“Allie.” He sighed and stopped. He turned to me. “We all work alone. Having Davy watch you isn’t about the job. It’s about you. He’ll have a cell phone on him. If something goes sour, he’ll call 911. Easy as that. So stop whining and shut the hell up. You kids drive me batshit.”

I laughed. I don’t know why. I guess it was I’d never thought Mr. Tough Guy would willingly set himself up for babysitting duty.

“I bet you’re a real hit with the grandkids,” I said.

Pike nodded. “I am.” He started walking again. “So talk to me about seeing ghosts.”

“I didn’t say I’d seen a ghost.”

“You can’t fool a nose. Lies stink.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You stink, Beckstrom.”

“Gee,” I said, “if I knew I was going to get such a great pep talk, I would have come to one of these things a long time ago.”

“Fine. Don’t talk.” We had reached the door at the end of the corridor, which the other Hounds had closed behind them. He rested his hand on the latch to pull it open.

“Wait.” I rubbed at my forehead and gave up on trying to decide if I should be honest with Pike. Who else could I trust? At least I knew he wanted what was best for Hounds. And I was a Hound. So maybe he wanted what was best for me. And if not… well, I’d just deal with that.

“I have seen a ghost.”

Pike let go of the door and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back on a bare stud, patient as a stone.

“I saw my father’s ghost. He said, ‘Seek the dead,’ and he touched me. He smelled like wintergreen, Pike. Just like when he was alive.” I kept my tone and gaze level, even though thinking about it made me feel like I needed to wash again. I was sure Pike noticed my elevated heartbeat, the acrid smell of my cold sweat.

“I saw more ghosts too, but they were different from my dad. Sort of pale pastel colored, with black holes where their eyes should be. But they were still people. I could count the buttons on their shirts, see the laces on their shoes. They touched me too, and it burned…” I pressed my lips together and then let out a frustrated sound. “Don’t just stand there and stare at me. Do you know anything about ghosts? Do you know anything about them messing with magic?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They, some of them, the watercolor ones, suck. Magic,” I amended. “Spells. I could see them when I cast Reveal, and they pulled my spell apart and ate it like it was cotton candy.”

The silence that stretched between us would have been comical if I wasn’t worried that there were things out there-ghostly things-that could do that kind of shit.

“What are you using to manage the pain, Allie?” he asked.

Sweet hells. He thought I was hallucinating.

“Aspirin. Tylenol. Bactine.”

He sniffed but could smell no lie on me.

“I’m not joking, Pike. And believe me, I don’t like standing here in front of you and sounding like an idiot. I prefer to be an idiot in the privacy of my own home.”

Pike looked down at his shoe. “I’ve seen… things. Ghosts, I suppose you could call them. Heard voices, all that.” He looked back up at me. “But I’ve been in wars, Allie. And wars either blind a man or open his eyes to things he can never look away from. I figure some of the things I’ve seen have more to do with that than actual spirits. You seeing your father, I can understand. It’s hard to lose a parent.”

“He said, ‘Seek the dead,’ ” I said. “Does that mean anything to you?”

He shook his head. “Not enough to go on. Maybe he was trying to tell you we all end up there-dead-someday. No way to know.”

“I guess not,” I said.

“Now, the other ghosts you’ve seen-the magic eaters? I’ve been around this town for almost as long as magic has been in use, and I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I know what I saw,” I said.

“Didn’t say you didn’t. So let’s assume you saw ghosts-or something-that could take apart a spell like cotton candy and eat it. If there really is something out there like that, then we might just have a problem on our hands.”

Had a real flair with the understatement, that man.

“Have you talked to anyone else about it?”

“I mentioned ghosts to a friend of mine. I didn’t talk about the magic eating thing.”

He stared off in the middle distance, obviously rolling options around. “I’ll ask some people I know. But I think the best way to find out what you’re experiencing might be to ask Stotts about it.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t work so good for me,” I said. “I have a strict rule: only one person per day gets to find out how crazy I am. Plus he’s signing my paycheck. I don’t need him thinking I’ve gone insane.”

“I see,” Pike said. “When you decide to stop being such a pansy ass and worrying about what people think about you instead of your own safety, talk to Stotts. He has the inside track on a lot of the weird shit that happens in this town.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a jerk?”

Pike grunted, but it sounded more like a laugh. “At length. Now talk to me about Trager,” he said.

“First tell me what happened to your hand. It was bleeding this morning.”

“That’s none of your business, Beckstrom.”

We stared each other down until I got tired of it.

Jerk.

“I had a little meeting with Lon Trager today. On the bus.”

So much for Pike the jerk. Even though he didn’t move, didn’t twitch, he transformed into Pike the killer.

“Explain.” Cold as steel.

“He sat next to me. Had six of his thugs with guns with him. Told me he wanted me to do him a favor, and all the bad blood between us would be forgotten. He said he wants to make nice.” I waited, but Pike didn’t say anything.

“He wants me to bring you to him. By midnight tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And he got some of my blood.”

We both knew what that meant. Trager intended to use my blood with magic. I, however, didn’t know what he might want to do with it other than cast that glyph thing he’d left on my thigh. I hadn’t studied blood magic in school. Probably because it was illegal.

“What do you think he’s going to do with it?” I asked.

Pike was looking straight at me, but I could tell from his unfocused gaze that it was not me he was thinking about. He was weighing possibilities, costs, outcome.

“Nothing good,” he finally said. “I want you to let me take care of him.”

“Like hells I will. Weren’t you just saying we have to watch each other’s backs? Hounds don’t Hound alone and all that crap? Trager wanted both of us there. Wanted me to deliver you to him. I’m not going to be left behind and killed because you want to take him mano a mano.”

Pike’s face flushed, and I could see the veins at his temples. He was very, very angry. At me. I braced myself, ready to yell it out or, hell, fight it out with him until he realized how stupid it would be for him to take care of Trager alone.

But Pike did not yell. He closed his eyes and rubbed his palm over his face. “Allie. This is between him and me.”

“No, Pike. It’s not. I know you want to kill him for what he did to your granddaughter. But it’s time to stop being pansy asses and acting like we don’t need help. We should go talk to the police about this. We should get protection-both of us. I have proof that can put him in jail-he threatened me and stabbed me in the leg. No one can tamper with that evidence, and I can’t be bought. Let’s get him legal, so legal he’ll never see the light of day, never hurt anyone’s granddaughter again.”

Pike pulled his hand away from his face. He didn’t look angry. He looked tired.