Devon Monk - Magic In the Blood

“I don’t have a kind,” I said.

Sid patted me on the shoulder. “You do now.”

A motion near the back wall of the room caught my eye. The cutter girl, Tomi, Davy’s ex-girlfriend, shouldered her way across the room. She stopped in front of me and looked me straight in the eye.

“Tomi,” Davy called out from across the room.

She didn’t turn, didn’t look at him.

“Yes?” I asked.

She gave me a bored glare.

“Tomi,” he said again, this time a warning. He got down off his chair and pushed his way through the bodies.

I was looking Tomi right in the eye, so I noticed she waited until he was behind her to talk to me. And it was clear from her expression that she didn’t like me much.

“Tomi, leave her alone,” Davy said.

I don’t think he knew what that single sentence did to her. But I did. I watched as her eyes widened. Then she searched my face as if trying to see what he saw in me. Then she licked her lips and scowled.

Great. It didn’t take a genius to interpret the flash of jealousy that screwed her face into a sneer. That woman had hate in her. And lots of it. For me.

“There’s nothing between us,” I said. Neutral. Calm. Maybe some of Zayvion’s Zen was wearing off on me.

“I don’t owe you anything,” she said loud enough for Davy to hear it. “And I will never follow you.”

“Tomi,” Davy said again.

“Fuck you, Davy Silvers. I’ve had better than you. Bigger than you.” She flipped him off and pushed past me. If Zayvion hadn’t been standing hip to hip with me, I think she would have tried to step on my foot as she went by.

About a dozen people, all young enough I’d card them if they tried to buy beer, filtered through the crowd like strings being pulled out of the weave. Each of them, about an even mix between men and women, glared at me and then followed Tomi out into the pub.

I watched Davy’s face slowly slide from confusion to anger.

“Nice job, Silvers,” Sid laughed. “Chasing away members before we even get started again.”

Davy smiled a tight smile. “Their loss.”

Sid swallowed down his drink. “They’ll be back. Give ’em time to cool off. We all need time to cool off.” He angled a look at me and then at Davy, asking me to do something. Then he walked off to find more booze.

Great. I guess I was the guidance counselor now too.

“You know,” I said to Davy, “I recently told someone that I don’t like it when people decide my future without consulting me.”

“Does this mean you’re backing out?” He looked at me with that hollowed shock of betrayal. He looked lost. I knew how he felt. Pike had been my friend too.

“No,” I said. “It means you better enjoy that beer, because I’m going to keep you so busy being my assistant, you’re not going to have time to drink.”

“Huh.” He took a deep swallow of the beer. “I think you underestimate my multitasking abilities.”

“I think you underestimate my ability to work your ass off.”

That got a small smile out of him. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He hoisted his nearly empty glass. “To tomorrow.”

“To tomorrow.”

We drank on that.

Okay, that was enough red wine before food. My head was feeling a little muzzy. “I think I’m done here,” I mumbled.

Zayvion, who had been quiet, put his hand on my elbow and walked with me out of the room. “Home?” he asked.

“Please,” I said.

Once we got into the car, drenched with the scent of roses, I put the vase of pink flowers on my lap again. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers over my lids. “How did it get so confusing?” I asked.

“What?”

“My life. Everything used to make sense.”

“Did it?”

“No. But at least it didn’t change every few seconds.”

“Some things are the same,” he said.

“Like what?”

“I still owe you a real date.”

I rolled my head so I could see him. He looked good in profile, a strong nose and high-cut cheekbones that gave him that slightly exotic flare. Wide lips, and dark, smooth skin. The note of his pine cologne mingled with the roses and made a new, sensual scent.

“I thought O’Donnel’s was it,” I said.

He looked over at me. “O’Donnel’s was definitely not it. How about we try it again. Tonight. I’ll come by your place around seven. I have reservations at the Gargoyle.”

That was one of the most expensive French restaurants in town.

“Wow, the Gargoyle? Being a secret magic assassin pays good, don’t it?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not about the money; it’s about the health benefits.”

I laughed. I mean, seriously guffawed. Sweet hells, it had been a pretty bad few days.

“Or maybe you’d rather have some time alone tonight?” he asked.

I thought about it. He was probably right; I did need time alone. But what I needed even more was to not be alone.

“Seven is great. Bring your wallet; I’m going to be hungry.”

He looked over at me, and those beautiful brown eyes sparked with bits of gold. “I think I can handle that.”

We arrived at my apartment building and he double-parked outside the front door.

“What are we going to do with all these flowers?” I asked.

“Let me take care of it.” He got out of the car, opened the back door, and gathered up all the flowers.

“A little help with the doors would be nice,” he said from somewhere in the middle of the giant bundle of flowers.

I giggled. “You look adorable, Mr. Jones.” I think the wine had done some damage. Or, I don’t know, maybe it was seeing my father’s body buried or my friend in an urn.

“Door, Beckstrom,” Zayvion growled.

“Hold on, hold on.” I jogged up the stairs and opened the front doors.

“Only three flights,” I said to Zayvion.

He grunted.

I walked up the stairs first, Zayvion silent behind me. I paused at the top of the stairs and looked down the hall. It had become a habit. A sort of dread hit my stomach every time I approached the door to my apartment. I couldn’t help but glance over at the apartment where Frank Gordon had lived. So close. Too close. I hadn’t heard anyone come to clean out his apartment yet. I wondered if he had family.

“Allie?” Zayvion said.

“Fine,” I said. “I’m fine.”

He somehow managed to sort the bouquets and free a hand. He gently touched the side of my arm. “I know,” he said.

And that, a casual acceptance of me, of maybe even all the stuff I’d been through, made me wish he had his arms around me instead of those flowers.

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.” I walked down the hall, unlocked my door, and strode in like I never worried about what might be waiting, lurking for me in my home.

Zayvion took the flowers into the kitchen and set them all carefully on the counter.

“Might need some more vases,” he observed.

I came up behind him and looked around him to the sink.

“Maybe I’ll just float them all in the bathtub.” I drew back and he turned, leaning against the counter.

“If you want those flowers in the tub, you’ll have to do it yourself. I am done hauling these things around for you.”

“Aw. Being a hero is a tough job.”

“It is. Especially when it involves you.”

He tucked his thumbs in the front pocket of his jeans and smiled. Standing there, comfortable and smiling in my kitchen, smelling of roses and pine, and looking like he knew a secret I’d never find out about, he seemed… I don’t know. Strong. A little dangerous. A lot sexy.

So I leaned forward and kissed him.

He put one hand on my hip and gently cradled the curve of my jaw with his other hand. I drew my right arm around him, tucking my fingers in his back pocket.