Devon Monk - Magic to the Bone

Great.

The thick smell of onions and olive oil and garlic got through my stuffy nose and did some work clearing my sinuses.

I walked into the restaurant, noted two men at a table to my right, and a woman—not Bonnie—at a table to my left. They didn’t glance my way as I walked in, so I didn’t spend any more time looking at them.

Boy looked up though. Looked up, and looked shocked.

The question was, why? Because I was walking in, or because Zayvion was walking in behind me?

“Morning, Boy,” Zayvion said. “I’ll have a coffee. Two?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I just need to use the phone. Is that okay?”

Boy scowled at Zayvion and didn’t answer.

I was at the counter now, in front and to one side of Boy so I had a good view of half the room. Zayvion was directly in front of Boy, holding out a dollar like he was daring Boy to take it and get the coffee he hadn’t bothered to pour yet. Something was wrong. Boy smelled like fear, and his breathing was a little too fast.

“Where’s Mama?” I asked more quietly.

Mama came out of the kitchen, right on cue. If I didn’t know how much she hated technology of every kind, I’d say there was a hidden surveillance system set up. She looked like she was in a rush, her hair pulling free from a clip, her apron stained with flour and grease.

“I told you to go away,” Mama said as she hurried behind Boy. She pointed at me. “You. Out.” Then she pointed at Zayvion. “And you . Out. Out of Mama’s restaurant.”

She was breathing too hard too. She looked worried, maybe afraid. I’d never seen her afraid. Not even when Boy lay dying on her countertop.

“I just need to use your phone,” I said. “I can pay.”

“No.”

I leaned forward, lowered my voice so the patrons wouldn’t hear. “I need to call the police, Mama. Someone’s trying to kill me.”

She pulled herself up, put on a regal poise. “You leave. Now.”

“Why?” I seemed to be asking a lot of that lately. “I just need to make one phone call.”

“No public phone.” She pointed at the door behind me.

I glanced over at Zayvion. He had put the dollar away, which was probably smart because Boy didn’t look like he was pouring coffee for maybe the next century or so. He had gone back to reading the paper and glancing off toward the stairs at the back of the room.

“Are you in trouble?” I asked Mama.

She scowled.

And then the other Boy, James, Mr. City Slick, Mr. Magic-and-Danger-in-the-Night, Mr. Reptile, slunk out of the door from the stairwell.

A couple of things happened at once. Boy stiffened. Mama’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. Zayvion became so quiet and calm he might as well be a potted plant. James-the-slimy paused, licked his lips, and stared straight at me with a look of sheer terror, then a gleefulness that was frightening. I know ’cause I was staring right back at him and wishing, right that moment, that I was maybe anywhere else.

“Hello there,” James practically purred. “How nice of you to come back again. May we help you?”

Mama was quick on her feet. She glanced up at me, her eyes too wide. Then she turned on James like a five-foot hurricane.

“They leave. They leave now. You go do dishes. Dishes!”

James crossed the room, a static smile on his face. “Of course, Mama. I was making sure our guests—” Here he looked from me to Zayvion. And a strange thing happened. His smile drained away and his face became blank, then worried.

“Yes?” Zayvion prompted. “Your guests?”

“Of course, guests,” James picked up smoothly. “That our guests wouldn’t perhaps like a table? Some breakfast?”

“No,” Zayvion said. “We didn’t come here for the food.”

I knew the dynamics had just suddenly shifted. James was on the defensive instead of the prowl, and Zayvion was looking more like a man who had authority, maybe even power, instead of a homeless drifter.

Sweet hells, I was going to need a scorecard to keep up with this man.

James, however, seemed to know Zayvion, seemed to know Zayvion had the upper hand, and didn’t like it. “Why else come by our fine establishment if not for Mama’s cooking?” James asked.

“We’re here to use the phone.”

James shook his head. “It’s not working today. Mama forgot to pay the bill.”

I knew it was a load of crap. Zayvion probably knew that too, but the thing I couldn’t figure out was what these two were really talking about. I got the feeling they were squaring off against each other over old grudges.

For all I knew it could be a drug deal that had gone wrong.

Lovely.

All I wanted was to call the police. And if I couldn’t do that here, I needed to be moving, moving on before Bonnie and her gun caught up with me.

James took a step toward me. “I would be happy to help you, maybe drive you somewhere?”

From the corner of my eye I could see Zayvion stiffen, and that sense of authority he emanated became one of danger.

Oh, there was no way I was going to get in the middle of this—whatever this was.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I got it covered.” I turned and started walking toward the door. I glanced at Zayvion, but he did not move to follow me, which was weird.

James laughed. “You don’t have to run away, Beckstrom,” he called. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

He started after me but Zayvion stepped in front of him.

“You know what?” Zayvion said in his calm, slow, Zen-like voice. “I changed my mind. I think I would like a cup of coffee. Be a pal and get it for me.”

I kept on walking toward the door. I knew the beginning of a fight when I saw one. I already had a woman out to kill me. I didn’t need to add two crazy men to the parade.

“You scared off your girlfriend, Jones,” James said.

“She’s fine,” I heard Zayvion say as I stepped through the doors. “She’s just fine.”

I pushed through the door into the cold and rain, and got walking. I was not his girlfriend, or at least I didn’t think I was. Still, Zayvion was buying me some time. It stung that Mama had turned me away when I told her I was in trouble, but Zayvion was right. I was just fine on my own. Better than fine. The best.

The bars along the street were all closed, and every time a car crawled down the street I expected Bonnie to jump out and shoot me.

My need to find a phone was strong, but the need to not get shot or kidnapped while finding said phone was even stronger. My heart beat so fast I couldn’t think straight.

My dad was dead. And someone had killed him.

A truck roared by and I almost screamed. Okay, I was losing it.

I hustled down the next alley and leaned against crumbling stucco. The tears I was holding back were mixing with panic. It was getting hard to breathe around all that. I pressed my hands over my face and bent down, trying to hold myself together.

Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart.

I sucked in air around the sob in my throat, and did it again until I could do it silently. I just needed a little time to think. I hadn’t been doing enough of that lately and I was making stupid mistakes.

To sum up, I had some problems. One of which was a Hound on my trail. If she were any good, and I had to assume she still was, despite the painkillers, she’d already be sniffing out North Portland.

There weren’t a lot of ways to throw a Hound off your trail. One way was to not cast magic so there was no signature to follow. So far, so good on that. Other than the snap of light in front of her face, I’d stayed clear of magic use. The other way was to physically mask your smell. But you needed something really strong and natural to the area to work effectively, to help you fade like an invisible woman into the surrounding woodwork. What around here could mask my olfactory identity?