Devon Monk - Magic to the Bone

Five Hounds sniffing the same hit would find subtle differences if there were any. If five different Hounds said I did it, even I would think I did it.

But I had zero recollection of killing my father. I’d think a person would remember such a thing. I think I would remember it, memory loss or no memory loss. I would have felt it. I would have tasted it. It would still be in my hands, in my lungs.

“How do you know all this, Zayvion? Are you a cop? A reporter? How do you have all this inside information that I don’t have?”

“Allie, I’ve told you all that. Don’t you remember?”

That hit me like a punch to the gut. I did not remember. If he had come clean about who he was and what he did and why he was always following me around, it had fallen down the same twenty-four-hour black hole growing in my head.

I opened my mouth to tell him “How about we just pretend I don’t remember and you can tell me again,” but Cody let out a piercing, childlike scream of glee that reminded me why I never wanted to have a child.

He stood and pointed at the window, and once he ran out of air he filled up again and kept on screaming.

Nola moved around the table and put one hand on his outstretched arm. “You need to be quiet now, Cody. Use your inside voice. Use your words. Tell me what’s wrong.”

But Cody was not listening. He pushed away from Nola and hurried over to the window, still screaming.

Zay was on his feet and moving toward him now. Even though Cody acted like a kid, he was still a man, and none of us knew enough about him to know what he might do.

Cody pressed his palms flat against the window, then switched so only his fingers were touching the glass. He wiggled his fingers as the pale yellow light of the rising sun filtered through the branches of the willows beyond the road and spilled like ghostly honey across his hands.

He stopped screaming, transfixed by the sight of sunlight on his hands. Then he looked up and through the window. “Sunshine,” he said softly. He looked over his shoulder at Nola. “Sunshine.”

Wow. The guy really liked sunshine.

Back on the table, the kitten stuck her paw in the milk, slipped, and dunked her face in it. She mewled and Cody reluctantly turned away from the sunshine to retrieve her. “Sunshine, Kitten,” he said. “Sunshine.” He picked her up, but became confused as to what to do with the milk-soaked cat.

Nola handed him a towel and he dried her feet and face.

“Zayvion,” Nola said. “Stay here with Cody, please. Allie, let me get your clean clothes for you. Do you want to shower?”

“All right,” I said.

Zayvion cleaned the table, taking dishes to the sink, and I followed Nola to the laundry room.

“What?” I asked her when we got there. Her not-so-subtle attempt to get me away on my own meant she wanted to talk to me without Zay around.

“I’ve been thinking about everything you told me last night, and I have a couple questions.” She opened the clothes dryer, letting out the floral fragrance of fabric softener. She pulled out my jeans, T-shirt, socks, and underwear, and dropped them all in my arms.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure Cody had been stabbed?”

I leaned my hip against the washer. “Yes. It wasn’t an Illusion, or a scratch that looked worse than it was. I know a bad puncture when I see one. And this one was sealed with magic.”

Nola leaned against the dryer and crossed her arms over her chest. “Did healing him have anything to do with the marks up your arm?”

I nodded.

“You don’t think you can do it again?”

“Nola, no one’s ever done that. You can’t just pluck magic out of the ground and make it do anything you want it to do. You have to study, learn the shapes it will accept, memorize the glyphs, mantras. It’s work—hard work—and it hurts if you do it wrong. It hurts even if you do it right. To just suck up a handful of magic and wave it at someone until they stop dying is impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“Improbable. To the extreme,” I added.

“So who can manipulate magic that way?”

I knew what she was getting at. “Nola, I am so not a Savant.”

“I don’t know about that, Allie. You did really good in school.”

“I flunked every course. The only reason they didn’t kick me out was because my dad owned half the building and staff, and I left before they got up the nerve to tell him I sucked.”

“I think you may not remember all the details of college.”

I scowled. “It’s been recently pointed out to me that my memory isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“And you often lose bits of your memory when you use magic, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But not every time?”

“No. And before you ask, I don’t know why. I don’t know why magic sometimes takes my memory and sometimes doesn’t.”

“Still, you remember healing Cody, even though you were manipulating far more magic than you usually do.”

“Nola, just say whatever you’re getting at.”

“Allie, you are a Savant whether you want to admit it or not. I know it, Zayvion knows it, I think your father knew it, which is why he wanted you to get so much schooling, and also why he wanted you involved in his business. You have the ability to use magic in amazing and powerful ways.”

“Like to kill my father?” I asked quietly.

Nola just looked at me. “Do you really think you could do that?”

“I don’t know,” I said in a small voice. “I’ve been really angry at him for a long time.”

“And you never killed him. Why would you do so now?”

I rubbed at my uncombed hair. “He put a hit on a little boy, Nola. A good kid who didn’t deserve to take the brunt of my dad’s business maneuverings. It was like the last, worst thing I could handle letting him get away with.”

“Do you really think you could have killed him?”

I thought about it. I’d been angry—furious. Magic never works when you are in a highly emotional state. I knew that was true of everyone, no matter their level of proficiency—no matter if they were dumb to it or a Savant. I’d gone to my dad to make him pay for his actions. But even then I knew Boy had gotten to a doctor and I was sure Mama would make a pretty penny suing my dad for all she could get. I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to stop using money and power as an excuse to do horrific things to people who did not deserve it. But I did not, deep down, want him to die.

“I haven’t told anyone this,” I said. “Cody said he knew who killed my dad. He said he was there when it happened.”

“Did he say you were there too?”

“I don’t think so. He was babbling, but he seemed pretty . . . adult about it. Which is strange, considering what we’re seeing in the kitchen.”

“You haven’t told Zayvion that Cody might have information?”

“No. I’m not sure how much I should trust him.” I could feel the hot prickle of a blush rise up my face. “I know. Last night I was stupid. But now . . .” I lowered my voice and leaned toward her. “What if Zay just wants to get in good with me because I’m about to inherit a lot of money, and one of the biggest power broker companies in the business of magic? He might even work for one of the corporations that have been after Dad’s patents for the Storm Rods for years.”

“Or,” Nola said, “maybe it’s as simple as what he told me. That he worked for your father, and realized he liked you too much to spy on you anymore.”

“He told you that?”

“When you first came, and he and I were getting Cody to bed.”

“And you think it’s the truth?”

Nola tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure. He seemed sincere. I think we can safely assume he finds you attractive.” She paused while I blushed again. “But there’s something about him that gives me pause. I think you pegged it when you said he was insular.”