Devon Monk - Stone Cold

This book never would have seen the light of day if not for the wonderful people who have helped make it happen. Deepest thanks to my agent, Miriam Kriss, and my editor, Anne Sowards, who has an amazing knack for making each book better. A huge thank-you also to the wonderful artist, Mike Heath, and to the many people within Penguin who have gone above and beyond to make this baby shine.

To my first readers extraordinaire, Dean Woods and Dejsha Knight: Your unflagging enthusiasm and support are appreciated more than you may know. Thank you. A big thanks to my family, one and all, for being there for me, offering encouragement, and sharing in the joy. To my husband, Russ, and sons, Kameron and Konner: Thank you for all your love and support. You are the best part of my life, and I love you.

And finally, dear readers, this book is for you. Thank you for letting me share these people, this world, and this journey with you.

SHAME

The door behind Eleanor opened, letting in the March wind, a little rain, and the man I had come here to kill.

The man was a few years older than the photo I’d seen, black hair shot through with gray, white face gone pudgy behind square bifocals. His name was Stuart, and he carried himself like someone who was irritated with his own skin: stiff movements, coat clutched closed with one hand over his stomach, a scowl hammered into his face.

Not what I’d expect a murderer to look like, but then, killers came in all shapes and sizes.

After all, it took one to know one.

He gave the interior of the diner a quick glance. Didn’t notice me because I looked right at home in a diner that hadn’t passed a health inspection for a decade. And although it might be fun, I didn’t go around introducing myself as “Shame Flynn, Death magic user, loyal friend, troublemaker, and the last guy you want to meet in a dark alley if you’ve done something naughty.”

He didn’t notice Eleanor either, but that was understandable.

Eleanor was a ghost.

She sat across from me, long blond hair flowing with an underwater grace as she moved. Soft features, sweet smile, she was beautiful when alive, and still beautiful when dead. She noticed me noticing him. Tipped her head a bit, narrowed her eyes. What? she mouthed.

I couldn’t actually hear her because, hello, she was dead. But I’d learned how to read her lips over the last couple of years since she’d been tied to me.

“Nothing,” I lied.

She, as usual, didn’t believe me.

She scanned the diner, saw the guy take the booth just off to our right, looked back at me. Shook her head.

“Not listening.” I stared at my breakfast so I didn’t have to see her, poked at the waffles. My fork bounced off the hardened whipped cream.

She shifted through our table like someone forging a stream and floated in front of me, half her body stuck in the table.

“Jesus. Do you stay up at night thinking of ways to creep me out?”

No killing, she mouthed. Or maybe it was no kidding . I didn’t say I was good at reading lips.

“Sorry. I made a promise. I never go back on my word.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Lately,” I amended. “I never go back on my word lately. That man.” I lowered my voice because seriously, I did not need to draw attention to the crazy guy who was yelling at his waffles. “Has done unspeakable things to people. With magic. For years. He’ll continue doing unspeakable things to people, with or without magic, because it’s kind of his thing. He should have been dead a long, long time ago. I’m just taking care of business.”

Terric. She pointed at my heart, which wasn’t beating all that well today since it had been a while since I’d killed or consumed. A problem I intended to take care of as soon as the ghost got off her high horse so I could kill the guy.

I lifted my knife and started sawing at the waffles. “Terric doesn’t need to know what I’m doing. If Victor had wanted him to know about the hit list, he would have given him a copy of it. Plus, Terric’s not really a supporter of vigilante justice. Also, he’s been avoiding me , not the other way around.”

Not that I could ever get away from him. We were Soul Complements, Death magic, Life magic. Ever since the magical apocalypse a few years ago had made magic a gentle force, it was just us Soul Complements who could break magic into light and dark and make it do the old, horrifying things.

Well, and the old wonderful things too, but that wasn’t really my department.

I was the guy who handled the darker side of magic.

I’d been a damn fine Death magic user back in the day. And now? Well, now I was death.

While it had its perks, it didn’t come without a hell of a price. I carried death, but if I didn’t let it loose, didn’t let the Death magic in me consume and kill people, plants, or things, then it simply consumed and killed me.

Victor had been a teacher and a mentor in all things magic. The hit list he’d left for me when he’d died had been a blessing for my death hunger. Even so, I was never going to live to be an old man. If the Death magic in me didn’t kill me, it was highly likely one of the murderers I was tracking would.

But I was damn sure going to live long enough to take out as many of the killers as I could before my time was up. It was just my way of giving back, and making the world a little more livable.

Today’s cleanup was on aisle killer-in-the-booth-across from-me. After him, I’d move on to the next on the list. Unless I found Eli Collins.

Eli was at the top of my own personal list of people who the world would be better without. A psychopath and magic user, he’d tried to kill me, Terric, and my friends. He was still suspect number one in the kidnapping six months ago of our friend Davy Silvers, who’d worked as a Hound to track down illegal magic use.

And he’d killed the first woman I’d thought I could take a chance on loving—Dessa Leeds.

I’d been wrong to take that chance, and she had paid the price for my poor judgment.

The only good thing about not finding Eli was that it gave me time to think about exactly how much agony I was going to put him through while I was killing him. His death was not going to be quick or painless.

There had been no hint of where he was holed up, no clue of what the government agency he was involved with had been doing since we’d thrown magic and bullets at each other.

But he couldn’t hide forever. I’d catch his scent, and then he’d be dead.

A cold slap of pain hit my shoulder and forced my attention back on my surroundings. The grease and noise of the diner fell around me again, the heat of the air, the cool of the wind coming through the door.

Eleanor sat across from me, her hand up, ready to slap for attention again. She didn’t need to.

Another man had stepped into the diner and was scanning it.

Terric Conley was a bit taller than me, dressed better than me, and had blue eyes and good looks angels would fistfight for. His hair had been white since the day when we were teens and I’d tried to kill him with magic, which was only the beginning of my life of bad choices.

Taken all together, he was the sort of man women fell for. Unfortunately for women, he was the sort of man who fell for men.

He was also a hell of a Life magic user and, when we admitted such things, my friend and my Soul Complement.

He spotted me and started my way.