Magic in the Shadows (27 page)

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Authors: Devon Monk

BOOK: Magic in the Shadows
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“Oh, absolutely not,” I said. “I will not have someone breathing down my neck every second of the day.”
“Then take the training.”
The woman was relentless.
“And if I don’t?”
“Beckstrom Enterprises will take appropriate steps. Allie”—she pressed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and folded her fingers together—“personal preferences have to be put aside when you are dealing with a corporation this large. There is a lot riding on you and your majority share. The stockholders have some say in how you live your life. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but it’s true. For years, your father was able to keep that pressure off you while you grew up, went to school. But he’s gone now. Now you have to step up to the realities of living a public life.”
“Gee,” I said, “I know I brought enough money for dessert and coffee; does the lecture cost extra?”
Violet smiled, which I hadn’t expected. I bet she was the head of her debate team in school. “You are so like him. I know that doesn’t win me any favors. Still. It’s true.” She took another drink of her coffee. “Stubborn, sarcastic, annoying.” She flashed me a smile. “But funny.”
Funny? My dad? The flutter behind my eyes scraped and scraped. I rubbed at my forehead and tried to will him away.
I picked up my plate again and finished the torte so I had an excuse not to look at Violet.
“Have you thought about your role in the company?” Violet asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Well, mostly I’ve thought about how much I don’t want to have any role in the company.”
“Really.” She didn’t sound surprised, just curious. “So you don’t want to take a major position?”
“What, like CEO? No. I’d like to have some say in what happens, but I don’t want to bother with the day-to-day decisions. Or paperwork. Or boardroom meetings. I’d like some money set aside that I can access for myself and for causes I am sympathetic toward. Maybe that money could be sheltered so my decisions on how to use it don’t reflect poorly on the company.”
“Why? Are you going into smuggling? Drugs? Weapons?”
“Worse. I’m thinking of creating some kind of insurance plan or resource for the Hounds in the city. I know Dad never approved of what I did.”
Violet took a drink of coffee and shrugged. “I think he wanted better for you. A safer career. Something more certain. But I don’t think he was ashamed that you are a Hound.”
“Yeah, well, I have my own opinion on that.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m comfortable with your interests being associated with Beckstrom Enterprises. But this is something we should have the lawyers work out. Would you be willing to meet with someone?”
“When?” I asked.
“I’ll have to contact everyone and see when it would work. Hopefully in the next week or so.”
“Okay,” I said. “Oh, and what do you think about me giving you the CEO position in Beckstrom Enterprises?”
“Huh.” It came out like someone had slapped her hard on the back and she’d lost her breath. She frowned and took another sip of coffee. “Let me think about that. You know your father’s will left me comfortable financially, and I own the condo and many of his other assets.”
“This isn’t about the money,” I said. “Well, I mean, it is about the money, but that’s not the only thing it’s about. I think you and I would work well together, even if we don’t always agree.”
“I’m not so sure. . . .”
“And,” I cut her off before she could protest any further. “That will keep the business in the family. For the, uh, future. You know.”
“You mean for your brother or sister?”
And all that scraping and fluttering in my head went dead still.
“Yeah,” I said, because it was too late to deny it now. “For that.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said again.
Somewhere in the center of my head, Dad jerked on something. It felt like he had a rope around my neck. He pulled so hard, I inhaled. Everything went black for a second, but I heard my own voice say, “I love you.”
“What?” Violet said.
Kevin choked on his coffee, then cleared his throat.
Oh, sweet hells.
I pushed against the wall of my dad blocking me from control of my own mouth. He didn’t fight me; maybe he was too weak to fight me. I stumbled back into my conscious mind like I’d missed the last stair. Which is to say, not very gracefully.
I stood, because it was time to get out of here before my dad did something worse.
“I’d love you to think it over,” I said.
Nice save. Go, me.
“Call me when you decide, and let me know when you want to meet with the lawyers.”
I pulled on my coat.
“Okay.” She sounded a little confused. “And you’ll tell me which self-defense instructor you choose.”
Kevin pointedly handed me the manila folder, which I shoved in my pocket.
“If I choose one,” I said.
“I’ll know if you don’t.”
“Not sure that I care,” I said with a smile. I tossed my share of the tab down on the table. “See you soon.”
“Good night, Allie.”
I strode away, but not before my Hound ears picked up Violet’s last comment. “I don’t think she understands the danger she’s in.”
And Kevin’s reply. “She will.”
Chapter Ten
 
I
was restless, wanted to be on my feet, moving, thinking, doing. My apartment wasn’t exactly within walking distance; still, I walked a little while before catching a cab. Halfway to my apartment, I decided I wasn’t ready to go home yet. I asked the driver to drop me off about six blocks from my house and got out. I stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to just walk home and let the cold, damp air clear my head, or if I wanted to go out for a while, get away. Maybe spend some time in the comfort of Get Mugged.
It didn’t take me long to decide. I wanted warmth, light, and a crowd around me. Get Mugged it was. I started down the hill. The air was bitter cold, the light of dawn hours off. Most of the bars were just getting going this time of night, but I wasn’t about to go wandering through dark alleys or unlit parking lots. I stuck to the streetlights, to the bus lines, and kept a good pace.
Just as my muscles were beginning to warm enough that I could really stretch into the walk, and I was actually a little more relaxed and a little less restless, I heard the sound of footfalls behind me.
Someone was following me.
I took a deep breath, searching for a scent.
The smell of blackberry burned down to a bitter, thick tar, the jarring scent of bubble gum and booze, and the dark heat of copper. The same smells from the Necromorph in the alley. The same smells from the job I Hounded for Stotts.
The wind shifted just enough to bring the smell closer, stronger. My heart skipped a couple beats.
That thing, that man-thing was here, on the streets. Stalking me.
Holy shit.
Panic drew delicate fingers through my stomach and legs, leaving behind a weak, watery sensation. I didn’t know how to defend myself against that thing. I didn’t think I could outrun it. Zayvion had been very clear that I should not throw magic at it.
Think, Allie, think.
Camouflage
, my dad whispered in my mind.
Holy hells, I had forgotten he was there. I don’t know how I had forgotten, since I was still pissed at him for taking over my mouth, but right now, I was glad he was with me.
How screwed up was that?
Cast Camouflage
, he said again. Along with that came the memory of the butterscotch-and-rum spell Zayvion had thrown around us in the alley.
That was a great idea. Terrific, really. Camouflage had kept us hidden before I messed things up.
Only problem? I had no frickin’ idea how to cast that spell.
I can talk you through it
, Dad said a little louder, a little stronger, the presence of him growing bigger in my head.
I can teach you.
And while, yes, warning bells went off in my head—I did not trust my father, had never trusted my father—that thing trotting between buildings behind me was possibly worse than my father. Maybe even probably.
Not by much, but the devil you know and all that.
Fine
, I thought at him.
What do I need to do?
Put a wall to your back. A strong building, not abandoned.
I didn’t know that it mattered what kind of wall was behind me, but magic, especially spells I’ve never cast, can be tricky the first time. If Dad said I needed a good wall, I’d find a good wall.
I picked up the pace to a jog, falling into a rhythm of breathing that helped clear my mind. I didn’t know if that thing could smell fear or panic, but just to cover my bases, I decided I was not going to panic.
I jogged past plenty of buildings. How hard could it be to find a strong wall?
It was impossible.
All the buildings along this block were either separated by fences, or because of the slope in the hill, were too far above me.
There—a five-story stucco jobber with wide, fancy framed windows. Even better, the streetlamp poured enough light on the building that I should be able to get to the wall without stepping on homeless people or barging into the middle of a drug deal or something.
No, too much light
, my dad said.
The creature was gaining on me. I could hear it closer, louder every few yards I ran, and my dad was critiquing my choice of hiding places.
How fandamtastic was that?
Up ahead was a one-story cedar-shingled shop huddled between two higher buildings. It was set back from the sidewalk a couple yards, but seemed to be in good repair. No light reached the walls and the windows were dark. Perfect crack house.
This one? I thought.
Perfect
, he said.
Lucky in every way. That’s me.
I jogged down the short brick walkway to the door and ducked into the shadows there, pressing my back against the wall.
The thing was close. Its snarl echoed from a block away, and I shivered from the sound of it. Not human enough to be a man, not animal enough to be natural.
What do I do?
I thought as calmly as I could.
The snarl came closer, maybe two buildings back. Tracking me.
Clear your mind
, he said.
I thought calm thoughts like my life depended on it. Which, strangely enough, it did.
I recited a mantra, the Miss Mary Mack rhyme, until my racing heartbeat and thoughts slowed, became calm as still water.
Very good
, he said with the strangest tone in his voice. Approval, I think, but I wasn’t sure. I’d never heard him use it before.
Let go of your hands, and I will use them to trace the spell.
What? Use me? My body? Oh, hells no.
I stay in the driver’s seat
, I told him.
Just tell me what to do.
There is no time
. He pressed outward, spreading like a heavy ache, reaching into places in my mind I was positive I didn’t want him touching.
No
, I pushed back at him, trying to picture him trapped in a small corner of my head, a small room where he could not get out, could not touch me, could not make me do what he wanted me to do for him. A place where he could talk to me, maybe do charades through a window at me, but not touch me, or take me over.
If you fight me, he will see me—see us
, he corrected.
Just tell me how to cast the damn spell
, I said. Because he was right. We were out of time. The thing, the man-dog thing, had paused, right out there on the sidewalk where I’d been standing a moment ago.
The wind was blowing toward me, which meant he might not be able to smell me. For once luck was on my side, but I didn’t know how long it would hold.
Tell me how to cast Camouflage
, I said again.
If that thing kills me, you aren’t going to have anyone’s mind to hide in anymore.
It is too complicated.
And this time it wasn’t approval in his voice, it was anger. And fear.
Yeah, well, welcome to my life.
The creature hunched his far-too-human shoulders, hung his head, and scented the wind. He moved toward me, on all fours, human hands curled under so only the knuckles touched the bricks, body a tragedy of bone and sinew and maggot-white skin. He looked bigger than before. Stronger.
If you don’t give up
, I said to my dad,
we’re both going to be dead.

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