Magic in the Shadows (32 page)

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Authors: Devon Monk

BOOK: Magic in the Shadows
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I was exhausted. Tingling. I felt like I’d just taken a few hits of pure oxygen. Zayvion’s strong, wide body felt so right. This felt so right.
Why had I ever doubted him? Us?
He took a deep breath and kissed my shoulder, my collarbone. I moaned softly, pulsing gently to his touch, as he gently drew away from me and shifted to lie next to me.
I rolled onto my side, toward him, my back to the door. He wrapped his arms around me.
He stroked the curve of my cheek and temple with his thumb, calling magic to rise softly, then fall like mist away from his touch. “I never want to hurt you.”
It was a strange thing to say after making love.
Not knowing what else to do, I just nodded.
We lay there a while. I wanted more, wanted to make love to him again. Instead, I drifted off to sleep.
 
A knock at the door woke me.
“I’m going out.” It was Nola. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen for both of you. I’ll be down at the courthouse, and later with Detective Stotts. I should be back around six.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. Bye.” I clutched my blankets like they were going to fly away.
Zayvion wiped his hand over his face and grinned at me. “You didn’t forget she was here?”
And I knew I was blushing because I felt the heat of it spread across my chest and up my neck and face.
“No,” I lied. “Of course not.” I waited until I heard the front door close and then pushed the covers off. I felt the need to be dressed now. Just in case someone or something else decided to drop by. I found clean jeans, panties, bra, a tank, and green sweater. I managed the panties on my own. Then picked up my jeans.
“Gonna go that alone?” Zay asked.
The man lounged in my bed like a cat claiming a sun-beam, stretched out with only the corner of the blanket over his hips. I literally had to wait a second to get my breath back. It didn’t help when he smiled and stretched, flexing all the muscles down his hard stomach.
Maybe all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed with him.
“You offering to help?” I asked.
“Could. Might cost you.”
“So you’re going to blackmail me and leave me naked?”
Zayvion sat up and pulled to the edge of the bed. “You do see where it might be in my best interests to do so.”
“I can get into my own damn jeans,” I said.
“You didn’t ask what it would cost.”
“And I’m not going to.” I held the waistband, got one foot in, pulled the jeans up, reached my good hand across to get my other foot in, pulled the jeans up. Getting them over my hips was a little trickier and involved a lot of shim mying and wiggling.
I even zipped and buttoned the button. “Ha!” I said triumphantly.
“Very, very nice.” Zayvion lifted his gaze from my chest, a wicked grin on his face.
I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or a bra. I’m sure I’d just given him quite a show.
“Bastard.”
“Worth it,” he said. “Need any help with your shirt, or would you like to prove it’s better if I stay out of your way with that too?”
“Get out.”
He stood, the sheet dropping completely away, then stretched before finding his boxers.
Okay, I really didn’t want him to leave.
I pulled my gaze away from his fine body and worked on getting into my bra. I got both straps over my shoulders, but couldn’t twist my arm backward to fasten the hooks.
Zayvion silently made his way up behind me.
“Hands off, flyboy,” I said.
“Promise I’ll be good,” he said. “Just use a couple fingers and a thumb.” He did just that, only one knuckle brushing my spine as he hooked my bra. Then he stepped back. “How’s that?”
“Nice.” I turned and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder. So much for the tough-girl act.
He held me, waiting to see where I would take this. I had all sorts of ideas of where I wanted it to go, but my stomach rumbled. If I was going to be using magic today at Maeve’s class, I’d need food.
I let go of Zay, gave him a small smile. We both wordlessly went back to getting dressed. I managed the tank on my own, but by the time I found my sweater, I was tired and my shoulder was sore.
“How bad is my shoulder?”
Zay pulled his shirt down. “It’s healing. You have a couple punctures.”
I held out my sweater for him. He took it, and without a smirk, without a single smile, he helped position it over my head, and held the sleeves so I could push my arms into them.
“Anyone call a doctor?” I asked.
“As I understand it, Nola called her physician back home and asked him if he thought you needed medical care. He didn’t seem to think so. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“Right now, I just want some of that breakfast I smell.”
Zayvion and I explored the kitchen together and discovered sausage, eggs, and pecan-maple French toast. We moved well together, comfortable in each other’s space. I liked that. It had been a long time since I had someone around me, this close to me, who made me feel good.
We also discovered a note from Davy that said,
Hound meeting 7:30, same place.
A phone started ringing, and I got up from the table to answer it. Except it wasn’t my phone.
Zayvion pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. I didn’t think he had a cell. This thing looked more like a Victorian card case, with metal swirls and gears and beveled glass and tinted mirrors. It took me a second, because I guess I was just slow today, but I finally recognized a Shield glyph etched into the case.
Heavily Warded didn’t begin to describe that thing.
“Yes?” he said.
Whoever was talking on the other line was quiet enough I couldn’t hear them, not even with my acute hearing. Either that or the phone had some sort of Privacy or Mute spell worked into it too.
All I know is the man before me went from a happy lover to a blank wall of Zen.
“Yes.” It was one, stilted word. The answer of a man having to fulfill an unwanted duty. I wondered who it was on the other line and what they had asked him to do.
He hung up and pocketed the phone.
“Nice gizmo, Batman,” I said.
He frowned, and it was strange to see him try to figure out what I was saying. That call must have shaken him up more than I thought.
“The phone,” I said. “It’s neat. All magical and stuff.”
He nodded. “I need to get you one like that. You said your cell keeps dying, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s because of how much magic you use. Hold in you. The Wards on it help with that.”
“Great,” I said, feeling like he and I were talking around whatever was really going on. “Is everything all right?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It is.” At my look, he said,“It’s just a job. I need to take care of something. I thought I had the rest of the day before . . . before I had to go.”
He went silent and somber. I tried to lighten things up. “No rest for assassins.” I caught myself on the last word, and Zayvion gave me a sharp look.
“You aren’t going to kill someone, are you?” See how understanding and supportive I could be?
“No,” he said. “Not today. Not this job.” He gave me a hard smile, and I had no doubt that he had killed in the past. And would kill again.
Hells. Now, that was a way to blow all of the fun out of the room.
Still, that’s what Zayvion was—an assassin, a magic user, a Closer. He was also a lover, my lover, and someone who had done his best to help me, and other people in the past. I wondered whether one thing balanced the other.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“No. It’s fine. I know . . . it’s fine.” He took a breath and let it out again, pulling his Zen back over the top of the killer.
“Do you want me to pick you up here?” he asked.
“Why?”
“To take you to Maeve’s today.”
That’s right. I’d forgotten about class again. Ten o’clock or she’d get demon diaper rash or something.
“Sure,” I said. “Around nine thirty.” I gathered up our plates and coffee cups and took them to the kitchen sink. I walked back to the living room.
Zayvion stood at my window, curtains back just enough so he could see the street below. It was six o’clock, and false dawn was beginning to polish the edges of night.
“Huh,” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He let the curtain drop, picked up his coat, and put it on.
“Good luck,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “Be safe.”
“I will.” He touched my arm. “Be careful.”
With that, he walked out my door.
I stood there, not doing much more than staring at the walls and thinking about too many things. A lot had happened in a day.
Which reminded me. I was seriously behind in my journ aling. I pulled my book out of my coat pocket, and the small manila envelope that Violet had given me fell out onto the floor. I was surprised I hadn’t lost that in the fight.
My self-defense list. Might need to make a few calls on that before Violet sent the Beckstrom Enterprises henchmen out to get me.
I took the envelope and journal with me back to the living room and tossed the envelope on the table. That could wait. I found a blank page in my journal and quickly recapped everything that had happened in the last day.
Just reading it made me tired.
I got up and pulled back the curtains, looking outside just like Zayvion had. I didn’t recognize anyone on the street. The city looked normal. I looked across the street and up. There, on the rooftop opposite my building, sat a hunched and familiar form.
I doubted anyone except Zayvion would even look up and see the gargoyle sitting on the roof of the building, his wings pressed against his back. Not because you couldn’t see him in front of the heating vents. But most people did not look up as they went about their daily motions.
Stone’s head was tipped so he looked not out over the building like most gargoyles in architecture, but down at the street. Specifically, down at the street in front of the door to my building.
Well, it looked like I had myself a big ol’ watchdog.
I stared at him for a bit, but he did not move. I didn’t know if that was because dawn was coming on, turning him to inert stone, or if he was pulling the immobile-statue bit for his own reasons.
Either way, I liked the thought of him being out there. Sort of like a big, dumb pet rock guardian angel.
The memory of him tearing into the Necromorph flashed behind my eyes. Correction: big, dumb, deadly pet rock guardian angel.
I let the curtain fall, and straightened the living room and kitchen—not that either needed much cleaning. Nola visiting had some extra advantages. I tried reading one of the several paperbacks I’d been picking my way through, but didn’t have much luck. After reading the same page three times I gave up and opened the manila envelope.
Violet knew how to do her research. Five brochures fell out, each with a photo of the instructor and staff, and a note card with her list of pros and cons attached.
I scanned them. Put two back in the envelope just because the instructors looked too damn smug, and spent some time comparing the remaining three. Two male instructors, one female. All offered a variety of training, from weekend self-defense classes to lifelong fighting disciplines. Not having much to go on, I decided to just call all three and make appointments to meet them.
But before I could dial, the phone rang.
I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Allie?” The voice was young, a woman. I couldn’t quite place it.
“Yes?”
“This is Tomi.”

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