Magic on the Storm (12 page)

Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be doing any better if it were Zay in that cage. Chase
was handling this a lot better than I would, even if she hadn’t come to see
Greyson before now. And it didn’t take a genius to know she had just come from
seeing him.
The woman radiated a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe stronger than any Repel spell she
could have cast. It worked like a charm. Everyone steered a wide berth around
her and left her alone.
Another person detached from the shadows beyond the archway and walked in
behind Chase.
I’d wondered when he was going to show up.
Jingo Jingo was a big man, not like Hayden, who had height to balance out his
width. Jingo was just heavy. There was something about him that made him seem
even bigger. He had an immensity that took up more room than his bulk
justified. He radiated a dark presence as if shadows and other, haunting things
clung to him. The light, pouring down from the high rafters, couldn’t clean the
room of it.
He bothered me, even when he was laughing like he was everyone’s friend. I
didn’t trust him. I didn’t like him.
He rambled over to Chase, right into her leave-me-alone zone.
Fire, meet oil.
I thought for sure Chase would give him hell. But when he neared, she seemed to
cool down, her fire snuffed to ash, her anger suffocated, gone dead as he reached
out and stroked her arm reassuringly. Her shoulders slumped, her head fell back
to rest against the wall behind her, and she closed her eyes. She looked
exhausted.
And when he spoke—a low rumble I couldn’t pull into words—she opened her eyes.
She looked like a lost child, hopeful, maybe even desperate for his
reassurance, his guidance. She did not look like the powerful, angry Closer I
knew.
What was he doing to her? What was he telling her? What had they done down
there with Greyson?
“Allie?” Zayvion said.
Right. He had been asked to do something. Look over Victor’s plans or
something.
“See you soon,” I said.
Zay walked off with Victor, both heading toward Chase.
Even though Jingo Jingo did not turn around, as soon as Victor and Zayvion were
on their way toward Chase, he dropped his hand off her arm.
Chase seemed to come to, and get her bitch back on. She scowled at Zay and
Victor, and made it clear she didn’t like following them to one side of the
room where Terric and a small group of other people—Nik and Joshua and maybe
three others, probably all Closers—stood.
Closers. People who could reach into someone’s mind and take away their ability
to use magic. People who took away memories.
Maybe I wanted to know what they were talking about. Especially if it had to do
with the removal of memories—I had Hounds on the street I needed to look after.
Got halfway across the room too before Shame fell into step with me.
“Don’t know what’s stuck in your craw,” he said, his breath heavy with beer and
cigarette smoke and that clove scent that was all his own, “but you got
company.”
“What?”
I’d been so focused on studying the faces and body language of the group of
Closers at the front of the room, I didn’t notice everyone was looking over at
the main door.
And standing in the doorway was someone who most definitely should not be here.
Davy Silvers.

Chapter Nine
D
avy hadn’t stepped through the doorway. He had good instincts. The ward
on the door would push him out or knock him unconscious if he stepped in. But
the room wasn’t covered in Glamour or Illusion. Instinct might tell him not to
step in, but his eyes showed him exactly what was going on.
People went back to talking, ignoring him, and acting like this was just a
normal sort of meeting for some normal sort of business social.
I don’t think Davy was convinced. But it wasn’t the confusion on his face that
I was worried about. It was the pain.
I turned and strode across the room, Shame ghosting me, and made it to the door
in a few seconds flat. Davy’s bad habit of following me around since Pike’s
death didn’t make living three lives, all filled with secrets, and none of
which could be shared equally, any easier. Every time my lives crossed, like
now when Davy the Hound was sticking his nose into the secret business of the
Authority, it set my teeth on edge.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Boy looked like death on a bender. He didn’t smell of alcohol. No, he just
stank of sweat and pain.
“Where are you hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Hello,” Maeve said, coming up beside us. “Can I help you?”
Davy squinted over at her, like the light in the room was too much. Migraine?
Concussion? “I need to talk to you,” he said to me, eyeing Shamus. “Allie.
Could I talk to you? Now.”
“Do you need help?” Maeve asked, a little less hostess, and a little more
concern. I liked that she didn’t immediately try to send him on his way. Maeve
was one of my favorite teachers.
“This is probably Hound business,” I said to Maeve. “I got it, thank you.” I
walked through the door and Davy backed off. The ward was good. Built to let
the right people out and to not let the wrong people in.
Davy paced the porch. I reached back, intending to shut the door, but Shame was
there, and stepped out with us.
“You want me to drive you to the hospital?” I asked. I’d long ago learned there
was no use being subtle with Hounds. Too much substance abuse, too many
overdoses, from dealing with the constant pain of using magic, for subtleties
to get through to a reasonable mind.
“I didn’t do it,” he said, his voice tense, too high.
“All right. Do what?”
Davy turned, the yellow light of the porch lamp revealing his tortured
expression. “I think it’s Bea.”
“What’s Bea?”
“I think she’s hurt.”
My phone rang, and Davy and I both jumped.
I fumbled with my jacket pocket and pulled out my cell.
“Hello?”
“This is Stotts. I need you to Hound a case. Meet me at Third and Southwest
Main.”
“When?” I heard the sound of traffic behind him.
“As soon as you can.”
I did a quick calculation. How long would it take me to drop Davy off at the
hospital, or at least get him in the hands of someone else who could keep an
eye on him? Like maybe over to the warehouse and have Grant look in on him, or,
hells, back to his own apartment, not that I knew where he lived.
“Can you give me an hour?”
“Allie.” Stotts paused, took a breath. “One of your Hounds is down. I’ve called
911. She’ll be on her way to the hospital soon.”
“She?” I glanced up at Davy, who had his arms crossed over his stomach and was
standing there, rocking a little on his feet, miserable.
“Beatrice Lufkin,” Stotts said over the sound of a siren growing louder in the
background. “Whatever happened to her, there’s a hell of a lot of magic
involved. But it’s fading fast.”
My heart punched my ribs like a fist.
“I’ll be there.” I shoved the phone in my pocket. “Shame? Tell Zay—no, tell
your mom that I had to handle a Hounding job. Thank her for inviting me to the
get-together tonight.” What more could I say with Davy listening? “I’ll call
her later tonight if I can. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Are you going alone?” he asked.
“No. Davy’s going with me.” Davy’s head lifted at the mention of his name. His
eyes, for the briefest of seconds, flashed red.
It might have been my imagination. Or it might have been magic.
Weird.
“You have the keys to your car?” I asked.
Davy fumbled in his jeans pocket, held out a set of keys with a plastic frame
attached to it. In the frame was a picture of him and Tomi in one of those
photo booths. They were kissing, Tomi’s hand stretched out to try to cover the
camera.
I put my hand on Davy’s arm to help him down the porch steps.
“Stotts, right?” Shame asked.
“Yes.” We were already on the gravel. “I’ll have my phone on.”
Davy walked with me, not nearly as light on his feet as he usually was. He
breathed a little too hard, and was covered in sweat even though all he was
wearing was a T-shirt and jean jacket in the below-thirty-degree weather.
We made it to his car, and he didn’t even argue when I helped him slump into the
passenger’s seat.
I got in the driver’s side, started the car, and got us across the parking lot
and onto the access road.
“Talk to me,” I said. “How badly are you hurt?”
His eyes were closed, his head against the headrest. He’d tried to buckle his seat
belt, pulling it across his chest, but given up short of actually clicking it
into place.
He didn’t say anything until I hit the road that ran parallel to the river and
would get me to one of the bridges and back across the river to Portland.
“Ever since I got out of the hospital, I’ve felt it,” he said quietly. “When
Hounds are hurt. I told you that, right?”
He had. Well, he’d told me he could tell when Tomi was hurting. But he sure as
hell hadn’t mentioned how debilitating it was to him. “You said you felt Tomi.
You feel the other Hounds too?”
“Sometimes. When the pain’s big. When it’s magic.”
“Is it always this bad?”
“No. Headaches. Muscle aches. But this . . .” He was quiet for a little bit and
I noticed his breathing was more even.
“It felt like I was on fire. And where there wasn’t fire, I was numb.
Freezing.”
“You Proxying for anyone?”
“No.”
“None of the Hounds? Not even Tomi?”
His breathing hitched, and it took him a little longer to answer. “No.”
I didn’t smell a lie on him.
“Where were you when this happened?”
“Here.”
“The car?”
“Yes.”
“Driving?”
“Parked outside the inn.”
“Davy, how many times do I have to tell you to stop following me? That was a
private business meeting between a lot of investors who want their interests in
Beckstrom Enterprises kept quiet. If they find out I have a Hound on my heels,
it could seriously damage my dad’s company.”
I’d kept that lie ready for months now.
He mustered a small smile, but still hadn’t opened his eyes. “You don’t like
your dad’s company.”
“No, but I like Violet and her baby having enough income to keep them out of
the poorhouse. Hells, everything I’ve done to get the Hound warehouse up and
running was funded by my stake in that company. And my dad is dead. It’s my
company now.”
“Like they’d kick you out if I followed you.” This time he turned his head and
opened his eyes. Red flashed there again, and I smelled a different scent on
him. Something sweet like cherries, but different, muddied by other smells.
Magic. That was certain. But whether he was using it, or it was being used on
him, I didn’t know.
How long could the effects of what Tomi had done to him last? It would help if
I knew exactly what Tomi had done to him, but the only one who knew that was
caged in the basement of the inn, and he was not the talkative type.
“Okay, I’ll say it one more time,” I said. “You have to stop following me.
There are personal things I don’t want you involved in. Business things that,
yes, would get me kicked off the board running Beckstrom Enterprises. These
people don’t see you as just a Hound. They see you as a possible information
leak. As someone who probably does drugs to kick the pain, and who wouldn’t
take much to become desperate enough to sell what you know, what you’ve seen,
for your next fix.”
Yes, I was lying. And even though I was pretty good at it, because some of what
I was saying was true and I’d been working on a bulletproof explanation for
some time now, I was also hoping he was in enough pain, or distracted enough,
he wouldn’t scent the lie on me.
“Nice bunch of people you do business with,” he said. His voice was a little
stronger and he didn’t seem to be sweating quite so badly.
“Business isn’t about friendships. It isn’t about nice,” I said. “Everyone has
their own interests to protect.”
“And you’re protecting your money.” He rolled his head forward to look out the
front window. “Sweet of you.”
“No. I’m protecting the people I care about. Violet. My sibling. The Hounds.
And that means you, Davy. But so help me, if you don’t smart up and listen to
me this time, I am going to report you to the police for harassment, stalking,
and anything else that will keep you from getting in trouble. Or getting me in
trouble. Do you understand that?”
“I heard you,” he said. But from the set of his jaw, he wasn’t listening.
Stubborn, angry young man.
“I should take you home.”
“Thought you had a job lined up with Stotts.”
When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “You’re such a hypocrite. All Hounds
need a backup. Those are your rules. Yours. I’m your backup tonight.”
“My backup can’t stand.”
“Since when do you need me to do jumping jacks?” he asked. “I just need to
watch. I won’t get in the way. You know I’m good at that.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I want to see what happened to Bea. Want to know what I felt, if I really felt
it.”
We were on the bridge now, and traffic was light, since it was pretty late and
there weren’t any big games or concerts letting out.
“Please,” he said. “I need to know I’m not going insane. That magic . . . that
it didn’t screw me up, permanently.” And the last bit was quiet, wrenched out
of him like he was angry with himself for even saying it. Or just very, very
afraid it might be true.
Magic in me pushed, warmed under my skin, and left a prickly itch behind. The
lights on the bridge flickered for a moment, went dark. The magical backup
generators for the lights did not kick on.
Davy felt the drop in magic too. He grunted. “What was that?”
Lights, regular electric lights, flicked back on, burned bright.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. I had ideas. The storm was brewing. They didn’t know
exactly when it would hit. They thought we had a few days. They could be wrong.
We were on the other side of the bridge. Davy didn’t say anything. Just waited
as I slowed the car, weighing my odds of actually getting him home, out of the
car, and locked in his apartment while I used his car to get to Stotts.
Wasn’t gonna happen.
I headed into town.
“Thanks,” he said. He didn’t say anything else until it started raining.
“Wipers are on the left.”
I flicked them on. Glanced at him. His eyes were closed again. Still tired, but
the pain seemed to have passed. Maybe the pain was physical. Side effect from
his head wound, from his collapsed lung. Appendix or something.
Magic wasn’t the only way people got hurt.
“I noticed Zayvion was there,” he said.
“And?”
“I didn’t think he had an investment in your dad’s business.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I said. “We have an investment in each other.”
“And Shame?”
“Anyone tell you how nosy you are?”
And how damn observant?
I thought.
“No. I usually keep my nosy questions to myself.”
“Shame’s mother owns the inn. She used to know my father. They weren’t friends,
but she is a smart business-woman. If you were paying that close of attention,
you also noticed he’d had a couple beers. I don’t think he was there to enhance
his portfolio. I think he was there for the free booze.”
Davy smiled again. “My kind of guy.”
“Do not make friends with him,” I said. “He’s trouble.”
“And I’m not?”
“No, Davy,” I said, angling the car toward Chapman Square. “You’re a good kid.
If you’d work on your pain-in-the-ass tendencies, you’d be real nice.”
“Too bad that isn’t going to happen anytime soon,” he muttered. “Real nice
doesn’t get you very far.”
“Real nice can keep you from getting beat up,” I said.
He smiled. “Right. Maybe we should both work on it, then.”
Like I said. Pain in the ass.
The blue and red lights of the ambulance glided over the dark, magic-caged
buildings that surrounded the area. I spotted the MERC’s cleanup van, and a few
people who might have been Stotts’s crew moving around in the shadows. The
ambulance was just easing away from the curb, lights on, but no siren. I wanted
to follow it, go to the hospital, make sure Bea was all right.
I briefly considered sending Davy along to do just that, but his eyes were
closed. Kid was in no shape to drive. From the pace of his breathing he’d be
asleep soon.
Police tape and traffic cones sectioned off part of the park, which as far as I
could see was empty. I didn’t know what job Bea would have been Hounding.
Sometimes a Hound was hired by the city to make sure there wasn’t any magical
mischief going down on city property, but usually Jack took those calls. I
searched my memory, wondering if he or Bea had mentioned going to Hound Chapman
Square.
“Davy?”
He sucked in a quick breath. I’d just woken him. He blinked, sat a little
straighter, got his bearings pretty fast, and glanced over at me. “Yeah?”
“Did Bea or Jack say they were doing the park?”
He looked out the window at the police tape. “No. Not at last week’s meeting.
Maybe a last-minute jobber?”
“Maybe.” I parked the car a block away. “Stay here. Get some sleep. I’m going
to be right over there with the cops—”
“The cursed cop,” he corrected.
“Allegedly cursed cop,” I said. “Stay here. Do not walk out on that street. Do
not drive this car. You are too tired, and would probably get yourself killed
if you tried to do either.”
He shook his head. “You just can’t give a guy a compliment, can you?”
It wasn’t a promise. But it was all I had time to get out of him.
I left the keys in the ignition and got out of the car. I still wore the void
stone necklace. I couldn’t take it off and leave it with Davy. If he touched
it, he would know it was a kind of magic unavailable to the common user, and
then he’d start digging for answers. Luckily, I could cast magic while wearing
the stone—it just made it a little more difficult.