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Authors: Devon Monk

Stone Cold

BOOK: Stone Cold
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PRAISE FOR THE

ALLIE BECKSTROM NOVELS

Magic for a Price

“Breathtaking. . . . Monk is a storyteller extraordinaire!”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A must read for those of you who like urban fantasy. . . . Allie Beckstrom, it has been a blast.”

—Claire's Book Corner

“The action comes to a blazing crescendo.”

—Gizmo's Reviews

“Deserves to be savored . . . amazing and incredibly satisfying.”

—A Book Obsession

Magic Without Mercy

“Urban fantasy at its finest . . . every book is packed with action, adventure, humor, battles, romance, drama, and suspense. . . . Clear your calendar. Once you start reading, you won't want to stop.”

—
Sacramento Book Review

“Fast-paced, action-packed, and jammed full of all manner of magical mayhem.”

—Monsters and Critics

“A roller-coaster ride. I simply could not put it down!”

—A Book Obsession

Magic on the Line

“Dark and delicious. . . . Allie is one of urban fantasy's most entertaining heroines.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Allie Beckstrom is one of the best urban fantasy heroines out there.”

—Fresh Fiction

“An action-packed series.”

—Night Owl Reviews

Magic on the Hunt

“An absolutely awesome series.”

—Night Owl Reviews

“Another nonstop adventure.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Amazing urban fantasy . . . this is one series that I can't get enough of, and I really love how kick butt Allie is.”

—Seeing Night Book Reviews

Magic at the Gate

“The action-packed fifth Allie Beckstrom novel amps up the magical mayhem. . . . Allie's adventures are gripping and engrossing, with an even, clever mix of humor, love, and brutality.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Devon Monk takes her story to places I couldn't have dreamed of. Each twist and turn was completely surprising for me.
Magic at the Gate
truly stands out.”

—Reading on the Dark Side

“A spellbinding story that will keep readers on the edge of their seats.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Suspense is the name of the game. . . . I'm really enjoying this series. . . . Each book brings you a little bit further in to it and leaves you wanting more.”

—Night Owl Reviews

Magic on the Storm

“The latest Allie Beckstrom urban fantasy is a terrific entry. . . . This is a strong tale.”

—Genre Go Round Reviews

“First-rate urban fantasy entertainment.”

—Lurv a la Mode

Magic in the Shadows

“Snappy dialogue, a brisk pace, and plenty of magic keep the pages turning to the end. . . . This gritty, original urban fantasy packs a punch.”

—Monsters and Critics

“This is a wonderful read full of different types of magic, fascinating characters, an intriguing plot. . . . Devon Monk is an excellent storyteller.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Monk sweeps readers up in the drama and dangers of the heroine's life as it steadily changes and grows . . . an intriguing read with fascinating characters and new magical elements introduced to the mix.”

—Darque Reviews

“The writing moves at a fast pace with plenty of exciting action. . . . This series just gets better and better with each new book.”

—Night Owl Reviews

Magic in the Blood

“Tight, fast, and vividly drawn, Monk's second Allison Beckstrom novel features fresh interpretations of the paranormal, strong characters dealing with their share of faults and flaws, and ghoulish plot twists. Fans of Patricia Briggs or Jim Butcher will want to check out this inventive new voice.”

—Monsters and Critics

“[A] highly creative series. . . . If you love action, magic, intrigue, good-versus-evil battles, and pure entertainment, you will not want to miss this series.”

—Manic Readers

“One heck of a ride through a magical, dangerous Portland . . . imaginative, gritty, sometimes darkly humorous. . . . An un-put-downable book,
Magic in the Blood
is one fantastic read.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“This series uses a system of rules for magic that is original and seems very realistic. . . . The structure of the story pulled me in right away and kept me reading. There's action, adventure, fantasy, and even some romance.”

—CA Reviews

Magic to the Bone

“Brilliantly and tightly written . . . will surprise, amuse, amaze, and absorb readers.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Mystery, romance, and magic cobbled together in what amounts to a solid page-turner.”

—SFFWorld

“Loved it. Fiendishly original and a stay-up-all-night read. We're going to be hearing a lot more of Devon Monk.”

—#1
New York Times
bestselling author Patricia Briggs

“Highly original and compulsively readable. Don't pick this one up before going to bed unless you want to be up all night!”

—Jenna Black, author of
Rogue Descendant

“Gritty setting, compelling, fully realized characters, and a frightening system of magic-with-a-price that left me awed. Devon Monk's writing is addictive, and the only cure is more, more, more.”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Rachel Vincent

BOOKS BY DEVON MONK

The Broken Magic Series

Hell Bent

Stone Cold

The Allie Beckstrom Series

Magic to the Bone

Magic in the Blood

Magic in the Shadows

Magic on the Storm

Magic at the Gate

Magic on the Hunt

Magic on the Line

Magic Without Mercy

Magic for a Price

The Age of Steam

Dead Iron

Tin Swift

Cold Copper

STONE COLD

A BROKEN MAGIC NOVEL

Devon Monk

ROC

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York10014

USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

penguin. com

A Penguin Random House Company

First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

Copyright © Devon Monk, 2014

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

ISBN 978-1-101-60888-3

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Version_1

Contents

Praise

Books by DEVON MONK

Title page

Copyright page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

 

Excerpt from HOUSE IMMORTAL

For my family

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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.

Chapter
1

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.

“Make room, Boy Scout's here,” I muttered to Eleanor.

“Shame.” He stopped at the table, glanced down at my plate of sawed-off waffles, strawberries, and whipped cream. “Breakfast? Why are you eating breakfast here? Now?”

“Mum kicked me out. What's wrong with here and now?”

“For one . . .” He glanced back across the diner, then at me. “This place is a dump. And secondly, you promised you'd go with me to a meeting today.”


I
promised?”

“Okay, fine. I promised. Allie and Zayvion want you there. Us there,” he corrected.

Allie and Zayvion were our friends, and also Soul Complements to each other. Zayvion had run with Terric and me when we were young bucks growing up in the Authority under Victor, and Allie was the daughter of one of the Authority's richest, and more conniving, members.

The Authority wasn't the same after the apocalypse. No need for a secret organization to keep the darker uses of magic secret since magic had been tamed and fully revealed to the public.

“Busy. Sorry.” I hacked at the waffle with the wholly inadequate knife. Switched to the fork and shoveled waffle and whipped cream into my mouth. Chewed. And chewed. And kept on chewing.

Tough didn't describe this mouthful of particleboard. Kevlar had more give. And taste, come to think of it.

“Just . . . come, Shame,” he said. “Allie wants you there.”

Ever since Allie had gotten pregnant, she was all sorts of unpredictable in the emotional department. I found it endlessly entertaining. Terric had taken to tiptoeing around her and doing everything she asked of him, and Zayvion had threatened to tie my spine in knots if I riled her up again.

I spit the waffle into the napkin. “If I don't?”

Terric raised an eyebrow. “You need me to threaten you?”

“Might be amusing.”

“I can promise you the follow-through would not be.”

Had some fire behind those words. Man could deal out the hurt when he wanted to. Apparently my not going to see Allie and Zay would make him want to.

“What the hell kind of meeting is it, anyway? You and I are no longer employed by the Authority.”

“We aren't the head of the Authority,” he corrected. “It doesn't mean we aren't a part of it.”

The killer at the booth had finished his coffee and small bowl of oatmeal. He tossed cash on the table, pushed up on his feet, glanced over at me when he thought I wasn't looking, and walked out the door.

Damn it. He knew I was tailing him.

I could kill him from here. Without even standing up. Without even laying a finger on him. I could reach out, let the Death magic inside me pop his heart, blow his brain, drain his lungs.

Just the thought of it made my heart race.

Eleanor glared at me and shook her head, then pointed at Terric as if she was going to tell him what I was thinking.

I still hadn't quite figured out why she was so concerned about me. I was, after all, the bloke who had killed her and then hog-tied her spirit to my mortal coil. Another bad life choice.

I took a couple even breaths and shouldered into the death hunger, pushing it away. Terric was saying something, but I was a little busy, thank you, trying not to blow a kill zone a block wide.

Finally the hunger released and my heart came back down to human rhythms. It was painful and heady and I was still starving.

“. . . drunk?” Terric asked.

“Yes.” I had no idea what he was talking about. Hoped it was that we should get a pint or two.

While I'd been wrestling with my inner death, Killer Guy had strolled out of my reach.

Great. There went two weeks of hunting down the drain hole, thanks to Mr. We-had-a-date.

“Still drunk or already drunk?”

“What? Neither. Cover that for me, will you?” I said. “I left my cash in my other coat.” I stood, wavered a little. I really needed to consume something, or someone, real soon now.

Eleanor pointed at Terric.
Life,
she mouthed.

I ignored her.

Why not?
she mouthed.

“Reasons,” I said to her.

“What?” Terric asked. He'd dug a bill out of his wallet and slipped it between the salt and pepper shakers.

“For the meeting,” I said. “Why are we going? Is it about Davy Silvers?” I strolled toward the door and he followed. March meant rain, and today was no exception. I stepped out into the downpour.

Terric flipped his collar before taking the plunge to the sidewalk. “Weren't you listening?” he said. “Never mind. Don't answer that. No. Nothing new there. We still haven't found Davy, Eli, or where the government has them stashed.”

“So, what is it about?”

We strode down a block or so to his car—double-parked. Every heartbeat from the people around us was a finger plucking rhythm against my spine. Forty-seven lives in the office building, twelve in the coffee shop, eight in the bank.

He didn't say anything more until we got into the car.

“How's Eleanor?” He couldn't see her unless he drew on magic to do so, but lately he made it a point to ask about her. Which she loved.

Women.

She smiled, then made pointy motions toward him again.

“Still dead,” I said.

She slapped me in the back of the head. Ow. Brain freeze.

“Also, angry.”

“What about?”

“Who can tell? Female things?”

She took another swing at me, but I leaned forward out of her reach, fake-checking my bootlaces.

Terric glanced over. “What is
wrong
with you today?”

Time to change the subject. “I could ask you the same thing, mate.” I straightened, checking to make sure Eleanor was done with the smacking. She crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at me.

I gave her a wink and a grin.

Terric started the engine. “What do you mean?”

“You're avoiding my question. You didn't get in until five this morning. You paced until six. It's what, nine o'clock?”

“Ten thirty.”

“You've had three hours of sleep, which is the most I've seen you get all week. It's not like you to miss your beauty shut-eye.”

He locked his jaw. Uncomfortable subject. I should probably just leave it alone.

So of course, I didn't.

“Come on, now, Ter. Gotta new guy working your night shift?”

He stopped for a light. Pedestrians without umbrellas took their time crossing the street.

“I've been . . . keeping busy,” he hedged. “Looking into things.”

“Do these things have names? Social Security numbers? Memory foam mattresses?”

He didn't say anything.

“Look at you,” I said. “All mysterious and secretfying. Please tell me it is both a deep and shamefully dark secret you're hiding from me.”

“I'm not hiding anything. Nothing you need to know, in any case.”

“Those are not quite the same thing, are they?”

“Close enough.”

I glanced out the side window. As I did so the blur of light surrounding him flared. Huh. Maybe it wasn't a new boyfriend on his mind.

Maybe it was magic. He had too much Life magic in him just as I had too much Death magic. And neither of us had much control over those magics.

There was a solution for this. We needed to use magic together, let the two magics cancel each other out. Of course, we both hated that because every time we used magic together, we lost a little more of our humanity.

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