Stone Cold (11 page)

Closed. Magic was Closed from me.

And no matter how hard I tried to pull on it, to hold it, to use it, magic was locked away, walled away, removed from my reach.

SHAME

Eleanor strolled over to our table. “What's going on here?”

“Eleanor?” Victor said. “It's so good to see you.”

She smiled, surprised. “I still can't get used to people actually seeing me. Hi, Victor. How are you?”

“I'm wonderful, thank you. I'm so sorry for your death. You left the world far too young.”

“No, don't worry about it,” she said. “We'd gotten bad information, and were doing what we thought was right. But it was wrong.”

Funny how hearing her say that unknotted something in my chest. I wouldn't have been fighting her, and consequently lost control of Death magic and killed her, if she hadn't been trying to kill me first.

I didn't blame her, though. It's hard to keep the communication lines clear in an apocalypse.

“And you must be some relation to Shame.” She held out her hand for my dad.

He shook her hand. “Hugh Flynn. I'm his father. Pleased to meet you, Eleanor, is it?”

“Roth. Eleanor Roth. I work for the Authority in Seattle. Well, did.”

“How'd you end up with this piece of work?” he asked, pointing at me.

“He chickened out at the last minute and didn't kill me enough,” she said. “Then there was that binding thing. How
did
you do that, Shame?”

“It's a Death magic Bind.” I looked away from her as I said it. “Souls are energy, life that can be stored and drained later. High-level, illegal, dark magic stuff.”

“Which is why you owe me a drink,” she said. “To celebrate my freedom from all those days tied to your angst.”

“Please,” I said. “I don't angst. I brood like a manly man.”

Victor snorted and I threw him a grin.

“Celebrate,” she said again. “Drink. You owe me one. Time to pay up.”

She planted her hands on her hips, waiting.

“Well, gents,” I said, “you heard the lady. Your nefarious plans will just have to wait.”

I thought my dad might try to stop us, but he smiled. “Go on. If she's put up with you for this long, she's earned that drink.”

Eleanor took the arm I offered her, and we walked toward the bar.

Behind me, I heard Dad and Victor start up a conversation about death and life and how to break the barriers between them.

“Why are you arguing with your father?” she asked. “This is supposed to be heaven, Shame. Weapons left at the door.”

“A little tussle with the old man? Sounds like heaven to me.”

She chuckled softly. Here, where she was real, and soft, and smelled like sweet cinnamon, I found myself liking that I could make her smile.

“How is this for you?” I asked. “You're untied from me, aren't you?”

“I think so. It doesn't feel the same.” She took a stool and I sat next to her and flagged the bartender.

“Good,” I said. “Good. Say, I wanted to ask. Did it hurt?”

“Dying?”

“No. Being tied to me.”

“At first, yes. As time went on, it wasn't so bad. I just wish you wouldn't have spent every second of your life racing toward the grave.”

The bartender came over, set two drinks in front of us. Mine: whiskey. Hers: chocolate martini.

“I never raced toward anything a day of my life.”

“So I just imagined you wishing for death every waking moment, is that it?”

“Well, I might have been considering the grave. . . .”

“Please.” She picked up her drink. “You couldn't get here fast enough.” She lifted her glass. “Here's to the end. May it be just the beginning.”

“Hear, hear!” I tapped my glass to hers and took a drink, watching her.

She pressed her lips against the glass, tipped it back, and closed her eyes as she held the drink in her mouth. She'd been not quite dead for years now. No eating, no drinking. This had to be the first thing she'd tasted in forever.

“Good?” I asked.

“Mmmmm.” She opened her eyes. “Heaven.”

“To heaven,” I said.

“What about earth?”

“What about it?”

“I heard what your dad and Victor said.”

“Look at you? Once a stalker, always a stalker.”

She made a face at me. “So you're going to stop the end of the world?”

“That's the idea.”

She leaned her elbow on the bar and twisted to face me. “I've been tied to you for what, over three years now?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn't hear what I said for almost the entire time, right?”

“Not since the first few months.” I took another sip.

“Then listen to me now. You have a good heart.”

“This old thing—”

She held up one finger. “It's still my turn. You have a good heart. I don't care what you show other people or what you want them to think you are. I lived with you.”

At my look she rocked her head side to side. “Existed. Whatever. But I was there, Shame. Right next to you twenty-four-seven for almost four years. I've seen your bad days and your really bad days. But despite all the shit that's happened, you are a kind man. Sometimes I suspect you're even a hopeful man.”

I blew air out between my lips.

She held up a warning finger again and I shut my mouth.

“But some of the things you've done, Shame. Some of your choices.”

“Were awesome?” I prompted.

She rolled her eyes. “For a while there, I didn't think you'd ever pull your head out of your ass. If you'd used magic with Terric—don't give me that look—if you'd just relaxed about it and used magic together without being so damn determined that it would cause the world to explode, everything could have been so much better. You would have been better. He would have been—”

“—inhuman. Dead inside. All Life magic, no humanity, insane,” I said.

“You don't know that,” she said gently. “I watched you. I watched him with you. You made each other better, not worse. Just neither of you was willing to have a little faith that you were meant to use magic together. That maybe it would be the one good thing you had together that worked.”

“Water under the bridge, darlin'.”

She took another drink. “You too easily see the world as full of sorrow, and you too quickly assume that sorrow is all you deserve. Also, you are as stubborn as a mule in mud.”

“Whoa. Someone can't hold her martini,” I said.

“I think your dad and Victor are right.”

“About what?”

“You don't belong here yet.”

I swallowed the last of the whiskey. “I might not be staying long anyway. They think they can send me down to the green grasses.”

“Even so, you
do
belong here.” She reached over, pressed her fingers against mine.

I smiled. “You deserved so much better than what you got, love.”

“Well, this isn't so bad.” She patted my hand and finished off her drink.

“Sure, death is fine,” I said. “But life is nothing but suffering.”

“Not all of it,” a voice said. A woman's voice.

I looked across the room. At my dad, who held open the door for a woman who had just walked into the bar. Dessa Leeds. The woman I'd loved.

I stood. Suddenly she was the only person I could see.

“Dessa?” I breathed.

She raised one eyebrow. “Hey there, charmer. Didn't think I'd see you so soon.”

Beautiful in life, but here in death she was vibrant, more alive than ever. Red hair long and silk-soft around her shoulders, she was wearing a very simple pale green dress, short enough to show thigh, and sort of flowing as she walked toward me.

Her skin was moon-pale, her face a porcelain perfect heart, and those blue eyes. . . .

I stopped breathing at the sight of her, and realized that yes, you not only breathed in heaven; your heart could pound so hard it was difficult to hear your own thoughts.

“Hey,” I said. “You're here.”

She lifted one hand and very gently drew her fingers down the side of my cheek. I closed my eyes at her touch, savoring that connection, wanting it to never end. Wanting her to never disappear.

“Shame,” she said.

I opened my eyes.

“I'm so glad to see you before you leave.”

I frowned. “Maybe . . . maybe I can stay awhile.”

“No,” she said. “You have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because only half of you is here.” She placed her hand over my heart, and beneath the warmth of her palm was a cool hollowness, a blackness that only Terric could fill.

“Your father told me there's still work for you to do. Hero things.”

“My father has a big mouth and overestimates my abilities.”

She smiled. “There's someone counting on you back there.”

“I know,” I said. “Terric.”

“Yes. But you made a promise to look after someone.”

“Allie and Zay?”

“Their child, Shame. You promised to be there to look after her.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Her? They're having a girl? Zayvion's going to have a daughter? Lord, he'll go mental over that. How do you know all this? You weren't there when I promised to look after my goddaughter.”

“Just call it a heaven thing. Okay,” she said, “maybe I was spying on you a little.” She stepped closer to me. I could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body against mine. “Go be a hero, Shame.”

She kissed me and it was heaven.

I lost myself to her. Lost myself and never wanted to find myself again.

She pulled back, finally, tipped her forehead against mine. “Don't hurry back. But don't be gone forever, okay?”

She looked up at me and I discovered that even in heaven, a heart can break.

“Dessa . . .”

Two hands landed on my shoulder. Firm. Familiar. “It's time, son,” Dad said on one side of me.

Dessa stepped back. “See you, Shame. You know . . . that spying thing of mine . . .”

“Da,” I said, glancing up over one shoulder, then the other. “Victor. Just a few minutes?” I might not be a love-'em-and-leave-'em guy anymore, but if the kiss had been that good, I had a list of other things I wanted to try out.

“Son,” my dad said as he and Victor pushed me toward the window that now had a couple of spells painted on it. Transference and Crossing. Magic in heaven. Who would have guessed? “We might be too late as it is.”

“Wait,” Eleanor said. She ran toward me. “You're not going without me.”

“No,” I said. “Hell no. Stay. You've earned that.”

“You're going. I'm going,” she said. “Will this hurt?”

“Can't say this is going to feel good, exactly,” Da said.

“Through the window?” I said, bracing for the impact and fall and impact.

“We'll give you everything we have, Shame,” Victor said. “Godspeed to you, son.”

Victor and Da jerked me off my feet at the same moment, and then they both said one word. A word that shattered all sound, shattered all light, shattered the heavens. Or at least my heaven.

Magic.

“Good-bye, Shamus,” I heard Dad whisper. “Make me proud.”

And then I was flying through the air, into the window.

I threw my hands out to try to protect my face. Glass exploded, sliced through me, shredded my clothes, my skin, my bone.

I yelled. And fell forever.

TERRIC

Eli came by often to make sure I was drugged so heavily I couldn't feel the pain anymore. And even though that meant I couldn't think clearly, I was glad for it. Glad for the respite.

I didn't know why I was drugged. Without magic, shackled to this cage, I wasn't exactly the biggest threat on the planet.

A sound like a stone cracking steel rang out so loud I came awake gulping air.

“This,” Krogher said, only inches away.

He'd never been this close to me. There had always been bars between us.

Eli stood by the small table, a Beckstrom disk in his hand, one of the ones he said didn't work, or sometimes worked as a magnifying glass, or something he'd said a long time ago. It had something to do with Davy and the drone and lies and control.

The disk was smoking, the metal a useless burnt lump.

Krogher was still talking. To me, I realized, much to my surprise. I stared at his lips, trying to focus on the words.

“. . . final day for you, Mr. Conley,” he said. “We want to thank you for your service to the United States government and its allies. I can assure you there will be a job waiting for you, a modest home, and a small amount in savings as a token of our appreciation.”

I blinked hard. He was still there. So was Eli, standing to my side.

Not a hallucination, then.

“. . . understand me?” Krogher asked. “I thought you said he'd be clear by now.”

“He is,” Eli said. “Just about now.”

“This is your last day,” Krogher said. “We'll be letting you go, Mr. Conley.”

“Go?” I asked, my voice a shadow in the room. That didn't seem right. They were letting me go? I looked up at Eli. He raised his eyebrows. That didn't help me much.

“Where?”

“We are relocating you, Mr. Conley,” Krogher said. “Of course.”

Of course. Which meant not at all. I might be drugged out of my brain, but I wasn't stupid.

“But first, we must be certain that none of this will ever become a problem for us,” Krogher said. “Mr. Collins, please proceed.”

This was a problem. I knew what they were doing—making sure I never talked about any of this. If I were the one calling the shots, I'd know exactly how I'd achieve that goal.

“My pleasure,” Eli said. Krogher walked out of the cage, his footsteps a fading echo across the walls and ceiling as he left.

“So,” Eli said once he was sure Krogher was gone. “I am going to Close you, Terric. Wipe out all your memories. You know the most delightful thing about all this? It is up to me. It is in
my
hands to decide what you become. I can mold you. I can break you. Give you a good life, make every day a worthless, living hell. I am your god.”

He smiled. “I have to say it is not a bad position to have landed in. But before I Close you, I want you clear and sober. I want you to really understand exactly what I'm doing to you. Would you like some coffee?”

He turned and I heard the rising treble of liquid filling a cup, smelled the rich, warm scent of coffee. My mouth watered. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. Couldn't even remember water. Glanced at my arm. Cotton and tape there where an IV had been attached.

How long had I been here?

“What day is it?” I asked.

Eli strolled over and set the coffee down on a table next to the cot where I sat. He took the only chair in the cage, turned it to face the cot, and slurped the hot edge off his cup before sitting down.

“Wednesday.”

“What month?”

“March.” He watched me as he took another drink of coffee. Then, “Just one Wednesday since I pulled you out of your kitchen, as a matter of fact.”

I was sitting, but my hands were no longer chained. I reached over, picked up the coffee, trying to keep it steady and not spill. My feet were free. I wore loose pants like something found in a prison or hospital, and a white T-shirt. I was barefoot and the floor was smooth, concrete, and cold.

One Wednesday. I tried to think through the implications of that.

Lifting the coffee was almost more than I could manage, but I didn't spill it as I drew it toward my mouth. I shouldn't be this strong. Not after what he'd done to me.

“It's been months,” I said. I took a sip and held my breath against the pleasure and pain of it. I felt like I hadn't eaten in years. “At least that.”

“Yes, at least that,” he said, enjoying my confusion. “It seems like such a long time you and I have spent together. And yet . . . something tells you that's wrong. So. Do you have it? Do you understand it yet?”

The stone-on-steel sound that woke me. The burnt disk. I hadn't been sleeping. I'd been wrapped in magic.

Son of a bitch.

“Time,” I said. “You cast Time.”

“Head of the class. I guess I didn't scramble your brain as much as I thought I did. What has been months for you, six, if you'd like to know, has been only days. Six, as a matter of fact.”

He'd cast Time and held the spell so we experienced a month a day. That was very precise work, something only a genius magic user would even try to attempt.

To break the spell and land us back in the correct flow of reality's time took a deft touch. And apparently blew the hell out of a Beckstrom disk.

No wonder Eli looked so tired. Holding that spell for nearly a week would exhaust anyone. I just hoped it had exhausted him enough to make him sloppy.

“And since I'm locking your life away in a box and melting down the key, I thought I'd tell you everything,” he said. “Anything you want to know, I'll tell you. Think of it as my way of thanking you for not dying before I was done with you. Ask.”

“How many people, spell holders are there?”

“Really, Terric? Business to the end? Save the world at all costs? I'd expected more from you.”

“How many?”

“Drones? Just under a hundred. Each topped off with magic and showing no signs of decay.”

“Who are they targeting first?”

“Soul Complements. Don't you remember me saying so? Maybe you were too . . .” He made the circle motion by his ear.

“When?”

“I believe I'll be briefed on that today. But if I had to guess?” He swallowed coffee. “Immediately. Krogher and his division don't like loose ends left behind. And they most certainly do not like people out in the world who can break magic and use it as a deadly weapon. Company motto: Sooner the enemy is dead, the better.”

“Did you kill Davy?”

“No. I did much worse than that to him.”

“What? What did you do to him?”

“I triggered spells carved into him so that he is no longer solid. No longer a real boy. He begged me. Begged me to let him go. So I did. Maybe not the way he wanted me to, but I think he got what he deserved. He is no longer bound to this world. Magic gave him a way out, as only magic can. If you know what I mean, Terric?”

He waited, studying my face. I had no idea what he meant. But then, madmen aren't easy conversationalists.

“Anything else?” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “We are running a little behind schedule and I'd hate to keep the government waiting.”

“Did you kill Shame?”

He paused, cup tipped halfway to his mouth.

“Oh yes. Very much so. I shot him. Over and over again. Until I saw him fall. Until I saw him take his last breath. You should know. You should have felt the snap of your soul from his, a bone break so deep the pain blinds. Did you feel that, Terric? Did you feel his soul and life severed from you?”

He had asked me that before. This time I answered.

“Yes,” I whispered, the memory of that moment, of watching, feeling Shame die burning like acid across my mind. “I just wanted to hear it from your lips,” I said. “Wanted to hear that you killed him. Because after this is done—these orders of yours—I'm going to find you, and I'm going to kill you, Eli. It doesn't matter what you do to me. Doesn't matter if you Close my mind, take magic away, wipe my memories. I will find you. And then you'll be dead.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Wouldn't that be something? I'd like you to try, Terric. Truly, I would. At least it would be something to look forward to.” He took another drink of his coffee. “Now we really must get on with it. Let's have at it, shall we?”

“One last thing,” I said. “There's no house and job at the end of this for me, is there?”

He shrugged. “You'll think there is.” He tapped his temple. “That's all that matters, isn't it?”

I gripped my coffee cup tighter. He'd have to touch me to Close me. I'd have one chance at this. At knocking him out. At escape.

Eli stood.

Be tired, Eli. Be sloppy.

The shadows shifted outside the bars of my cage. A man stood just outside, shuffling forward as if sleepwalking. One of the drones. He held his hands palm out in front of him, thumb and forefinger touching.

I'd seen drones like him before. When Shame and I had tried to stop Eli from taking Davy. When Shame and I had tried to stop Krogher from killing Dessa. When Shame and I had failed.

The drone would be the power behind Eli's spell. But there would be no spell if Eli had a concussion. Hard to concentrate on spell casting when your brain was bleeding.

One more step.

Eli stopped, just outside my reach. Began drawing the spell.

My heart was pounding. I'd drawn that spell a hundred times before. I'd taken people's memories away; I'd taken away their ability to use magic. I knew what kind of concentration went into it.

Closing was not as easy as it looked. As a matter of fact, being a Closer was one of the hardest positions to hold in the Authority.

But I had no doubt that Eli could pull it off. In his right mind. Refreshed.

I gripped the cup, waited for that moment in the spell where he would have to draw the doorway, the opening between his mind and mine. It was a door that only the caster had the key to. I watched his movement so I would know his signature, know his exact lines and style of casting this spell.

So I would know the shape of the key that could set me free.

There. He set the lock, drew the key.

I surged to my feet. Swung with every ounce of strength I had.

Just as the spell triggered.

Just as magic broke free like water from a dam, blasting out from the drone outside the bars and into Eli's spell.

The mug slammed into Eli's head with a satisfying crack.

His spell opened its maw and swallowed my mind.

But not before I saw Eli fall, bloody. Unconscious.

And then I was nothing but what the magic wanted me to be.

I was no one.