Stone Cold (7 page)

“You told him no?” I asked when Terric was close enough.

“About what?”

“Dating.”

Terric paused with his hand on the door handle of the driver's side. “Of all the things to pay attention to, it's my love life? You seriously need a hobby, Shamus.”

“I'm just saying, you like Dash.”

“Crocheting, stamp collecting.” He snapped his fingers. “Porn.”

“What?”

“Hobby. Get one.”

“Have one. It's bothering you. So, why shouldn't you date Dash?”

“Why do you think he deserves that?”

“Why doesn't he?”

Terric stared at me. The warmth and humanity drained away like a wave receding, revealing the stone cold inhumanity beneath. Apparently he had about as much control over the magic inside him as I did.

Death pushed so hard I could feel the cold of it behind my teeth. It wanted that. Wanted the magic roiling inside him. I took a deep, steadying breath, but the corners of my vision went shady and my heart thumped hard enough it was a bass drum in my ears.

We'd just used together too much. I wasn't going to do that to Terric again. Not so soon. Not ever, if I could help it.

This was getting ridiculous. My control was in the sewer today. Okay, lately.

“Because he doesn't deserve to be hurt,” he said. Then he opened the door and ducked into the car.

I stood there until I could breathe right again. Maybe a few of the scrub oaks by the river died. Maybe a lot of the bushes died too. It wasn't just people I could pull life from, but people were always best.

The local vegetation was just enough to dampen the need. Barely.

If I was this close to the edge of losing control, Terric was even closer. Maybe he was right. No one deserved what he and I were. We were nothing but pain.

I opened the door and got in the car.

SHAME

The house I'd won in a poker game was staked against the hills in Portland and surrounded by trees. The road snaked above it and the only way to get a good look at it was if you happened to glance up when you were navigating hairpin corners on the road below.

Terric had taken one of the spare rooms, and while he hadn't added a single item to my living room decor, which was no longer an armory of weapons, but was definitely still thrift shop chic, he had nonetheless made himself at home here.

Why had I let him stay?

For one thing, the man liked to cook.

I considered it one of his better qualities.

“Beer and ketchup.” Terric shut the refrigerator door. “It was your turn to shop, Shame.”

I pulled out my cell phone, dialed.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Shopping. Hey,” I said when the voice picked up on the other end. “Two large pizzas, vegetarian, pepperoni.”

Terric rolled his eyes and grabbed us both a couple beers. “You're all kinds of class.”

I hung up, took the beer, and popped the cap. “Back atcha.”

“Call me when it gets here,” he said, walking off.

“Where you going to be?”

“Shower.”

I paced and drank. Checked on the ferret I'd inherited from Dessa, the last person I'd loved and gotten killed.

The ferret, Jinkies, was asleep, curled up in the soft cotton blanket Terric had bought him.

Jinkies used to belong to Dessa's brother, Thomas, before he'd been killed by Eli Collins under Krogher's orders. I didn't know what secrets they'd gotten out of Thomas, but I was pretty sure his death had proved that having Eli Collins on board to help the government track all us Soul Complements down and kill us was worth the trouble.

Of course, Eli had a slightly different story. He said the government had kidnapped him and was forcing him to kill. But I knew the guy. He liked dealing out the blood and pain.

Somehow on the way to tracking down her brother's killer, Dessa and I had fallen, fast and hard, for each other.

Then Eli killed her.

I wandered over to my laptop set up on the table in the corner of the room. Checked messages.

Looked like I'd gotten a file from Dash.

Boy was quick.

I pulled out a chair, sat, and opened the file.

At first I wasn't sure what I was looking at. I had expected technical manuals, or research papers from Beckstrom Enterprises.

The scanned pages were handwritten and yellowed, and didn't look modern. Diagrams sketched glyphs I did not recognize connected together in ways I didn't understand, all working together in a manner I could not fathom.

Why the hell was Terric looking at this?

I clicked through a few more pages until something caught my eye.

Unbinding. It was the steps of an unbinding spell, mixed with a few other spells, carved into flesh with the blood of two people.

No, with the blood of Soul Complements.

This was a spell to unbind Soul Complements.

I wondered if it worked.

“It didn't,” Terric said from behind me.

“Whose research is it?” I turned in the chair.

Terric was shirtless, drying his hair with a towel. The Void-stone-bullet scars from our last fight with Eli were still red knots of scar tissue sprayed across his gut, crisscrossed with marks from the surgery that had saved his life.

When I made my list of things to kill Eli for, Terric's near death at his hands was right up there.

“A woman named Doris Gables.”

“Haven't heard of her,” I said.

“She died in 1910.” He tossed the towel over the arm of the couch and shrugged into the T-shirt he'd left there. “Allie's father was very interested in her theories and experiments with magic, particularly her research on the bond between Soul Complements.”

“And you're interested in breaking that bond? Between us?”

He paused and gave me a long look. “Aren't you?”

“It would solve one problem.”

“But?”

“Out on that battlefield in St. Johns,” I said.

“Oh, so now you want to talk about it? Almost four years later?”

“Not if you're going to be a dick about it,” I said.

He gestured with one hand, as if giving me the floor, then moved the towel out of the way and sat on the arm of the couch.

“You were dying,” I said. “So I gave you the life I had left. I expected to die. I threw myself into Death magic aiming for one last chance to take that bastard Jingo Jingo out with me. I became Death magic. Not just a man who can use Death magic. I let it in me. And it's still there, in me.”

“And?” he said quietly.

“You brought me back, you ass.” I took a breath, let it out. “I didn't know how then, but I do now. You called on Life magic, and it answered you,
claimed
you, just like Death magic claimed me. Even if we weren't Soul Complements, we'd still be screwed by the magic we carry.”

“True,” he said. “That's why I've been looking into the old records. To see if anyone ever became carriers of magic, and how they may have handled it. Or didn't Dash give you those files yet?”

I grinned. “Maybe. I haven't gotten that far. Has anyone?”

“Carried a certain discipline of magic in their flesh and blood?” He wadded up the towel in his hand. “We're pretty much cutting edge on this gig.”

“Delightful,” I said. “Anything else you want to share with the class?”

“Nothing that comes to mind. Although I looked into the records on the transport device—the gate spell Eli has been using. It's a modification of Beckstrom tech. Powered by electricity and a configuration of crystals from the well in St. Johns. Probably has a five-hundred-mile range.”

“So if Eli shows up, we can assume he's stationed somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Not helpful.”

“A little helpful,” Terric said.

I made the so-so motion with my hand, stood, and started pacing. “And nothing on the radar about strange magics, or walking human magic bombs, or anything else that could turn us onto where the hell Krogher has Eli and Davy stashed?”

“If I knew, you'd know,” he said. “Call when the pizza gets here.” He pushed off the couch and walked back to his room.

I finally gave up on the pacing and flopped down on the couch. I could feel Terric's heart beating, just as I knew he could feel mine. It was annoying.

My fingers worked the heavy material of the couch, picking, pulling thread. Tearing. Destroying. There was a reason why all my furniture looked like it belonged in a junkyard.

I wasn't easy on anything around me. Or anyone, for that matter.

But the world was filled with life I could feed to this death. I closed my eyes and reached outward with my thoughts. Trees all around, roots holding the hillside together. It'd be easy to drain them, but doing so could trigger a rock slide. I did not feel like digging my way out of an avalanche if I screwed that up.

Farther off was the river. Lots of things living in there. Who would care if I killed off a couple dozen steelhead?

Death magic sprang to my will without even a word or glyph. Hunger coiled in my bones, in my mind, like an attack dog on a leash. I focused on the river, focused on the fish. Only a few. I would only kill a few. I held that image in my mind, of magic slipping, hungry and dark, into those slick silver bodies. Crushing cold brains, drinking rich blood.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Death exploded, a thrown grenade dead on target. Fifteen fish. Fifteen small hearts stopped. Fifteen lives consumed. I inhaled, drank the lives down. Wanted more. So damn much more.

The doorbell rang. I stared at the ceiling and held my breath against the uneven, painful beats of my heart. Death wanted more. Death wanted the guy on the other side of the door.

Crap.

“Terric?” I whispered. The bell rang again. “Terric?” I said a little louder.

“Heard you the first time.” He strode through the room and opened the door. We never locked it because, seriously? Who was going to break into this dump and try to kill two of the most powerful magic users in Portland?

“Thanks,” I heard Terric say. There was a pause, and then the door shut again. “Kitchen.”

He sauntered past. It took me a second, but I finally got my brain clear enough to walk into the kitchen. I needed more life than I'd taken from the fish. Pizza wasn't going to solve my problem, but it was going to be delicious.

Terric sat at the table, the pizza boxes stacked on top of the other, the top one open. Pepperoni. He hadn't bothered with plates. A six-pack of beer sat next to the boxes and the potted lucky bamboo Allie had given me as a housewarming gift was next to that.

“Sit,” Terric said around a mouthful. “Eat.”

The bamboo was woven at the base, seven trunks interlocked to form a sort of living basket. Vibrant green leaves reached out from the top of the bamboo, and as I watched, the entire plant grew half an inch or so.

Terric was slowly, carefully, feeding Life magic into it.

I sat down across from him, grabbed a piece of pizza, and tore into it.

The bamboo grew, new leaves curling outward.

If I drained too much life out of it, the plant would die for good. But if I pulled just as much life out of it as Terric was pouring into it, the plant would be fine.

I can't remember when we started doing this. We never spoke about it; just every once in a while the plant would end up at the kitchen table while we were eating and pretending not to use magic together, or out on the coffee table by the TV when we were arguing over a show and pretending not to use magic together.

So far we'd kept the plant alive.

I finished two slices of pizza before I felt up to the task. Then I carefully drained the life out of the plant. Which was good because the thing had grown another couple of inches.

Terric poured more into it. But not too much, because too much life was just as deadly as too much death.

“Dash is worried about you,” I said, going for my third slice.

“He told you that?”

“He said you've been spending a lot of time digging into old records. Called you obsessive.”

Terric chewed, chased pizza with beer. “Is this you asking me if I'm okay, Shame?”

“This is just casual dinner conversation.”

“Our casual dinner conversation usually involves arguing over song lyrics, sports, and you asking me when I'm going to move out.”

“When are you going to move out?”

“When you ask me nicely.”

“Like that will ever happen.”

He grinned and tipped his beer. “There you go.”

“I'm willing if you're willing,” I said.

“To do what?”

“Break our connection. Give it a try, anyway. If you want.”

For a second, he stopped pouring life into the bamboo, and the leaves edged with brown because I hadn't adjusted for the pull.

But he picked it up again like the smooth son of a bitch he was and the plant greened up again.

“She tried it on herself,” he said.

“Who?”

“Doris Gables. She tried breaking her Soul Complement connection with her husband and coscientist.”

“And?”

“Turns out the only way you can break a soul connection is if one of the Soul Complements dies.”

“Mmm.” I dragged another piece of pie out of the box. “I take it Mr. Gables didn't make it?”

“No, he did. But it killed Doris.”

He sat back and looked at the window over the kitchen sink where the nice normal world rustled and sunshined and otherwise went about its business regardless of Death and Life sharing a pizza.

“I was looking into ways we could deal with our connection,” he said. “With our need to use magic together. Things other Soul Complements might have done.”

“Besides go insane or get killed?” I asked.

He nodded. “I think we deserve a plan C, at least. Or if not us, Allie and Zay deserve some options.”

“They seemed pretty happy to me.”

“They are now,” he said quietly. Yeah, I knew what he was worried about.

There were no happy endings for Soul Complements. And even though Allie and Zay were setting a record for Soul Complement ever-after bliss, there were dangers. Danger of losing who they were to the need of being joined as one.

And they were dragging a kid into the middle of that, of them slipping up one of these days and becoming something that wasn't quite human.

“How about the microdrive with Soul Complement information on it?” I said. “Might be something there.”

“I'll look.” He grabbed another piece. “Shame, today, in the car . . . I want to say—”

“Don't.”

“—I
appreciate
what you did. For me. Death magic for the Life magic to consume. It helped.”

Sure. That had been all about him. Only it hadn't. I'd wanted it as much as he did.

But I didn't tell him that.

“How's your head?” At his look, I added, “Where you cracked it on the window.”

“It's good. Healed.” He glanced away, guilty about it.

Man had issues.

“I was the one who hit you, Ter. I was the one who got aggressive about the whole let's-do-magic thing.”

“Speaking of. Burn, Shame? Were you really going to cast Burn in my car?”

“Got your attention, didn't it?”

“Yes. Which means you owe me. I own the speakers tonight.”

I groaned. The house was wired so that there were speakers in every room. If you wanted to play music, just hook up the tunes and the whole house was rocking.

Terric had crap taste in music. Jeff Buckley and Counting Crows, for God's sake.

“No,” I said. “Ask for something else. Anything.”

“Anything?” He held my gaze as he finished off his beer. I had an idea of what was going through his head. Not because I could read his mind but because he'd threatened me with the same thing for the last three months.