Magic on the Hunt (21 page)

Zay pushed the door open and strode in.

I was on his heels, Terric and Shame right behind me.

The musty brick and molded plaster smell of the building hit me in the face. It looked like it had been gutted for renovations. Cast-iron pillars ran the length of the room, brick walls—three of the four covered in graffiti—between them and floor-to-ceiling windows that were boarded up so that only the curved tops allowed daylight into the room.

An elevator shaft took the center of the room—dark wood, maybe teak or mahogany creating the elevator, the railings around it half covered in yellow tape and plywood with the word CAUTION spray painted across it.

A ladder leaned down one wall, and there were bags of mortar stacked in a heap. But there was nowhere a person could hide in this room.

Good thing, since he wasn’t hiding. He was crouched down, pulling a book out from beneath a floorboard he had pried loose, the gray light of day carving spears of light over his head.

The man looked well into his seventies, not much over five foot, white hair slicked back into a ponytail down his back. His eyes were the softest brown I’d ever seen.

That was the last thing I remember having time to think about before all hell broke loose.

“Down!” Zay yelled.

I hit the floor, rolled, came up on my knees, and made a run for the cover of the bags of mortar.

Zay did not duck. He ran across the space, throwing spell after spell. I cast Sight and watched as magic sparked up the blade he carried and flew across the room in a relentless barrage. Magic that was met by the man’s spells, one for one, exploded into fiery glyphs that burned to ashes and fell to the floor.

The man Blocked, then threw something different at Zayvion. This spell bobbed slowly, like a balloon running out of helium across the room as the two men continued to exchange fire. Zay Blocked the slow spell, but not before it popped.

It was some kind of Hold. Zay froze, midstride, as if the balloon spell had just exploded and covered him in glue.

“You must be the new guardian of the gates,” the man said in a voice as sweet as a rusted hinge. “It is too late. The Authority has failed. And now I will take my due.”

He threw one last thing at Zay’s head, and Zayvion screamed. Not that I could hear it. That glue spell around him sucked up all sound. I could see it in the tightening of his muscles and feel the echo of the agony breathe across my nerves.

Where were Shame and Terric? And how had one old guy who’d been locked up in jail for years taken Zay out that quickly?

There is a reason he was locked away.

I jerked, not expecting my dad’s voice so loud in my head.

Did you know him?
I asked.

Henry Aslund. Life magic. He was jailed for blackmailing magic users working inside the church to forward his political agenda. He killed six people before he was caught.

Just a terrific history lesson, there
, I said,
but I’d rather know how to knock the bastard out.

“And where are you, my silent friend?”

I could only guess he meant me.

Where were Shame and Terric? They were supposed to take point with Zay.

He walked my way, his uneven footsteps sounding like one leg was harder to lift than the other.

Let me see him
, Dad said.

Okay, this is where sharing a body sucked. It was usually either he or I who could run my body at any given time. But the last time I’d cast magic with him, I’d forced him to stand with me in my head, a front united and all that. And he’d used that opportunity to break the disk and effectively kill Greyson. I did not want to risk giving my body up to him just so he could take a gander at his old buddy.

For all I knew, Dad and he used to be friends. Or enemies.

You are too suspicious and you think too loudly. I never liked Aslund. He had too much influence over this town. But I don’t want to kill him.

You can look at him through my eyes with me
, I said.

Dad sort of stepped forward, and I kind of pushed myself to one side of my head and let him crowd up there next to me. The whole conversation with Dad had taken about half a second.

I peeked out from behind the bags of mortar.

Hit him with this spell.
Dad traced a glyph in my mind, something that looked like it sprang from an overly enthusiastic Boy Scout knot competition.

There was no way I’d get that right on the first go.

And then there was no time to worry about it.

The light shifted as two figures strode through the door behind me. Shame and Terric threw magic in perfect rhythm like they were one man and not two. God, they looked good together.

They were nearly the same height, one dark, one light, both deadly, pounding through spells like they’d been brawling together all their lives.

Aslund returned their volley, maybe not effortlessly, but he didn’t look like he was working up a sweat. Yet.

This
, Dad said again.
Aim it here.

I cleared my mind, set a Disbursement—a little more body ache for my future—and traced that spell.

No
, Dad said.
Curve, not curve back.

Oh, sweet hells.
Fine
, I said.
You cast it.
No, it wasn’t a Block or Shield. But I was pretty sure it was going to tip the scales just like Zay had hoped it would.

I took a half step back so that Dad could press forward.

And then my hands weren’t mine anymore. I could still feel them, though, which was maybe worse than not being able to feel what Dad was doing with me. I was a puppet on strings, and Dad played me like he’d been behind the curtain all my life.

My left hand lifted and traced the very complicated knotted spell. Then my right hand caught the glyph with the tip of my sword blade and twisted it. The spell practically hummed with magic. It ricocheted off the blade like a top launched from its string.

Dark, leggy, the spell crackled through the air, through the other spells Shame and Terric and Aslund were throwing, and whipped around Aslund’s head, knocking him over like a cartoon coyote.

And then it was his turn to scream as he stiffened, flat on his back on the floor.

The spell holding Zayvion shredded into silver dust that rose like fog on the columns of light streaming through the window.

Shame and Terric ran toward us, Terric checking on Zay, Shame stopping next to me.

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” I said, shoving my father out of the way. “Is Aslund down?”

Shame gave me a strange look. “You threw Shackle at him. At his head. With more power than I’ve ever seen that spell thrown.”

“And?”

“And yes. He’s down. For good. Where the hell did you learn that spell?”

“Dad.”

I was already walking toward Zayvion, wanting to put my hands on him and see for sure that he was okay. He was talking quietly to Terric.

No, he was cursing quietly to Terric as they both stared down at the frozen, opened-eyed, dead-looking Henry Aslund.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Zay and Terric looked at me with the same expression on their face.

“You threw Shackle,” Terric said. “At his head. With a hell of a lot of magic.”

“He was trying to kill you guys. He’d trapped Zay. What did you want me to do, challenge him to a game of dominos? I was supposed to ride to the rescue, right? I rode.”

“Yes,” Terric said. “You certainly did.” He walked off and picked up the book Aslund had dropped.

I glanced down at Aslund. “Is he dead?”

Zay spoke. “No, but he’ll wish he was when he wakes up. When did you learn to throw Proxy along with the spell?”

“What?”

“You combined Shackle with the price for using the spell. He’s enduring the pain you would have had to endure to use the spell.”

“Dad threw it. Threw the spell. Both of them,” I said. “I could probably do it again, now that I’ve seen it done. Is it bad?”

Zay shook his head, and a small smile curved his lips. “No. It’s brilliant.” He caught my hand and pulled me in for a thorough kiss.

Oh. I likey.

Shame bent next to Aslund and pulled one of his arms over his shoulder, while Terric did the same.

“You might think it’s brilliant now,” Shame grunted, “but I, for one, wouldn’t want to be dating a girl who knew how to throw dirty magic.” They heaved the old guy onto his feet. He still had his eyes open. Still hadn’t twitched. But I could see his chest rising and falling. He was alive. He was just paralyzed. Shackle kicked ass.

“A little dirty magic keeps life interesting,” Zay said. He smiled. Man had a thing for danger.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked.

“Embarrassed. I’ll get over it.”

Shame and Terric were walking Aslund across the floor, his legs stretched out behind him, dragging tracks in the heavy layer of dust.

“What happened?” I asked.

Zay shook his head and cast a very nice Neutral spell. That wasn’t a spell the common user knew. Which was good. If everyone knew how to throw magic to clean magic, I’d have no chance tracking back the ashes of old spells to their users.

“I wasn’t expecting him to throw Stick at me. Stupid error. I thought he’d go for the throat, not try to glue me to death.”

“The pain?”

We were walking toward the door. “You felt it?”

“Yes.”

“The spell had teeth. But I’m fine. Can you Hound this?” He pointed at the trail that had led us here, the trail that now followed Aslund out the door, and as I glanced that way, down the street to Shame’s car, where they were stuffing Aslund into the trunk. I hoped he wasn’t going to bleed on my box, which was still wedged between Shame’s jumper cables. I’d need to remember to get that from him. Later.

I cleared my mind, set my Disbursement, hummed a jingle, and pulled magic into my sense of sight, taste, smell. I crouched down and looked at the spell.

It still looked like a chain. But not just solid black iron; it had flecks of glyphs worked into it, like glass caught between the bars of lead. Quite literally a spelled chain.

It led to Aslund. I glanced back to where he had been. The spell was gone, cleaned from the room by Zayvion’s spell; there was nothing to see there. I looked back at the chain spell and pressed my fingertips into it.

Cool and slick, the flavor of winter rain on concrete filled my mouth. But there was something else. A smaller chain, with thinner links that snaked off, nearly invisible even with Sight, even with my sharp Hound eyes. Still, I could see the other line.

“There is a chain attached to his chain,” I said.

“Just one?”

“Yes.”

“Marks echo if you look at them right. I didn’t know if you’d be able to see it. Can you track where that line leads?”

I dropped Sight but kept hold on Taste and Smell. Then I cast Trace, a version of Sight that should allow me to see the spell broken into different layers of the light spectrum.

That did it. It was brighter, and pulsed, ever so slightly, with the heartbeat of the person it was connected to. But looking at the trail this way also revealed one very clearly cut strand that looked like someone had burned the connection.

“I see it.” I inhaled, sorting the scents of the spells until I could categorize them. “I have the scent. I can follow it.”

“Good.” Zay pulled magic and began casting the Neutral glyph.

“There’s a broken line too.” I stood and resheathed my sword.

“What do you mean?” Zay stopped casting. Just stood there, with half a spell and half-drawn magic at the ready. Took a lot of concentration not to lose a spell when you stopped midcast.

“There was another line, but it’s been cut.”

“Cut? What does it look like?”

“Like it was burned off.”

“Son of a bitch.” Zay finished the spell, and the lovely cherry-blossom smell of Neutral floated through the air. He caught my arm and marched me out of the warehouse.

Chapter Fifteen

“O
w,” I said to Zay. “Arm.”

“Sorry.” He let go of my arm, then strode past me to where Terric and Shame were shoving Henry’s feet into the trunk, and started talking to them.

What, was I suddenly not good enough to be part of this Scooby-Doo gang?

I stomped over to them.

“We won’t know who,” Zay was saying, “so keep your eyes out. Let’s get this done.”

“What did I miss?” I asked.

Shame ducked into the driver’s seat. “Z bossing us around. I’m sure he’ll give us an encore.”

He started the car, and I got in the front seat again, Zayvion behind me. Terric had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply, a calm expression on his face. Meditating. Getting ready to hunt again, or maybe dealing with the Proxy cost of doing this kind of business.

Shame merged into traffic, headed north.

“What did you tell them?” I asked Zay.

“Prisoner X is a Closer. The broken line. That’s something a Closer would do.”

“Okay. So?”

Shame snorted.

“He might be able to Close the Mark so we can’t trace him. We don’t even know who he is. He has the advantage here.”

“Not to mention, gates,” Shame murmured.

Even Terric opened his eyes. “You think?”

Shame shrugged. “Someone opened a gate at that prison, with that many Cancel, Block, and Wards? Maybe Leander had time to do it while you were chasing him and he was drinking the life out of the Veiled. Maybe he was only a distraction and someone else opened that gate. Closers are the only ones who know how to open gates. Don’t think Leander was a Closer, but he might have been looking for one.”

“Shit,” Terric exhaled. “You think that’s the reason he broke into the prison? To find a Closer?”

Shame shook his head. “I don’t think it was his original intention, but I think it quickly became his backup plan for how to get out of there.”

“We’ll know if he opens another gate, right?” I asked. “And if not us, then Victor, or whoever is keeping an eye on that stuff now, will know?”

“We’ll know if he opens another gate,” Zay said. “And so will the Authority, which means Bartholomew, which means one more strike against Maeve and Victor. We have to find him before he jumps. Allie, can you Hound that trail?”

“The Closed one?”

“No. Not yet. I want Single in the trunk with Aslund before we track the Closer.”

Terric had his head bent, his left hand open in front of him. He used one finger to trace glyphs in the air above his hand, then peered at the spell as if he were looking into a crystal ball. He closed his hand, muttered something, and traced a new glyph.

I set my Disbursement, calmed my mind, and threw another Sight spell. Up, out, floating down again. Spells drifted by the window; spells clung to every person in every car; spells crawled sinuous lines up the buildings, wrapped around the glass and lead cage-work conduits, sparked along the gold-tipped Beckstrom storm rods.

The trail was as dark and cold as steel, stretching off to our right, where it literally disappeared.

“Slippery son of a bitch,” Terric swore.

Shame slowed.

“He’s here,” I said. I dropped Sight and pulled magic into the glyph for Smell. I inhaled, sorting through the scents in the car—Shame’s clove and tobacco, Terric’s fresh leaves and old brandy cologne, Zay’s pine and mint, all of our sweat, and the stink of magic we’d been using. I cracked open the window and stuck my head out far enough to get a good noseful of air.

“In that building.” I pointed.

Terric and Zay both threw magic. “Are you sure?” Terric asked.

“Upstairs. Second or third floor and moving. What is this place? It stinks of magic.”
And pain
, I thought, though I didn’t say that.

“Proxy pit,” Shame said. He circled the block and found a metered parking place to park, and not pay.

Great. I’d been to a Proxy pit only once—trying to Hound a Compulsion for a woman who thought her daughter had been Influenced to serve Proxy time—and that one experience had made me want to stay as far away from pits as I could.

“You have a plan, Z?” Shame asked as we got out of the car, Terric’s Illusion once again in place to cover our weapons.

“Floor by floor, invisible, silent. If Allie says he’s on the top floor, this should be fast work.”

“Fast work to find him,” Shame said. “Don’t know how quick we’ll be able to take him down.”

We crossed the street, shoulder to shoulder, keeping a good pace.

“We can take him,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. Zay had made a rookie mistake back there, underestimating Henry Aslund.

That wasn’t like Zay. But only three days of rest after returning from death didn’t leave a lot of reserves for either of us. I worried that his bravado was just a cover for how much he was hurting and how hard it was for him to throw magic.

His heartbeat at my wrist was strong, steady. I knew if I worried too much, he’d feel it. And maybe Shame and Terric would too. So I did what I did best: cleared my head and got ready to deal with whatever came next.

Do you know what his crime was?
I asked my dad. He didn’t stir, didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure if he had regained consciousness or strength or whatever an undead person needed since we’d thrown that spell at Aslund’s head.

He was going to be no help.

“Terric, cover us,” Zay said.

Terric muttered a few words and cast another slick Illusion around us. I looked over at Zayvion. He wasn’t there. Whoa.

“Invisibility,” Zay said quietly, and as soon as he spoke, I could see his faint outline.

“Why haven’t we used this before?”

“It’s very difficult to manage.”

“Quiet, children,” Shame’s outline said. “Ter?”

I glanced over to get a read on where he was.

“I’m ready.”

We stepped through the doors.

The well-lit lobby looked like the entrance to a rich doctor’s waiting room. Comfortable couches, flat screens, plants, fountain, and even a full-wall aquarium oozed with a come-on-in-and-relax vibe.

But just beneath that icing of calm was pain. Controlled. Mostly. But a lot of it. Enough, my shoulders hitched up and I had to breathe through my mouth not to have my nose filled with the stink of it.

Zay cast a very light Search, which was a lot like letting a magical bug loose in the room, except instead of sending it bouncing around among the sofas and the half dozen people filling out forms, he sent it into the network of lead and glass that wrapped the building.

“Up,” he whispered.

The longer we stayed in the Invisibility, the more solid Zay, Shame, and Terric looked to me. It was sort of like walking out of a dark room into daylight. When you got hit by Invisibility, it took a couple minutes for your eyes to adjust.

There was an elevator down the hall. I really hoped we were headed for the stairs beyond.

Zay reached over, took my hand, and squeezed.

Shit. Elevator for sure.

The door opened, Shame tossing a quick Mute so it made no sound. Then I stepped in—well, Zayvion literally dragged me in behind him. The door closed.

I did exactly one thing: breathe. As quietly as I could, as calmly as I could, thinking the most nonscreamy thoughts that I could.

I could hear Terric exhale through his mouth, then inhale. I smelled his sweat, a peppery sting over the sweet note of his cologne.

It was taking a lot of energy and concentration for him to hold the Invisibility. I didn’t know why he was holding it in the elevator. Then I spotted the camera in the corner, and it made sense.

Second floor, third. The elevator finally stopped at the fourth floor. It took everything,
everything
I had not to run out into the hall.

After a pause long enough for a small ice age to come and go, Zay stepped out of the elevator. We were still holding hands, so I stepped out with him.

This floor looked more like a hospital. Long, curved halls led off in two directions; cupboards painted grayish blue against the cream walls caught light from the overheads. There were no windows.

It smelled like pain. Not just pain covered up by magic, not just pain managed by medication. Pain. But I didn’t hear anyone moaning; I didn’t hear heavy breathing other than my own.

“Here,” Zay whispered. We followed him to the right, down the hall past the cupboards that stank of medication, past the well-insulated doors that leeched agony through the cracks, past the dozens and dozens of people paying the price for others to use magic in this town.

I hated it. But most of the people here signed on of their own will. Proxying paid enormously well.

The hallway eventually ended at a double door. Beyond that was our criminal.

Terric dropped the Invisibility just as Shame cast Illusion. Zayvion pushed open the door and strode into the room, Shame and Terric on his heels, magic and weapons at the ready.

Like they’d done this a thousand times before. Which they had.

I slipped in behind them. The room was some kind of examination room, mostly stainless steel. I caught sight of restraining devices, oxygen tanks, and other medical-looking bits of equipment. Rows of gurneys and dark-faced machines on carts staged one wall. The other wall had six large square drawers carved into it.

Correction. Half examination room, half morgue.

I did not see our guy.

That did not stop him from throwing lightning at us.

The flash blinded me. Must have done the same for the others, because I heard them swear.

Then I smelled another spell, the scorch of hot pavement, and hoped it was being thrown by one of us, not at one of us.

I cast Shield and pulled it around me, just as the scorching wave of heat rolled over.

Seconds. That was all the time between the Lightning and Fire. But my eyes had adjusted.

And I saw our man.

Tall, he didn’t look to be any older than me. I’d guess his roots to be from somewhere in the Mediterranean. That’s all the look I got before he was surrounded by a wall of black.

I heard his scream, but I was pretty sure no one beyond this room had any idea what was going on in here.

Terric and Zay were taking turns throwing Mute, Illusion, Diversion, keeping the sound, sights, and smells of magic inside these walls. And they were doing a hell of a job not tapping the network for too long at a time. This wasn’t even going to blip on the building’s Proxy load.

Shame was smoking a cigarette. I have no idea where he found the time to light up. I was certain a lighted anything was bomb positive here among stacks of oxygen tanks.

He was also drawing on a hell of a lot of magic. I could feel it like cold water over my nerves. But he wasn’t pulling magic out of the networks. He was pulling it out of the man across the room.

I cast Sight so I could keep track of the spells in the room and not make something explode.

My vision opened; the world caught pastel fire. Zay threw Impact, Terric cast Hold, and Shame pulled so much living energy out of the area around the man that the floor began to darken and crack.

The man stood there, one hand extended, holding a hell of a Shield, the other hand fingers downward. With Sight, I could see the magic pouring up into his fingertips.

No, not magic. Life. Souls. He was drinking the life out of the Proxies in the building, and with all of the pain medication they were under, they probably didn’t even realize it. He was killing them. He was a mass murderer. Right in front of our eyes.

Holy shit.

And everything Zayvion and Terric threw at him, he absorbed. We were getting nowhere.

“He’s using the Proxies,” I said. “He’s drinking their lives.”

“We know that,” Shame growled.

And that’s when I realized that Shame, Terric, and Zayvion were throwing everything they had at him. Shame was pulling the life, the energy, the magic from Single and feeding it to Terric, who used it against Single.

They didn’t have any more to hit him with.

But I did.

I cleared my mind and made damn sure my Shield was strong. Then I pulled magic from my left hand, the cold bite of it like a winter night, burning across my palm and up to my elbow. I drew a glyph for Impact and threw it at him.

Black flame gouted from my hand, dark magic burning through the air, visible even to the naked eye.

It hit him square in the chest and slammed him into the wall. Shame rushed him; so did Zay.

“No!” I yelled.

Too late. Single still had magic. Still had lives at his fingertips. He opened his hand, and ghostly souls that were broken and bound by magic launched at Shame and tore into his flesh, biting, feeding. Just like the Veiled.

Zay was right behind Shame and swung his sword.

But Single was on his feet. He pointed something at Zay—not a gun; a Taser—and shot Zay in the chest. Zay went down with a yell.

Holy fuck.

Terric chanted, something that was slowing the things attacking Shame. Zay struggled to get back on his feet, but his muscles weren’t working. There was no way he’d be steady enough to cast a spell.

That left me.

And no time to fuck this up.

Single lifted a hand toward Zay and smiled as he traced a glyph filled with heart-stopping agony.

“Single!” I yelled.

He turned and threw the spell he’d been aiming at Zay, at me.

Not exactly what I’d hoped for.

I cast Block, ducked, and ran straight at him. Two steps, and my sword was out of the sheath. Three, and I was casting the glyph for Impact. Four, and Impact was caught on the edge of my blade, ready.

A spell rolled out above my head and crashed around Single like a wall of rocks. He yelled and drew his weapon—a knife.

I had him on reach and sheer anger even before I was within striking distance.

Zay was up. Somehow steady on his feet, somehow with the sword in his hand. He wasn’t casting magic yet. I could smell his blood.

I hoped no one expected us to bring this bastard in alive.

I lunged, broke his Shield with the Impact and edge of my blade. He Blocked with the knife—impressive—and threw a wad of magic, of pure hatred, at me. I cast Shield again, let go of it as soon as his spell skittered away, and swung for his exposed left.