Magic on the Storm (16 page)

“Oh, for fuck sake. I’m an adult. Maeve is my teacher, not my mother.”
“You have met Mrs. Flynn?” Terric said from the backseat.
Just what I needed, another smart mouth in the car.
“You have to listen to her,” Zay said. “Because she is your teacher. Until you
are done training under her, she has say about where you should be in the event
of magical emergencies.”
“Was that in the contract I signed? Oh, no, wait. There was no contract.”
“No, there was a test and a vow.” Zay’s voice didn’t rise, but I could tell by
how hard he was gripping the steering wheel that he was not a happy man. “If
you break that, you are out of the Authority.”
It had been at least two months since Zay had had to remind me of that. Still,
it chafed. I hated knowing that one perceived misstep would mean my memories,
and all the training I’d done, would be gone out of my head. Hells, if they
wanted to, they could make me forget who I was. Take away everything.
If I kept training, if I gave in this time, I knew I would become strong enough
that they’d never be able to mess with my memories.
The soft moth-wing flutter tickled the backs of my eyes. I actually rubbed my
eyes trying to make it go away until I remembered it wasn’t some kind of weird
muscle twitch. It was my dad, in my head, reminding me that he was there.
We could be so much
, he whispered.
So powerful together. Life and
death. Light and darkness. And all magic will be ours.
The only thing worse than my dad being in my head was him getting all creepy
and poetical on me. I ignored him.
Zay had taken us down the twists of Terrwilliger Boulevard, and we were now
headed into town, toward I-5 North.
“Where are Shame and Chase?” I asked.
“Hunting,” Zay answered.
“No, I mean where? Which part of town do you think Greyson’s in? You don’t
think he made it across the bridge to Portland, do you? Do you think he could
have made it downtown to Chapman Square?”
“He’s a Necromorph. He doesn’t have to use just his feet to get around.”
“So he could be in Chapman Square?”
Zay’s nostrils flared. “Why?”
“Someone opened a gate in the park, closed it, and crushed the spell so all
traces of it would disintegrate within a half an hour. I thought I caught
Greyson’s scent. It was faint. I don’t think he’s still there, if he ever was,
but something happened there. Maybe around the same time he escaped.”
Both men were dead silent. I tried not to look smug, because frankly, I was
more aggravated than smug.
“I’m taking you to Maeve’s. Then we’ll look,” Zayvion said.
“And I’m just going to wait at Maeve’s for days until you find him?”
“Allie, don’t,” Zay warned.
“Listen, when Greyson was on the street before, you said people in the
Authority were looking for him for months. Who found him?”
Nothing.
“Me,” I said. “I found him.”
“No, he found you,” Zay said.
“Okay. He found me. So why not let me go out and find him this time? Let me be
the hunter instead of the bait.”
Terric spoke. “Taking you to Maeve’s is a form of hunting. We’re setting the
trap, and he’ll come for you.”
Unlike Shame, who always stuck his head between Zay and me, Terric lounged, one
arm over the back of the seat, half tucked against the corner of the door, his
leg stretched out on the seat in front of him.
“He’s not going to come for me there,” I said. “Not at Maeve’s. Not where there
are magic users and the well, and the cage he just escaped. He might eventually
be desperate enough to break back into his prison to get me. How long will that
take? Weeks?”
Neither man said anything.
“He’s not stupid,” I added.
Still the silence.
“He remembers being in the Authority. He remembered my father, remembered how
to used Blood magic and Death magic, and even bound Tomi and used her to cast
those spells for him to hurt Davy and open those damn gates, and whatever the
hell else he did. He is nowhere dumb enough to walk back into the place he
escaped. Not even to get me.”
Terric made a little
huh
sound.
Zay just looked angry. “What do you expect us to do?” It came out with enough
volume, I knew he was pissed. Long fuse didn’t mean the man never blew. “Do you
want us to stand you out on a street corner with a sign?”
My shoulders tightened and I swallowed the need to yell back. Instead, I let a
little silence soften the space between us, mostly so I could act calm. “Yes. I
think something like that is a good idea. But we could be a little more subtle
about it.”
“An ambush?” Terric mused. “It has merit.”
“No,” Zay said.
“I won’t be safe at Maeve’s,” I said for the millionth time. “Not really. It
would just stall his attack.”
“No,” he said again.
I didn’t say anything. Neither did Terric.
I watched the city roll by and did my own share of controlling my urge to yell.
Dad pushed at the backs of my eyes, not hard, but enough to annoy. Like I’d let
down my guard now.
“I will do this, Zay,” I said. “If not today with you, Terric, Shame, and
Chase, then sometime later, on my own. I’ll hunt him down. I’ll face him. I’ll
make him pay for what he’s done. Do I think I’d be stronger with you there?
Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m not plenty strong enough on my own.”
“She’s right,” Terric said. “Let it go.”
Zay, that remarkable man, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. With it,
he seemed to exhale his anger. It was probably one of the most amazing things
I’d seen him do, and I’d seen him do a lot of amazing things. I sucked at letting
go of anger. Maybe all that Zen training of his gave him a better control over
his emotions.
Yeah, well, that and the fact he had to be calm and centered to work all
disciplines of magic. Guardian of the Gates. There was no one else as good at
wielding magic as he. And the Authority hung their hope of keeping magic in the
right hands, and used in the right ways—for good and life, not for destruction
and death—squarely across his broad shoulders.
A responsibility he bore without complaint.
“Call Maeve and let her know,” Zay said.
“I’ll do that.” Terric dialed.
I reached over for Zay’s hand, but he pulled away. He didn’t look at me, just
straight ahead, as if driving suddenly took all his concentration.
“Maeve?” Terric said. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”
“You know I’m right,” I said while Terric talked.
“No. I don’t.” He pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something
more, but thought better of it.
“Zay—”
“Are you wearing the void stone?” he asked. All business now. No emotion. Okay,
he was still angry at me. Too bad.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to carry a weapon?” Flat.
“Of course I want weapons. Did you think I was going to take him on with my
bare hands?”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you might have a machete I can use.” I said sweetly.
“It’s in the trunk. We’re meeting Shame. You can get it then.”
Terric hung up. “Well, that was interesting. Your teacher does not approve of
the change in plans, but she understands our point. She’s sending out some people
to double-check Chapman Square.”
“She’s not going to throw me out of the Authority for this?” I asked.
“She is giving you one chance, until morning, to draw Greyson in. If he doesn’t
show up, you are to be taken to Maeve’s, where you will be under constant
observation, or you will be taken to your apartment, where you will be under
constant observation.”
“Nice to know I have options.”
“You’re welcome to try to negotiate with Maeve if you want,” he offered.
Right. Shut up, Allie. This was as good as it was going to get. And if we did
this right, if we were very lucky, we might be able to take care of this
problem tonight.
A dizzy flux of magic washed through me again. I broke out in a cold sweat and
wiped at the top of my lip. I glanced at Zay, but if he noticed, he didn’t show
it. The storm was coming, rolling closer, messing with magic, messing with me.
I knew tonight would be our best chance to take Greyson down.

Chapter Twelve
W
e drove to the meeting point, a twenty-four-hour diner and truck stop.
Shame’s car was parked near the gravel back of the lot. Neither Shame nor Chase
was beside the car. There wasn’t enough light for me to make out who was inside
it. Zayvion stopped the car several parking spaces away.
“Coffee?” Terric asked.
“Please,” I said, “black.” I dug in my pocket for cash.
“I got it. Zayvion?”
“No thanks.”
“Back in a moment, then.” Terric slipped out and headed to the restaurant
without a glance at Shame’s car.
Right. They didn’t want to be around each other. Zay and I were currently
fighting, Terric and Shame had been avoiding each other for years, and not only
was Chase Zay’s ex-girlfriend, but also, the guy she dumped him for was the
murderer we were about to hunt down.
For cripes’ sake. Could we be any more dysfunctional?
“Zay?”
“I need some air.” He got out, slammed the door, and started walking toward
Shame’s car.
He was just the lord of pissy tonight, wasn’t he? Fine. I was done apologizing
for being right, for being strong, for being me. If he couldn’t deal with it,
then too damn bad.
I got out of the car. Noticed, in a distracted way, that it was sprinkling.
Started over to tell Zay to suck it up and deal.
Zay slowed. He stopped, bent, and looked in the back driver’s-side window.
Something was wrong.
I moved faster. “What?” I asked.
He held up his hand to tell me to stop, and I did. Strong, stubborn, capable,
yes. Stupid, no.
He opened the driver’s-side door. An arm fell out of the door and Zayvion
leaned in to catch the rest of the body that followed.
Shamus.
I jogged the remaining distance, around the other side of the car to see if
Chase was in the other seat. I looked in. Nobody. I opened the door and the
stink of used magic hit me so hard, I had to turn my head to take a breath.
I recited my mantra and set a Disbursement, muscle aches one more time. I was
going to be a head-to-toe cramp once all these deferred prices hit me. I traced
the glyphs for Sight, Smell, and Taste. My senses burst open. Magic had been
used inside the car. The ashy remains of Impact stuck like a huge brown and red
spider, pulsing against the upholstery of the roof. An overpowering mix of so
many other conflicting scents made me think someone had cast an extra spell
full of scents just to throw off any attempts to Hound. There were too many
smells to sort quickly, if at all. In those smells I caught the edge of Shame’s
blood and a hint of sweet cherry. Blood magic?
Tendrils of brown and red from the Impact hooked out the door and into Shame.
Maybe in his mouth or chest. Zay had him on the ground, but was blocking my
view.
I knew the signature of the spell. I knew who had cast this.
Chase.
Holy shit.
I straightened, turned a slow circle, looking for any sign of her, or which way
she might have gone. A trail of magic, thin as a thread, spilled off toward the
street. It was dissolving in the rain. I jogged across the back of the parking
lot and through a row of bushes out onto the street beyond. The ashes of the
spell ended. Chase had come this way. Whether she had continued down the street
or turned around, Sight couldn’t tell me.
I shifted my attention to Smell.
I knew Chase’s smell—a musky vanilla perfume. I breathed in through my nose and
open mouth, so I could get a taste of the air as well. Maybe just the slightest
hint of vanilla, but the heavier smells from the truck stop screwed with the
subtleties. I turned another slow circle, sensing for any hint of the way Chase
had gone.
Nothing I would swear on.
Shit. I let go of magic.
Shame moaned. Zay was talking to him, telling him not to move. Shame, being
Shame, was acting like a smart-ass.
“So you can kiss me? Not on a first date,” he said as I reached them.
“It was Chase,” I said.
Both men glanced up at me. Zayvion cursed.
“Chase hit you with Impact, Shame. Do you remember that?”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We were just sitting here, waiting for you to show
up. Well, not you, Beckstrom; you, Z., and then . . .” He frowned. “I thought.
I thought I was tired. Did I fall asleep?”
“It was Chase,” I said again to Zay.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I’d testify in court. That was her signature.”
“Shame,” Zay said. “Chase hit you with magic. I think she Closed you so you
wouldn’t remember.”
“Well, fuck that little bitch,” Shame said. “I’m going to have her roasted for
that.” He pushed at Zay’s hands. “Let me up. I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Might be Blood magic,” I said.
“It’s just my mouth where I hit the steering wheel,” Shame said. “Plus I’m
angry now. Does the body good. Move.”
Zayvion stood, one hand down just in case Shame needed it to stand. Shame took
his hand and pulled up onto his feet.
“Fucking fuck fuck of a fuck.” Shame dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and
lighter. His hands shook as he lit up.
“Eloquence, thy name is Flynn,” Terric said from behind us.
Shame didn’t even bother looking up. “Fuck you too,” he said around the
cigarette.
Terric was closer now. Close enough to see the details of the scene.
His expression turned into a very carefully constructed, pleasant smile. Okay,
that was scary. I knew he was angry at Shame, and I figured he was also aware
of the remnants of Chase’s spell. Even a novice could sense it, and Terric was
no novice. But that smile made him look like a nice guy, friendly and polite.
Note to self: when Terric smiles that friendly smile, be worried. He was really
about to kill something. A lot.
“I’d love some details,” Terric said, still all friendly-like, while handing me
a cup of coffee.
“Chase did this,” I said.
Terric’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”
“I Hounded the spell that knocked Shame out. It was Chase’s signature.”
“How did it happen, Flynn?” His voice was a little softer when he spoke to
Shame, though I doubted either of them noticed.
Shame just shrugged one shoulder and took another drag off his cigarette. “Don’t
know,” he said through the smoky exhalation. “She took my memory.”
Terric the nice guy suddenly looked like Terric the killer. He stared at Shame,
and Shame finally, finally, looked up, met his eyes, then looked away.
The pain and fear and anger in Shame’s expression disappeared as he sucked on
his cigarette, his long, ragged bangs falling to hide his eyes.
Yeah, I knew how he felt. It was hell to lose parts of yourself, to know
someone or something had that kind of control over your mind. It made you feel
vulnerable, in the worst way.
“Interesting,” Terric murmured. He took a swallow of his coffee, and when his
cup came back down, he was Terric the nice, smiling killer guy again.
Well, I saw no need to be polite about this. “This is bullshit. She has no
right to do that to him. Do you remember what you and she were talking about,
Shame? Did she say anything before she attacked you?”
“I got nothing.”
“Zay,” I said. “Can you think up a scenario that makes Chase innocent?”
“Not at the moment.”
“So we hunt Chase?” I asked, realizing that I liked the idea of kicking her ass
a little too much. She’d bitch slapped me something fierce when I’d found
Greyson back in St. Johns, accused me of turning him into a Necromorph. She and
I hadn’t ever been on friendly terms, and it pissed me off that she would hurt
Shame.
I liked Shame. I’d always thought she’d liked him too.
“We hunt Greyson,” Zayvion said.
“Are you kidding me?”
He finally looked at me, his eyes more gold than brown, a different storm of magic
roiling there. “Because where we find Greyson is where we’ll find Chase.”
I’m not kidding—that made chills run over my skin.
Magic fluxed again, sucking at my feet like a starved leech. A wave of vertigo
teeter-tottered the world, then slowly stabilized. It was a lot like when magic
had fluxed and I’d fallen in the bathroom.
The storm was coming closer.
Damn.
“Allie?” Zay asked.
I took a drink of my coffee. Buying time for me to pull myself together.
“Are you hurt?” He raised his hand to cast a spell, probably a form of Sight.
So much for hiding the effects of magic’s fluctuations on me.
“Magic,” I said. “It’s a little . . . weird.”
Zay waited, hand still raised.
“I keep getting dizzy. When magic fluctuates, it pulls on me. I’m guessing it’s
from the storm, right?” Why it was affecting me and not them probably had
something to do with me being the only one stupid enough to tap into a
wild-magic storm and get thrown into a coma. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be
a part of the hunting crew.
I looked him right in the eye. No lies for me, Mr. Jones. No sirree. Nothing
but the truth. I’m in plenty good enough shape to hunt.
He believed me enough to nod. “If you feel dizzy again, tell me. We’ll be on
foot for some of this.”
“Are we wearing wrist cuffs?” I asked.
“No,” Shame and Terric said simultaneously.
Zay glared at both of them. “Yes,” he said. “We are.” He walked over to his car
and opened the trunk.
I followed, leaving Shame and Terric behind. That didn’t last long. Even though
Shame was hurt, and it obviously concerned Terric, they still didn’t like being
alone with each other.
I’d gone out hunting with Zay and Shame only once before. Chase had been there
too. We’d hunted Hungers, magic-eating, killing creatures that found their way
into our world through the gateways between life and death and preyed on magic
users and innocents alike. We’d fought the Hungers and, on the way, found Tomi
being used by Greyson, and then Greyson himself.
But that time we’d been tucked away off the main roads, our cars covered by the
trees and bushes. It was more than a little strange to be standing in the
middle of a parking lot, even this late at night, with an open trunk filled
with magical weapons. Most of the weapons could pass off as everyday items.
The machetes, for instance, might pass as yard tools. Lots of wild blackberries
and ivy in Oregon meant lots of machetes in Oregon. And the knives could just
be knives, the chains, just chains. But there were weird bits in the trunk too.
Things that looked ancient. Archaic twists of metal and glass and leather that
channeled magic, enhanced magic, did almost anything you could think of with
magic, if they fell in the right user’s hands.
It gave me nightmares to think of what they would do if they fell in the wrong
user’s hands.
Zay cast a subtle Illusion spell, just enough that people might think we were
digging in the trunk for a spare tire or something. Then he started unloading
the goodies.
I got a knife, the same one he gave me every time something like this went
down.
“Isn’t that your blood blade?” Terric asked Zay.
“Yes.” Zay handed him a set of axes. Terric took them both in one hand, and
finished off his coffee, then crushed the cup in his hand.
“What do you want, Shame?” Zay asked.
“Got a flamethrower in there?”
“Take a look.”
Shame threw his cig on the ground and dragged the toe of his boot across it.
Then he stepped up and started digging through the trunk like a kid going
elbow-deep in a candy bin.
“Lord, Jones, you’ve stocked up. What’d you think, we were taking down a
fucking army?”
That perked Terric’s interest. He stepped up next to Shame. “Well, I’ll be
shitted,” he said. “That’s an impressive toolbox.”
Zay shifted out of the way. Shame and Terric gleefully dug around in the
weapons. They each proclaimed their finds much better than the other’s, and
ended up—I am not joking—doing a round of rock, paper, scissors over something
that looked like a cherry bomb, swapped a few other things, and actually
laughed a little.
Forget the flowers. Forget the cards, or a nice dinner. Apparently deadly
magical things were the best way to bring people together.
And they did look good together. I didn’t know how to explain it. Like shadow
and light. They belonged in each other’s space. They even moved in unison,
strapping on blades, and tucking other gear under their coats with an
unconscious rhythm that echoed each other’s movements.
I looked over at Zay. He was watching them too, a thoughtful, sad expression on
his face, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had long ago lost its
pieces.
I stretched my hand out and took his. He didn’t look down at me, but he wove
his thick fingers between mine, and squeezed my hand gently.
Our fight suddenly seemed like a small thing.
Think they could at least be friends again?
I thought.
All things break, all things end
, he thought.
Maybe. But some broken things grow again. Like trees. And hope.
Soul Complements?
He wasn’t asking me the question, so much as just
asking. I didn’t know if that could ever grow between them again.
Shame laughed, I mean a deep chortle, and Terric hooted along with him. I
didn’t know what they were laughing about, but it sounded dirty.
Maybe it never died in the first place
, I thought.
Maybe they just
don’t know it yet.
I felt Zay’s quiet acceptance. His willingness to give them time, to be
patient. To hope for them, even if they couldn’t hope for themselves.
It made me love him even more.
At that thought, he turned, looked at me, and smiled.
“What were you just thinking?” he asked.
Since I knew I was blushing, I let go of his hand. I’d had quite enough of
thought sharing. “Something about trees.”
We hadn’t said we loved each other yet. On-again, off-again magic had destroyed
the likelihood of us ever having a normal relationship. It never seemed like
the right time to tell him that I loved him. Or maybe it never seemed like the
right time to admit it to myself.
How normal could a relationship be when at a casual touch you could hear the
other person’s thoughts?
Zayvion stepped into me, put his hands on both sides of my face, his fingers
sliding back through my hair. His palms were warm and callused, and I inhaled
the sweet, familiar pine scent of him.
We kissed, letting our lips, our tongues, our bodies, say what our words dared
not. He didn’t think anything while we were kissing, and neither did I. We
didn’t have to.
He ended the kiss with soft, small kisses at the corners of my mouth, and
pulled away, his arms still embracing me. He held me against him a little
longer. “Be safe,” he breathed. “I don’t ever want to see you hurt again.”