Magic on the Storm (24 page)

“You’re a real jerk, you know?”
He smiled and it looked like it hurt. “I am whatever it takes to get the job
done.”
We stepped into the hospital and checked with reception to see where Violet and
Kevin had been taken. Both had been admitted. Violet was in the prenatal ward
three floors up. Kevin was in the intensive care unit, and visitors were not
allowed. They were doing what they could to tend his magic-induced injuries
with what little magic they had left.
Shit. We wouldn’t be able to get in to see him unless we wanted to storm the
place. I weighed my options. Sneak in and somehow be lucky enough to see if
Kevin was okay, or check on Violet.
Dad pushed at the backs of my eyes. Yeah, well, I knew what his vote would be.
“Think Kevin will be okay?” I asked Shame. We were standing shoulder to
shoulder so the receptionist couldn’t hear us.
He tipped his head, thinking it over. “If he made it this far, there’s a good
chance he’ll recover. Several of the Authority doctors work here. They’d know
him, and know what to do with severe magical injuries.”
I nodded. That would have to be good enough for now. I didn’t know a lot about
Kevin’s personal life, like if he had family in the area. I pulled my book out
of my pocket and made a note to check on him tomorrow, if I could. I walked
back over to the receptionist’s desk.
“Where are the stairs?” I asked. She pointed down the hall and I started off in
that direction.
“You’re kidding, right?” Shame asked. “There’s a perfectly good elevator right
over there.”
“Take the elevator. I don’t care.”
Shame scowled. “How about I just make you angry again? That coat makes you look
fat.”
“Even more reason to take the stairs.”
“Fucking hell.” He sighed dramatically. “I hate you, Beckstrom.”
“Hold on to that,” I said. “You know, because anger will get you there.”
Shame rolled his shoulders and I heard more bone grind than I should. Like a
fricking walking corpse, he still had his hood of his coat up, the shadows
catching moss green against his sallow skin.
Maybe I should make him check into the hospital. Maybe he was sicker than I
thought. Maybe the magic Chase had used on him, and the magic he had used to
help me save Zayvion, had done something more permanent than he wanted to
admit.
I found the door to the stairs and pushed it open. It was only three flights
up, and I did that every day at home. But I was a little worried about Shame.
An elevator probably would be his best choice. “You know I won’t get killed
between here and the third floor,” I said.
“Yep. Because I’m gonna be there to protect you. Walk.”
I shook my head and started up the stairs. I did not need his protection. There
was no magic, so it wasn’t like someone would magically attack me. Which meant
I could get killed only the old-fashioned way—with guns, knives, strangling,
beating. Okay, maybe it was nice to have Shame with me. I could handle myself just
fine physically—even better now that I’d been training—but it never hurt to
have an ally in a fight.
We didn’t say anything as we climbed. Shame walked behind me, and I listened
for his breathing, which remained good, strong, and his footsteps, equal to my
pace.
He didn’t sound like someone who hovered one breath away from the shambling
dead. Shame knew how to handle pain.
“So which doctors are a part of the Authority?” I asked on the second floor.
“Not saying.”
“Why? Is it that big of a secret?”
“Enough that I don’t want to talk about it in a stairwell with this much echo.
Would have told you in a nice quiet elevator, though.”
I grinned. “Bitch, bitch, bitch.”
We made it to the top of the stairwell and I opened the door, then followed the
signs to the reception area.
Shame wasn’t breathing hard, didn’t even seem like he’d broken a sweat. He did,
however, shove his hands in the pockets of his coat and hunch up his shoulders
like he was enduring a hailstorm.
I gave him a questioning look.
“It’s just . . . babies.” He said it like most people say
snakes
or
spiders
or
tax collectors
.
I had no idea what his problem was. “You’re afraid of babies?”
“Shut up.” He strode past me to the reception desk and, I noted, stayed far
enough away that the light wouldn’t quite clear the shadows beneath his hood.
“Violet Beckstrom,” he said. “Could we see her?”
The woman at the counter looked sixteen, the tight curls of her black hair
pulled back in a flowered headband that make her deep brown skin burnish gold.
“She’s resting. There isn’t a restriction on visitors, though. Are you family?”
“I am.” I stepped ahead of Shame. “And he’s a friend.”
“She’s been given some painkillers, so she might be sleeping. We’d like her to
get as much rest as possible, so if she is asleep, you could come back later.”
She pointed down one of the halls that branched off from the main hall. “Down
there. Room 3243.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We headed down the hall and I noted Shame walked closer to me, almost brushing
my shoulder with his.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I won’t let the scary babies hurt you.”
He didn’t say anything. Which was weird. I had no idea what had gotten into
him.
And then we passed the huge glass window beyond which was the nursery. Shame’s
body language changed. He went from stiff-shouldered and tense, to relaxed,
loose, like a runner who was warmed up and ready for the road.
The emotion that rolled off him was hunger.
Holy shit.
“You aren’t afraid of the babies. You want to . . . eat them? What the hell?” I
was still whispering, but that did not lessen the horror in my voice.
“It’s not that I want to eat them—well, okay, maybe a little.” He grinned at
me. “Oh, put the Bible down, Beckstrom. I’m not going to hurt babies. It’s . .
. it’s just so much life around here. Life, get it?” He tipped his head down so
the shadows cleared his eyes, and I was relieved to see Shamus behind those
eyes. Sane, clear. “I’m on some short supply of that right now. And babies are
full of fresh, beautiful life energy.”
“Tell me you wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t. Not in a million years. Not if my life depended on it. Not for
anyone. Not for anything. Not ever.”
And I knew he meant it. Which was good. I did not want to have to fight him.
Again. But I would for babies.
We were still walking. I put my hand on his arm, and could feel the bunch of
muscle against bone. He might promise to never take the life energy from the
babies, but it wasn’t an easy thing to resist.
“Is this because of the fight?” I asked. “What you and Terric did to help me
keep Zay alive? Is it a part of dark magic?”
“No, it’s just a part of Death magic. Energy transference, life transference,
carried on the magic. And the side effect that comes with giving too much
energy before you draw on magic again, or reclaim that energy.”
“Eating babies is a side effect of Death magic?”
“Like dry mouth.”
“Is a disgusting sense of humor a side effect too?”
“No, that’s all me.”
“Shame.” I stopped. Pulled on his arm.
He pivoted toward me, his head down again, slanting me a gaze though the
shadows. “Yes, Beckstrom?”
“Do you need energy? Life energy?”
“Not need. Want.” He pulled his arm away. “I couldn’t take it anyway. No magic
to carry it on. Can we keep walking?”
We could and we did, passing the babies, and stopping about midway down the
hall at Violet’s room. “You coming in here?” I asked.
“Afraid I’ll gnaw on your stepmother?”
I made a face at him and opened the door as quietly as I could. Violet was in
the bed. Someone had brushed her hair back, revealing a bruise that covered her
forehead and spread palm-wide down the left side of her face. She was in a
hospital gown, an extra blanket tucked across her rounded figure, monitors and
an IV hooked up to her.
Something inside me twisted, hurt. I felt, more than heard, my dad’s moan, his
sorrow. It was good enough to know she was alive. Probably better if I didn’t
go in to see her. Better for me. For my control over my dad. And maybe for
Shame too.
Violet stirred, opened her eyes, squinted, without her glasses, over at us.
“Allie,” she said softly, and a little slurred. “Come in, please.”
So much for walking away. I stepped in. “Hi,” I said.
“I won’t stay long. This is Shamus Flynn. He drove me here.”
Shame held up one hand. “Hello, Mrs. Beckstrom. I could step out if you two
want some privacy.”
What did you know? Flynn had manners.
“It’s fine,” she said. Violet pursed her lips, as if trying to feel her teeth.
“I’m numb.”
“Something to help you sleep, I think. Has the doctor talked to you?”
“She said I should sleep.” She closed her eyes, and the green lines on the
monitor jumped before it settled again. I wasn’t sure what the doctors were
monitoring, but I knew it had something to do with magic as well as her
physical injuries.
“I’ll let you rest. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that the baby’s
okay.”
Violet frowned. “Baby?” She pressed her fingers against her eyes. “They said I
might go into early labor.” She pulled her hands away from her eyes and cradled
her stomach. Her eyes opened and the whites were red and glossy from more than
just rubbing. She’d been crying. “Poor little thing. There was so much magic in
the room. I can still feel it in me. In the baby.” The tremor in her voice gave
away her fear. She sounded small. Frightened.
I put my hand on her hand.
Dizziness washed over me. Dad pressed against the backs of my eyes, against the
edges of my mind, pushing forward.
I couldn’t let him. Couldn’t trust what he would say to her. It never went well
when he tried to run my life, or my body.
Stop it
, I thought to him.
You’re dead. Stay dead. It’s not going to
help her if she thinks anything else right now. Don’t mess with her.
He did not stop pushing.
“I know you’re going to be fine,” I said to Violet.
“Both of you are going to be fine. The doctors are looking after you. Good
doctors.” I glanced at Shame, and he nodded.
She looked down at her stomach. “I don’t want to lose the baby. It’s all I have
left. Of him. Of Daniel.” The last word came out with a longing. “He’d be so
angry I hurt our baby.” She made a sound that was half sob.
Dad shoved. Hard.
Like falling off a curb, I stumbled and landed in the back of my head. I could
still see Violet. Could still hear her, but I could not feel my hand on hers.
Which wasn’t a big surprise, since I couldn’t feel any of the rest of my body
either.
“I—,” Dad said through me.
No, no no. Don’t. Dad, don’t
, I thought.
“I know,” he said, getting the hang of my mouth far too quickly for my comfort,
“that I—that he—married you because he saw your strength. You know how much he
loves—loved you. You know he would be proud of you. And he regrets—would regret
not being here for you, to see the baby, to hold you both.”
Sorrow, hope, fear, and regret raged through me. My father’s emotions, not
mine. And on top of them all was love.
It pissed me the hell off. I was all for happy endings, but not if it meant my
dad using me, my body, my mouth, my hormones. It didn’t help that he’d never
shown this kind of emotion around me before. And now I was crawling with his
emotions, and knew, far too intimately, his feelings for Violet.
Give me back my body!
I screamed at him. Yes, like a two-year-old
getting her tantrum on.
Shame, in the corner of the room, suddenly stood out of the chair and walked
over to the opposite side of Violet’s bed. He tipped his head a little, letting
the light under his hood, almost reaching his eyes. He stared at me, at my dad
behind my eyes, and his eyebrows hitched up.
“I think he would be upset,” Violet said, still gazing at her belly. “About everything.
About me. I’ve made a huge mess of things.”
“Perhaps some things, yes. But not everything. He most certainly wouldn’t be
upset with you. And he’d be stunned.” He swallowed—I swallowed, whatever—then
said, softer, “He’d be so very thrilled about the baby.”
“Do you think so?” Violet looked up, eyes unfocused but searching for hope, for
comfort, for understanding. And I felt my heart, my body, stir with love and
desire for her.
Okay: no. I just could not wrap my brain around where this road might lead. I
had a complicated enough relationship with her. I didn’t need to mess it up
with Dad’s desires.
“I know so,” he said gently. “Trust me, Vi. He is looking down on you right now
with nothing but love.”
She smiled. “Daniel used to call me Vi.”
Shame snapped his fingers. “Wow. Isn’t that neat? I have an idea. It’s time for
us to leave. Now.”
It was about time Shame picked up on the weirdness. You’d think someone who
dealt with Death magic would have caught on sooner there was a dead guy running
the show.
“You’re not a part of this family, Mr. Flynn,” Dad said through me. “You can
wait.” And I knew he tried to put Influence behind it, because I could feel the
twist and pull on the small magic inside me, but I wrapped around that flame,
holding it back, far, far out of his reach. The magic, the small magic, stayed
with me and Dad was shit outta luck.
Shame chuckled. “No, I can’t wait. And neither can you, Allie. We should let
Violet get her rest.” Shame put his hand on my hand and licked his lips, smiling
with his lips parted.
I felt it.
So did Dad.
Shame’s hand was warm, almost too warm, his palm slick on the back of my hand.
Very clearly, the tingle of something being drawn out through my skin, like a
leech had just stuck onto the back of my hand to suck my blood out, or like a
really bad Band-Aid rip, prickled my skin.
Dad did not like it. We both knew what Shame was doing—taking a little nip of
him. So much for needing magic to draw on energy. I guess Shame could draw on
life—or was it death, since my dad was undead?—without magic.
That made Dad angry.
And distracted.
I shoved him with everything I had.
And fell back into myself, a wave of vertigo doing damage to my knees. I had
the presence of mind not to fall on top of the pregnant woman.
No, I had more sense than that. Enough that I pulled my hand off hers, Shame
pulling his hand off mine at the exact same time. But just before my fingertips
left Violet’s hand, I felt the bump of movement in her belly.