Magic to the Bone (24 page)

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Authors: Devon Monk

BOOK: Magic to the Bone
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‘‘See? You know more about me than you thought you did.’’
 
 
‘‘I know how you kiss,’’ I said.
 
 
‘‘One kiss does not a man make.’’
 
 
‘‘What’s that supposed to mean?’’
 
 
‘‘It means maybe I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve you haven’t seen yet.’’
 
 
‘‘Well, well. Look at you all confident and strutting. I think getting away from magic has done something to your attitude, Mr. Jones.’’
 
 
‘‘Oh?’’
 
 
‘‘I think it’s made you human.’’
 
 
‘‘Not even close.’’ He took a curve in the road a little too fast and slowed down again. ‘‘How about you, Allie? Tell me about yourself.’’
 
 
‘‘You worked for my father. You know everything about me.’’
 
 
Zay glanced over at me, his brown eyes intense. ‘‘Everything?’’
 
 
I shrugged. ‘‘He gave you my personnel file, right? Don’t look at me like that—I’ve seen it. My entire life in black-and-white—my strengths, my weaknesses. I was just another asset to him, Zay. Not a person. Not a daughter. Not a woman.’’
 
 
Zay thought about that while the scenery slid by. ‘‘So tell me something about the woman.’’
 
 
This conversation was heading dangerously into intimate territory and that scared me. My heart beat harder. ‘‘What do you want to know?’’
 
 
‘‘Why do you Hound so many jobs for free?’’
 
 
Oh. I didn’t realize he’d ask about that. I’d done a lot of free jobs. Mostly for people who didn’t have the money, and mostly when it was pretty clear they were being taken advantage of. Every time I sat down to pay my bills I’d ask myself why I did it. It wasn’t like I was rolling in the dough and could afford to be charitable. Hells, I wasn’t even making my rent month to month. But I didn’t do it to get back at my father, though I’m sure he would have disapproved. I guess I did it because I honestly believed it was right to help people when I could.
 
 
‘‘Money isn’t everything,’’ I said. ‘‘Magic isn’t either. Sometimes people get confused about that. Sometimes even I get confused about that.’’
 
 
‘‘You, confused? When?’’
 
 
‘‘College,’’ I said with forced cheerfulness. ‘‘Magic and drugs do not mix. Or rather, they mix too well.’’ I’d lost almost a full term to that particular hell. I’d managed to pull myself out of it with the help of a few people I hadn’t seen since. I found out the hard way I have an addictive personality. That’s bad news for a Hound, and probably why I was always drinking coffee. ‘‘Thanks for bringing up
that
particular subject.’’
 
 
‘‘Didn’t like college?’’
 
 
‘‘Liked college. Didn’t enjoy being manipulated into being there.’’
 
 
Zay nodded. ‘‘I like that about you.’’
 
 
‘‘That I dropped out of college? Did drugs?’’
 
 
‘‘That you weren’t afraid to do what you thought was right, even if it meant failure in your father’s eyes. You picked up your life and moved on. More than once.’’
 
 
I felt a blush warm my neck and face.
 
 
He, of course, chose that moment to look over at me. ‘‘I like that about you too. For such a tough girl, you blush easy.’’
 
 
I scowled, but it didn’t help. I just blushed harder. Time to change the subject. ‘‘Lots of people get over failure,’’ I said.
 
 
‘‘Lots of people don’t have such a . . .’’ He paused, thought something over. ‘‘A lot of people don’t have a man like your father telling them what they should be. A lot of people can’t stand up to that kind of pressure, Allie, can’t stand up to that kind of will. You could. You did.’’
 
 
‘‘For all the good it did me, right?’’ That sounded sullen, so I tried to steer away from the subject. ‘‘Do I get an award for good behavior?’’
 
 
He shook his head and did not look at me. ‘‘No,’’ he said regretfully. ‘‘You just get this.’’
 
 
‘‘Garbage and an almost-dead guy?’’
 
 
The corner of his mouth twitched up.
 
 
‘‘Garbage, an almost-dead guy, the cat, and me. Not all bad.’’ He looked over, brown eyes filled with warmth, with sympathy. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold his gaze without the blush starting to creep up again. I looked out the window.
 
 
‘‘Can we go back to talking about drugs?’’
 
 
‘‘If you want.’’
 
 
On second thought, I didn’t want that either. My dark past should stay in the past. I changed the subject. ‘‘Nola’s is right up here somewhere. A big white house with a huge driveway. On the right.
 
 
‘‘There.’’ I pointed out the window. Her driveway was a gravel and dirt affair, wide enough that three cars could drag race down it, and close enough to her front porch that getting groceries out of the car was a breeze.
 
 
Zay turned down the driveway and we crawled along it until we came up next to her porch, the headlights shining against the closed door of her garage.
 
 
Jupe, a mud-colored brute of a dog that was part Lab, part Great Dane, and all parts of him huge, tore through the side yard from behind the house, barking his big square head off and wagging his tail like mad.
 
 
‘‘Jupe!’’ I called to him. I didn’t do pets, but Jupe was big enough to be a family member. Maybe two. Still, I did not roll down the window, and I wouldn’t until Nola came out. I wasn’t stupid.
 
 
‘‘Don’t you remember me, boy?’’ I asked.
 
 
‘‘Don’t open the door,’’ Zay warned.
 
 
‘‘Not planning on it. Nola should be out soon.’’ At the mention of Nola’s name, Jupe’s ears perked up. ‘‘That’s right, boy. Go get Nola.’’
 
 
‘‘You speak dog? Wonderful talent. Now
that
might get you an award.’’
 
 
‘‘Shut up, Jones.’’ I did like it better when we were joking instead of talking about serious things.
 
 
Jupe just kept barking and running from Zay’s window to bark at him and over to my window to bark at me.
 
 
Finally, the front door opened and Nola stepped out onto the porch. She was country through and through, from her steel-toe boots to her overalls with daisies stitched down the shoulder straps. She’d let her honey-colored hair grow long enough to pull it back in one braid down her back, but otherwise I caught my breath at how much she looked the same as when I knew her in high school.
 
 
Nola whistled and Jupe looked back at her. He wagged his tail and barked. She whistled again, lower this time, and the big lunker of a dog bounded over to her and stood at her side.
 
 
I rolled the window down a crack. ‘‘Nola! It’s me, Allie,’’ I yelled.
 
 
Nola put both hands on her hips and leaned forward at the waist, peering through the dust-covered car windows.
 
 
I stuck my hand out the window and waved.
 
 
‘‘Are you okay, Allie?’’ I knew what she was asking. Did she need to get a gun, call the cops, or tell Jupe to tear the car apart?
 
 
‘‘I’m good. I have someone with me. His name’s Zayvion. And another guy asleep in the backseat.’’
 
 
Okay, that sounded seriously weird. ‘‘Can we stay for a while?’’
 
 
Nola shook her head and clomped down the porch stairs. She came around to my window, Jupe trailing her like a trained grizzly. She looked in the window at me and got that worried frown I hated to see on her. She glanced at Zayvion, then back at Cody.
 
 
‘‘Come on in,’’ she said. ‘‘All of you.’’
 
 
Zayvion unlocked the car doors and I opened mine while Nola waited until she saw me push my own door open. She flinched, probably from the smell, or maybe from the mess of blood and gunk on me.
 
 
‘‘Are you hurt?’’ she asked.
 
 
‘‘Just messy. The kid in the back needs help, though.’’
 
 
She took a breath, then opened the back door.
 
 
‘‘Wait,’’ I said. ‘‘There’s a cat.’’
 
 
But it was too late. Nola had the door open, and Jupe stuck his big bear head in the back of the car, snuffing and sniffing.
 
 
The kitten hissed and yowled. Jupe harrumphed and licked his chops. The kitten yowled again.
 
 
Served the fluffy little monster right.
 
 
‘‘Leave the cat alone, Jupe,’’ Nola said. ‘‘It is not a toy. Out of there now. Out.’’ Nola patted Jupe’s side. He put it in reverse and got out of the way.
 
 
‘‘Is this man hurt?’’ Nola asked.
 
 
I stood up out of the car, and wished I hadn’t. Everything I’d been through in the last eight hours came roaring down on me. Sweet loves, I was tired, stiff, and sore. And I really had to pee. My stomach cramped and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day, either. All of that hit me in one nauseating wave and I was glad for the cool wind against my face.
 
 
‘‘Allie?’’ Nola said.
 
 
‘‘I’ll help her,’’ Zay said.
 
 
I was working hard not to puke, so I kept my mouth shut. If I could have opened it to talk, I’d have told them I was fine and didn’t need any help.
 
 
‘‘No, I’ll help her,’’ Nola said. ‘‘You can take him into the house. If you need me to help carry him, I’ll be back out.’’
 
 
A thin, strong arm slipped around my waist and, even through the garbage, I smelled the warm yeast and butter of bread she must have been baking. It should have made me feel more sick, but it just made me hungry.
 
 
‘‘Ready?’’ she asked. ‘‘Take a few steps for me.’’
 
 
I opened my eyes. ‘‘Hey, I’m fine. Just a little tired.’’
 
 
‘‘Good. I’m getting messier the longer I hold you. Let’s get going.’’ Nola smiled, but her eyebrows were drawn down in a frown. She was worried about something. I hoped it wasn’t me for a change.
 
 
We got in the house, which was warm enough that I wanted to sleep right there in the hall, or right there in the living room, or right there in the kitchen. We stopped in the kitchen, and I sat at her oak table and dragged garbage-soaked shoes across Nola’s lemon-clean wood floors.
 
 
‘‘Thanks for the money,’’ I said. ‘‘I hope this isn’t a bad time to visit.’’
 
 
‘‘Nonsense. I told you to come out and visit any time. Here.’’ She put a bowl in front of me. ‘‘Chicken noodle soup. Eat.’’
 
 
She wiped her hands and the side of her face on a dish towel and then clomped out of the kitchen the way we came in.
 
 
I did as I was told, and was not disappointed. Nola was the best cook I had ever known.
 
 
While I ate, I listened to Nola direct Zayvion about where to put Cody. Upstairs bedroom, across the hall from Nola’s room, probably, so she could keep an eye on him. Plus, Nola knew every floorboard and creak in this old house. It had belonged to her husband’s parents and she’d spent a lot of time here even before they were married. If Cody got out of bed in the middle of the night, she’d know.
 
 
Zay and she had a conversation, something that involved doctor and magic and authorities and my name. It was the kind of conversation I figured I should be involved in, but I just couldn’t muster the strength to give a damn. Not with a hot bowl of soup in front of me.

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