Magic at the Gate (11 page)

“Well, crap,” I said. That was about all I had left in me. “So if everyone is interested and worried, we’ll have lots of people coming in to help, right? Magic users?”

“No. We’re on our own.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Territory rules forbid it.”

“Oh, come on.” I rubbed my forehead. I think I was getting a headache.

“Ancient stuff, remember. Territory is very important to the Authority. Portland is our problem. No other Voice can have a vote or sway in what we do. And dragging more people into this will just mean there are more people fighting on all sides. We’ve been over this the last couple weeks—and so far the one thing most of us agree on is we need to take care of this ourselves, and quickly.”

“So how do I help?”

“Come back from death alive, that’s a good start. Oh, and maybe bring back the living soul of Jones over there.”

“And then what, Shame? What’s our plan? Who are we fighting? Where do we hunt?”

“That’s all stuff Mum’s going to go over with you. The basics? We’re screwed. That bastard Jingo Jingo is holed up somewhere so tight there isn’t room for him to exhale. But he’ll have to come out eventually. So we’re waiting. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. Waiting had pretty much been Sedra’s plan for when the wild-magic storm was going to hit too. And look how that had turned out.

“Have you heard anything about Violet?” Last I’d seen my dad’s widow, she was in the hospital, injured from the break-in at her labs where the disks were stolen.

“She’s back at Kevin’s place. With Kevin. Bed rest, I think. She hasn’t had the baby yet.”

“But she’s okay?”

“As far as I know. Kevin’s got the place locked down like it’s fucking Armageddon out here. He takes ‘bodyguard’ to a whole new level of obsession.”

“I’ll need to talk to her. And Stone, where’s Stone?”

A coo came from the shadowy corner of the room and the curtains moved. Stone walked over, giving Zayvion’s bed a wide berth as he passed. He propped his big head on my thigh and rumbled.

“You okay, boy?” I rubbed his head. He was smooth, warm, and seemed to be moving well, if a little slowly. I wondered if death, and holding Zayvion’s soul had hurt him.

“Is he all right?” I asked Shame.

“Think so. He is moving a little slower since you came back.”

“It’s because you followed me into death, you big lug. Stupid rock.” I scratched behind his ears and he made a happy gurgle.

“Maybe,” Shame hedged.

I looked up at him. “Maybe?”

“We don’t know that much about Animates. And now that he’s gone into death, and also carried a living soul—” He lifted one hand. “Who knows?”

“He’s going to be fine,” I said, giving him one last pat.

“Oh, one more thing,” Shame said. “After the wild-magic storm, gates have been opening up all over town. We’ve been hauling ass to Close them and hunt down the things that got through. You weren’t the only one having a good time for the last few days.

“But ever since you fell back from death, ever since you brought Zayvion’s soul back and returned it to his body, the gates are harder and harder to close. I think things might be slipping through, though none of the Closers agrees on that.”

“And we have a plan for that too?”

“Same as the other one, except this plan involves lots of us out there sweating and casting and muscling the gates closed.”

“Don’t you have any good news?”

“It’s not going to rain today.”

I laughed. “Hells.” I rubbed my face, then let my hands fall in my lap. I was suddenly really tired again. “Dying sucks.”

“Not if you do it right. Need some sleep?”

“I don’t want to. We don’t have time.”

“There’s time enough for you to sleep. You might as well while you can. I’ll tell Mum you’re resting.” He walked to the door.

“Shame?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you tell Stotts everything? I thought the Authority doesn’t want the police knowing that kind of stuff.”

“I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“How about this? It’s okay. We took care of it.”

“That’s worse. What did you do to Paul?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Shame, tell me they didn’t hurt him.” I went back over all the things Shame had just told me. Had I forgotten anything? Had he told me something about Stotts? Had I gotten him hurt, put him in danger by having him bring me here?

“I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but you just went pale as plaster. I’ll go get the doctor.”

“Wait. No. Tell me. Tell me what they did to Stotts.” I wanted to pull on magic and force him to tell me the truth, but magic cannot be cast in a high state of emotion, and I could not get my head or heart to calm down.

“We Closed him.”

“No.”

“Pretty much, yes. He can’t know the things he’s seen— you falling out of death with a living gargoyle carrying Zayvion’s soul? Please. You think we’d let him remember that?”

“I think you’d keep your hands off him. He’s not a part of this.”

Shame smiled a tight smile. “We’re all a part of this. One big stage and he’s a player too. Just a bit part right now, since he can’t remember coming out here. Still.”

I pushed the covers off my legs. “Who?” I said. “Who did it? Terric? Victor? Who Closed him, Shame?” I stood. Me and anger went way back. It kept me steady and strong even though the room swayed a little to the left. I marched across the floor and grabbed hold of the door to keep Shame from closing it.

Shame didn’t look at all threatened. Well, he wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate me.

“I could just cast a Sleep spell on you and not have to tell you,” he said with such a soft hunger, I knew that was exactly what he wanted to do.

“Try it, Flynn, and you’ll be choking on your own blood.”

The corners of his eyes tightened. I waited, ready to block whatever he was going to throw at me. Instead, he stepped aside, and opened the door.

“Victor,” he said. “He’s downstairs right now, talking to Mum.”

I didn’t have any shoes on, no bra. Just the robe. I couldn’t remember if I’d brushed my hair after the shower. Didn’t matter. I knew that whoever Closed someone had the ability to un-Close them. And I would not let them screw around with Stotts’ head just because he had helped me.

My left hand was strangely warm. The heat came from my palm, like a coal lay beneath the skin there, heavy and hot. Zay moaned in his sleep. I looked over at him, but he was silent. If not for my Hound ears, I wouldn’t have heard him. His breathing returned to normal, and my heartbeat calmed. I wanted him to wake up. I wanted to be there when he regained consciousness.

But right now I had a friend’s brain to get back.

“Stay with him,” I told Shame. He opened and closed his hands like he was itching to strangle someone. Probably me.

“You don’t get it, do you, Beckstrom? I stay with you.” He caught my left hand. “Listen—” His eyebrows shot up and he turned my hand over. “Fuck me, what’s this?”

I glanced down. The silver-black circle smudged my palm, the mark Mikhail had left on me. It was darker now, bigger, the lines of my hand still crossing it square through the center.

I pulled my hand away from him. “A bruise.”

“Okay, don’t tell me the truth. I don’t care. But you are punching at the wrong wall. I stay with you because Zayvion would want me to look after you.”

“Like I need—”

“Not listening. Old, stupid argument. You know going down there won’t be worth the effort to fight over a few non-life threatening memories.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I said as I started down the hall. “You’ve never had your life taken away from you, bit by bit.”

He shut the door, then followed behind me. “He can’t know about this stuff.”

“He deserves to keep his life and experiences. He’s a police officer. He’s out there every damn day trying to make the city a better place for people who use magic. Isn’t that what the Authority says it’s all about? Making sure magic is safe for those who use it? Or is it just about the power now? Who gets to control magic?”

“Dying makes you cranky, you know that?”

I was at the top of the stairs, and trying to brace myself for getting all the way to the main floor.

Shame leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest. “You could do this tomorrow.”

“I’m doing it now.” I started down the stairs, and instantly broke a sweat. That didn’t stop me. After the first flight, Shame caught up and walked next to me. By the last flight, his arm was around my waist, and I hated how much I needed that to stay on my feet.

We were in the hall that led to the dining room, and it was fairly noisy, like most nights. The smell of steak, onions, and rosemary hit me hard, and I wanted to stand there and absorb the flavors through my skin.

Then Shame cast a very subtle Illusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Making it so people don’t see you. You look like an escapee from a mental ward. And while I personally think it’s a turn-on, most people would speed-dial 911 if they caught a glimpse of you.”

“Do you always talk this nice to girls?”

“Only the crazy ones.”

He started down the hall, stopped at a door, knocked, then opened it.

It was one of the several sitting rooms on this floor. Like the sitting room I had taken classes from Maeve in, this one was dripping in wards, tastefully decorated, and arranged for conversation and magic casting, if the need arrived.

“Dead girl walking,” Shame announced.

We stepped in and Shame closed the door behind us, activating the privacy wards.

Three people in the room: Maeve, Victor, and the mountain of a man, Hayden.

“Allie, why are you out of bed?” Maeve sat on a love seat, a blanket over her lap, her feet up on the seat cushions and a pillow behind her back. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a loose bun, tendrils falling onto pale cheeks. I noted, with a twinge of dread, the cane propped within hand’s reach.

“I need to talk to Victor. About Stotts.”

Victor, sitting in a leather armchair, wore slacks and a dark shirt, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up, to allow for the bulk of a bandage over his right hand and wrist. He gave me a long look. “The answer is no.”

“I wasn’t asking. Give him back his memories.”

Hayden, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out, boots propped on the coffee table, chuckled.

“Allison, take a seat, please,” Victor said. When I didn’t move, he glanced at Shame. “Shame, please help her sit.”

I didn’t want to admit how much I wanted to sit down, didn’t want to lose the anger that kept me standing, but I didn’t want Shame helping me either. So I sat next to Hayden, who moved his arm down from the back of the couch to make room for me.

I hadn’t spent very much time around Hayden. He had come down from Alaska to help us deal with the wild-magic storm that hit the city. Last I remember, Shame was hoping Hayden and Maeve would date. But it didn’t look like there had been any time for that sort of thing since the storm.

I didn’t see any injuries on the big man, though he smelled faintly of cloves and eucalyptus—like a heated rub for muscle pain.

“Good to see you’re back,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“How was it?”

I frowned.

“Death,” he supplied.

“Strange and painful.”

He grunted. “Here I thought it’d be different than life.”

“Trust me, it was. Victor, I want you to un-Close Stotts.”

Victor pressed his fingertips together gently and didn’t flex the right-hand fingers at all. Unless he could cast left-handed, which I wasn’t sure about, he was in no shape to be drawing glyphs.

“I understand your concern—”

“Anger. Not concern. You can’t do this to him. He’s a police officer and he is my friend.”

“We are well aware of that. It is the reason we removed his memories. For him to continue to do his job, a vital function for magic to work well in this city, and for people to stay safe, he can’t know about the Authority.”

“He saved Zayvion’s life and you punished him for it.”

Victor simply held my gaze. Zen, calm. Just like Zay. Except I hated him for it.

“There is no negotiation on this matter,” Victor said in his teacher voice. “I understand it offends you.”

“Fix it, or I’ll fix it.” I pushed up onto my feet. No, I wasn’t a Closer and I didn’t know how to retrieve someone’s memories. But I’d find a way.

Looked like Victor could tell I was serious. He was a smart man.

“That would be a grave mistake,” he said. “You could do far more harm to him.”

“I bet if I told him he’d had memories taken away, he’d be more than happy to let me try to get them back.”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a smile at the corner of his mouth. It was the look he gave me when I’d done a spell or a sword routine particularly well.

He leaned back into his chair. “We can’t un-Close him now. It is too soon. Closing someone is delicate, and the last thing I wish out of this is for our haste to harm Detective Stotts.”

Reason. Like that would stop me. “There has to be a way.”

“There is. And in the next two weeks, I will discuss it with you again. We may be coming to a point in time where it behooves us to have a man such as Detective Stotts on our side.”

I swear, he was the only guy I knew who used
behoove
in a sentence.

“That sounded like a yes.”

“It was a positive maybe. But until we take care of other matters first—the disappearance of Sedra and Jingo Jingo and others, the gates, the unrest—we should best let Detective Stotts’ mind alone. If we do give his memories back to him, it will be done safely, and according to the rules, laws, and strictures of the Authority.”

“I want your word on that.”

“You have my word.”

“And your blood.”

“Allie,” Maeve said, shocked. Like I’d just asked him to strip naked or something.

I looked over at her. “I won’t believe him any other way.” Plus, I didn’t know why she was so shocked. She was my Blood magic teacher. She was the one who had taught me these spells. Oh, maybe that was exactly why. Victor was my teacher too. I shouldn’t have to question his word.