Magic at the Gate (27 page)

Chapter Twenty

“A
re you okay?” I asked as soon as Shame had started the car.

He sighed. “Let’s not talk. I don’t like you much right now.”

“I know. I have a knack for pissing men off tonight.”

“Stotts and me?”

“And Kevin and Zay.”

“Zay? Did you talk to him? Did he wake up?”

I was an idiot. I’d been so wrapped up in everything else, I hadn’t even told Shame his best friend had regained consciousness.

“He woke up.”

“Was he talking? Did he know who you were?”

“Yes. Things were going fine. I was trying to fill him in on what had been going on, and then I told him I’d brought him back from death and he didn’t want to talk anymore.”

“He finally regains consciousness after being dead and you have a fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight. He just needs some time. To think things through. To deal with what’s happened.” To get over the fact that I went into death and brought him back.

I rubbed at my forehead. My headache was behind my eyes, sinus pressure and a sore throat. I hoped the cold symptoms would pass soon.

“He would have done the same,” I mumbled against my palms. “He would have gone into death after me.”

“That’s not what it’s about,” Shame said. “It’s about love.”

“I think it’s about pride.”

“No. When you hurt someone you care about, when you break them. . . . ” He swallowed hard.

I waited. Finally, “You get angry?”

“You wonder if you can . . . care enough to find a way to let go of them. So you won’t hurt them again. So you won’t destroy them.”

“That’s called sacrifice,” I said.

“That’s called caring.”

“How’s that been working for you and Terric?”

“Jesus,” he said with no heat. Then, “Not well, really. My life was miserable without him, and it’s not so hot with him here either. At least you and Zay have the kind of thing that ends up with wedding rings attached to it. And you know, babies. Terric and me? Matching restraining orders. Maybe simultaneous murder charges.”

I thought he was wrong about that. But him bringing up Zay and wedding rings and babies—things I hadn’t even taken the time to think about—made me want to change the subject fast. “I would really love to change the subject,” I said.

“Thank God. See the Blazers game the other night? Double overtime. I lost a fortune to Hayden. Speaking of, call him, won’t you? Tell him I’m going to drop you off and we’ll be there in about ten.”

I dialed. “Where are you going?”

“To spring Terric.”

“Shame, you can’t march into a hospital and break him out without clearing it with the doctors.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Shame?” I said.

“Hello?” Hayden asked.

“Say hello to the nice man,” Shame said.

I rolled my eyes. Bad idea. Headache. “This is Allie. Violet and her lawyer got Shame and me out. We’re headed to the inn, but Shame’s going to go check on Terric in the hospital. Tell him staging a prison break is a bad idea.”

“Terric’s already out. He’s on his way here.”

“Is he all right?”

“He says so. Dr. Fisher will look at him when he gets here. How long until you arrive?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Good. Don’t get arrested between now and then, hear?” He hung up.

“What did he say?” Shame asked.

“Terric’s okay. He’s been released from the hospital and will meet us at the inn.”

“Hmm.”

“Also, we are not to be apprehended by the law before we get there.”

“Why do you think I’m driving?”

I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. Tried my best to relax, to meditate. Only ended up falling asleep, which was probably for the best anyway.

I snorted awake when Shame parked.

We were at the inn. I had the sleep-shakes. I was craving sleep something fierce and ten minutes of shut-eye hadn’t done it for me. I needed sleep. Big squishy bunches of it. Soon.

The night was quiet with the kind of stillness that made you feel like everything was holding its breath for dawn. We walked up the front steps and wandered in, even though the porch light was off and the CLOSED sign hung in the window.

The wards were in full force, and I tasted the slick Earl Grey tea of Victor’s handiwork as I stepped across the threshold.

Inside, lamps scattered among the tables cast lemon yellow circles of light throughout the main room. Victor, Hayden, Maeve sat at one table, talking quietly, coffee cups at their elbows and a map spread out between them.

Sunny and the three Georgia sisters were in the middle of a card game, and Joshua and Nik leaned chairs against the wall, feet propped on spare chairs, arms folded over their chests, catching some sleep. I didn’t see the twins, or Dr. Fisher. Maeve looked up.

“Good, you’re here.” She motioned both Shame and me over. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good,” I said. “Tired.”

“Shame?”

“Fantastic. I’d like two of these kinds of days every week.” He pulled out a spare chair and slouched down in it. “What’s the news?”

Victor rubbed his hand over his hair and pushed back from the table. “Assuming you were able to cap the Winter well?”

Shame nodded. “We did. Terric did.”

“Then we have one well capped, and so far, the other wells have not come under attack. We have closed over twenty gates tonight—”

Shame whistled softly.

Victor acknowledged that with a nod. “—and at this time are enjoying what appears to be an entire hour without either an arrest, a gate, the Hungers, the Veiled, or anything else happening.”

No wonder everyone looked exhausted.

“We think there are more living Veiled on the streets than just Truance and the man you ran into.”

I covered my yawn with one hand. “What about the networks? At the graveyard, the Veiled were drinking down the magic over the well. They could do that to the networked lines in the city, right?”

“Your father was very specific about how he created the wards and safeties built into the networked lines. He was aware of the Veiled, and Hungers, and other things that sometimes enter our world. The networks are guarded against them.”

“He didn’t put safeties in place to keep the dead from draining the disks,” I said.

“How do you know?” Hayden asked.

“I asked Violet about it tonight. She said they never thought anyone would try to reglyph the disks. She’s redesigning them so there are safeguards in the future. I think Kevin’s helping her with that.”

“That’s good to know,” Victor said. “I don’t think the Veiled can drain the networks.”

“They can drain the wells,” I said. “Truance was at the well. She stabbed Terric.”

Everyone looked at Shame. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his shoes.

“She used Blood magic on him, but Shame canceled the glyph before he was taken to the hospital.”

Victor rubbed at his already bloodshot eyes. “What happened to Truance?”

“She disappeared.”

“Unfortunate. If what Truance told you is true, the Veiled who have disks are looking for a way to recharge them. The wells make the perfect target. We’re considering capping the other wells if necessary. I’d rather just take care of the Veiled and reclaim the disks before it comes to that.”

“There’s an approved way of taking care of the Veiled?” I asked around another yawn.

“Death magic is best.”

I glanced at Shame. He’d used Death magic to kill that guy on the street. I didn’t think he used Death magic in the graveyard. I was positive there was no way in hell I could drink someone down to dust. I didn’t know how many of the others here could use Death magic. Maeve specialized in Blood magic, and most everyone else was a Closer—Faith magic.

“We doing this now?” Shame sounded as tired as I felt.

“Not until tomorrow, maybe even tomorrow night, if all goes well,” Maeve said. “We need to rest. Sleep. Including you.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He heaved up onto his feet. “Good night all. I assume someone will have a dangerous and daring plan in place by morning?”

“We’re laying it out now,” Victor said.

“Save a good part for me.” He rolled his shoulders and shuffled across the room, aiming for the hall that led to the rooms above.

The outside door opened. Shame stopped. Turned.

Terric walked through the door. Carl and his twin sister, La, were right behind him. Terric paused, took in the people gathered, his gaze resting the longest on Shame.

Shame took a couple steps toward Terric, pure relief on his face.

Terric smiled slightly.

Shame smiled back.

Then Shame seemed to notice that everyone in the room was paying attention to the two of them. That connection, too tenuous to begin with, broke under the weight of scrutiny. He scowled and stalked away down the hall.

Terric’s smile fell, and he suddenly looked tired and sick.

Shame had said sometimes you have to love someone enough to let go of them so you don’t hurt them anymore.

I didn’t think he understood how much he was hurting Terric by pushing him away.

“Are we going to do anything about the two of them?” Victor asked quietly.

“There isn’t anything to do,” Maeve said. “Shamus refuses to take the test to see if they are Soul Complements, and at the moment there aren’t nearly enough of us to administer the test correctly.”

“We could send Terric back to Seattle,” Hayden said.

Maeve’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Finally: “That has to be Terric’s choice.”

Terric walked the rest of the way into the room and, catching my gaze, headed my way. I met him halfway.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Not great. You?”

“Could sleep a century away.”

He glanced at the hallway Shame has disappeared down.

“He’s worried about you,” I said.

“I know.”

“He’s worried he’s going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“That’s why he’s pushing you away.”

Terric shook his head. “Is that what he told you?”

“Yes.”

“He’s lying. It’s not about me. It’s about him. Shame isn’t worried he’s going to hurt me. He’s terrified he might
like
me, and then he’ll have to deal with what that says about him. He can be such a selfish ass.” He took a breath that set him off in a spectacular coughing fit.

I put my hand on his elbow, and helped him over to a chair. Or rather we both managed to get him to a chair without falling down.

“Do you need water?” I asked.

He shook his head, still coughing. His eyes were squeezed tight, tears at the corners, arm pressed against his ribs like he was trying to keep his guts in place.

Maeve appeared beside me. “Be easy, Terric.” She gently brushed her fingers over his forehead, and his coughing eased, giving him time to breathe.

“I wish I knew how to do that,” I said.

Maeve smiled over at me. “I’ll show you someday.”

“You going to be okay?” I asked Terric.

Dr. Fisher walked in from the kitchen area, and made a beeline straight for him.

“He’ll be fine,” Maeve said. “Get some sleep.”

Terric nodded, and drank the water Sunny offered him. I stepped back to make room for the doctor. I figured he didn’t need four women fussing over him.

“Nice work out there,” I said. “You deserve a medal for what you did tonight.”

Dr. Fisher was already drawing a Sight glyph—one of the medical versions that gave you a better look inside a body.

Terric winced a little. “Just doing my job. That’s all,” he croaked.

It was a lot more than his job. He had put himself in danger, dealt with debilitating pain to use Blood magic and Death magic—was probably still paying the price now—and been stabbed by a lunatic undead Veiled to keep me and Shame safe.

I slogged my way down the hall and up the stairs. I didn’t have to sleep in the same room as Zay. There were a dozen other rooms on this level, more below, more above. But my feet, my heart, took me straight to his door.

Stupid feet.

I crept inside, not wanting to wake him. Not wanting to fight with him. Not wanting to make him worry. All I wanted was to pretend that we were okay. That he was alive and well, I was alive and well.

Zay wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, in the bed I’d been in. Looked like he’d gotten there himself, too. The covers on the other bed were hanging down to the floor, and the machine he’d had hooked up to him was turned off, but not pushed against the wall or moved to some other storage place. He didn’t have an IV or oxygen tube. He was on his side, the extra pillow dragged from the other bed and now stuffed under his head. He faced the door and was snoring lightly. He’d taken my shirt I’d left on the bed and held it against his heart.

For an infuriating man, he sure looked good sleeping.

I slid out of my shoes and socks and took off my coat. Used the bathroom and then walked back out into the room. Should I take his bed?

Everything in me didn’t want to lie down where he had been so hurt, so close to death. I hoped he was on for some serious spooning. The bed almost wasn’t wide enough for him.

I wanted to strip naked, but didn’t know who would walk in, or how fast I might need to be ready in the morning. So I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled my bra off without taking off his sweater. Then I crawled into bed behind Zay. I pressed my forehead against the hollow of his shoulder blades, one arm around his ribs.

He smelled so good.

His breathing paused. He inhaled deeply, his muscles relaxing even more. Touching him, holding him, made me feel like I was sinking into deep, warm water. Made me feel like I was finally where I belonged. Home. Before he could exhale, I was out.

Chapter Twenty-one

I
dreamed of sitting on the plush couch in my father’s living room in the condo where I’d grown up.

“More coffee?” Dad asked.

Dad looked like he always looked—suit, tie, gray hair. But he was holding my red coffee carafe, the one Nola had given me. I loved that carafe.

I glanced at the cup in my hand. Empty. “Sure.” I held out the cup.

“You’re dreaming, you know,” he said as a stream of mahogany-colored coffee filled the cup with that happy rising gurgle, the rich, deep, earthy scent hitting my nose.

“It’s nice so far. That’s not going to last, is it?”

He sat in the chair across from me. “I doubt it. But why not have a drink first?” His chair was close enough that if I wanted, I could touch him without having to scoot forward. He had a coffee cup now too, and took a drink.

I sipped. The coffee filled my mouth and burned warm and soft in my chest, soothing the hole where my magic used to be. It was delicious. Comforting. And nothing I’d ever expect from my dad.

“I’m having a hard time remembering all the reasons I’m angry at you,” I said. “But I know I’m angry.”

“It’s been a complicated few months.” He tugged at his tie with one hand, loosening the knot there, then unbuttoned the first button at his collar.

“Since I can’t seem to talk to you when you’re awake, I thought this might be a good way for us to come to an . . . understanding.”

That sounded bad. Dad’s “understandings” always involved the other party capitulating to his desires. I drank coffee because I was pretty sure I’d be throwing whatever was left of it in his face in a minute.

“I have been reluctant to allow you to be aware of all the forces at work. Those who want magic, and why. But it is clear to me that our survival—both yours and mine—will be dictated by how well you and I can work together.”

“So we’re screwed?”

He smiled. Wow, I hadn’t seen him smile in ages.

“No. There are always options. Careful thinking and careful actions see to that. But we are coming to an important crossroads. You remember we walked through death.”

It wasn’t a question, but still, it took me a minute. Then I did remember. Not clearly, but my dad was there and Stone and the monstrous Veiled. I had been looking for Zay. And I’d found him trapped by Mikhail.

“I remember.”

“And you discovered that Mikhail and I, at this time, have complementary agendas.”

“You mean you’re on the same side of the war.”

“Yes. But we have different motivations. I am seeking to put magic in the right hands.”

“And to live forever,” I said.

“Yes. And immortality.” He said it like I’d reminded him he was wearing shoes. “To do so, I have made alliances.”

“Mikhail. Who tried to kill us when Zay and I were testing. Who trapped Zayvion, and made me give my magic up to him and tried to kill Sedra. That Mikhail?”

“Mostly. He will have his revenge, Allie. Over those who betrayed him and sent him into death. I have no say in that.”

“And you’ll have your revenge too?”

He flashed me a hard smile. “There is a reason why we have similar agendas.”

“So the same people who killed you killed him? That doesn’t make any sense. James Hoskil was behind your death. And Greyson—but Greyson was a part of the Authority and James wasn’t.” My head hurt. I was having a hard time keeping my thinking on a linear path. Dreams could be so confusing. Or maybe it was just my life that was confusing.

“They were hands to the one who wanted us dead. Pawns. Both of them. That is all.”

“Then who? Who wanted Mikhail dead and you dead? And why? And how do I know you’re telling the truth anyway?”

“Even in your own mind, your own dreams, you doubt me?”

“We’ve been over that, but in case you need to hear it again—yes.”

“Sedra killed Mikhail.”

His words were like cold water. Cold, confusing water. Sedra was the head of the Authority. She made all the final decisions on magic and had stepped up as the head of the Authority after Mikhail’s death. “I thought Dane Lannister shoved him through a gate because he was trying to kill her.”

“That is what Sedra convinced Dane of. It’s not true. Mikhail wasn’t experimenting with dark magic, he was trying to join dark and light magic. He was trying to heal magic. Sedra killed him for it.”

“Why?”

“Because he succeeded. On a very small level, within Wards and Containments, he rejoined light and dark magic.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

Okay. Even in my dream, I knew this was big. Important.

“And you never told anyone?”

“I did. They didn’t believe me. Not even with a Truth spell.” He smiled ruefully. “I am certain she is the one who sent Greyson to kill me.”

For all that I did not like my dad, I was angry he had been killed. And right on top of that anger was my uncomfortable belief that he was the kind of man who might have done something that justified his murder.

“I was in her way. My technology was in her way, so she killed me. And now you are in her way.”

“Well, she’s been kidnapped, so I don’t see how she can do anything to me. I think you might be worried about this because you’re in my head. If I die, you die.”

“That’s a part of it, of course. But even if you . . . fell . . . I would find a way to see my agenda is accomplished.”

And there it was. My pragmatic, coldhearted father’s idea of love.

“Go to hell,” I said without heat. “Get out of my dream. I want to wake up now.”

“I don’t want you harmed. Not because it would be inconvenient to me, but because you are my daughter and I have always cared about you.”

It was as close to saying he loved me as I’d ever heard. And I still didn’t buy it.

He threw his hands open and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. “Impossible. You are impossible.”

“I want to wake up now,” I said again.

“You need to trust me. I am asking,
asking
you to trust me. It is too difficult to draw upon magic. I am tired.” It sounded like he had a hard time getting those words out of his throat. “I need you to stop fighting when I use magic through you. You could have been killed by Truance. And she isn’t nearly the most dangerous enemy out there. The Veiled have bodies. They’re the walking undead, and they’re using my disks to do it. If they find a way to recharge the disks, they will tear the Authority, this city, and the world apart. And
they don’t pay any price to use magic.
None. I need you to trust that when I use magic, I am doing it to keep you safe.”

“Trust? If you want my trust you might want to try not lying to me, not trading away parts of my soul when it suits you. And not possessing me. This is over. As soon as I can find a way to get you out of my head, permanently, I am going to do so.”

I watched as his expression closed down harder and harder until the man in front of me might well have been made out of steel. “You know your hatred won’t stop me.”

“My hatred doesn’t have to stop you.
I’ll
stop you. Cancel you. Cripple you. Send you back to death and make you stay there.”

We glared at each other for what seemed a long time, and a million thoughts rushed through my head. Of Zayvion trapped in death, of saving Stotts, of Davy and Shame and Terric, and Violet. I’d been strong enough for all of them. I didn’t know how I was going to stand up to my dad since he was, literally, a part of me. But I was plenty strong enough to find a way.

In dreams, we shared thoughts too easily. I know he had heard some of that. I ignored what he might be thinking. I did not want to be any closer to him than I already was.

He finally looked away, out the windows I knew faced the mountain. It was dark out, night in this dream. I didn’t know what he saw there. “There is something I want to give you. A gift. Even if you will not give me your trust.”

He stood. Walked toward the door that should lead to the kitchen. He opened the door.

And my mother stepped through.

Or rather, a memory of her. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt. Young, maybe in her twenties. I had forgotten how much red streaked her dark brown hair. I had forgotten the hazel-gray of her eyes. And then I was little again, laughing as she and I folded bright small pieces of paper into origami creatures.

“It’s a crane,” she said in a voice that meant love, safety, and the world to me. “See how the wings make it fly?” She helped me hold the front of the origami figure, and showed me how to gently pull the tail so the crane’s wings moved.

“And if you fold a thousand of them, they will bring you peace, or a wish come true.”

“That’s going to take a long time,” I said, looking at the stacks of paper peeking out from the pretty envelopes on the table.

“If it’s something you really want, then it’s worth giving up something to do it, right? This will just cost some time. Time is easy. All you have to do is start with one. What color? Pink? Yellow?”

“Red,” I said, because it was her favorite color.

We found a red square with gold swirls on it. It wasn’t easy remembering every fold, but Mom patiently helped me make each crease clean and straight.

“What are my girls up to tonight?” Dad asked.

He wore a black turtleneck and jeans, which seemed strange for a minute, until I remembered he always wore that on the weekend. In his hand was a wooden box the size of a shoe box, which he put down on the table. Across the lid, written in his clean, blocky print, was ALLISON ANGEL BECKSTROM’S BOX OF DREAMS.

He had made this for me, and it was my favorite keep-sake holder.

“Cranes for wishes.” I proudly held up the red crane.

“Very nice. Is that your first one?”

I nodded. “The next one is going to be blue.” Because blue was his favorite color. “I’m going to make a thousand of them.”

He was standing behind Mom’s chair now, his hand on her shoulder, her hand over his. She always smiled more when he was here with us. I wondered if I should wish for him not to work so much and spend more time with Mom.

“One thousand and her wish comes true,” Mom said.

“What are you going to wish for, Allison?”

I smiled. “If I tell you it won’t come true.”

“You never know.” He took the seat next to Mom and selected a piece of paper with crushed flower petals worked into it. “I’m pretty good at making wishes come true.”

Mom chuckled. “You are, indeed.”

He made the first clean diagonal fold in the paper. Mom leaned over and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

And then the dream was over.

“Wake up, Beckstrom.”

I opened my eyes. The room was still dark, no morning light filtering in through the blinds. I’d been asleep, what? Minutes?

I pushed up and away from Zay. My right hand and the side of my chin were asleep from lying with my hand stuck under my face.

At the bottom of the bed stood Pike.

“Pike?”

“They’re coming.”

“Who?” I sat up the rest of the way and got out of bed, looking for my bra and shoes, the last ribbons of the dream drifting away from me.

“The dead. They’ve found disks, and found a way to use them to be solid. Alive.” He said the last word like it was one of his deepest desires.

“How many? How close?” The clock said it was four o’clock. I’d gotten about three hours of sleep. Didn’t matter. When a ghost shows up and tells you you’re about to get your ass kicked, it’s time to be moving. At least my cold symptoms were gone.

“An army of dead. Seven solid dead lead it. I’ve never seen them, not when they were alive. But they’re strong.” He shook his head. “Strong enough that it’s not easy to walk away. Away from them. And their promises.”

“Why did you?” I turned my back to Pike so I could put on my bra. Yes, he was dead. Didn’t mean he didn’t have eyes.

“Because there isn’t any promise that good, that’s real. I might be dead. I’m not gullible.”

I turned back around. “They’re coming here? Do you know why?”

“There’s disks here. Somewhere. And a well of magic.” He looked toward the door like he could see through it. “They’ll have them, Allie. Even if it means destroying every last room in this place, drinking down every last drop of magic, and killing every last person.”

“Aren’t you a cheery guy this morning? Any idea when they’ll be here? Any idea how to stop them?”

He shook his head. “Time’s a bitch from this perspective. I’m no help there.”

“Weaknesses?” I found my shoes, shoved my feet into them. Where did I leave Zay’s katana? Found it by the dresser.

He shook his head. “The solid ones are powered by the disks. They use magic like it doesn’t hurt.”

I frowned. That sounded familiar to me. Someone had recently told me that. A dream?

“So get rid of the disk, get rid of the undead magic user?” I said.

“Maybe. Something happens when they take those disks on. They become . . . more.”

“How about a specific?” I was done dressing, and walked past Pike to get my coat. I passed near enough that I felt the icy chill of his presence. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to that.

“Dead eyes see the world differently,” he said. “See the magic running through it. For the most part. When those deaders take on a disk, it’s like magic, all kinds of different magics, fill them up in a sort of chaotic way. Like a wild storm. It powers them.”

“Are the different kinds of magic like darkness and light?”

“That’s right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Which he wouldn’t have. The idea of dark magic wasn’t known to the living except for members of the Authority. I glanced over at Zay. Wonders of wonders, he was still asleep. Even if he couldn’t hear Pike, I wasn’t exactly whispering.

“Anything else I should know?” I asked a little more quietly.

“That’s it. Except one thing. I think you’re possessed.”

“Old news.”

“Huh. Anyone I know?”

“My dad. It’s a family issue I’m working on. I’ll go tell the others about our visitors. Pike?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Keep an eye on the Hounds for me, would you?”

That got half a smile out of him. “I’m retired, Beckstrom. That’s your job now. This dog don’t hunt and he sure as hell don’t babysit no more.”