Magic in the Shadows

Chapter Twenty

We made up a place for Cody to sleep on the couch, and Nola slept on the living room floor on an air mattress she’d been smart enough to buy.

I slept in my own bed, alone except for the gargoyle who was silent and still by my window.

When morning rolled around, I heard Nola and Cody get up. Heard them each take a shower. Smelled coffee being made. But I pulled a pillow over my head and ignored it all. I was every kind of tired that had a name. And it wasn’t nearly light enough outside for me to drag myself out of my warm blankets.

A soft knock at my door, and then Nola’s voice. “Allie? Cody and I are going to go out to breakfast with Paul. After that, I might get Cody some clothes to take to my place. We won’t be home for a while. Coffee’s fresh in the kitchen.”

Then I heard her patiently coaxing Cody into his coat, and a knock on the door that I could only assume was Detective Stotts. His voice was low and gentle in greeting, and then Nola and Cody and Stotts were all gone, the door shut and locked behind them.

I pulled the pillow off my head and rolled over on my back, hogging the bed. It had never felt this good to be alone in my life.

Bliss.

Something shook the bed. That something was the size of a Saint Bernard and made out of rock, with opposable thumbs.

Stone shook the bed again. When I didn’t respond on the third try, he made himself busy opening and closing my dresser drawers, then opening and shutting the closet door. Repeatedly.

Oh, sweet hells.

I propped up on my elbows. “Can’t a girl get some sleep?”

Stone twisted his head to look over his wing at me. He crooned, but did not stop opening and closing the closet door.

I moaned and got up.

“Fine. You want out? Try using your thumbs on this door.” I opened the bedroom door.

He trotted over and made a happy glass-marble clicking sound, then headed straight for the bathroom.

“No way,” I said realizing there was about to be a half ton of rock between me and my morning shower. “Go talk to the kitchen sink.” I maneuvered around him in the small hallway, which gave me the willies and made it hard to breathe for a second. There was so not enough room in the hall for me and him at the same time.

Still, it was worth it. I made it to the bathroom first and shut the door on Stone’s curious snout.

“Kitchen,” I said through the door. Just in case that wasn’t a word the gargoyle knew, I locked the door.

The shower woke me up the rest of the way and reminded me that I was full of aches. A headache-probably part of my payment for all the magic I’d been throwing around-started up at the back of my neck. There would be more to follow that. I tried to remember all the Disbursements I’d set. Fever, body ache. Head cold? Migraine? Too many to remember. I guessed I was just going to have to wait and find out.

I got out of the shower and took a couple aspirins. Maybe I’d go out today and buy some of those glyphwork painkillers, some cold medicine, and chicken soup.

I took my time drying off. Paid attention to my injuries and scars, a habit that was becoming a ritual. Besides the puncture wounds on my shoulder that seemed to be healing pretty well, I had a variety of scrapes and bruises.

But it was the thin silver arc beneath my navel that really caught my notice. I tried to rub it off, but it didn’t so much as smear. A delicate symbol of eternity, the figure eight on its side, traced across my lower stomach, and in the light, silver touched with blue, rose, and green washed across it as I moved. It was like the marks down my arm, but different.

I traced it, and remembered Zayvion’s fingers against my skin.

I wondered if it would fade, or if this new mark was a part of me now.

I wrapped my towel tighter around me and wandered off into the bedroom. I dressed, then headed into the kitchen for some of Nola’s coffee.

Stone was not in the kitchen. He was, however, in the living room, his forehead pressed against the window, his batlike wings curved umbrellas over his shoulders as he stared out at the city.

I walked over, coffee in one hand and patted his shoulder. “Nice, isn’t it?”

It was raining outside, but a rainy day in Portland felt comfortable as an old pair of slippers.

Stone clicked in agreement and continued to watch the people who walked the streets below.

My thoughts wandered to Davy. Maybe the city only looked nice on the outside. On the inside, it found an awful lot of ways to hurt people. I decided to call the hospital to see how he was doing. The nurse on duty wouldn’t give me any information, which made sense since I wasn’t related to him. She could only confirm that he was still there, still in ICU. I thanked her and hung up. I’d just have to head down there and see if I could find anything out.

But before I went anywhere else and did anything else, I needed to record the last few days in my book.

I padded, barefoot, over to my coat and pulled out my little notebook. I took it and a fresh cup of coffee back to the table and worked on writing down everything that had happened in the last few days. It took a while, even though I was fast at this. And looking back over it, all I could do was shake my head.

“I need a vacation,” I muttered. And from my notes, it was also clear I needed to call Violet and talk to her again about turning my dad’s company over to her.

Better now than never.

I dialed her number. Violet picked up on the second ring.

“Beckstrom residence,” she said.

“Hi, Violet. It’s Allie.”

“I’m glad you called,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about your offer for me to take over as CEO of Beckstrom Enterprises.”

A soft flutter brushed against the back of my eyes. Not as weak as before. Growing stronger. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that my father was recovering.

I rubbed at my eyes to try and push the flutter away. No luck.

“Great,” I said to Violet. “And what did you decide?”

“To accept.”

I exhaled with relief. I’d really been stressed about having to run my dad’s company, or handing it over into incompetent hands. “Good,” I said, trying to be nonchalant about it. “How do we make this happen?”

“Leave that to me. I’ll get everything together and let you know when and how we’ll handle the transfer.”

“When you need me, just call, okay?” I said.

“I will. And Allie?”

“Yes?”

“I tested the material.”

I had to think for a second to come up with what she was talking about. Then I remembered she had taken a sample from the ring of ash in the park.

“It is from the disks. The signature is there. But we never had these kinds of results in the laboratory. Someone has found a way to use the disks with”-she paused, thinking-“Blood magic, I’m fairly sure, and some form of magic I’ve never seen.”

My heartbeat sped up. Of course she’d never seen the other magic. Death magic was not known to the general public. “Do you think it could just be contaminated?” I asked. “I did break the spell. I might have messed it up.”

“Perhaps.” It was clear she didn’t think so. “I’m going to run a few tests in the lab to see if I can duplicate the results.”

“Well, let me know if I can help.” I hated keeping information from her, but there were too many dangerous things going on in this town. And I wanted her, and my future sibling, to stay far, far away from them.

“Thank you,” she said. “I will. And you’ve contacted a self-defense coach, yes?”

“I’ve narrowed it down,” I said. “When I pick someone, I’m sure you’ll know.”

We said our good-byes, and the flutter behind my eyes stopped. I put on my long coat, which was dry again, and a scarf and hat. It was time to go check on Davy.

“I’m going out,” I said to Stone, who still stared out the window. “Do you want out, boy?”

He looked over his shoulder, bat ears shifting back, then up into points. He clunked his head against the window again and cooed down at the street, rocking his head slowly from side to side to watch traffic go by.

“I’ll take that as a no. Then how about you stay in my room? There’s a window in there too. Lots of doors and drawers to open. Oh, and hey, you could go to sleep.”

His ears pricked up at the word

sleep

He waddled back from the window, tipped his head up at me, and then waddled on two feet off toward the bedroom, his marble-clack sounding like he couldn’t believe it was night again already.

I chuckled. “Just while I’m gone so you don’t scare Cody and Nola,” I said.

Or Stotts

, I thought. He curled up at the bottom of the bed and I patted his round head. “With any luck, I’ll be home before them.”

I shut my bedroom door. No lock on the outside, so I left a note on the door that said

Sleeping

, and hoped for the best.

It didn’t take long to get to the hospital.

I didn’t see any of the Hounds there, didn’t see anyone who might be Davy’s parents. I talked to the nurse on duty, explained I was a close friend.

Maybe I looked worried or tired or sincere. Whatever it was, she told me his room number and pointed the way.

I paused outside his door and took a deep breath, calming myself, preparing myself for seeing him before I walked in.

It was a little darker in his room, a small window placed in just the right position to reveal a generous portion of the gray sky, city, and the hills beyond.

Davy did not move. Sleeping, maybe. His face tipped toward the window, so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Bring me a beer?” he wheezed, just the breath of sound.

I walked around the bed and stood in front of him. “Of course. But I had to use it to bribe the nurse to let me in.”

He rolled his eyes up to look at me. With some effort he rocked his head back so he could see me better. “Hi.”

“Hey,” I said. “I appreciate your eagerness, but you know I haven’t nailed down the details on that health insurance program for Hounds yet.”

He raised one eyebrow. He was still pale, his left eye swollen, the bruises on his face worse than the last time I’d seen him. “What’s the holdup?”

“I’ve been busy.” I glanced around the room, pulled the wooden chair next to the bed so I could sit. “Knitting, filing my nails. You know, baking bon-bons.”

That got me a ghost of a smile. “Bon-bons are ice cream, stupid. Tomi okay?”

Ouch. How should I tell him how messed up she was? “She’s okay as far as I know. I’m going to check on her later to make sure. You were right. She got into some bad shit. Bad people.” And not being someone who could let an opportunity slip by, “Did you see anyone with her in the park?”

He swallowed. “I tried. I thought I’d find her. Who she was with. In the park. She said. . ” He swallowed again. “She said she screwed up. And she was sorry.”

“Everybody makes mistakes,” I said, surprising myself. “She has a chance to fix things. Her life. You have to let other people help her do that, Davy. Fix her life.”

He just stared at me. “I can’t,” he said. “Can’t just give up.”

“Do you remember her hurting you in the park? Do you remember her doing this to you?” I asked.

He just stared at me. Belligerent.

Sweet hells. What was I going to do with a boy who was too stupid for his own good?

I swore, as soon as I nailed down health insurance, I was going to hire a counselor for the Hounds. Talk some sense into his thick head.

“I think you need to give her room to make choices,” I said. “She’s not alone. She has all of us, all the Hounds, to help her too. Maybe you should give her some room to try other options, other people.”

He quirked one corner of his mouth up, and the fire I knew he had sparkled through the pain and pain medications. “Like you have all the answers.”

I smiled. “Damn right I do. Sometimes a change of strategy is called for, you know? Getting different people involved. And besides, Hounds do not go into dangerous situations without having backup. That includes love.”

He blinked, his eyes staying shut a little too long. “Sure. How’s that going for you?”

“What?”

“Love.”

“None of your business.”

“Thought so.” He was slurring now, and I figured I needed to let him get some sleep.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” I reached over, rubbed the back of his hand.

He surprised me by catching my fingers, even though his eyes were still closed. “Don’t give up,” he said. “It’s worth it.”

“What is?”

“Love.” He let go of my hand. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

Poor kid. He just wouldn’t give up on her, no matter how much she hurt him. I wanted to shake her and make her realize she was screwing up a chance to be with someone who was a really good guy. And I wanted to tell her just to leave, break it off clean and quick so that Davy could grieve and heal and love again. So he could find someone who would be good to him. But I knew Tomi was in pretty bad shape too. I just didn’t know how permanent her wounds would be.

The wounded loving the wounded. How could that ever end happily?

I heard the footsteps outside the door before the person paused and pushed the door open. It was Sid, a cup of coffee and sandwich in one hand.

“Hey, Allie,” he said. “How’s he doing?”

“Sleeping.” I stood.

He nodded. “Looks like you got hit by a shit truck. Go home.”

“It’s suddenly clear to me why you’re not married, Sid,” I said.

He grunted, a short laugh.

“Call me if anything changes, okay?”

“No problem,” he said. “We’ve got it covered.”

I left the hospital and went home to make sure Stone wasn’t causing a riot. My luck held. Nola hadn’t come back yet. I opened my bedroom door.

Stone stood in front of my dresser, pulling one of my sweaters on over his head. He’d already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “Maybe I should give you to Shamus.”

Stone crooned, only one ear and one eye sticking out of the neck hole of the sweater. I pulled the sweater off him.

“Now your foot,” I said.

I don’t think he understood what I wanted him to do, but I am nothing if not a determined woman. And besides, there was no way I was going to let him stretch all my sweaters out of shape. Once free of my clothing, he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing.

Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.

I let him mess with the sink while I cleaned up most of the disaster in my room. By the time I got done shoving clothes back in my drawers, I was thinking Stone would have to learn a few new phrases. Such as “Keep your grubby hands off my stuff” and “Windowsills are not for chewing on.” So much for my cleaning deposit.

There was a knock at my front door, and I closed the bathroom door on my way by, hoping Stone would stay busy with the sink.

I looked through the peephole.

Zayvion Jones stood there, wearing his ratty blue ski coat, a black beanie pulled down over his dark curls. A warmth in my chest, more than just my pleasure at seeing him, spread out.

I unlocked the door, opened it.

“Hey, stranger,” I said.

He gave me a soft smile. “Mind if I come in?” He held up a bottle of wine and a cell phone.

His eyes were a little bloodshot, and even though it looked like he had changed back into jeans and a sweater, he didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep last night.

I stepped aside so he could come in. “You do realize it’s ten thirty in the morning?”

He glanced at the bottle in his hand. “Too early for wine?”

“Unless you like it in your cereal. Did you sleep at all last night?” I took the bottle from him. He unzipped his coat and pulled off his beanie, then scrubbed his head.

“No one did. We’ll meet again at five tonight. Thought you should know. Maeve wants you there. Not at the meeting. But in case she needs to ask you questions.” He rubbed at his face, muffling the last couple words.

“Calling someone?” I asked.

He frowned, noticed the phone in his hand. “Oh. No. This is for you. Compliments of the Authority.”

I expected it to be heavy from the silver glyphs that encased it, but it was light, compact.

“Thank you,” I said.

“My number’s in there. Maeve’s too, I think, and Shamus’.” He yawned.

I could feel his exhaustion wash through me. Okay, maybe there was a downside to this Soul Complement thing.

“How about coffee?” I said.

He rolled his shoulders, nodded, then wandered into the living room. I poured coffee for both of us and took a second to assess myself. I still felt like me, just me. But with Zayvion so near, I did have an awareness of him, of his exhaustion. Maybe with practice I’d be able to have a stronger awareness, feel his emotions and mental state like when we were wearing those cuffs during the hunt.

Or maybe he would always be just a faint echo in me. Maybe that’s all a Soul Complement added up to.

Yeah, I doubted that.

The water in the bathroom had stopped turning on and off.

I found Zayvion slouched on the couch. He had kicked off his shoes and stretched his legs out, propping them up, but not on the coffee table. I walked around the couch and saw Zay’s stockinged feet resting on Stone. Zayvion rubbed his feet over Stone’s back. Stone looked up at me and crooned contentedly, stretching to angle his shoulder for a better scratch.

I sat next to Zay, handed him the coffee.

“Want a pet rock? Give him to you cheap.”

Zayvion smiled. “Oh, no. He’s all yours.” He stopped rubbing Stone and took a drink.

Stone belly crawled so that he was positioned on the floor between both Zay and me, and looked up at me expectantly. I kicked off my shoes and propped my feet on his shoulder, scuffing my toes against him.

Stone clacked and crooned, a happy little rock.

Zayvion exhaled and closed his eyes. He pressed the coffee cup against his chest. Hells, he was tired.

I drank my coffee, savoring the moment. Yes, there was a gargoyle at my feet, and yes, my boyfriend was mixed up with magic and people who were more dangerous than I’d ever known, and now I was mixed up in it too. And yes, my dead father was still in my head, growing stronger. Even with all that, this was the most normal and right my life had felt in a long, long time.

“They haven’t found out what Greyson knows yet,” he said softly. Zay had been quiet so long, I thought he had fallen asleep.

“Why?”

“He won’t talk, and we can’t make sense of what’s going on in his head. Yet. He’ll come around. We’ll get it out of him. Jingo Jingo has taken over, and he’s good at this kind of thing.”

Yeah, so good that he told me my dead dad was not in my head.

“I don’t trust Jingo Jingo,” I said.

Zay nodded. “I know. You don’t trust anyone. That’s why I like you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Not at all.” He still had his eyes closed, but he smiled.

“How’s Chase?” I asked. Even though I should be angry as hell at her, I mostly just felt sorry for her. For the chance she and Greyson never got.

“Looking.” He opened his eyes, took another drink of coffee. “For clues of who did this to him. She’s pretty sure your dad was behind it.”

“So she and I are like this?” I crossed my fingers.

“More like just the middle finger,” he said.

“This becoming a part of the Authority thing,” I said. “Pretty complicated stuff.”

“Smooth as glass here on out,” he said.

“Really? Gonna promise me that?”

He shifted his cup into his other hand, and turned so he could better face me, his right arm long enough to drape across the back of the couch.

“Maybe. What will it cost me if I’m wrong?” He smiled, and those warm brown eyes didn’t look quite as tired as they had a minute before.

He was a beautiful man. Not just on the outside. There was a strength in him that drew me in like a cat to sunlight, a calm in him that made me believe things might somehow work out if we both kept working on it. I mean, we’d done some good already. Gone on a real date, caught a Necromorph, gotten most of Cody safely into Nola’s care, helped a Hound who was being used, and oh yes, closed down the gates of death and made me an official member of the Authority. Not bad for a couple days’ work together.

“You have to admit I beat you,” I said. “Knocked you to the mat with magic.”

Zayvion sparked at the challenge in my voice. He grinned. “And if I see it differently?”

Instead of answering, I leaned forward and kissed him. I took my time, lingered over the reality of him, here, warm, alive. He tasted of coffee, smelled of pine. And felt like home.

“How about we negotiate the price later?”

“Think we’ll have time?” he asked.

“I think we’ll make the time.”

He smiled, took my hand. And I walked him into my bedroom, intending to make it very clear to him that we had all the time we needed.

Read on for an exciting excerpt from

Devon Monk’s next Allie Beckstrom novel,

MAGIC ON THE STORM

Coming in May 2010 from Roc

Two months of self-defense, mixed martial arts, and weapons training did not make it hurt any less when I was thrown over my opponent’s shoulder and slammed into the ground.

Yes, I should have tucked and rolled. Would have too if he hadn’t kept hold of my arm and twisted at just the right instant to knock me off balance and make me sprawl like a dead jumper waiting for my chalk outline.

“Give up?” he asked.

My right wrist still locked in his grip, I stretched out my left hand and grabbed his ankle, used the leverage to pull my right arm down, and twisted. I broke his hold on my wrist, rolled up onto my feet. I got off the mat and out of arm’s reach quickly.

“I’ll take that as a no, then?” Zayvion Jones asked. He was a little sweaty, a lot relaxed, standing halfway across the mat from me. Barefoot, he had on a pair of jeans that, if there were any justice in the world, would not let him flex and move and stretch the way he did in a fight, and a nice black T-shirt that defined the muscles of his chest, his thick, powerful arms, and flat, hard stomach.

He was every kind of good-looking in the dictionary.

“Take it as a hell no,” I said sweetly.

That got a grin out of him, his teeth a flash of white against his dark skin, his thick lips open enough that I suddenly wanted to drop this whole I-kill-you/you-kill-me act and kiss the man.

Instead, I rolled my shoulder to make sure my arm was still in its socket-Zayvion Jones played for keeps-and tried to come up with a game plan to tip the fight to my advantage.

My shoulder sore but still attached and functioning, I stepped back out onto the mat.

I could use magic on him. It might be worth ending up in bed with a fever just to take Mr. Superpowerful Guardian-of-the-Gates down a notch during a practice match.

“Is there a particular way you’d like to end up on the floor this time?” he asked as he shifted his stance and waited for me to attack. “Or do you just want me to surprise you?”

“Gee, if I get a choice, how about if I end up on top this time?” I gave him that slow blink-smile combination that always got him into bed.

He licked his lips, and a flash of uncertainty narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you wanted to fight.”

I strolled up to him and paused-out of arm’s reach. I’m not dumb. “I thought you were asking me how I wanted this to end.”

Zay studied me, his brown eyes just brown, no hint of the gold that using magic always sparked there. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t been using magic for the past couple months. Ever since my test to see whether I could become a part of the Authority, and the craziness with the gate between life and death opening right in the middle of the test room, things had been quiet.

Things were actually pretty good. I liked that. Liked not having to worry whether I’d survive the day. And it wasn’t just my life that was better for the downtime. Over the last several weeks I’d watched Zayvion change from a somber, tightly controlled, dutiful man, to someone a little surprised he was enjoying life.

Time off from his duties with the Authority looked good on him. Sexy.

“I wasn’t talking about ending this,” he said, and it took me a minute to remember what we were talking about. Oh yeah, the fight. “But we can call it a day. Since you’re surrendering and admitting you lost. Again.”

Light poured in through the windows, casting warm coffee-colored shadows beneath his high cheekbones and jaw. His hair was always short, but he’d recently buzzed his dark curls, which somehow only enhanced his beautiful eyes and strong, wide nose. The look of worry that I only occasionally glimpsed through his Zen mask had been absent for weeks. He smiled more. Laughed more.

And it made me realize how hard I’d fallen for him. I didn’t want what we’d had for the last few weeks to change or disappear. But I’d lost too many people in my life-and too many memories along the way-for me to think things would always be this easy between us. The idea of losing him made it hard to breathe.

I tried to push that fear away, but it clung like a bad dream.

“Allie?” Zay was no longer smiling. “Are you hurt? Your shoulder?” He came closer and put his wide, warm palm on my shoulder.

That touch gave me the faintest hint at what he was feeling: concern that he’d torn my arm out on that last flip, which, yes, he could have, but no, he hadn’t. I wasn’t that fragile.

And that reminded me of what this little get-together was all about. Fighting. Training. Becoming strong enough to hold my own against anyone. Even the legendary Zayvion Jones.

I knew I shouldn’t have done it. But hey, a girl has to take what opportunities present themselves, right? I had my game plan.

I stepped into him and turned my hip, sweeping his foot out from under him. He went down, rolled, but I was there, got in close, getting his arm back, my arm through it, and the other over his throat.

“Give,” I said. We were in close contact, but I was too busy staying on the winning side of the tussle to have brain cells left to concentrate on what he might be thinking.

“No,” he grunted.

Even though I am a tall woman, Zay still had me on sheer muscle. He flexed and managed to break my hold, twisting over onto his back, his legs scissoring to catch mine.

No way I would’ve let him do that.

I followed him, using his momentum to roll over him, and then behind. I huffed out air, got to my knees, and tried to keep his arm pinned.

He shifted, rolled. I ended up kneeling with him beneath me. Boo-ya! I was on top.

I had one knee planted beside him and the opposite foot braced on the other side. I decided to forget about his arm; I wrapped my hands around his throat, knuckles at his windpipe.

He pressed his palms flat against my hip bones and tilted his hands inward so his fingers stroked upward beneath my T-shirt.

I raised an eyebrow.“You do notice I’m choking you. . ” I squeezed a little harder in case he thought I was kidding around.

He grunted.

I most certainly was not kidding around.

He shifted his grip. Tried to pull me down and rolled one hip to throw me. No chance. I braced my heel to stay out of the roll and pressed harder.

“Mercy,” he whispered.

I relaxed my grip. “Say that I win.”

“I win,” he managed.

I tucked my thumbs against his windpipe. “What? You win? Is that what you said? I must not have heard you correctly.”

“Draw,” he whispered.

“Oh, sweet hells, Jones. You have got to be the most stubborn man I know. You lost.”

“I agree,” he said.

Huh. I hadn’t expected him to give in that easily. I pulled my hands away, rested them against his chest.

“I am the most stubborn man you know,” he rubbed at his throat with one hand. Grinned at me.

I smacked his other arm. “My honor’s at stake here. You lost. I won. If you can’t admit that, I’m not sure our relationship will survive.”

He snorted, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me full on top of him. His fist, in the valley between my breasts, was a hard pressure between us.

“Nothing’s going to get in the way of our relationship.” His gaze searched my own, and the slightest fleck of gold sparked there. “So long as we want this, nothing can stand in our way.”

Damn. Could the man get any more romantic?

I tipped my head down and caught his lips with my own, soft, thick, hungry. He instantly responded, then licked gently at my mouth until I opened for him. He tasted of deep, warm mint, and his pine scent, peppered by sweat, carried the memory of the countless times we had touched, loved.

It had been two months, and it still felt as if I couldn’t get enough of him.

I want you

, he whispered in my mind. We kissed again, his tongue tracing the edge of my bottom lip. I felt his desire burn through me like a hot wind, making my skin prickle with tight heat.

A rock hit my arm.

I twisted, my palms up, ready to cast a spell.

Zayvion was way ahead of me. One elbow braced beneath him, he rolled, putting me partially behind him, his right hand already outlining a glyph in the air, though he didn’t pour magic into it yet.

Another rock-a wet rock; no, an ice cube-hit my hip. More ice hit Zayvion’s shoulder, clattered down his chest to the mat in front of him.

Shamus Flynn stood at the door across the room, a bucket of ice tucked between his arm and chest, and a grin on his face.

“Thank God I got here in time.” He tossed another volley our way. “You might have gone up in flames. Burst into sex at any minute.”

“Shame,” Zayvion warned, “put the ice down.”

“Like hell. No need to thank me. It’s what friends are for.”

Zay didn’t take his eyes off Shame, but he shifted so that we were no longer tangled.

“Do you remember what happened to you the last time you threw ice at me?” he asked calmly.

Shame shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It had something to do with you not walking straight for a couple days.”

Shame pulled out a piece of ice and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed it-noisily-as he strolled over to us.

I swore he had a death wish.

Shame did a fair job at that goth-rocker vibe. Black hair cut with the precision of dull garden shears shaded his eyes. A black T-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt on top of black jeans, black boots. Even his hands were covered by black fingerless gloves. But behind all that black was a man who wasn’t as young as he looked. A man whose eyes carried too much pain to be hidden by that sly smile.

“That was your last warning.” Zayvion tensed, ready to pour magic into the glyph.

“Do not burn your best friend to a crisp,” I said, sounding more like a babysitter than a girlfriend.

Zay just kept staring at Shame. “He won’t burn long. Not with all that water on him.”

Shame laughed. “Bring it on.”

“No one’s going to bring anything on.” I stood and alternated my glare between Zayvion and Shamus. “No magic fights in the gym.”

Right. As if they’d do what I said.

Time to change tactics. “How about food? Zay and I were just going to lunch,” I said.

“Lunch?” Shamus said. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Back in my day we called it fucking.”

“Shamus,” Zayvion said, “may I have a word with you?” Zay let go of the spell and stood up in one smooth, graceful motion that showed just how many years this man had spent sparring.

Shame didn’t have time to answer because Zay closed in on him, fast and silent as a panther, and forced him toward the far side of the room.

I shook my head. Those two acted like brothers even though they were physically about as different as two people could get. Zay and Shame were far enough across the room that I shouldn’t have been able to hear what they were saying. But Hounding for a living meant I had good ears. There was a chance I would’ve been able to spring into action if Shame had needed me to save his life or something.

“. . ever throw ice at me again, I am going to beat you with that bucket. Do you understand me?”

“Oh, please. Like I should take you seriously. You haven’t raised a finger in two months.”

“Listen.” Zay paused, lowered his voice. “This is different.” He paused again. “I need you to respect what Allie and I have or you and I are going to have real problems.”

“Respect?” Shamus asked, just as quietly. “I’m filled with envy.”

“Then stop being an ass.”

Shame snorted, then raised his voice, obviously talking to me. “Aren’t you going to ask why I came by?”

I shrugged the shoulder that didn’t hurt. “You need a reason to harass Zay?”

“Hell, no. But I’m not here to talk to Zay. I’m here for you.” He strolled across the room toward me.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“My mum wants to see you.”

“Did she say why?” I asked.

“Officially?”

“At all.”

“There’s a storm coming,” he said, all the joking gone now.

Zayvion stiffened. I watched as the relaxed, laughing man I’d spent the last few weeks with was slowly replaced by an emotionless wall of control, of calm, of duty.

“What kind of storm?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure what the answer would be.

“Wild magic,” he said. “And it’s aiming straight for the city.”