Magic on the Storm

Chapter Four

I touched Zay’s arm and jerked back as if I’d been burned. The anger seething under the surface of his calm was rivaled only by the pain he felt for Chase. I’d always assumed their breakup had been bad, but now I knew it.

There are moments, emotions, that we really don’t want to share with other people. Things we shouldn’t have to share unless we want to. Unless we choose to. This was one of those moments. I shoved my hand in my pocket and tried to pretend I didn’t know how he really felt.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need to go talk to someone?” Punch someone, I added silently.

Zay licked the rain off his lips and tipped his head down so that he stared at the gravel. He inhaled, slowly, then exhaled, pushing his shoulders down from the rod-straight fighting angle, his hands relaxing out of the stiff, magic-ready spread.

Caught in the overhead lighting, he was a study of neon blue and black shadows. The rain on his ski cap glittered like tiny blue stars, and rain trickled a slick line from his temple, across the arc of his cheek, then down to the stubble along his jaw. I waited.

Finally, he seemed to notice the rain, the night, and me. “I’d be better out of the wet,” he said.

He headed for the car and so did I. I wanted out of the wet too. Exhaustion was sucking my reserves. I’d spent a couple hours sparring, then come over here to Hound the well. Even though I’d had a late lunch, and a good latte, I was hankering for a hot, strong cup of coffee.

“Home?” Zay asked.

“Home.” Because home is where the coffeepot is.

He started the car and I thought about sleeping on the way to my apartment, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw Greyson’s gaze and remembered my father pushing around in my mind.

“Greyson saw me in there,” I said. “I think he might have seen Dad in me.”

“I know.”

“You want to tell me why no one else believes me? Why don’t they believe Dad is in me and maybe in Greyson too?”

“Jingo Jingo is the expert. The Authority trusts him on these kinds of things.”

“You don’t believe him.”

“I should. I can’t think of why he would lie about it.”

“So you don’t believe me?”

“I do believe you. I just don’t know why Jingo Jingo would lie.”

Because he’s a freak? I thought. Then, out loud, “Maybe he thinks he has a good reason. Some kind of behind-the-scenes mumbo-jumbo politicking or something.”

Zayvion exhaled. “That could be.” We stopped at a light. “Ever since just before your father’s death, tensions in the Authority have been building. Each discipline seems to think they have a corner on how magic should be used. Each person believes their view correct.”

He glanced over his shoulder and merged into the next lane. “The heads of the Authority-all the leaders, not just Portland’s-are having a hard time responding to the problems fast enough. We had to deal with Dr. Frank Gordon, Greyson, your father’s murder.” He was quiet a moment. “We’re good at emergencies. Still, we didn’t do enough, fast enough. I don’t think anyone, especially not Sedra nor the voices within the Authority, expected things to come to this-to the war that’s brewing-nor knows what to do next.”

“I’d start with the Necromorph doing the Hannibal Lecter thing in the basement,” I said. “Fix Greyson. Make him into a man again and then put him on trial for my dad’s murder.”

“It isn’t that easy. The disk in his throat, and the spells trapping him as both man and beast, have affected his mind. Mercy,” he said quietly, “would be to end his life.”

Silence again. I thought about Chase, how she would deal with Greyson’s death. Not well.

“And even a merciful death wouldn’t be easy,” he said. “Death magic mixed with Blood magic, dark and light magic.” He frowned. “Impossible to Close, and hard to kill.”

“What about Chase?” I asked.

“She wouldn’t Close him. I don’t think she could kill him.”

“Creepy, but not what I’m asking. What happens to her if they Close Greyson, or, uh, kill him?”

“Her memories of him would be Closed.”

I rubbed at my eyes. “Is that your answer to everything? If it might cause pain or inconvenience, just take the memory away?”

“Sometimes it is the only thing that can be done,” he said. “Sometimes people don’t want to remember the pain, Allie.” He glanced at me, his eyes flecked with gold. He was still angry. Angry at Chase, or Greyson, I didn’t know.

I opened my mouth, but my phone rang. I dug it out of my hoodie pocket.

“Hello?”

“Allie, this is Grant.”

“Trouble?”

“Is that really the first thing you ask when someone calls you?” he asked.

I took a breath. Remembered Grant was from the part of my life that had little to do with angry magic users or stolen memories or secret organizations. Grant was from the part of my life that had to do with afternoons in a coffee shop, reading the paper, and really good scones.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee.”

“Take care of half of that for you.”

“The long day?”

“Don’t I wish. Listen, I know we haven’t really discussed this part of you leasing the warehouse, but you have a couple visitors waiting for you in my shop. I don’t mind the business, but I thought you’d want to know people are looking for you.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“I think one of them is a Hound. Looks sick. The other two, a man and a woman. I haven’t seen them here before.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

“If I’m going to be your secretary, or spy boy, I’d like two weeks’ vacation and an office with a view. Oh, and a watch that dispenses dry martinis.”

“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll get right on that. Thanks for calling.”

I said good-bye, and filled Zayvion in.

“Still want to go home first?” he asked.

I thought about it. I was damp and hadn’t gotten a shower since before the gym. But if someone was looking for me, especially if it was a Hound who was hurt, I didn’t want Grant to have to deal with that.

Note to self: set up a schedule for other Hounds to hang out at the warehouse and take in the strays. I refused to spend every night down at Grant’s dealing with Hound crap.

I groaned. “Get Mugged,” I finally said. “Do you have time?”

“Until the meeting tonight, I do.”

It didn’t take long to get to Get Mugged. The old coffee shop stood on the corner like a beacon in a grimy city. Yellow light spilled out from two stories of windows, and the street around it was lined with cars.

Zay found a place to park in the open lot next to the warehouse.

I couldn’t help it. Looking at the warehouse that still leaned a bit but-as we were told by inspectors and code officials-was sound, and knowing that a part of the building was mine, made me feel good.

I’d promised Pike I’d look after the Hounds for him. It was his idea to bring the Hounds together so we could watch one another’s backs. It was his idea to keep track of Hounding jobs and support the police through contract Hounding. He wanted better for Hounds, who too often died trying to escape the pain of using magic.

Just like his granddaughter who hadn’t survived her brush with the Blood-magic and drug dealer Lon Trager a few years ago. I’d helped Hound that case to throw Trager in jail. But when Trager got out, Pike had taken him on, alone. He hadn’t known Anthony, the kid he was trying to set straight, was being used by Trager. Didn’t know Trager was being used by Dr. Frank Gordon, the grave robber, to bind my father’s soul. Didn’t know there was a whole lot of secret-magic-user stuff going on in the background of this city.

Gruff, fair, blunt, Pike was a good man, and my friend. I still hurt when I thought about his death. The warehouse was a physical manifestation of my promise to him.

Pike had gotten his den.

I scanned the street as I got out of the car and made my way over to the sidewalk. A few people walked by, hoods up, or, that rarest thing in Oregon, an umbrella furled. Traffic drove past slowly, tires hissing against wet pavement. It felt like a pretty normal February night.

I inhaled, got that welcome-home scent of deeply roasted coffee, and something salty, like hot cheese and garlic. Grant had started serving homemade soup and sandwiches along with his baked-from-scratch pastries. If he didn’t watch out, he was going to become a sensation.

We strolled up the sidewalk to the front door of Get Mugged and stepped in.

Get Mugged was a lot bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. An open loft took up the back half of the building, and the bottom floor was a combination of bricks, wood, and well-placed lighting. Tables filled the room, clustered by love seats and couches. The tables nearest the windows were plain dark wood, a little scuffed up. Homey.

No music played, or if it did, it was drowned out from the thrum of conversation. People sat at tables with coffee, tea, food, laptops, and handhelds, content to call Get Mugged their second living room.

I grinned. Noisy, crowded-I loved it here. Even though it was smaller than the dining room at Maeve’s place, it somehow managed to feel cozy, not claustrophobic. Plus, having the best coffee in town went a long way toward securing my affections.

Grant was at the end of the room, his back toward me as he bused a table. He wore a tight gray T-shirt with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, dark jeans, and cowboy boots. Had good arms, a nice ass, and a strong, trim build.

When he turned, he gave me a howdy-baby smile.

Or more likely he gave it to Zayvion, who glided in behind me.

I walked toward the counter, pushing the hood of my jacket down and then unzipping it. I wished I’d thought about taking a heavier coat to my workout.

Grant swung behind the counter, his hands filled with plates and mugs, which he carried into the back room. He deposited the dishes with a quick comment to another employee there I couldn’t see before he came out to stand behind the cash register.

“Allie. Good to see you, girlfriend. Hey there, Zay. What can I get you two?”

“Sixteen-ounce, black,” I said, “and the freshest scone in the case.”

He grinned. “My scones are always fresh. Last out of the oven was lemon poppy seed. Is that okay? And for you, Zay?”

“Just coffee. Black.”

“For here?”

I shook my head. “To go would be better.”

He plucked a couple paper cups off the stack beside him.

“So who’s looking for me?” I asked.

“The man at the back of the room near the stairs to the loft. The woman who was with him is in the bathroom.”

Okay, I am not a spy. I’m pretty sure I would fail spectacularly at spy school. So instead of trying to make it look all accidental, I just turned and looked at the guy.

Light hair, big eyes that were sort of puppy-sad, chin too narrow, he was the kind of man who spent his life disappearing in crowds. No one would guess he was a part of the Authority, a magic user, and a damn good one too.

He was also my stepmother’s bodyguard. Kevin Cooper.

Well, so much for being followed by bad guys. Violet probably just wanted to talk about Beckstrom Enterprises. Business. Or maybe she had news about the baby she was carrying-my only sibling.

I didn’t even have to ask Grant who the Hound was. I could smell his scents among the people in the room, though the subtleties of his scent had changed. No more sweet cherries, which was good. That meant he hadn’t been around Blood magic lately.

Hunched against the wall to my right, close enough he wouldn’t have to push many people out of the way to get to the door, was Anthony Bell. The same kid Pike had been trying to help.

My heart did double speed for a minute. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been beaten to a bloody mess on the floor of the warehouse where Dr. Frank Gordon was trying to raise my dad from the dead. Dr. Gordon had used Anthony as a Proxy and made the kid pay the price for the magic Frank threw around. I’d heard Anthony survived it. Spent some time in the hospital. Then in the courts. I hadn’t followed his case, not much caring whether he would be convicted of the charges of working with Lon Trager and dealing in illegal Blood magic, kidnapping, murder.

I hated following the media when it came to things that touched me personally. I’d never been much of a spotlight lover when I was growing up in my very influential father’s spotlight-filled life.

Still, another Hound, Davy Silvers, had told me Anthony got off pretty easy, since he was a minor and hadn’t had an actual hand in kidnapping the girls. He’d gotten some counts on forgery of a magical signature, he’d spent some time in juvie, and, last I heard, he was doing community service.

Didn’t seem like a fair trade for Pike’s life.

“Coffee,” Grant announced, as he placed the cups on the counter. “Scone.”

I looked away from Anthony, put a few bucks down, and picked up my cup and the scone Grant had put in a small bag. When I looked back at Anthony, he was staring at the table. Had his hands in his pockets, and there was no cup or plate in front of him. I looked over at Violet’s bodyguard again, and he gave me an imperceptible nod.

Right. Violet could wait. I’d go take care of Anthony first.

But before that, coffee. I took a drink, savoring the heat and rich, dark flavor. So good. No one in the city roasted beans like Grant.

“You’re a doll, Grant,” I said.

“A doll without a martini dispenser,” he said.

I grinned, then started off toward Anthony. Zayvion followed. “You sure?” I asked. Hounds were my responsibility, my trouble. I didn’t want Zayvion to feel like he had to get into this mess with me.

“I was there,” he reminded me, like maybe I didn’t remember he had been the one who untied Anthony and tried to get him out of the warehouse.

I did remember, but it was nice of him to remind me anyway.

Anthony looked up, scowled when he saw both Zayvion and I were headed his way.

I stopped next to his table, between him and his easy escape to the door. Power play? Me?

“You looking for me?” I asked. I didn’t mean for it to come out quite so flat and angry, but hey, this kid was part of what got Pike killed. Sue me.

“I got some things I should say,” Anthony started. His tanned cheeks flushed a deeper red. Boy was sweating this one. I could smell the discomfort on him, could tell it was taking every fiber of his will not to squirm, or maybe get up and get out from under my gaze.

Tough. I just didn’t have it in me to forgive the kid.

“Say it.” I didn’t sit. Neither did Zay.

Anthony, to his credit, nodded, and pulled his hands out of his jacket. “You want to sit, maybe? You could sit. This is gonna take more than a minute.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted the kid to say he was sorry Pike was dead, and then I was going to tell him I wouldn’t accept his apology, and to never talk to me again.

Zay hooked the leg of a chair with his foot, and scooted it out.

His shoulder brushed mine as he took the extra seat, and I felt a flash of his curiosity, his sense of compassion.

It was strange. Zayvion went through his life taking away people’s memories, sometimes taking away their lives, without qualms. I didn’t expect him to have a shred of compassion for a kid like Anthony.

Hells.

I took the other seat. “Talk.”

Anthony licked his lips. His gaze skittered over my face, finally settled somewhere around my chin.

“I’ve tried to think of how I should say this, and I can’t.” He raised his eyes, met my gaze, then looked away. Ear this time. “I’m sorry. For those girls getting hurt. For what I did to Pike.”

“You killed him,” I said. “You might not have held the gun, but you sold him out, and you killed him.”

Anthony’s eyes went narrow. It looked like he was trying hard not to yell. I could smell the heavy stink of guilt on him.

“I know what I did,” he said. “If you can’t forgive me, it doesn’t matter. I just had to say it. Counselor told me.” His looked back up at my forehead, his gaze steady, flat.

I couldn’t forgive him. And there was no way I would ever trust him. I wanted to tell him to go away and never talk to me again. But I had a pretty good idea what would happen if I handed the kid his ass. Sometimes it takes only one word to send someone into a spiral they never pull out of. Then how many deaths would he be responsible for? And how many would be on my hands?

“I don’t trust you, Anthony, and I don’t like you. But Pike saw something in you. Get clean. Get your life together and make something out of it.”

“I want to Hound. I want to be a part of the pack.” Sweet hells. What was I supposed to say to that? I sure as hells wasn’t going to be his babysitter. I was nowhere near as nice as Pike.

“Have you even finished high school?”

“I’m doing online classes.”

“Does your mother know you want to do this?”

“We don’t talk much.”

I took a drink of coffee to keep from yelling at the kid. He was what, sixteen? And already taking his life back down a path that had almost killed him the first time.

No sense.

Of course, most Hounds didn’t have any sense.

Me included.

This was a bad idea.

“This is a bad idea,” I said.

“So you’re saying no?”

I’m sorry, Pike. I can’t do it.

“I’m saying no.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Kid was angry. But even if I let him join the pack, no one would work with him. Plus, I was pretty sure Davy would kill him if they ever got in the same room together.

“You want to be part of the pack, you have to earn it.”

“Pike wouldn’t-”

“I suggest,” I said over the top of him, “you don’t quote me on what Pike would or wouldn’t do. Ever.”

Kid wasn’t the only one who was angry.

He shut his mouth. Good.

“Finish school. Get clean. You give me your counselor’s number so I can check in on you. You don’t Hound-at all. You got me on that, Bell? Not for the cops, not for a friend, not for anyone, until you’re straight and clutching a diploma in your hand. You do that and I’ll give you a try.”

“Fuck that shit,” he said. “I don’t need you.”

“No,” I said, “you don’t.” I stood. “And one more thing-I’d avoid Davy Silvers if I were you. He’s not as forgiving as I am.”

Pike had been my friend, but Davy had worshipped the man. I waited a second to see if Anthony had anything else to say. He didn’t. So I turned and walked off.

Anthony swore again behind me.

Kid didn’t know it, but I was doing him a favor. I was giving him a chance at a life without pain. Well, with less pain anyway. I think that’s what Pike would have really wanted-for the kid to have a second shot at a clean life, regardless of the dumb things he’d done.

Anthony had that chance. I hoped he made good use of it.

I strolled over to the table where Kevin and a noticeably pregnant Violet waited for me. Zayvion, surprisingly, stayed seated for a few more seconds. He said something to Anthony, but even with my good ears, I couldn’t catch it over the noise of the crowd.

Rats.

“It’s good to see you,” Violet said once I was close enough.

I smiled, even though Anthony still had my hackles up. “Good to see you too.” I took the extra seat. “Is it okay if Zayvion joins us?”

Violet nodded, the low lights of the room flashing across her tasteful wire-rimmed glasses. She had pulled her red hair back in a plain ponytail. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but had that beautiful glow pregnant women were supposed to always get. I used to think the whole glow thing was a bunch of baloney before watching Violet go through the last few months of carrying my dad’s child.

Yes, it was weird to see someone younger than me pregnant with my dad’s baby. Family issues. I have them.

“Why didn’t you just call?” I asked.

Violet pushed her glasses back on her nose and shifted to sit up straighter. Kevin pulled a Mute spell out of his sleeve. I mean literally. He tugged his rucked-up shirtsleeve back down on his wrist, and somehow in the middle of that put up a very subtle Mute that even a good Hound would have a hard time tracking.

Like I said, he was very, very good at that sort of thing.

“I didn’t want the call traced,” Violet said.

Wow. The woman knew how to set a mood.

“Someone’s tracing your calls?”

“There are members on the board of Beckstrom Enterprises. They represent a faction of shareholders. They are displeased with the amount of resources going into the lab and technology development, and the lack of results. They insist I show them classified documents of my progress.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to get my head around the problem. “What classified documents?”

“The disks. They want to know about the disks.”

The same disks that were stolen. The same disks that were implanted in Greyson’s neck and used to turn him into a beast. The disks that would make magic portable and nearly without price. Disks that would change how everyone accessed magic and be used for as much bad as good.

That was a problem.

Zayvion strolled over, made eye contact with Kevin, and then sat in a chair next to me without ruffling the Mute spell. Very nice.

“Are they members of the Authority?” I asked. I knew some of the people in my father’s company were in the Authority, like his accountant, Mr. Katz, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever done a roll call for me.

Note to self: get a roll call.

“No,” she said. “The disks are proving to be too dangerous when not in the right hands, which is such a shame considering how much good they can do in the right hands. I’m working on ways to limit how much magic a disk can hold, and how many times it can be recharged. There are pros and cons as to creating fail-safes for compatibility between disks. We designed them to be compatible. But ever since the robbery at the lab, and then Daniel’s death. .” She paused.

In my head, my dad stirred and pressed outward, like he was leaning against a wall of glass. He scratched at the backs of my eyes, and a melancholy need that was not my own filled me.

“Since his death,” she continued, “I haven’t been pushing forward on that project as hard.”

Which made sense. James Hoskil, one of the people involved in my dad’s murder, had admitted using disks with Blood magic. Violet didn’t know it, but Greyson had a disk implanted in his neck, holding him permanently between life and death, neither man nor beast.

As far as I could tell, the disks had only ever been used to harm.

“What happens if you don’t release the documents to the shareholders?” I asked.

“There are legal actions they could take.” She picked up her cup, the steam giving up the sweet perfume of licorice. “They’ve threatened locking me out of the lab, seizing my files, closing down the facility. . and. . other actions. We’ve had some interesting mail. Threats.” She gave me a small smile and I saw a flash of anger in her eyes before she took a sip of her tea. Violet was no fainting flower. I’d come to believe she had matched my moody father’s intellect and stubbornness point for point.

“The attorneys are involved, but these kinds of people don’t always go through legal channels. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I’m going to move in with Kevin for a little while. Just while the condo is being remodeled for the baby, and retrofitted for security measures.”

I couldn’t help it. I stared at Kevin.

Kevin didn’t show a scrap of concern. Didn’t give off a single vibe that he was happy or sad about the arrangement. I’d seen the two of them together enough to know he was in love with Violet, even though she had no clue, and as far as I could tell, he was not willing to admit it to her.

But living together. Seriously?

“Seriously?” I said, because I am clever like that.

Violet nodded. “I could have rented a second condominium for a while, but the security may have been a problem. Kevin suggested I stay at his house, which is well guarded, magically and technologically, and since he has a guest room, I agreed.”

Kevin picked up his nearly empty coffee cup, took a drink, his gaze meeting mine over the top of his cup.

The man was hard to read, even for me, and I make a living off reading people. The only page I could read in the book of Kevin was that this was none of my damn business.

Maybe he was right. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

“You don’t care what the tabloids will say when they catch wind of this?” I asked.

“I’ve put some people in place to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Well, well. Look at who knew whom to bribe and how. Violet was good at playing this game. “All right, then. So don’t try to reach you at home, is what you’re saying?”

Violet twisted, as much as she was able, and dug into the purse hanging on the chair beside her. “Yes. Here’s the address, and the number at Kevin’s. My cell phone remains unchanged. If you need me, just call. And if they do tap my phone, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

She produced a piece of paper and handed it to me.

I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Thanks,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

“Other than being as big as a house?” She laughed.

“You are not,” I said. “You look beautiful. Doesn’t she, Kevin?”

The man could set a stone on fire with that look. I just smiled innocently. Yes, I am cruel like that.

But as soon as Violet looked over at him, Kevin turned down the inferno and went back to Mr. Plain and Mild. I had no idea how he kept all those emotions he felt for Violet behind the proper, impersonal attentiveness of a bodyguard.

“You do,” Kevin said. “You look beautiful.”

Violet rolled her eyes, but she blushed. “You’re both crazy. Or blind. But thank you.” She patted Kevin’s hand. She didn’t see what that simple touch did to him, because she was looking at me instead.

I kept my gaze off Kevin. No need to torture the man. “So when’s the big move?”

“Last week,” she said.

Correction. She was very good at playing this game. I hadn’t even heard a hint of a rumor.

“I would have contacted you earlier, but on top of all this, I’ve been trying to get everything ready for the baby. I know I still have three months to go, but I don’t want to put it off to the last minute, just in case.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t the maternal type. I had very little idea of what a baby needed. Blanket, bottle, diapers. Was there more to it? Nola, my best friend, never had kids. And my lack of social life hadn’t afforded me many baby showers.

“Do you. . uh. . need me to do anything for you, for that?” I asked.

“No, no, I’ve got it. There’s still a lot of time; I’m just putting my nervous energy to good use. Making lists. A lot of lists. I like lists.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“Nope. And I won’t until he or she takes their first breath of air.” She picked up her cup again, took one last drink. That reminded me. I hadn’t finished my coffee, or even opened the bag with the scone yet.

“I do need to be going, though,” she said. “I have an appointment with the lawyers. If you need anything, or have any problems, I’d like you to let me know.” She stood, and I marveled at how her petite frame could be so rounded in front and otherwise look exactly the same.

Kevin was already on his feet, holding her coat out for her. All the sounds from the room came rushing in like someone had pulled plugs out of my ears. Kevin’s Mute spell was gone.

“I’ll call you when I move back into the condo, or if I hear anything about the legal actions.” Violet put on her coat. “And you call me if you are contacted by anyone, stockholders, members of the board, anyone. I want to know if they are offering you anything. . interesting in return for favors.”

“Like I’d have anything to do with this political business maneuvering crap,” I said.

“We all have our price,” she said pleasantly.

“Did you just tell me I’m going to sell you out?”

“I don’t think you would, no. You’re. .” She paused and gave me a critical look. Her eyebrows dipped. “What have you been doing lately, Allie? You look good.”

“Remodeling. Next door for the Hounds. Oh, and the whole three-meals-a-day thing is catching on.” Not lies. But not the whole truth. I’d been training my butt off. Physically and magically. And it showed. In all the right ways.

“Still seeing a self-defense teacher?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, but I had a feeling she didn’t think I was telling her the whole truth.

Note to self: tell my sibling never to lie to her.

“You were saying?” I prompted.

“Oh, right. Don’t get pregnant. It ruins your short-term memory.”

I was the last person she needed to explain memory loss to.

“Keep a journal,” I suggested, with as little sarcasm as possible.

She actually laughed at that. “I can’t believe I said that to you.” She pressed her fingertips against her lips. “Pregnant makes me a little stupid. I’m sorry.”

“At least you won’t be pregnant forever.” I gave her a crooked smile to take the sting out of my words.

“True. True. And I was saying you do have a price. We all do. It’s human nature. But you’re not easily bought.” She nodded. “You’re like your father in that. Unbreakable morals.”

I swear she and I had not known the same man.

My father, in my head, exhaled a moan, and the need, the loneliness, swelled in me.

“Take care, okay?” I said. “And let me know if you need anything. Anything I can do for you.” It came out soft, concerned. I didn’t know how much of it was me, and how much was my father.

Probably mostly me. When he tried to take control of my mouth, I got shoved into the back of my head and had to fight to regain control.

“I’ll be fine.” She looked around like she was missing something. Kevin handed her purse to her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I would have completely forgotten it. What would I do without you?”

He smiled back. Polite. Friendly. But I watched how he held his breath, how his shoulders tensed, how his fingers spread open as if trying to catch or hold something fleeting.

Something inside me hurt. That something was my father.

And yes, it worried me. My father was not a nice man when he was in pain.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Beckstrom,” Kevin murmured.

“Good night, Allie,” she said. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll call if I hear anything has changed with the. . project.”

“Night, Kevin,” Zayvion said. Zayvion had been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was sitting there. This, I decided, was what it would be like to date the invisible man.

“Night,” he replied. “Coffee on me next time.”

“Let’s make it a beer,” Zay agreed. “Shoot some pool.”

“Pool sounds good. Give me a call, okay?”

I was pretty sure they weren’t really talking about coffee and pool. It wasn’t just Zay and Shamus who had a secret code.

Before Violet could open the door to let herself out, Kevin was there, bending over her, smooth, unhurried, holding the door for her.

They both stepped out into the night.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Zay shrugged.

“Pool?” I asked. “You play pool?”

“Why do the most mundane things about me surprise you?” he asked.

“Because you never tell me any of this stuff.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you’re curious about?”

“Hockey? Polo?”

“Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates.”

I rolled my eyes. “Forget I asked.”

“No, I’ll show you sometime.”

“Deal. Horses on ice skates, Jones. Now, what were you and Kevin really talking about?”

“Business. Someone doesn’t like the idea of your father’s latest wife running the company.”

“I know that. She told me that. I mean the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“Beer and pool.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “It’s beer and pool. One’s a drink. The other’s a game. That’s all. Ready to go?”

I let it slide since I didn’t want to cast a Mute spell when we could just talk about it at my house in a couple minutes. The coffee shop had quieted some. Enough I could hear the music, something that had a country beat, and a sitar. I took a quick look at the people still in the shop.

And noted Anthony was gone.

“When did Anthony leave?”

“After you sat down with Violet.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“The warehouse. To see if Davy was there. He wants to apologize.”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.”

Great. If Davy was there-and I thought he’d mentioned he was going to check on the place this evening-there’d be blood on the floor before I could dial 911. I rubbed at my eyes, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have promised Pike anything. Hounds were nothing but trouble.

“Listen,” I said, “if you want to head out, you can. I’ll go up there and mop up the blood and call the cops on someone.”

“When are you going to stop that?”

“Stop what?” I asked.

“Telling me to go away.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do.” He caught one of my hands. His fingers were warm. His touch radiated a sense of peacefulness, of calm.

I, on the other hand, radiated nerves. Too many things were going wrong: Dad, Greyson, Chase. And now Violet was in trouble over the disks. The whole Anthony-Davy-Pike’s-death thing was one more hassle I didn’t need.

“I’m staying right here, with you,” Zayvion said. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

I inhaled his words, felt the assurance of that promise reverberate through me.

“Me too,” I said. And I meant it. Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty.

Not a single one of which was among my strong points.

He gave me that sexy smile that usually got me in bed, then pulled away. It had been a few seconds, us touching. But the absence of him, of the awareness of him in my mind, rolled through me like a cold chill. I took a deep breath to keep from reaching out for him.

Being Soul Complements made letting go difficult.

Understatement of the year.

Zay didn’t appear to have the same problem. He lifted his ratty jacket off the back of the chair, then gathered his empty coffee cup.

But I’d been around him enough to know he was gliding through those motions. Like a mantra, the ordinary actions guided his muscles and body, helping to clear his mind. I knew there was a storm inside him. And that storm was sparked by a need for me.

I liked that I could ignite that kind of heat in the man.

But right now I had to see if Davy had thrown Anthony out a window.

I finished my coffee and waved to Grant, who waved back. Zayvion and I left Get Mugged and strode to the warehouse next door.