“No one walked by our window.”
“Yes they did. You weren’t paying attention.”
He looked at me for a minute. “No one walked past, Allie. I was paying attention. Very closely.”
I drank some of the grapefruit juice. Tart. Wonderful.
“So what, I’m seeing ghosts?” I grinned, picked up the bacon and took a bite.
Terric leaned back and watched me eat. “Shame told me you’ve seen the Veiled. Ghosts are simply the spirits of the dead. Much like Veiled are spirits of dead magic users. If you can see one, why couldn’t you see the other?”
“I think it’s more likely you just didn’t see them walk by.”
He smiled, and it made him look younger, softer. “I’m naturally observant. But you could be right.” He flipped open his phone, made a call. “Are you on perimeter? Keep an eye out for a man and two women wandering around on foot. They might also be ghosts. Yes. Thanks.”
He hung up. “Never hurts to be careful. Do you see anyone out there now?”
I looked out. “Nope.”
“Tell me if you do see someone.”
I nodded, but mostly paid attention to my plate. Once my stomach was full, I slowed down and picked at the last bits of potato and onion. I sat back, drank coffee, and looked at Terric. Really looked at him.
Okay, I don’t know how I missed it, but he wasn’t kidding he was observant. He was keeping an eye on the dining area, the window, the sounds behind him—
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
—and me.
“I’m thinking you’d make a good Hound.”
“Low pay, bad hours—I’m thinking I like the job I have.”
“What job?” Come to think of it, I didn’t even know his last name. I knew he lived in Seattle, but that was about all I knew about his regular life.
“Other than the obvious?” he said. “I’m a graphic designer. Freelance.”
“Nice way to keep your own hours.”
“It works for me so far.” He glanced up, watching without looking like he was watching the arch that led to the hallway and stairs beyond.
Shame came striding out of the shadows. He was back in black again, jeans, heavy black fisherman’s sweater with a hood, fingerless gloves.
Terric didn’t move, but everything about him changed. As soon as he saw, or maybe felt, Shame coming, he vibrated like a plucked string. I watched as he very carefully slouched, relaxing shoulders, arms, hands, and fingers. He even schooled eyes, mouth, and forehead to be blank, easy.
For someone who looked like he was just kicking back drinking a cup of coffee, he sure had to work hard at it.
Shame was flicking his cigarette lighter, the metal lid snicking up and clicking back as he made his way over to us.
“Mornin’.” He pulled a spare chair away from a table that had just emptied and set it between Terric and me.
“Get some sleep?” Terric asked.
Shame’s eyes narrowed. “You know I did, you arse.”
Terric smiled behind his coffee cup.
“So you know when Shame is sleeping too?” I asked.
“I do when I cast a Sleep spell on him.”
“May you toil in hell’s basement among the devil’s dirty socks,” Shame said.
“And have to see you there every day? Not on your life.”
They glared at each other. I knew they wouldn’t get into a fight here in the middle of Maeve’s restaurant. But the longer they stared, the more I worried. Maybe they really did want to break a few chairs over each other’s heads.
“It has strained my ability to trust you,” Shame said.
“Nothing new there. Allie might be seeing ghosts.”
Shame pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one free. “That’s newish.” He stuck the unlit cigarette in his mouth. “Anyone I know?”
“I don’t think they were ghosts. They were people.”
“People who disappeared before they got to the door,” Terric said.
I glanced over at him. “I think you’re reading a lot into this.”
“Plus, she said she met Mikhail in death.”
“Aren’t you the celebrity? You still have your da in your attic?” Shame asked.
“I’m not sure.”
Both men leaned back in tandem and waited, obviously not believing me.
“Don’t want to let us in on your little secret? I thought we were your friends,” Shame said. “Well, me anyway. I don’t blame you for hating Terric. He’s a bastard through and through.”
“The sleep did wonders for your mood.” Terric rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.
“Oh, grow up,” Shame said.
“Grow up? Good God, Flynn, have you looked in a mirror lately? Most men get over the punk rocker look in their teens. And move out of their mother’s house.”
“It’s her inn, not her house,” Shame said archly. “And most men don’t have the rank and title I have.”
Terric chuckled. “True. You are one of the rankest”—he made the air-quote gesture—“men I know.”
That got a genuine smile out of Shame. “You are a bastard. Funny, but still a bastard.”
The conversation had a lot of hope wedged between the insults. Maybe these two would find a way to get over the pain they’d caused each other and rebuild their friendship again.
Shame turned his shoulder toward Terric, ignoring him.
Or maybe not.
“Smuggled your rock out,” he said.
“Rock?”
“Rock, stone, you know.” Shame waved one hand in front of him like the details didn’t matter.
“Stone?” I’d wondered where he’d gotten off to. “Where did you take . . . it?”
“Back to your place. Thought it’d be better than Victor taking it apart.”
“What?”
Terric hummed, a sort of keep-it-down noise.
“What is Victor doing with Stone?” I whispered.
“Nothing. Yet. And you’re welcome. The most recent
thing
you did with him? It was making Victor and Mum curious. Once they started talking about deep sea exploration and space, I knew it was only going to get worse from there.”
“I am so not following you.”
Terric rearranged the salt and pepper shakers on the table and cast a Mute spell to dampen the sound of our conversation from any curious ears.
“Stone was used as a carrier,” Terric said. “A vehicle.” He waited to see if I understood. Got the idea that I didn’t.
He tried again. “Stone carried Zayvion’s soul back from death. It brings up some interesting ideas about what can be done if one was willing to take the risk.”
“Pretend like I have no idea what you’re talking about, and explain it slowly,” I said.
“It’s the first hard evidence we’ve ever seen that a soul can be contained in an unliving, magical object—an Animate. And that a soul can pass into or out of death in such a way, and still be returned to the living body. Stone showed us that the possibility exists to use Animates to hold living souls. If things weren’t going to hell around here, this would be the biggest breakthrough in magic use since your dad came up with the network lines, cisterns, and storm rods.”
“And disks,” Shame added.
Terric nodded. “Those too.”
“Stone isn’t an experiment,” I said.
“Which is why I took him back to your place,” Shame said. “Were you not paying attention?”
“Will Victor want him back?”
Shame shrugged. “Our hands are full trying to keep the gates closed. Plus there are rogue Authority members on the loose, other members kidnapped, a bunch of stolen disks out there—I bet he won’t worry about one little gargoyle for a while.”
The weight of what Shame was saying finally sunk in. “Do you need me to help with any of that right now?”
“You, darlin’, aren’t a Closer. Short answer—no. There is a meeting tonight you’ll want to be at. Why? You in a hurry to get somewhere?”
“I need to go home. Pack some clothes so I can stay here with Zay—I can stay, right?”
“I should hope so,” Shame said. “But we brought you clothes.”
“Not the ones I want to wear. Also, I want to check in with Violet and the Hounds—you haven’t seen Davy, have you?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll be back soon. I think I’ll be gone three or four hours.”
“And how, exactly are you going to get home?”
“Cab. Unless you want to drop me off at a bus or MAX station over the river.”
Shame shook his head. “Unbe-fucking-lievable. No, you will not go home, or anywhere else on your own in a city at war, with magic users out to kill each other.”
“Yes, I will. You know why? Because I am more than qualified to take care of myself for an hour or two.”
“No. Absolutely no. It’s not safe.” He did a fair impression of his mother.
“One, you can’t tell me what to do, and I know how to swing a sword and cast a spell. And two, I just walked into death and back. That proves I can deal with anything life throws at me.”
He pointed to his face. “See how much I don’t care? You’re just wasting time. Let’s go.”
“Someone should be here if Zay wakes up,” I said.
“Terric’s going to stay with him,” Shame said.
Terric shrugged. “I’m not due for gate patrol for a few hours. Nik and Sunny are on it right now.”
I didn’t want Shame to come with me. I really did want some space, some room to breathe, and a break from all the magic users who were out to kill each other.
“Is there any way to get rid of you?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Not unless one of us is dead. And probably not even then.”
Terric broke the Mute spell and the conversations of other diners in the room rose to a normal volume again. He and Shame stood, in perfect, fluid unison. Unconscious of each other, they carried a sort of connection I’d seen only in brothers, or twins.
“Be careful,” Terric said. “I’ll call if there’s any change with Zay.”
Phones. Why did I always forget my cell? “Either of you know where my phone is?”
“It died on the battlefield.” Shame started off toward the door, and Terric strolled over to a very happy Jenny to settle the bill.
“I liked that phone,” I said.
Shame flipped the hood of his sweater up over his head, hiding his face in shadow. “We’ll get you another one. Remind me when we come back. I’m pretty sure Mum keeps a spare.”
He opened the door, hunched deeper into his sweater, and stepped out.
It was early afternoon, cool, damp, and clean, with only a promise of spring’s warmth. I took a deep breath and loved it.
Shame lit his cig while we crossed the gravel to his car. “Zay’s sword came back through with you, though.” He exhaled smoke with each word. “Probably the wards protecting it, the dagger too. Good thing phones are easier to replace.”
“Speaking of which, I feel a little naked not carrying a sword right now.”
“Happens when you hang out with Z too long. Think the best way to take care of yourself is with steel. You do have other protections at your disposal. Things you were just convincing me would keep you safe.”
Magic.
“I know,” I said.
“That was the most halfhearted agreement I’ve ever heard.” He stopped on the driver’s side of his car and looked over the roof at me. “You can use magic, right?”
“Do you even know me?” I held up my right hand, which was wrapped in magic’s colors.
“The real answer.” He waited.
This was something new about Shame. For all he liked to make jokes and poke fun at people, there was a seriousness, a deadly seriousness, about him now. Ever since the battle, or maybe ever since Zayvion had been almost killed, he had changed.
“I haven’t tried it yet and I don’t want to.” He wanted honesty. He got it.
“You should.”
“Not now.” I pulled the door open and got in the car.
Shame got in too, and started the engine. He rolled down the window halfway and tapped his cigarette over the edge.
“How about now?” he asked.
“Shame, I didn’t even want you to come with me. Don’t make it miserable, or I’ll try out more than just my magic on you.”
“You talk tough.” He blew smoke out the window but didn’t put the car in gear. “I’m not joking around. Cast something small. It’s better to find out now than when you might need it the most.”
I realized I was rubbing my fingers with my thumb, uncomfortable, stressed. On a scale of one to ten for how much I did not want to cast magic I’d give it a hundred.
The hollowness inside hurt. The comforting candle flame of magic that had always filled me was gone. I felt like I’d lost a limb, or had just woken up to find life was the dream and my nightmares were real all along.
There was a little part of me—okay, a big part of me—that wondered if leaving my magic in death in Mikhail’s hands might have been a really bad idea. What if he was connected to me?
If I cast magic, would he know it? Would he try to use me to get through the gates into this world? There was still magic in my body—the magic from the cisterns and rivers that flowed deep beneath the earth. I just didn’t have my soul magic.
“I’ll spot you,” Shame said after I had been quiet for too long. “Let’s face this and move forward.”
“Since when has it ever been a good idea to listen to you?”
“Since there is the very real possibility that the little slap fight we got into back in St. Johns is just the beginning of magic users trying to kill magic users. You walked into death. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed. Cast.”
He sounded way too much like a teacher right now.
He sucked the rest of his cigarette down, then tamped it out in the ashtray.
Arguing was getting me nowhere. “I don’t like you,” I said without any heat.
“Get in line.” Cast. I’d been using magic for almost all my life. My dad started teaching me young—easy things like making a spark of light or changing the color of flower petals. I was good at magic. I’d always been good at it.
Then why was I sweating at the thought of doing it?
I took a deep breath to calm myself. Magic can’t be cast in high states of emotion.
My heart was pounding so hard, I bet Shame could hear it.
“I got you,” he said. “Go ahead now.”
Something easy. Something I did all the time. Something that wouldn’t hurt. I recited a mantra—the “Miss Mary Mack” song, and set a Disbursement—headache, because I was used to that.
I traced the glyph for Sight with my right hand. My hand shook so hard the glyph did not fully form, and I knew magic would not take hold in it.