He was sweating hard. I aimed to make him bleed instead.
He cast Death magic. I couldn’t get Shield up fast enough. The spell wrapped around my left hand, sucked up the Hold I’d been casting, clamped down like frozen hooks in my palm.
The mark in my hand burned hot, absorbing the magic and spell, drinking it down, and snapping fire back toward him, hungry for more.
That was the first time I saw fear in his eyes.
Zay was at my side. Single backed up. I could feel Terric and Shame’s heartbeats, steady, then knew they strode up behind us.
“Give up,” Zay said, “or die.”
He was shaking, terrified, angry. Desperate.
One heartbeat. Two.
He lunged at Zay with the knife.
Shame threw magic over my head. Death magic grappled around the man like a black cloud of blades, just as my katana took him through the ribs and Zay’s katana took him through the stomach.
We held him there for what felt like hours, the weight of his body dragging our swords down as he crumpled to the ground. I pulled my sword free. I think Zay did too. But I wasn’t looking at Zay. I was watching Single because he was staring at me.
The knife fell from his fingers. His left hand clawed through a spell as his eyes searched my face.
And then Shame said a word. The magic surrounding Single thickened. He exhaled a final breath, and then the magic, and Single’s life, drained away.
I stood there, just staring at him. I’d killed a man before. Killed Lon Tragger for what he did to Pike. Killed Greyson, though that was my dad’s direct action, not mine. I didn’t like it. I didn’t think I’d ever like it.
I wiped my blade across my thigh, over the Blood magic scar Tragger had carved into me, and looked up at Zayvion.
He was covered in sweat and breathing hard, his left hand pressed over his ribs.
Reality snapped back in place, and any regrets I might have had for ending Single’s life fled my mind.
“How bad are you hurt?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“You’re bleeding.” I stepped over to him, and he wiped his right hand carefully across the cut that split his cheek.
“Did he cut you?” I asked.
“The Taser. I hit something sharp on the way to the floor.”
I sheathed my sword and pressed my fingers gently on one side of his face, tipping his head toward the light so I could see how bad the cut was.
“You need stitches. At least a butterfly bandage.”
“Quickly,” Shame said.
I glanced over at him. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and it looked like it was taking all of his energy and concentration to lift his lighter up to it. The side of his face was covered in a burn that was already blistering.
He winced as the lighter snapped a flame to life but managed to keep it steady enough by using both hands to light the cigarette.
Terric was in the corner of the room retching over a sink. I don’t know if it was the Death magic, the killing, or Shame’s pain that was making him sick.
Okay. One thing at a time.
“What are we going to do with the body?” I walked over to the cupboards and started opening and closing them, looking for bandages, painkillers, and maybe something for Shame’s burns.
“We’ll take him out on a gurney,” Zay said. “Call in Nik and Joshua, who will transport Aslund to the prison and Single to the morgue.”
I wasn’t surprised the Authority had their own morgue. Or a morgue where Authority members worked and quietly took care of situations like this.
“I’ll call,” Shame said. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed. “Romero? Think you can meet us behind the west Proxy pit? Van. Two. Just one, but he’s unconscious.” He paused. “On me, my friend, and more than that. Thank you.”
I finally found a cupboard with the supplies I needed. I grabbed bandages, antibiotics, painkillers, and burn cream. I didn’t see anything for nausea.
“They’re on their way. Maybe fifteen minutes,” Shame said.
“Think you’ll be up to casting by then?” Zay asked Terric.
Terric ran the water in the sink and found a towel to wipe over his face. “No problem,” he mumbled into the cloth.
I handed Shame the burn cream. “This goes on the side of your face. There’s a mirror on the inside of that cupboard.” I pointed. “These go in your mouth.” I handed him two packs of painkillers.
“Thanks, Mum.” He smiled, then thought better of it when the side of his face crinkled.
“Fix your face,” I said.
I marched over to Zay, who was still standing near Single like maybe the man was going to get up again.
I sure hoped that wasn’t the reason he was standing there.
“Let me fix your face,” I said.
“It’s fine.”
“Sure it is, tough guy.” I sprayed the cut with the antibiotic, and Zay hissed. “Hold on.” I tore the bandages out of their sterile packaging and did what I could to close the cut. “That’s going to scar if you don’t get stitches,” I said.
“It will hold until after we bring down the last prisoner.”
He finally sheathed his sword and walked over to the gurneys. Well, limped. I didn’t think the effects of the Taser had worn off yet.
“So now are we calling in some backup for this hunt?” I asked.
All three of them looked at me like I’d just bad-mouthed their mothers.
“The more people we involve in the hunt, the more people will be on the hook if we fail,” Zay said. “We keep this tight; we keep this simple.”
“Besides, no one in their right mind would do this with Bartholomew in town,” Shame said. “That’s what makes us more fun to hang out with. We know how to party.”
Terric walked over and stood next to Shame. They both looked like they had the flu.
“Whee,” Terric muttered.
“Shame,” Zay said, “get the body bag.”
“If I had a nickel for every time you’ve said that.” Shame glanced around the room and unerringly chose the cupboard that contained body bags.
I offered to help, but Zay and Shame waved me off as they expertly and quickly stuffed Single’s body into the bag while Terric filled the sink with hot water and disinfectant. He found a mop and cleaned up the blood and mess we’d made of the place.
Just for good measure, Zay also cast a Neutral spell to take care of any magic we’d left behind.
The whole thing took all of three minutes.
“Ready?” Zay asked.
Terric nodded. He took a deep breath and, as he exhaled, once again cast Illusion.
We made our way out of the room, me in the front, Shame and Zay pushing the gurney, and Terric behind.
I let them pass me to get in the elevator and literally closed my eyes and forced myself to step in. Someone else hit the button for the lobby. I kept my eyes shut and tried to think of open spaces. The only thing that filled my mind was a steady parade of cramped elevator interiors I’d been shoved into lately.
So not helpful.
The doors opened, and I stepped out into the lobby. More people milled around. I used to think that Proxy pits were filled with the homeless, maybe runaway teens, and other members at the edges of society who needed a quick buck to get by. That was only partially true. There were a few people here who looked like they split their earnings between blood donations and Proxy pits. But there were more middle-aged business people, a smattering of college-age kids, and well-dressed retired people too.
Sure, some of them might be there for community service or because their church had told them it was the good-neighbor thing to do. But I was pretty sure it was the quick money, even if it cost pain, that drew them in.
Greed had no age limit or income level.
Terric was starting to breathe hard, so we picked up the pace and got the gurney and dead body out the door, down the street, and around to Shame’s car without incident.
“I’ll take it,” Zay said.
Terric let go of the Invisibility, and Zay cast an Illusion instead so it appeared we were standing around Shame’s car with a large refrigerator box on the sidewalk. A good enough cover until Nik and Joshua showed up.
Shame smoked down another cigarette while Terric leaned against the car and closed his eyes. Zay and I stood there looking like we were waiting for a friend with a truck. Finally, Nik and Joshua showed up with a van.
“Hear anything about the trial?” Zay asked as he helped Joshua, who was dressed in simple button-down shirt and jeans and gave off that “family man” vibe, load the gurney into the back of the van.
“They’re not letting out any information,” Joshua said. “But Victor and Maeve have been in questioning for a few hours, now.”
“If you hear anything, give us a call, okay?”
Terric and Shame had popped the trunk and were wrestling the still unconscious Aslund out of the trunk.
I wondered what that looked like from the other side of the Illusion.
“Will do.” Joshua slammed the door shut and shook Zay’s hand. “Oh, there is one thing Hayden wanted us to tell you. They went over the records. They think the last prisoner was a Closer.”
“Does he know who?” Terric asked.
“No. But I’ll tell you who they can’t find any record for.”
“Who?”
“Roman Grimshaw.”
I swear all three heartbeats at my wrist skipped a beat.
“He can’t confirm it,” Joshua added. “But I thought you should know, just in case.”
“Thanks,” Zay said. “We’ll handle it.”
“Then we’ll get this taken care of. Call when you need the van.”
“Soon,” Zay agreed.
Joshua got in the van, and then he and Nik drove off.
“Well, isn’t that a piece of pie?” Shame said.
“Who’s Roman Grimshaw?” I asked as we walked toward the car.
“The last guardian of the gate before Zay,” Terric said.
“The last guardian of the gate was thrown in prison?” I asked. “What did he do?”
“You don’t want to know.” Shame got in the car.
I opened the door and watched as Zayvion got in the backseat, his face that Zen mask he put on when his emotions were raging high. But that Zen mask couldn’t cover the one thing I could feel through the cuffs, feel through our bond as Soul Complements—fear.
Chapter Sixteen
“H
ow do we track a Closer?” I asked. No one answered me. “There has to be a way. Can I trace the Shackle? Zay, can you hunt him? Which of you knew him?”
“I vaguely remember him,” Shame said. “I was pretty young.”
“Are you sure none of you met him?” I asked. “The Authority couldn’t have functioned without a guardian of the gates. Zay, didn’t you take over right after he was locked up?”
“No.”
“No? So the Authority operated for what, ten, twenty years without anyone guarding the gates?” Seriously, whoever had been making decisions for the safety of the city got a D-minus in my book.
“Only since Mikhail walked through the gate to death.”
“Was pushed,” I said.
“By Dane,” Shame agreed.
“No, by Sedra.”
“What? You get hit in the head back there?” Shame asked.
I suddenly realized I hadn’t told anyone what my father had told me in the dream. It had been only three days since that dream. Maybe four. I hadn’t thought it was an important enough detail to bring up.
“I had a dream . . . ,” I started.
“Here we go,” Shame said.
“Shut up, Shame.” Zay leaned forward. “What dream?”
“My dad and I were talking. He told me some things. I didn’t really believe him, but I think he might have been telling the truth.”
I was
, he said, frustrated.
“What things?” Zay asked. “About Sedra?”
I nodded, tried to remember the dream. “He said Sedra convinced Dane Lanister Mikhail had broken the laws of magic by experimenting with light and dark magic. But Mikhail had actually healed magic. He’d found a way to use magic, light and dark in all the disciplines together. It was contained, warded, but he put magic back together again. And didn’t go insane. And didn’t blow the networks or mess with the wells, or anything. It was a big deal.”
“It’d be a big deal today if someone other than the guardian of the gate could use dark and light magic together without going mad,” Terric said. “Did your dad have proof?”
“He said he was there. He saw it.”
“Holy shit,” Shame said. “Is there no end to how much Mum and Victor have kept from me? How have I not earned their trust?”
Terric snorted.
“Did he say anything else?” Zay asked.
I thought about it. “He said Sedra pushed Mikhail through a gate to death. Sent him, body and soul, there. And he said when he told the rest of the Authority about it, they didn’t believe him.”
Zay inhaled, exhaled. Stared out at the city sliding by. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”
“In my dream, yes. Now that I’m awake, I don’t know.”
“Does your dad know where Roman Grimshaw might be? Or where he might go?” Zay asked.
Do you?
I asked.
Dad stirred. He was still slow in my mind, a little lethargic. I wondered again if he was bearing Proxy for the spells we had thrown. Wondered how a soul could pay in pain.
I don’t know
, he said.
But if you had to guess?
Allison.
He sounded offended.
I never guess.
“If he knows, he’s not telling me.”
Everyone was quiet. I leaned my head back against the headrest. I stank of sweat and magic and death. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance we have time for a shower?”
“Or a drink,” Shame mused.
“This wasn’t my idea,” Terric said.
Zay was still silent. I could feel him. Feel him stretching out his awareness. Feel him sinking deep into the city as if it were his skin, his body.
My phone rang. I jumped at the sudden racket, swore, and dug it out of my pocket.
“Beckstrom.”
“Allie, this is Jack. We found him. We found Dane.”
Chapter Seventeen
I
was suddenly very awake. “Where?”
“We’re at Multnomah Falls,” Jack said. “Dane has five men with him—no! Bea!”
Three shots rang out.
“Jack? Jack! What happened? Are you hurt? Is Bea hurt?”
The connection went dead. I pulled my phone away. Redialed. Got Jack’s voice mail.
“Shit. Jack found Dane,” I said. “He’s at Multnomah Falls. We have to go there. We have to go there now.”
“No,” Zay said, “we are going to take care of Roman first.”
I turned and glared at him. “They had guns. Someone got shot. Are you listening to me? One of my Hounds got shot.”
“They’ll call 911,” Zay said. “We can’t get there fast enough to save them, but the EMTs and police in the area can.”
“They found Dane,” I said, each word louder than the last. I couldn’t believe he was being so blasé about this.
“Allie,” he said, turning the full force of his golden gaze on me. “Dane will be gone by the time we get there.”
“I don’t care. I’ve followed all your plans. I’ve followed all of the Authority’s rules. But I’ll be damned if I let you tell me I can’t go look after my Hounds. Shame, pull over.”
Shame slowed the car.
“Don’t stop this car,” Zay said.
“Make up your minds, children,” Shame said. “Dane or Grimshaw?”
“Hounds,” I said.
My phone rang again. “Hello?”
“This is Davy. Something’s wrong. I think someone’s hurt.”
“Can you tell who?”
There was a pause. I could hear the ambient noise through his phone. He was driving. “Jack. Jack, I think.”
“They’re at Multnomah Falls,” I said. “Was Bea the only one with him?”
“Last I knew. We’ve all been out. Looking for that job you put us on.”
“Has anyone else called in?”
“No.”
“Call 911. Tell them there is a possible gunshot victim at the falls. Then call me back.”
“Want me to pick you up?”
“Call. Then call me back.” I hung up.
I unbuckled my seat belt and twisted around in my seat. “You don’t need me to hunt Grimshaw. Bea and Jack need me now.” Plus, I was going to kick Dane’s ass. He might not be there when I arrived, but I sure as hell was going to hunt where he went. Recent location meant fresh trail.
Zay looked away from the window. “You’re not calling the shots on this hunt, Allie; I am.”
“I don’t give a damn who’s calling what,” I said. “My people are counting on me to help them.”
“So are mine.” He wasn’t quite shouting. “I have the entire city counting on me, the entire damn Authority. You’ll stay with this hunt until it’s done.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Like hell you won’t.”
“Easy,” Terric said.
I ignored him. “My Hounds. My people. My choice. I calls the shots about that—regardless of what the Authority or what you want, Jones. Pull over, Shame.”
“I know where he is,” Zay said.
“Pull over,” I repeated.
“Who?” Shame asked.
“Grimshaw,” Zay said. “Downtown. He’s opening a gate.”
“Jesus, hell, and high water,” Shame said. “Sorry, lass, I have to go with Z on this one.”
He made an illegal turn and headed downtown, running every stop.
My phone rang again. “Davy?”
“I called 911. They already had a report. Ambulance and police are on the way.”
“Have you heard from anyone else?”
“No. Wait. Someone’s calling in. Hold on.” He switched to the other line. I braced my arm on the dash as Shame ran a red light.
“We’d like to get there alive, Flynn,” Terric said.
“Don’t like how I drive, you know where the door is.”
“Allie?” Davy said.
“I’m here.”
“That was Bea. She’s got Jack. He was shot in the leg. She’s driving him to the hospital. I told her I called it in. She said Sid and Jamar are still there.”
“Why are they—oh shit!” I slammed both hands against the dash as Shame stomped on the brakes and took a left that rocked the car up on two wheels. My cell phone clattered to the floor. I scrambled to find it as it skittered across the floor mats, caught it before it rolled under the seat.
“—you okay? Allie?” Davy was saying.
“Fine. Bad traffic.” I fastened my seat belt and leveled a dirty look at Shame. “Tell Sid and Jamar to get out of there.”
“They said they’re sitting tight. Dane’s still there. They’re waiting for you.”
Hells. “Are the gunmen still there?”
“Bea said after Jack was shot, Dane and his men threw Hold big enough to stop everything in a block radius. It took maybe three minutes for the spell to wear off. Sid and Jamar Hounded them. They know Dane and whoever is with him went up the trail by the falls.”
“Are there a lot of people out there today?”
“I’ll let you know when I get there. No ride?”
“I’ll be there soon. Really soon. Don’t do anything stupid. No, better yet, tell Sid and Jamar to back off. We’ll track Dane at a distance.”
“And lose five thousand dollars?”
“I’ll pay them five thousand not to get shot. Tell them to back off—hear me, Silvers?”
“Got it, boss.”
I hung up. Shame parked. We were in a garage. I wasn’t sure where. Shame, Terric, and Zay were already out of the car by the time I unbuckled and opened my door.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I said. We were at my dad’s, I mean Violet’s, condo. “Roman’s here?”
“Does he have a key?” Zay asked.
I laughed, a dry little cough. This was ridiculous. “How would I know?”
Zay scowled at the elevator, then stormed off that way.
I could tackle Shame for his car keys and steal his car. It wasn’t worth the time or hassle. The fastest way I was going to get out to Multnomah Falls was to get this over with.
Hells.
“Coming?” Shame asked.
I glared at him, and he held up his hands. “Whoa, easy. You can stay down here if you want.”
“I’d rather kill someone. Let’s get this done.”
The elevator lock was blown.
Terric pressed the button, and the elevator binged open. Hopefully, the lock was the only thing broken.
Zay walked into the elevator, looking like he’d climb up the cables if that’s what it took to get upstairs.
Did I walk in after him? Yes, I did. I was angry about Jack being hurt. Angry Zay hadn’t listened to me. Angry a criminal had broken into Violet’s house. Angry Shame had taken Zay’s side and not mine.
Anger drowned out my fear. Got me in the elevator and all the way up to the living level.
None of us spoke. I didn’t know if anyone had a plan. I didn’t care. I just wanted to take this guy down.
The doors opened, and the smell of the gate hit me full in the face. Out in the open air it wasn’t as strong, but here in such an enclosed space, it smelled like hot sand and salt.
I pulled my sword as I walked out of the elevator and strode down the hall toward the living room. That would be the most open space for a gate to appear, so I assumed that’s where it would be.
Zay strode beside me, and Shame and Terric were behind us. The hallway stretched off to my dad’s office and the bedrooms, but on the right, the hall opened into the massive living space with the full view of Portland, the river, and Mount Hood.
We stormed into the room. No stealth, no fear. No fucking around.
Zay threw Hold before we’d even crossed the threshold, and I drew a Shield around all of us. Yes, I set a Disbursement. Body aches.
Terric was chanting—I’d heard Zay use that on gates before—and Shame, well, Shame used his best weapon: his mouth.
“It’s over, Roman,” Shame said. “If you want to live, you will drop all magic and hold very, very still.”
A gate was opening in the room, like someone had carved a smoky hole into the middle of the air. And next to that gate stood Roman Grimshaw.
He was tall, and his hair was ruddy brown, with streaks of gray at his temples and in his goatee and mustache. He was rawboned, eyebrows cutting straight across his face, deep lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes. His nose was broken flat at the bridge and somehow made the piercing hazel of his eyes unworldly.
No gun, no weapon. He wore a brown jacket and jeans and held so much magic in one hand, I didn’t need Sight to see the glyphs that crawled over his hands and arms.
“This is not your fight,” he said, and I was surprised by his slight accent. Scottish, maybe? “Put down your magic, and there will be no quarrel between us.”
It was funny how he thought he had the upper hand.
“Close the gate, or be Closed,” Zay said.
Grimshaw looked at Zay. Really looked at him. “Zayvion? You have become the new guardian? Then you understand that I must stop Sedra.”
He was after Sedra? For what, locking him up?
“This is not your fight,” Zay said.
He laughed. “She has destroyed my life, stripped me of years.
Years.
It has always been my fight.”
“You know what my orders are,” Zayvion said. “There are only two ways this ends. Your death or your imprisonment.”
“My argument isn’t with you, Zayvion. Don’t defend those who are enemies to us both.” He didn’t wait for Zay’s answer. He threw magic, twisting it as he pulled it into his hands.
Zay stepped in front of me and countered Roman’s cast. His magic and Roman’s spell struck like two torches meeting in midair. The spells consumed each other, fire burning fire to ash that fell to the floor. The explosion rattled the windows.
The gate was still opening.
Terric swore and threw Mute so strong, I had a hard time hearing my own thoughts. That might keep the neighbors from hearing the rest of the racket, but there was no way the first blast would go unnoticed.
The police or fire department was probably on its way.
Zay and Roman threw magic at each other so quickly, etching, casting, canceling, and recasting spells in a deadly dance. They were a perfect match. Both had trained for years to be guardian of the gate. Both knew how to use dark and light magic and all five disciplines. It looked like only stamina would win this fight.
Except Zayvion had something Roman didn’t. Us.
I did not want to throw magic at Roman. Adding fire to the fire would only blow off the roof. Shame chanted—Grounding and probably Proxying—for Zay. Terric chanted too, his words harmonizing with Shame’s like they had when they closed the gate in the graveyard.
Oh, so I guess we did have a plan. Zay would distract the man, Terric would close the gate, and Shame would deal with the magical overload.
The plan was working. So well I almost dropped the Shield I was holding around each of us, thinking maybe I could let them finish this without me and catch a cab out to the falls.
Then Grimshaw threw something heavy—the Shackle that bound him—at Zayvion.
Zay Blocked. The force of that spell shattered my Shield and took him to his knees.
The spell clipped Zay across the shoulder. He yelled as magic rolled over his arms and hands. I could feel the burning cold, then complete numbness, as if the spell had hit me.
If that’s what the Shackle felt like, I didn’t know how anyone bore it.
But that pain was not mine; it was Zay’s. My hands were not numb. My hands worked just fine.
Shame threw a spell that looked like a ghostly, howling beast. It struck Roman in the center of his chest and sank magical teeth into his throat.
Roman stumbled back. Shame’s spell clung tight and drained him, while Shame calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Terric almost had the gate closed.
Roman chanted and broke Shame’s spell.
I hit him with Impact; he Blocked and threw Lightning at me. I Blocked that and tasted blood in the back of my throat from the Impact. Man wasn’t screwing around. I threw Sleep.
Hey, why not? Sometimes the unexpected works the best.
His eyes widened. He Blocked it but his reflexes were slower. He drew a glyph—Illusion? And then fell to the floor.
“The gate!” Zay yelled. He was on his feet, running toward it.
And Grimshaw appeared in front of the gate.
I glanced back at where he’d fallen, just as the Illusion of him faded away.
Son of a bitch.
Grimshaw faced the gate and pulled magic through it, canceling Terric’s Closing spells.
“He’s going to jump!” Shame said.
Zay and I threw Impact. Our spells drew like magnets to iron, twisted together, became stronger—more than just one spell, more than just Impact—and arced like a bloody gout of fire across the room.
Roman lunged to the side and whispered a word that diverted our spell, sending the twisted fire of magic straight into the heart of the gate.
Zay and I both threw Cancel, but it was too late.
The gate blew open.
Roman was not opening the gate to escape. He was opening the gate to let something—no, someone—through.
“Enough!” A voice yelled from within the gate, echoing so loudly in my mind, I clamped my hand over my ears.
“I will have my revenge.”
And out of the gate, out of death, strode the one magic user I hoped I’d never see again. Mikhail, the master of death.
I traced the glyph for Impact.
But was too late. Much too late.
Mikhail threw a spell, dark magic crackling from his fingertips and catching us all in a net of magic.
I could not move. I drew upon the magic in my bones, needing to throw something, anything, at him to keep him from hurting us.
No, Allison, do not
, Dad said.
I didn’t listen to him. But Mikhail, apparently, did.
“Sleep.” He pointed a hand at me. A hand that carried one of my father’s disks. And then there was nothing but darkness.