Authors: Devon Monk
“That’s why.”
We rounded a bend in the path. The grave was clearly marked by the small crowd of people who surrounded it.
“He can kiss my ass,” Shame said quietly, “if he thinks he’s going to tell me what to do and who to follow.”
Terric pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and nodded toward the grave. “Later, Flynn. Let’s handle one tragedy at a time.”
The people gathered were all members of the Authority. I recognized most of them, though I was surprised to see at least a dozen unfamiliar faces.
“Who are the extras?” I asked.
Shame finally stopped glaring at Terric and looked around. “Lots of people from the business side of things, civilian interface jobs.”
I frowned.
“Teachers, doctors, accountants, plumbers,” Terric provided. “Just because you run around with people who get into magical fights all the time doesn’t mean that the majority of the Authority is on the defense side of the organization.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. The Authority was more than just a handful of people who chased down creatures that slipped through gates or took people’s memories away. The Authority was the defining and far-reaching mediator between the unknown magics and the average magic-using citizen.
I suddenly realized it was a lot larger organization than I’d been thinking.
We walked toward the grave, still out of hearing range. “How many people are under the Authority’s employ ?” I asked.
“In the Portland area?” Terric asked. “I don’t know. Shame?”
“Maybe a hundred thousand.”
Correction. I had vastly underestimated how large the organization was.
I scanned the faces, doing what I could to remember them. Dad, who was still in my head and still active, though the binding Shame and Victor had cast on him made him less likely to take over my body, had been quiet for days now. I didn’t know if he was exhausted from fighting Leander and Isabelle, or if he was secretly planning to take over the world.
Probably the latter.
Even here, seeing people he must have known, people he must have liked or disliked, he said nothing. It was, frankly, not like him to leave me alone, but I had to admit I liked it.
The people I knew were Shame’s mom, Maeve; the Closer and her boyfriend, Hayden; Zayvion’s mentor, Victor; the goth-punk Blood magic user Sunny; the twins, Carl and La. Joshua had gone back to his family in Seattle, and Nick also wasn’t here. I didn’t see Bartholomew, Melissa, or the goons. That was nice. I preferred this to be a private affair with people I didn’t have a reason to hate.
Chase’s gravestone was classic, pretty even: a lovely white marble with a blue ribbon running beneath her name, set in the ground. Beneath her name and birth and death dates was carved FRIEND, WARRIOR, LOVER.
Zayvion walked over to stand near the head of her grave, and the people who had gathered moved aside to give him room. He stared down at the headstone, the daffodils forgotten in his hand. The soft May breeze stirred across the grounds and a robin sang out while chickadees chittered in the nearby rosebushes.
It was a beautiful day.
I glanced up, away from Zayvion, away from the silence of those gathered, and scanned the horizon. At a distance, I saw a figure watching us. I knew that man—Davy Silvers. He didn’t come any closer, wasn’t near enough to hear us speak even with his keen Hound ears.
I couldn’t believe he’d followed me here. And then I caught the slight movement on the other side of the tall grave markers near Davy. Sid Westerly, another of my Hounds. Not far from him was Jack Quinn.
What. The. Hell.
“Didn’t know you invited your friends,” Terric said quietly.
“I didn’t.”
I had no idea why they were here. Maybe to Hound this, but why? Who cared about us grieving Chase? Who were they working for? Detective Paul Stotts tended to use Hounds when dealing with magical crime in the city, but I didn’t think he knew Chase, and as far as I knew, no one here was on his suspicious list. So I didn’t think he’d send one Hound, much less three. Maybe the Hounds needed something from me. An emergency I had to handle.
I stuck my hand in my pocket and checked my phone. Nothing. No messages, no reason for the Hounds to be here on this nice sunny May day.
They didn’t come any closer. Didn’t motion me to come to them.
Then it hit me. Davy had said they took a vote and decided they were now my bodyguards.
Oh, hells no.
But I was not about to storm away from this to tell them off. Chase deserved at least that much respect from me.
After the long silence, Victor finally spoke.
“She had a wonderful laugh,” he said quietly. “I remember many days during training when she’d get some sort of joke or something she’d seen stuck in her head, and she’d giggle half the day away. Even when she was training very, very hard. I will miss her.” He placed a purple orchid on her gravestone.
Maeve was next. “She loved romance novels but didn’t want anyone to know.” There was a slight chuckle among the crowd. “She thought people wouldn’t believe she was tough if they found out she was always hoping for a happily-ever-after. Blessings to you, dear heart.” Maeve placed a sprig of heather on the stone.
Terric cleared his throat. “Chase broke my arm. Twice. And she always ate all the popcorn at movies. But she was a really good listener. Kind. She always had time for me when things were confusing. I’m going to miss her very much.” He bent and set the tiger lilies among the other flowers.
Other people stepped up, spoke a word or two about her, spoke a memory or two. I felt like I was listening in on a life and meeting a person I had never known. And I regretted I hadn’t had the time to know her like the other people gathered had.
Zayvion finally spoke. “I loved her,” he said quietly. “I always will.” He placed the entire bouquet on her headstone.
I just stood there, sad, my face hot and prickling. I wasn’t sure if I should cry, comfort Zayvion, or leave him alone. I knew he loved her. I’d known that from the beginning. But I couldn’t help but wonder if her death had brought into sharp focus how much he still loved her. If maybe there wasn’t as much room in his heart for me now.
I took a step backward, needing space, needing air away from the grief that all these people felt. I wanted to cry, but not for the same reasons as them.
Shame, beside me, reached out and caught my hand.
I looked over at him. He didn’t look at me, but squeezed my hand once and didn’t let go.
It seemed like everyone had done their share of saying something, and all the people who had flowers in their hands had already laid them down on the grave.
“Well,” Shame said, “one thing I remember about Chase was the girl knew how to party.” A couple people chuckled. “Therefore, in her loving memory, we are going to get wasted. Anyone who wants to join us, come on over to Beckstrom’s place next to Get Mugged. Second floor. We’ll be there until the booze gives out.”
He let go of my hand and nestled a bottle of Irish whiskey among the flowers. “I’ll miss ya, lass.”
And then Shame turned and started off toward the car. Other people eventually did the same, trickling away in ones or twos. I thought for sure Terric would follow Shame, but he instead moved to stand next to Zayvion.
Zayvion hadn’t moved. Not since he placed the flowers on her headstone. I wasn’t sure if he even saw any of us.
I looked up and watched Victor and Maeve exchange a concerned look. Then Maeve spoke. “We’ll see you soon, then, Zayvion.”
Zay still didn’t move.
Victor glanced over at me. “If you need help”—he nodded toward Zay—“let me know. There are resources available.”
I didn’t know if he meant resources like grief counseling, or resources like taking away Zayvion’s memory of her. I wondered if they would do that—Close someone to take away pain.
No, that didn’t seem likely. As far as I could tell, everyone in the Authority had to bear their share of hurt.
“Thank you,” I said.
Zay looked up, looked toward me, but I was pretty sure he didn’t see me. His eyes were red-rimmed.
I tried to smile, didn’t quite make it. “Hey,” I said. “How about we go make sure Shame isn’t vandalizing your car?”
He didn’t say anything. Victor and Maeve had already headed down the path, leaving no one by Chase’s grave but Zay, Terric, and me.
“Time to go,” Terric said. He put his hand on Zayvion’s shoulder, then shifted slightly toward the cars. “Zayvion. It’s time.”
Zayvion finally seemed to come out of his daze. He took a step or two, his gaze on me alone. I held out my hand, but he wrapped his arms around me.
A shock of pain, loneliness, and raw sorrow whipped through me at that touch. But behind it, within it, was an overwhelming love and gratitude that I was here, beside him. Alive.
We stood there for a while. Until Terric once again put his hand on Zay’s shoulder. Then we walked back toward the car, slower than we had come. I don’t think Zayvion was paying attention to much of anything and was glad Terric had decided to pace along with us.
Shame was waiting at the car, smoking, not vandalizing. He saw us coming but stayed where he was.
“Z’s got the keys,” he said when we were close enough.
“Zay?” I said. “Give me the keys to the car.”
Zay pulled them out of his front pocket and handed them to me.
“You got him?” Terric asked. “Them?”
I nodded. “I’ll drive. Unless you want to take Shame?”
“He does not want to take Shame,” Shame said. “Shame’s going to be just fine in the backseat taking himself.”
“Nasty.” Terric grinned.
Shame scowled, but couldn’t quite smother his smile. “Shove it, Terric.”
I unlocked the doors and Shame got out of the way and opened the front door for Zayvion. Zay got in without a word and closed his eyes. Shame shut the door, then got in the back.
“See you there,” Terric said. “I assume your shadows are coming too?”
I looked behind me. Davy and Sid were walking this way. They weren’t trying to hide. They were Hounds. If they wanted to hide, they could disappear in an empty room.
“I guess. I’ll let you know.” I stormed over to them, and they stopped so that our conversation wouldn’t be heard.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Davy tipped his head and gave me a curious frown. “You do remember me telling you we were going to be your bodyguards, right?”
“At a graveside service an hour away from Portland?”
“Even in your shower if we can figure a way.”
“Don’t,” I said. “I appreciate your concern, but trust me on this. I don’t want guards, I don’t need guards, and having guards—even thickheaded, well-meaning ones, will make my life more difficult.”
Sid coughed. “At least you’ll be alive to complain about it. What’s the deal with going back to the den?”
I rubbed at my face with my left hand. I swear, I simply could not keep track of all the lives I was supposed to be grateful to complain about. It would be easier if I just blurted it all out and told them about the Authority.
But despite the fact that they were seriously pissing me off right now, I liked them.
Enough. Well, enough that I didn’t want to see them dead.
“These people—friends of Zay’s, friends of Chase’s—want to get together for some drinks. They needed space, so I offered the den. You got a problem with that, you are welcome not to come.”
“There’s free booze?” Davy asked. “Best thing I’ve heard all day.”
I glared at him.
“See you there, boss.” He strolled off to his car, Sid rumbling along beside him.
Fabulous. Just.
I got in the driver’s side of the car and slammed the door shut. Zay still had his eyes closed and didn’t even twitch at the sound. I knew he wasn’t asleep. He was just turning inward, blocking out the world again. I reached over and put my hand on his leg. The sorrow was still there, but it felt like his other emotions and his thoughts were at a far distance. I could still feel him, but with a world of sorrow between us, I wasn’t sure that I could reach him.
I pulled my hand away and started the car. I liked driving Zay’s car. It was powerful, a little tight on the gas and brakes—like Zay—and it reminded me of the sense of freedom and space I always felt when I got behind the wheel.
It was something I’d been doing for too long now. Always taking the passenger’s seat when I should be the one driving.
“What about the booze?” I asked Shame.
“I’ll get it. Just take me to my car and I’ll haul it over to the den.”
“Think you should be driving?” I asked.
I caught his grin in the rearview mirror. “Oh, probably not, but where’s the fun in being reasonable?”
“Shame.”
“I’m fine. Sleeping helped. I should be able to navigate a few streets between your apartment and the den. You can even follow me if you want.”
“I plan on it,” I said.
“I knew you would.”
“Why?”
“’Cause you worry all the damn time. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yes,” I said. “All the damn time.”
Chapter Four
I
dropped Shame off at his car, then followed him to the den. Zay still hadn’t opened his eyes, not even when Shame had made a big noisy show of getting out of the car.
Shame parked in the one spot open in front of the den (lucky bastard) and I went around the block and found parking down two blocks or so.
I turned off the engine. “Zay?” I said quietly as the cooling engine clicked and snapped.
He didn’t open his eyes.
I reached over. Shook his shoulder. “Zayvion?”
He jolted forward, and since he hadn’t latched his seat belt, slammed his hand against the dash, stopping himself from hitting the window.
“Hey, hey,” I said. “It’s okay. We’re in the car.”
He shot a look at me. His eyes were dark, almost completely black.
“Zayvion?” I said calmly. “You need to wake up.”
He blinked hard, shaking whatever that darkness was from his eyes. Maybe he’d been asleep, maybe he’d just shoved himself so far back into that pain that it was a long road back to reality.
“You with me?” I asked. “We’re at the den. For Chase.”
Those words seemed to sink in.
He exhaled and sat back. “I thought . . .” He stared out the window. “We’re at the den?”
“Yes.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Shame?”
“In his car. Or probably up in the den finding someone to unload the hooch.”
“Zay,” I said, “are you—”
“Let’s go,” he said. He opened the door and stepped out into the late-afternoon light.
I squeezed the steering wheel and tried not to hit something. I hated being cut off, brushed off, pushed aside.
He was mourning. Grieving, I reminded myself. He deserved a little time and space. I’d do my best to give both to him.
Today.
Tomorrow was a different story.
I got out of the car, locked it. Zay waited for me on the sidewalk. I stepped over to him. “Let’s get going.”
He started walking, and it was like watching someone rebuild a kicked-down sand castle. With each step, he pulled his shoulders back, relaxed his body language, and moderated his breathing, settling his face into a pleasant neutral expression.
No red in his eyes. No sorrow caught in the corners of his lips, in the shallowness of his breath. The Zayvion that opened the door for me when we walked into the lobby of the building was not the same man who had been sitting next to me in the car. And I didn’t think this Zayvion was anything more than a well-practiced disguise.
Maybe I did need a drink.
We walked across the lobby and up the stairs. The sound of people talking greeted us before we reached the second floor.
That was a new thing. Hounds tended to make a point of being quiet. But it wasn’t the Hounds gathered here. Or rather, wasn’t just the Hounds.
I walked up to the doors and let myself in.
Maybe three dozen people were standing, or lounging on the couches and chairs, talking. Someone had had the foresight to take all the files off my desk in the corner, and, I hoped, lock them in my desk. The wine, beer, and hard liquor were set up by category in the kitchen, and a pot of something that smelled like tomatoes and basil and garlic was simmering on the stove. Platters of finger food were set around in easy-access places.
Zay paused, for just half a second, then fastened a smile into place and strolled out into the crowd.
I watched him work the room, shaking hands, patting shoulders. Finally shook my head. If he wanted to act like everything was both peachy and keen—all the power to him. I wanted a glass of wine.
I walked into the open kitchen area, where Davy was hanging out, eating and talking to Sunny. They both had a beer in their hands, but I didn’t think they’d looked away from each other long enough to actually take a drink. Davy had a soft, almost goofy smile on his face that I’d never seen before, and Sunny’s eyes were bright as she excitedly told him about a band that was coming to town that she really wanted to see, but tickets were so hard to get.
I could tell Davy was already working out who he’d have to blackmail to get her tickets to that show.
Ah. Young love.
I glanced at the wine, chose a red, and poured myself half a glass. I figured I was going to be the driver tonight. Even if Zayvion didn’t drink, I didn’t trust his decision-making skills at the moment.
The wine was bitter and went down hot. I mooched around the kitchen until I found rolls and cold cuts, then made myself a sandwich.
I ate that and watched the people gathered. Zay talked quietly to Victor, who had taken him off to one corner of the room where they could both lean on the windowsills and look out at the city. Zay had somehow scored a beer, and from the angle he tipped it to drink, it was already almost empty.
I could read their lips just enough to know they were talking about Closing, and Bartholomew. Victor seemed to be calmly explaining something to Zayvion that involved “your duty” and “Guardian” and “Authority” and “superior.” Zayvion seemed to be in an arguing mood, and more than once said “no” and “not you” and “it’s not right.”
Shame had commandeered the lion’s share of the couch, one arm across the back, one leg up on the coffee table. To my surprise, he had a can of Coke—not a glass of whiskey—in his hand and was pouring on the smile and charm to a pretty blonde I’d never met.
Terric strode into the kitchen. He’d taken off his coat and sunglasses, but still cut a sharp figure in slacks, shirt, and tie.
“Allie,” he said.
“Terric.” He walked past me and straight to the tequila. He poured a shot, and winced as the blonde on the couch laughed. Shame’s chuckle followed hers, low and naughty. Terric set his shoulders and took the shot back in one gulp.
Interesting. “So who is she?” I asked.
“Tiffany Lowe.” He poured another shot. “She’s in marketing.”
“The Authority has a marketing department?”
Terric half turned and gave me a look.
“Okay, okay. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of the entire thing being run like a corporation.”
“Believe me, it is.” He swigged the second shot, then replaced the shot glass on the counter and pushed it away with his fingertips, his fingers still stretched out, but not touching it. He stood and stared at the empty shot glass while Shame and Tiffany laughed again.
I moved over so I could lean against the counter. Not because I’d have a better chance to stop him from pouring the entire bottle down his throat.
Okay, mostly for that.
“You don’t like her?”
“She is a perfectly lovely person,” he said through his teeth.
“Oh?”
He rolled one shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he picked up the tequila bottle.
“Might want to slow it down, Terric. You’ve got all night to get hammered.”
He poured, but filled the shot glass only halfway. “Isn’t that the damn truth?” he said. He picked up the glass, but did not drink out of it. He did, however, turn and look at Shame.
Shame glanced up, as if someone had called his name. He caught Terric looking at him and raised an eyebrow. Terric just lifted his glass in a toast. Shame frowned but lifted his Coke.
“So she really is a perfectly lovely person?” I asked.
“No,” Terric said. “Not when I knew her. She was the kind of person who would do anything—and anyone—to get what she wanted. And she wanted to be the head of the Authority, a Voice at the very least.”
“So why’s she flirting with Shame?”
“I can’t imagine. He is just the only son of the last member of our local branch who is a Voice—Blood magic too. If she’s harboring a discreet habit of blood and drugs—highly possible considering her past—she just might want to get on Maeve’s good side.” He paused, sipped the tequila. “Or, you know, maybe she wants Shame to get her on Maeve’s good side.”
“And we’re not interfering because ... ?”
“He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Then why are you angry?”
He glanced over me, maybe a little surprise in his eyes.
“Jealous?” I asked. I suddenly realized I’d never come out and asked Terric if he was gay. It just hadn’t crossed my mind that it mattered. But maybe it mattered very much to Shame. Maybe that was part of why Shame didn’t want to be around Terric.
The surprise faded away to annoyance. “I’m not jealous.” That was a lie, but I could tell he couldn’t admit it. “I’m glad he’s happy—my God, I haven’t heard him laugh in weeks. He’s barely smiled. . . .”
Shame chuckled again and leaned in toward Tiffany, as if whispering a secret. Terric swallowed another mouthful of tequila, his gaze burning with heat, fixed on Shame.
“I just want . . . it’s not like I’m asking for his undying devotion,” he said. “But it’d be nice if he didn’t make me feel like I was a dirty inconvenience.”
“He asked Mikhail to heal you,” I said. “When he thought he was going to die if Mikhail possessed him, he only thought about you, Terric. That doesn’t sound like an inconvenience to me.”
“You think he did that for me?” Terric gave me a wry smile. “He did that for himself. For his guilt, his failure. He wasn’t thinking about me. When Mikhail touched me, it marked me. Changed how I can use magic. I can handle some of the”—he paused, realizing that talking in a normal tone was practically shouting when you were around Hounds—“other spells that used to make me sick. But it’s not like it made it so I could take over for Zayvion.”
He meant take the job as Guardian of the gates and use both light and dark magic, something Terric had once trained for.
“The real good that seemed to come out of it is when I’m around Shame, I think it eases his pain. He won’t admit it. Since being around him also makes me feel better, he won’t have it. And now he can sleep easy knowing he sacrificed his own health so I could be repaired from him attacking me all those damn years ago.” Terric knocked back the rest of the drink. “There is no talking sense with him. No getting a straight answer, an honest feeling, a logical agreement. It is maddening.”
The door opened and I glanced up. Grant, the owner of Get Mugged, came strolling through the door, two platters of food in one hand. So that’s who Zay hired to cater this.
He caught my eye and strolled over. “Hey there, Allie. Quite the shindig you’re throwing. I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?” He grinned and placed the platters of bite-sized quiches and fancy desserts on the counter.
Normally, I’d have tried to find some excuse for Grant not to be here. These people were part of the Authority, and I did not want him getting mixed up with them. But hell, I figured he’d been here when we’d all come licking our wounds from the fight with the Veiled at Maeve’s inn, so he might as well be here with us now.
Plus, he cooked like a frickin’ angel.
“I just found out about the party a couple hours ago,” I said. “Otherwise, of course I would have invited you.”
“No harm done. So—” He gave Terric, who was still staring at Shame, a nice long look, glanced over at Shame, then back to me. “Want to introduce me to your friend here?”
“Oh, sorry. Terric Conley, this is Grant Rhine. Grant owns Get Mugged, and Terric is a graphic designer and friend of Zay’s from Seattle.”
Terric snapped back into focus and finally noticed Grant.
“Pleased to meet you.” Grant extended his hand and Terric took it and shook.
“Nice to meet you,” Terric said.
Shame’s laugh cut off suddenly and I looked over at him. He was glaring at Terric. Terric didn’t look at Shame. He didn’t have to look at Shame. Instead, Terric grinned at Grant, warm, a little sexy, a little drunk.
“It is
very
nice to meet you,” he amended, holding Grant’s hand just a bit too long. “So what delicious treats have you brought with you tonight?”
Grant smiled. He knew what Terric was doing. Must know that there was some sort of bad blood between him and Shame. Didn’t look like he cared. “Quiche and marionberry key lime tarts,” he said. “So good they’re a class five sin.”
“Class five, eh? Can’t wait to get my mouth on that.” Terric walked past him to get a look at the food, and loosened his tie with one hand.
Grant, his back to Terric, waved one hand in front of his chest, fanning himself and mouthed the word “hot” to me. He tapped the ring finger of his left hand and raised his eyebrow in question.
I shrugged one shoulder. As far as romantic relationships went, Terric was available.
But when I looked over, Shame was still glaring at Terric.
“I don’t know what to try first,” Terric continued. “What goes best with tequila?”
“Besides me?” Grant gave me a wink and turned to Terric. “Anything on that platter should be a nice chaser.”
Terric picked up a quiche and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed, and his eyes widened. “That’s really good.”
“Thank you,” Grant said. “You should try the tart.” He reached past Terric, angling so they stood shoulder to shoulder, and chose a tart for him. He handed it to Terric.
Terric took a bite out of it and smiled at Grant.
“You’re amazing,” Terric said.
“And that’s just my cooking,” Grant replied.
Tiffany, next to Shame, let out a giggle. Shame had scooted over and put his arm around her, his head tipped in toward her, his finger tracing down her chin to the neckline of her blouse.
It was like a game of who could out-jealous whom.
Sweet hells. This was so none of my business. The last thing I needed to deal with was two boys playing underhanded games with each other’s feelings.
I walked away, leaving Shame and Terric to their little flirt fight. Zay was still engrossed in his conversation with Victor. Although I’d classify the conversation as an argument at this point. Zay was holding a very subtle Mute spell between the thumb and finger of his right hand. I could hear them talking, but none of the words were clear. He must have modified the spell with a Distraction to help avert curious eyes without being obvious about it.
Nice piece of magic, that. Especially for an angry man who’d had a couple drinks.
Maeve was sitting down to a poker game with Jack, Hayden, Sunny, and a couple people I didn’t recognize.