Magic on the Storm (15 page)

“You got any other questions, Detective Beckstrom?” Jack asked.
“Lots. Have the police talked to her yet?”
“No. But all her contact information is on her file. If they want to find her,
they will.”
We started toward the elevators. “You going to stay with her?”
“Thought I should. Unless you want me to call someone else?”
“No, it’s fine. If you want to use the warehouse, it’s open.”
“I got that, thanks.”
We made it to the elevator. Another question was scratching at the back of my
head. “Jack, what were you doing in the park?”
“Didn’t say I was in the park.”
“So how’d you hook up with Bea?”
“Was downtown. On my own time, not a job. Saw the magic flare. Got curious.”
“You saw what happened?”
“Not really. Saw a magic fire. Thought I’d check it out. Then there was Bea all
banged up on the ground. Called 911. Got ahold of the ambulance and cops.”
I studied his expression. Did I trust Jack? As much as I trusted any Hound.
Which meant I expected him to have a highly developed sense of
self-preservation and a somewhat stunted sense of morals and charitable
leanings. Still, it seemed like he and Bea might have become friends over the
last couple months. And who knew? Maybe they were more than friends.
But there was always the possibility that Jack hadn’t just been innocently
downtown doing nothing at the same time as Bea was hurt.
“Is that it?” I asked.
“You have a suspicious mind, Beckstrom,” Jack said. “That look on your face.
Anyone tell you that?”
“Daily.”
“I don’t want to rain on your neurosis or anything, but it was chance that had
me in the same area as her. And if it’d been another Hound down, I’d be right
here, doing the same damn thing. So stop trying to shove the black hat on my
head, right?”
The elevator pinged and Bea jerked. “Oh,” she said. “Scared the crap out of
me.”
Jack guided her chair into the elevator, pivoting it so that she was facing the
doors.
“I’ll call later to check in on her,” I said.
“You’re not her mother, Beckstrom. Get over yourself.”
The door closed and the last thing I saw was Bea’s eyes, a little too wide, her
mouth open as if she’d just remembered something to be frightened about, and
Jack’s hard glare, his hand caught tightly on her shoulder.
Shit.
Why did I suddenly think I’d just handed Bea over to the wolves?
No, that was just me being jumpy. Jack had worked for Stotts once or twice in
the past, and he’d shadowed several Hounds, and no one had complained. I was
just overreacting, too keyed up. Bea would be fine.
And I’d call in an hour or two just to make sure, or maybe I’d send someone
else over to her place to make sure everything really was on the up-and-up.
What I couldn’t figure out was where Davy had gone.
“Excuse me,” I said to the receptionist.
Muppet-skin-hat-magic lady smiled. “Yes?”
“Have you seen anyone else come in? A young man, blondish hair, T-shirt, jean
jacket.”
“No. No one at all.”
“Thank you.”
So no Davy. That meant either he was passed out somewhere, or he’d ditched me.
“Do you need to see a doctor?” she asked.
“What? No. I’m fine.”
She was still smiling, but pointedly gazed at the burnt half of my face.
That. Right. I walked to one of the windows and checked my foggy reflection.
Still had all my hair. My skin was a little darker on the left—the burn—but I’d
done a pretty good job blotting the blood off my face. It hurt, but no more
than a sunburn.
And yet, I looked just dandy.
I pulled out my cell and called Davy. After eight rings he still hadn’t
answered.
What was it with my phone tonight?
Okay, there were other ways to find people in this town. The easy way would be
to cast a searching spell and see if I couldn’t Hound him down. But the
hospital had a sign placed every five feet down the hall stating magic was not
allowed inside the hospital.
Yeah, tell that to Muppet granny.
I didn’t want to be responsible for screwing up someone’s life-support system,
or clashing with a surgery, so I’d just take it outside.
Magic. Kind of like smoking. Only in the approved areas.
“Are there stairs?” I asked as I pocketed my cell.
“All the way down the hall, to the left and to the left again. But the
elevators are much faster.”
“That’s okay. I need the walk.”
I took the hall fast, not jogging, but putting my legs to good use. Left and
left. I straight-armed the door leading down and got ready for my thighs to
start burning.
Three flights down and still going strong, my phone rang.
Finally.
“Yes?”
“Allie, where are you?” It was Zay, and he sounded worried.
“At the hospital. Bea was hurt. I Hounded for Stotts. Davy was with me. Didn’t
Shame tell you any of this?”
“Is Davy still with you?”
“No. Why?”
“You’re alone?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get around people, a crowd?”
“Zay, it’s midnight at the hospital. There is no crowd. Especially not in the
stairwell. What’s wrong?”
“Get somewhere public. Get off at the next floor and tell me where you are.”
“That bad?”
“Greyson is gone.”

Chapter Eleven
A
high-pitched ringing started in my ears. “Dead?” I asked, not at all
ashamed at the tiny bit of hope that leaked into my voice.
“No. Escaped. He’ll be hunting you.”
With that as the option, I liked dead better.
“But what about the cage? All that magic holding him. He was supposed to be
guarded, warded, blind.”
“Magic fluxed. The wards fell apart. Greyson tore the cage into twisted bits of
metal. He’s out. And he’s after you.”
“You never tell me any good news, you know that?” I tried to make light, but
the truth was, I was terrified. I turned the last corner and pushed open the
door. “I’m on the ninth floor, by the stair exit. I’ll go find a waiting room
full of people.”
“I’ll be there in just a second. Hold on.”
He made it sound like I was going to stop breathing or something. “Take your
time,” I said. My phone vibrated. I had another call coming in. “Hold on.” I
checked the caller ID. Davy Silvers. “Zay, Davy’s calling in. I need to pick
this up. I’ll call you back.”
I hung up before Zay could protest. I wasn’t the only one Greyson had nearly
killed. Davy had been right there on his fuck-up list, along with his
girlfriend, Tomi.
“Davy, you okay?” I answered.
“Allie? Where are you?”
“Ninth floor. Where are you?”
“I’m downtown.”
“What?”
“Took the bus. I’m going home. You pissed me off. But not enough to make you
spend all night looking around the hospital for me. Plus, you have the keys to
my car and I want them back.”
“Are you crazy? Why did you do that?”
“Forget it,” he muttered.
“No, wait. Listen. Davy?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s someone out on the street who doesn’t like me very much.”
“And?”
Right, like that was news. “And I think he was part of the attack with you and
Tomi in the park.”
He took a minute. The sounds of the bus’s engine filled in for his silence.
“Do you need my help?” he asked.
See, he really was a good kid.
“No, I’m calling Stotts. Zayvion is on his way. I’m probably going to go home
and let the police take care of this.” Lie. A big fat one. Good thing we were
on the phone; otherwise Davy never would have bought it.
“I want you to go home, and stay there until you hear from me. As soon as I
have an update from the cops, I’ll let you know. And if you can’t get home,
then get to the warehouse and stay there.”
“Oh sure,” he said, “I’ll just go home and sit there staring at the walls until
you tell me it’s safe to go out again.”
“Davy, this is dangerous.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want you to get hurt. More. What I want is for you to see a
doctor, but since you won’t do that, you should at least go home and lock the
doors. This is police business. Be smart. Stay home.”
“Do you think I’ll just do whatever you say?” Oh, that anger could boil the
lead off my phone.
“No. I think you’re my friend. I don’t care how angry you are at me. Just do
the safe thing for once. I refuse to beg you to listen to me like I begged
Pike.”
His breath caught. “That’s low,” he whispered.
“It’s the truth.” And it was. I’d begged Pike not to go find Trager, not to go
take him on alone. I’d begged him to let the police take care of it. Begged.
And I am not the begging type.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go to the warehouse. Lock up. Call me.” It all came out
short. A little like someone’s hands were around his throat and he couldn’t get
enough air.
Yeah, I knew how he felt. I still really missed Pike too.
“Is Bea okay?” he asked.
Right. That was what we’d come to the hospital for. “She has a concussion, but
she’s going home. You were right. She got hit by magic. Can’t remember what
happened, and can’t remember casting magic. Jack took her home.” Silence. From
both of us.
Finally, “Davy?” What more could I say? “Thanks for listening.”
“Yeah.” He hung up.
I hung up too and realized I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. Oh,
that was a great way to get myself killed.
I was in another hallway, this one wide and lit by fluorescents that weren’t up
to the job. I could smell coffee, so there was either a cafeteria nearby or
maybe a coffee station. That was a good sign, right? Where there was coffee in
Oregon, there would be people.
The hallway curved to the right and deposited me into a waiting area where six
people sat. A little girl, maybe five years old, spun around and around, her
pink skirt puffing up, her heavy snow boots scuffing the carpet.
“Becca, do you want to come read with me?” a woman, probably her mother, asked.
Becca just kept spinning.
I didn’t take a seat. Being around people was not a sure way to stop Greyson
from attacking me. And if he did show up here, I wanted to be on my feet and
ready for him.
I’d been doing a lot of learning since he’d attacked me. I knew more physical
self-defense, and I knew a hell of a lot more about magic. I hadn’t had a
memory loss for two months. That meant that right now I was pretty much at the
top of my game.
A little part of me—okay, a big part of me—hoped he would try to take me down.
Just so I could show that bastard what I was made of. Pay him back for what he
did to Tomi and Davy. For what he did to my dad.
I paced, and kept an eye on both ends of the hallway. I didn’t pull on magic,
but I was good at paying attention to details, like whether I caught a whiff of
the burnt-blackberry and blood smell of him. My cell rang again.
“Yes?”
“Ninth floor where?” Zay asked.
“I’m in surgery and admissions. By the windows. You?”
“Almost there. Anything?”
“No. Davy’s going to the warehouse, I think. I need to tell you about the job
with Stotts.”
“I see you.”
I turned. Sure enough, Zayvion Jones was striding my way, wearing that ratty
blue ski coat and a dark blue ski beanie. He didn’t look particularly concerned
as he tucked his cell into his pocket, didn’t look like a guy who could throw
around enough magic to tear a city apart, raise the dead, and pull the heavens
to the earth. Didn’t look like he was on the hunt for a creature that had
murdered, destroyed, broken the boundaries between life and death. Didn’t look
like a killer.
But he was all those things. And he was mine.
I hung up and strolled over to him. “We headed out?”
“What happened?” he asked.
I frowned. I’d just gone through all that. “Oh. My face?” I shrugged. “A spell
kicked back on me.”
He took a breath and looked like he wanted to tear something apart. The little
girl stopped spinning and ran over to sit with her mother. Kids. They have
great instincts.
“Just a burn?” he asked.
“It doesn’t feel too bad. A little tight, like a sunburn.” I decided not to
tell him I’d also been bleeding. No need for the man to go ballistic and make
the little girl cry.
“My car’s outside,” he said.
“So’s Davy’s,” I said.
“We’ll leave his car here. Should be fine overnight.” He started toward the
elevators and I followed. “Think you can do the elevator?”
Crap. No, I very much did not think I could do the elevator. But that wouldn’t
stop me. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to it, thanks for asking.”
He gave me a sideways glance, and wisely said no more. The elevator door
opened, and an orderly maneuvered a patient in a wheelchair out, leaving the
elevator empty.
Zay stood behind me. Probably blocking me from running away. Damn.
I took a deep breath, held it, and stepped in. Zay moved behind me like my
shadow. I recited my “Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack” jingle, trying to calm the
screaming in my brain. There wasn’t enough room—it was too hot, too full, too
small. Any minute the ceiling would slam down into me, crush me. I couldn’t
breathe.
“Breathe,” Zayvion said. “Allie. Breathe.”
Oh. No wonder why it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was holding my breath. I
exhaled, but it didn’t do anything to stop the panic. I inhaled too quickly,
sucking in more panic than air, and the sound of my gasp only made things
worse. I was going to die. Crushed. Smothered, suffocated.
In a damn elevator.
Zay took one step closer to me and a tight whine slipped out between my teeth.
“Don’t,” I squeaked, “don’t, oh,
sweethellsplease
don’t.” If he got any
closer, I’d run out of air. I’d freaking snap and scream my fool head off, then
pound my way through those walls and into fresh air.
He didn’t step closer. He reached out and pressed his fingertips down on my
shoulder. Mint, cool, soothing, and familiar, washed through me. I didn’t think
Grounding was going to do anything for panic.
But my shoulders lowered away from my ears, I unclenched my jaw, and I managed
to swallow that kicked-puppy whimper coming out of my mouth.
The bell pinged, and I waited an eternity, two, three. Then finally, finally,
the doors opened.
I was out of there faster than a sprinter on fire. I didn’t look where I was
going. I didn’t care. Away was all I wanted. Far away. And my feet were plenty
happy to oblige.
I jogged only about ten steps before logic kicked back in, and I stopped.
Zay was still near the elevator, his hands loose at his sides. The casual
observer wouldn’t notice it, but I trained with him. I knew when he held his
wrist at that angle, he was half a thought away from casting a whole lot of
magic.
I stuck my hands in my pockets and started back toward him, blowing my breath
out in a thin stream to try to stop the ringing in my ears.
“The car?” I asked, all dignified like I hadn’t just been running away like a
scared little girl.
“That way.” He tipped his head to indicate the parking structure behind him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as soon as I was beside him.
“Don’t be. It’s kind of cute.”
Lovely. Just what I want to be. Cute.
“Bite me, Jones.”
“Anytime.” He grinned.
We headed along the narrow concrete walkway that took us down into the parkade.
“Where’s Davy’s car?” he asked.
“Down a level. How did it happen?” I asked.
“What?”
“Greyson’s escape. Maeve said he was safe there. Said that cage couldn’t be
broken or breached. How did it happen?”
“We don’t know yet. The spells in place to record the area were tapped,
tripped, and disabled.”
“Hold on. The ancient order of powerful magic users who can make magic do
anything they want got screwed by someone hacking their wards? Why wasn’t there
a camera in there? Why wasn’t someone guarding him?”
“No cameras because we don’t want any kind of recorded information about the
well, Maeve’s place, or Greyson. No cameras because magic has always been enough.”
“Common sense. Would it hurt you to use it like the rest of us mortals?”
“You sound like your dad.”
“Nice.”
“His ideas for how magic should be regulated weren’t all bad.”
“So you have a man crush on the man I spent most of my life hating?”
“I didn’t say I liked him. I said he had common sense when it came to magic.
Backup systems, technological support, hands-on—he believed it could all go
together, work together, instead of being sectioned and divided. Magic used by
the few, technology used by the masses.”
“Common sense didn’t keep him from being murdered.”
Zay fell silent. That brought us full circle. Greyson was one of the people who
had killed my father back when Greyson had been a man working for the
Authority. As far as anyone in the Authority could figure it, the murder was a
multiple-person, complicated job. James Hoskil, my dad’s ex-business partner’s
son, had been involved. And so had Cody, the gifted but mentally limited Hand
my friend Nola had taken in to live on her farm in Burns, off the grid, and out
of reach of magic.
There were probably more people involved. We still didn’t know who.
A man leaned against Zay’s car. I’d expected Shame, but this man was taller,
his white hair a beacon beneath the fluorescent light.
“Hey, Terric,” I said. “What brings you out?”
“An escaped Necromorph. You?”
“Injured Hound.”
“Shame with you?” I asked. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished
I could take them back.
Terric frowned, and brushed the side of his nose.
“He’s with Chase. Hunting.”
I glanced at Zayvion, who opened the driver’s-side door. “Get in. We need to
get you somewhere safe.”
I got in. Not because I was going to let them drop me off somewhere out of
their way, but because it was cold and dark, and I preferred to win my
arguments where there was a heater and comfortable leg room.
Terric slid into the backseat. It was a little strange to have someone other
than Shame back there. Since I didn’t know him very well, I distrusted him on
principle. But Zay was perfectly comfortable with the man. Like he’d just had a
work buddy return after a long absence.
“So who decided it’s a good idea to let Chase hunt her boyfriend?” I asked.
The muscle in Zay’s jaw clenched. Sore subject.
Terric answered. “She’s one of the best people to look for him, don’t you
think?”
From how she was acting back at Maeve’s I didn’t think that was at all true. “I
doubt she likes the idea of seeing him put back in a cage.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But she knows that the Authority are the only people who
might be able to help him.”
“Or kill him,” I said.
“That too. What is life without risk?”
“Long?”
Terric laughed, a sort of high whooping that made me—and Zayvion, much to my
surprise—smile. Contagious. For all he had a serious exterior, Terric was the
guy you’d want to sit next to at a funny movie, just to hear him laugh.
“So are either of you going to tell me why I can’t come on the hunt?”
“You need to be safe,” Zay repeated. Man did one-track mind like no one’s
business.
“And where do you suggest my safety will be found?”
“Maeve’s.”
“You mean the place Greyson broke out of?”
“With people guarding you,” he went on over my remark. “There will be a new
cage constructed for him. And if he comes to you—”
“Hold up. I’m bait?”
“Allie—”
“You have got to be kidding me. I’d be safer at home.” I didn’t say
with my
gargoyle
because only Zay, Shame, and I knew the big lug had decided my
apartment was his den, nest, quarry, whatever it was that gargoyles called
home.
“No, you’ll be safer at Maeve’s,” he said.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” Wow. I sounded just like Davy. Just like Jack.
Spoonful of my own medicine. Yuck.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Zay said. “This is a direct order from
Maeve.”