Allie Beckstrom 09 - Magic for a Price (6 page)

“Disappointing? From a dead guy? You have no right to judge me.”

It is not a judgment if it is the truth. Why must you turn every conversation into an argument?

“I’m not arguing. I’m being logical and you’re talking crazy!”

Someone coughed.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t just thinking to my dad. I was talking. Out loud. On stage. While everyone across that floor stared at me, silent.

Oh, just so classy.

You have their attention now,
Dad said.
Be their strength, even if you are uncertain. Give them a reason to refute their fears even if you can not refute yours. They need hope. They need you.

I tipped my chin up a little and swallowed. “Well, I heard about half of what Zayvion said.”

“Mic!” someone from the back yelled. It was Jack Quinn, one of my Hounds. I knew he could hear me. Hounds had good ears. But he was probably right that other people might need me to speak up.

I brushed my fingers above my ears again, trying to tuck too-short hair. Yes, it was a nervous habit. I had a lot to be nervous about.

Spotlight, for one thing.

End of the world, for another.

I strolled over to Zayvion, fixing him with a glare. He held one hand out for me, and I took it, very aware of all the eyes on us.

I wondered, for a moment, how they saw us. A man and a woman? An ex-guardian of the gate and a Hound? A poor boy and rich girl? Black and white?

Or maybe, did they see more? See us as we really were: lovers, companions, friends. Magic users. Survivors. Warriors. Soul Complements.

From the slight snap of saltiness in the air, I knew at least a few people were casting Sight to see what, exactly, we looked like through magic.

I don’t want to do this,
I thought, not to Dad, but to Zayvion.

You won’t do it alone.
Zay rubbed his thumb over the side of my hand.

I’d rather have him at my side than anyone else in the world.

I pulled my shoulders back, let go of his hand, and faced the microphone. “Hi,” I said a little too close, causing the feedback to buzz.

“For those of you who haven’t met me, I’m Allie Beckstrom. I don’t think I’m the best person to lead this fight. I only joined the Authority this year, have never been a Voice or held any other position of leadership, and I tend to think like a Hound more than a commander. Please reconsider Zayvion’s suggestion. I am sure there are other people more experienced than I who should lead.”

“I will follow Allie,” a voice called out from the back of the room. It wasn’t Jack. No, that voice was Davy Silvers, who was pretty much my right-hand Hound.

Davy sat on the edge of the fountain, his girlfriend, Sunny, who was both punk-rock chic and a hell of a Blood magic user, right next to him. They were both eating cookies. He grinned and raised his hand in a wave.

Great.

“I will follow Allie,” another voice called out. This, to my surprise, was Detective Paul Stotts, who stood near one of the exit doors with his team: officers Roberts, Garnett, and Julian. They all seemed very interested in the entire assemblage, probably because this sort of stuff had never been seen by the police before.

I guess Stotts had decided that since we’d been through so much together, he might as well stick it out with me. Also, I expected his feelings for Nola had something to do with his loyalty.

The next voice was Maeve’s, behind me. “I will follow
Allie.” Then Victor. That started off a chorus of people, a rising river of voices, carrying my name.

Not everyone said they’d follow me. As I scanned the faces and the body language, I could tell not everyone was happy about the decision. But no one was angry enough to leave, or to stand up and throw their hat into the ring.

Which meant it was time to come up with a plan. Fast. I shook my head, not believing I was about to do this. But who else would? No one had come forward when Victor had left the microphone open. Only Zayvion. Only me.

We had probably just sealed our deaths. Might have sealed the deaths of hundreds.

I couldn’t think about that now. All that mattered was curing magic, stopping Seattle, and killing Leander and Isabelle.

It was certainly what I was aiming for.

Right now we’d be lucky to pull off two out of the three things.

No, we’d be lucky if we managed to do even one of those things.

The crowd quieted.

“Seattle is coming to Close us and lock down Portland,” I said. “We’re not going to let them do that.”

That got their attention.

“We know they’re going to use magic to shut the city down. We know they’re going to use magic to Close us, hold us, and whatever else their orders might be. We know using magic will make us ill—and it will make them ill too.

“So we are going to take magic off the playing field. We are going to shut down the networks so that no one can use magic.”

Silence filled the room.

“The hell,” Shame’s gleeful voice called out. “We can do that?”

Can we, Dad?
I asked.

There is a way.

“Yes,” I said, “we can. And we are going to. What I need from everyone are two things. One—do not draw upon the magic from the wells. Magic is too damn dangerous for anyone to be using right now, and that includes the people who are going to defend the city—us.

“The Seattle crew knows about the wells, so the sooner we can cleanse the wells and close them, the less we’ll have to worry about them pulling on the tainted magic and us needing to do the same to fight them.”

“Then how are we going to fight them?” a voice in the crowd asked.

“Once we shut down the wells and there is no magic to draw from, it shouldn’t be that difficult. Detective Stotts? Is there some way we can legally keep them contained until we deal with the Overseer?”

All eyes turned to Detective Paul Stotts.

“There is,” he said. “I will expect that the people in this room, and all other members of the Authority, will leave their detention to the police. We will, of course, also expect that everyone here will work closely with us if problems or concerns arise.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Any questions about apprehending the Seattle members
after
magic has been closed, when, hopefully, they and we will not be using magic, check in with Detective Stotts. Any questions about apprehending the Seattle members
before
magic has been closed, when I am sure they will be trying to use magic against us, contact me, Victor, Maeve, or Zayvion
and Kevin. We will keep everyone up to date on any and all information we receive.

“Second thing,” I continued. “I want all the hospitals, emergency services, communications, ports, and plants to be contacted to make sure they are ready for the switchover to straight electricity, natural gas, and oil.”

A roll of conversation swelled and silenced. It had been years since Portland had gone traditional power only for any length of time. Years since a spell hadn’t been used to bolster a piece of equipment, or a person’s medical recovery.

But humankind had lived without easy access to magic for centuries. I figured we could handle a few days—maybe weeks at the most without it.

From the sound of the crowd, they were not as sure about that.

The Hounds were still in the crowd. No surprise. Life as a Hound meant you didn’t turn down a job if one was offered. Actually, it was more than that. The Hounds had thrown in their lot with me. They’d stood beside me when there was no reason for them to believe any of us would walk out of the fight alive.

They were loyal friends. And furious, dirty fighters.

My people.

They didn’t appear to be at all concerned about shutting magic down.

“You expect us to convince everyone in the entire city to run on electricity alone?” a sallow-faced man somewhere in the middle of the crowd called out. “We haven’t been nonmagic for nearly thirty years. No one will do it. There will be riots in the street.”

I didn’t know who he was. Didn’t much care, really.

“You have a good point,” I said. “Unfortunately, it
doesn’t matter. The city has all the backup systems to go magic-free. We’ve done it for short stints during wild magic storms. It’s in all the emergency plans. It can be done. And it’s going to be done. Get ready, and spread the word. Because whether or not anyone likes it, I am shutting this city down in exactly one hour.”

I picked up the mic, switched it off, then strode across the stage.

“N
icely done,” Zay murmured as we stepped off the stage.

“Do
not
talk to me, Jones.” I tromped down the stairs.

The only problem with my plan of storming off was the hundreds of people standing in my way. Well, that, and a feet-freezing rush of claustrophobia. I got three steps down the side of the stage before I could go no farther.

Zay was on my heels. He didn’t have to be touching me for me to know what he was thinking. I was confusing the hell out of him.

“What’s wrong?” His hand landed on my shoulder, and he hissed as the full force of my phobia stomped through our bond.

He pulled his hand away and exhaled, then was down the stairs, next to me. His arm looped around my back, propelling me through the crowd that parted like magic in front of us, with nothing more than his glare clearing the path.

We crossed the room and were out the double doors to the wide-open hallway, and through that so fast, I couldn’t keep track of which doors we had passed. Then we were walking up the steps to the main doors—beveled glass and lead caught with rainbows from a
century ago—and on the wide columned front porch of the estate.

Air. Real air.

Zay let go of me and walked across the porch as if shaking off a pain, then paced back toward me, but keeping his distance.

I just stood there, alone, with an armload of space, a world full of air and roominess. The wind was warm, even though evening was setting in, but it left me shaking and cold. Barging our way through that many people had made me break out in a sweat.

Zay leaned one shoulder against a column and watched me.

“Why?” I finally said, when my heart was slow enough not to make my words stutter. “Why did you tell them I would lead?”

“Because there isn’t anyone else I would follow.”

“Bull. You’ve followed the Authority all your life. Followed Victor. Followed Maeve.”

He gave me a smoldering look, his arms crossed over his wide chest. “I don’t follow them anymore, Allie. I follow you. Better than that—I stand with you. You are the only one who kept us alive on that battlefield. You are the only one the Hounds trust and follow, Stotts trusts and follows. You are the only one I trust.”

“You trust Victor.”

“As a teacher, yes.”

“You’d follow him into battle.”

He shrugged. “This isn’t just about a fight. It’s about magic. How we fix it.
Who
fixes it. What it will be when that is done. It would be too easy, too tempting for any other person in that room to make choices for magic I refuse to live by.”

“Like what?”

He paused, frowning as he realized I didn’t understand what he was getting at.

“The Authority is an ancient organization. It is not a democracy. We are given our positions, appointed to them by our superiors. But there is always room to move up. And every person in that room has a reason to want to be the one person with the power and ability to decide what should be done with magic.”

“Done with it?” I asked. “Heal it. Cleanse it. Fix it,” I said. “What the hell else would anyone want to do with it?”

“Control it,” he said. “Use it. Rule it. Own it. Just like Bartholomew Wray. Just like Jingo Jingo.”

I was going to tell him he was wrong. Magic was poisoned and killing people. Anyone in their right mind would want to fix it and let it go back to being what it has always been.

But not all magic users cared about the greater good. Certainly Leander and Isabelle didn’t care. There were others. My dead father still placed his desires above all others. He had once told me he suspected even Victor had done things to tip the balance of what was done with magic to what he thought was right.

Which Victor had as much as admitted to when he’d told us he’d taken away more of Eli Collins’ memories than was required by the Authority.

“I don’t want to control it,” I said, all the breath out of me.

Zay waited a moment more. Then he unfolded his arms and started toward me. “I know.”

“Other people don’t want to control it,” I said, though it came out more like a question. “They want it fixed.”

“Those other people can’t lead like you can.”

“Why didn’t you volunteer to do it? They would follow you.”

“No. Too many people don’t like things I’ve done in the past as the Guardian of the gate. They won’t follow me.”

I looked up at him. He had stopped about six inches away, his thumbs tucked into his front pockets. I could smell his familiar pine cologne and wished I were home, in bed with him, in some kind of world where magic didn’t make everything and everyone it touched hurt.

“Tell me,” I said, “that you weren’t setting me up all along.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, then pressed back down into a serious line. “Hmm. Like this entire mess was some kind of master plan I put in place a year ago just so I could see if you’d try to purify magic and save the world from two psychotic dead people?”

“Not that,” I said. “Expecting me to jump in and lead just because you said I should. Did you have that planned?”

He shook his head. “It just seemed right at the time. I overstepped a bit, didn’t I?”

I nodded. “More than a bit. Tell me first.”

“I will. If there’s a next time.”

“Good.” I placed my hands on either side of his hips, and felt his muscles contract. I rubbed my palms up his back, gently since I knew how damn much he was still hurting despite painkillers and a good doctor.

Then I kissed him.

His faint surprise was quickly washed away in a rush of passion as his arms surrounded me, one hand dragging warm fingers across the bare back of my neck, then stroking up through my hair.