Magic on the Line (10 page)

I wondered if he would ever give it up, sell out, turn it into a franchise. I heard him laugh, and Terric chuckle. Things were certainly changing. All of us were changing. It was strange to suddenly notice that I, and my friends, wouldn’t be this way forever. That we might choose paths that took us far away. That we might take paths that meant we’d never see each other again.

Zayvion’s arm tightened for a moment. He might not be able to tell exactly what I was thinking, but he could probably feel my melancholy. I leaned my head on his shoulder and watched the people walking on the street below.

A flash of green caught my eye. I focused on the source, hoping it was nothing more than an odd reflection off a store window, a car windshield, or maybe a camera flash.

But it was a man, wearing a brown sweater and a green scarf and a painter’s cap. He was walking up the block, keeping pace with the rest of the crowd. The green flashed again. He paused, slowed his steps, and pressed his hand against his chest.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Zay.

Zay glanced down. “Asthma attack?”

“He flashed green.” I used my right hand to draw a very small Sight spell, set my Disbursement—muscle aches—and set magic into the glyph. Magic poured up into me and down my arm in a sticky, nauseating wave.

I held my breath to keep from throwing up my lunch and calmly focused on the Sight. A man-shaped, watercolor shadow stepped out of the guy on the street, stretching out of his chest, head, then legs one at a time, and last, his arms and hands. It was almost as if the watercolor shadow had been stuck inside and had grown too large. Like a crab shucking its shell, the shadow—the Veiled—pulled completely free and walked down the sidewalk, not exactly solid, but less insubstantial than before.

“Do you see that?” I asked.

Zay had also cast a quick Sight spell. “It doesn’t look solid.”

“It’s not just a ghost either.”

The Veiled strode up the block, then paused. It turned, looked straight at the den—straight up at Zayvion and me. And then it started toward us.

It got halfway across the street before it faded from sight, both magical and mundane.

“Um,” I started.

Zay pulled away and strode across the room. A few people looked up as he passed. He walked out the door and I was on his heels. He took the stairs—faster than the elevator—and so did I. Within a second or two I heard more footsteps. Davy, for sure. After a floor, someone else.

Zay took the lobby in a few strides. I jogged to keep up. Once we hit the sidewalk, Zay poured magic in a very precise Sight spell.

I paused beside him. I wasn’t feeling very well. That Sight I’d cast made me feel like I had a horrible case of motion sickness. And pounding down the stairs hadn’t helped any. I was going to lose it. I jogged to the bushes and weeds on the corner and retched.

Good-bye, wine. Good-bye, lunch.

The breeze pulled over the back of my neck and across my bare arms. I sucked down lungfuls of it, trying to get the cold to settle my stomach. My right arm itched. It felt like hot oil was trickling down every line of magic there, scratching me bloody and leaving behind a hot, uncomfortable, cramping sensation.

To sum up, I was feeling fresh as a tulip, thank you.

“Need some water?” That was Davy.

“Napkin?” I asked. He produced one from somewhere, and I used it to wipe my mouth with shaking hands. I felt like I’d just been kicked in the gut by the worst and fastest flu ever. As I straightened, I was no longer nauseous. Even the pain in my arm was already easing.

Weird. Really weird.

I blew my nose and wadded the napkin up in my fist. Then I stepped back and looked around.

Zayvion was up on the corner past Get Mugged. He seemed to be smoking a cigarette. He didn’t smoke. So, that was an Illusion. I was surprised to see Anthony across the street, where we’d last seen the Veiled, and walking up to the next block. What was he doing out here?

“You do know we have a bathroom,” Davy said.

“What?”

“You could have puked there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Zay, avoiding, I noticed, looking at Anthony. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I thought I saw something out here. Zay decided to check it out. Let’s go see what he says.”

“What sort of something?” Davy asked as we walked. He paced himself to my stride, close enough he could catch me if I stumbled, but far enough away that his shoes wouldn’t get dirty if I got sick again. He was a pretty smart young man.

“I don’t know. A flash of magic I’ve never seen before.”

“Maybe a new ad?” Davy didn’t pull Sight, but he took a closer look at the buildings around us. “Art? They’re doing those magic art walk shows all the time now.”

“Maybe.” We passed in front of Get Mugged and I peered through the window, looking for flashes of green. Nothing.

I inhaled the deep burnt-chocolate scent of coffee and it didn’t bother my stomach at all. Other than the lingering heat radiating off my arm, it was almost as if I hadn’t been sick.

I stopped next to Zayvion. “Hey.”

He threw down his cigarette and rubbed it out with the toe of his boot. That motion was mostly just to cover him letting go of the Sight and Illusion and whatever other spells he’d cast that he didn’t want people to see. Worked pretty well. I don’t think anyone on the street would look his way twice, though I knew Davy saw right through it.

Zay turned, his eyes filled with the gold fire of magic use, and put his arm around me, tipping his head in close. We started back toward the den. “You feeling okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m okay now. Well?”

Zay kissed my temple gently. In that touch, that intimate contact, I could tell he hadn’t found anything, hadn’t felt anything, hadn’t seen the Veiled.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t there, couldn’t maybe still be there on the street. The Veiled were the leftover bits of dead magic users. Ghosts who wandered the city, and usually weren’t any problem. But recently, they’d become more than a problem. Leander had crossed over into life, and then he had found a way to use the experimental technology my father had made—disks that could hold magic and let the user access that magic without a price—to make the Veiled solid. And when dead fragments of powerful magic users came back to life, they tended to be angry. The last batch had tried to kill me, and my friends.

Luckily, there was a swift way to deal with them—remove the disks from their necks and drain the disks of magic. Disks weren’t easy to recharge, and as far as I knew, Leander didn’t know what spells it took to do that. Without the disks, the Veiled were insubstantial ghosts.

But the Veiled I had seen just a few minutes ago didn’t seem to have a disk in its neck. It had stepped out of a man. That was something new.

Davy lingered a moment, looking up the street after Anthony. Then he shook his head and followed behind us.

“So?” Davy asked. “You see anything, Zay?”

“Not really.” That was mostly the truth.

“I’m getting pretty tired of you two keeping secrets from me,” Davy said. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m on your side?”

“What side are we on?” I asked.

Davy shrugged. “Don’t care. Just can’t keep an eye out for you or for danger if you don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Beer,” Zayvion suggested. “You should be looking for beer. Because that’s all I want right now.”

We started up the stairs, and Davy did not take the elevator, which meant Zay and I had no chance to talk.

Once we reached the second floor, the sound of everyone talking and laughing washed out into the hall, and I decided I didn’t care. So I’d seen a Veiled. They were all over the city. Yes, it had appeared to be inside someone, but we saw no sign of a dead body, or the man actually being harmed in any way. Maybe it was just one of those things where the living and the dead were accidentally occupying the same space at the same time, and somehow, temporarily, merged.

Whatever. I wanted some tea to settle my stomach.

We walked back into the room. The party had gotten a little louder. The poker game had gathered a few onlookers, and the pile of cash in the middle of the table was respectable. Only three people were still in for that hand—Jack, Jamar, and Maeve.

Victor was sitting with some people I didn’t know. He had refilled his glass, and looked comfortable.

Shame stood behind his mother and was dividing his time between watching the poker game, with his arm around Tiffany’s waist, and glancing over at Terric.

Terric must have had another shot. Okay, maybe two. His tie was off, tucked into Grant’s back pocket and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of his very toned chest and stomach. Grant and he were across the room from the poker game, near my desk, both standing, though Terric leaned against the wall, probably for support. Grant had a beer. Terric was grinning and describing something using a lot of hand motions to get his point across. Whatever he was talking about, it looked dirty.

I glanced at Shame again, and he didn’t look angry. No, when he looked at Terric there was concern and a kind of compassion I hadn’t ever seen in his eyes before.

He caught me staring and just held eye contact with me, not explaining, not ignoring. There was a sort of pained reluctance to that look, as if he were trying to make a decision and having a very hard time of it. Then he turned his attention back to the poker action.

Terric laughed. Shame shook his head and slid a smile his way. Terric had the kind of laugh that was contagious, and I found myself smiling too.

Maybe the two of them, Shame particularly, would get it through his thick head that they were both pretty good guys who could have a decent friendship, if they’d just forget about the Soul Complement angst.

“Stop babysitting.” Zayvion pressed a cup of tea into my hands.

Aw, I hadn’t even asked for tea. I took a sip. Peppermint. Even though I am a coffee drinker, my stomach probably couldn’t have handled much more than this. “Thank you,” I said.

He nodded once toward the poker game. “I’m gonna get in on the next hand. You want to play?”

I shook my head. “You bring home the money, baby. I’m going to drink my tea.”

Zay hesitated a second and took in the whole of the room as if just now realizing it was filled with people. His gaze held a moment on Terric, and then he looked at Shame, who was convincingly entranced by the cards.

Zay walked over to Terric.

Oh, I was not going to miss this. I walked that way too, hoping to catch whatever Zay was going to say to Terric.

Unfortunately, Zay just said hi to Grant and exchanged small talk about the great job he did catering the event.

I found a comfy spot on one of the oversized leather chairs and drank my tea. Zay, having finished his sudden need to be social, with no more than a “How’s the tequila?” to Terric, and likely had also satisfied his curiosity of what was going on between Terric and Grant, strode over to the poker table.

Tension was high as the last hand was called.

A cheer roared out from the crowd. Maeve stood and bowed. Shame was quick to help her gather the spoils of her win, and pocketed a wad of it before she slapped his hands away. Then the six chairs around the table filled up with new players, Zayvion among them.

With a room full of Authority members and Hounds and civilians, I did something I never thought I could do. I sat there, relaxed, and didn’t worry about a damn thing.

Chapter Five

T
he gathering started breaking up about midnight. I made Davy call cabs for anyone who’d been drinking, including Victor, and, wonder of wonders, no one argued with me about it.

Grant had left just before midnight. He didn’t need a cab because he lived below Get Mugged next door. To my great surprise, Terric had not gone home with him. Terric had, however, shed his shirt, his shoes, his socks, and his belt in that order over the last three hours or so. He’d spent most of the evening barefooted, wearing nothing but his black slacks.

Not that the women in the room had seemed to mind.

Let me put it this way: it wasn’t the clothes that made that man.

Pretty soon it was down to Zayvion, me, Davy, Shame, Terric, and a few of the other Hounds—Jack and Bea, who were snugged up and sleeping on one of the bunks along the far wall, and Sunny, who was sitting cross-legged on a top bunk, unbraiding her hair and watching every move Davy made.

“You staying?” I asked Davy.

He looked around the room, his gaze resting on Sunny. “Don’t feel like driving.”

I gave him a look.

“I mean,” he amended, “I wouldn’t dream of driving since I drank one whole beer four whole frickin’ hours ago. You?”

“Think I’ll drag Zayvion home.” I glanced at Terric, who was standing in front of the windows that overlooked Get Mugged. He had a beer in his hand and was drinking it while humming to himself. There was no way he was sober.

“Let me see what I can do with Terric,” I said.

“Go get him, Mom.”

“Shove it, Silvers.”

I walked over to Terric. He must have seen my reflection against the dark window.

“Hello, Allie,” he said quietly. “Whatever are you up to?”

“I’m offering to take you back to my place, where you can sleep on a couch. Or I’m offering to leave you here, where you can sleep on a couch.”

“Lot of couches in those offers.” He took a drink of beer.

“I can call you a cab.”

“Mmm.” His eyes, in the dark reflection of the glass, shifted. And I knew why. Shamus was walking this way.

I turned. Was going to say something, but Shame spoke first.

“I got him,” Shame said. He was sober. I didn’t think I’d seen Shame take so much as a sip of beer. “So, Ter, you gonna stare out at the empty all night?” He put his hand on Terric’s shoulder. “Or you going to put your shirt on, for all that’s decent, man?”

“I’m not wearing a shirt?” Terric sounded surprised.

“Nope.” Shame handed him his shirt. “It’s right here.”

“How do you do that? Find my shirt like that? You always know. When I need stuff.”

“Yes. I always know you need a shirt.” Shame gave me a tolerant look. He apparently had done this with Terric more than once. “If you’d stop shedding your clothes every time you drink, I wouldn’t have to try to keep you from getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Mmm,” Terric said. “True. Don’t want to do that again.” He worked on getting his arms into his shirt’s sleeves.

“No, three times is enough,” Shame drawled. “I’m done bailing your naked ass out of jail.”

Terric got into the shirt and buttoned most of the buttons. “False arrest. I wasn’t naked.”

“Socks don’t count, Ter.”

“You want me to call you guys a cab?” I asked. “Unless . . . is Tiffany still here?”

“No,” Shame said, “she is not. We don’t need a cab. Ter’s gonna sleep it off on the floor.”

I hesitated. Terric had finished buttoning his shirt, and put his beer down, carefully, on the windowsill.

“What happened to all the couches?” he asked.

“Fine,” Shame said. “You can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Maybe not,” Shame said, taking Terric’s elbow and guiding him over to the couch. “But we are tired of you.”

Terric nodded. “Sensible.”

Shame steered Terric until he was sitting on the couch. “There you go. I’ll find you a blanket and a barf bucket.”

“No.” Terric reached out for Shame and somehow caught the sleeve of Shame’s hoodie. “Tiffany’s okay,” he said. “You don’t need my opinion, but I don’t care. Happy for you and all whatever. But just . . . Could you stop with the anger? It’s not my fault we can use magic. It’s not my fault we work so good together. And I really . . .” He looked up at Shame, searching for something in his face. “I really want us to be . . . something.”

Shame rubbed his fingers over his head, as if trying to wipe away Terric’s words. “We are something, Terric,” Shame said quietly. “You are drunk and I am tired. Go to sleep.”

Terric laid back on the couch and propped his arm over his eyes. “You know what I mean, Shamus,” he said in a soft voice. “You want it too. Friends. Us. You know I’m right.”

“So full of shit.” Shame walked away to the bunks against the far wall, apparently having forgotten he had promised Terric a blanket.

I walked in the opposite direction and pulled out a spare blanket from the shelf. I draped it over Terric, who had already passed out, and took a look at the rest of the room. Davy had claimed the top bunk with Sunny and they were whispering to each other. Shame settled into one of the reclining chairs that faced the windows and stretched his legs out.

Everyone else was asleep, including Zayvion, who was sprawled across the largest couch, which he had folded back to double the sleeping space.

Looked like my choices were to wake Zay up, drag him out into the cold and drive him home, then up the three flights of stairs to my house, or just walk a few feet and curl up beside him.

I chose easy, and settled down on the couch next to him. Zay shifted so I could put my head on his chest and my leg over his.

“Everyone done?” he mumbled, only half awake.

“Yes,” I said. “Everyone is very done.”

Even though there were plenty of people snoring, and thoughts about Shame and Terric, and Zay, and even the Veiled kept circling in my head, I slept a lot better than I expected. When I dreamed, all I saw were flashes of green light and the Veiled walking through bodies.

Sometime in the middle of the night, when it felt as if I’d only been asleep long enough to begin dreaming, I heard a soft knock at the door. Feet hit the carpeted hardwood, and from the pace, I knew it was Davy shuffling to the door. He probably hadn’t even gone to sleep yet.

I wondered who was at the door. Someone must have left something behind, or maybe Grant was back to try to convince Terric to go home with him.

Davy held his breath briefly while he looked out through the peephole. Then I heard him slide the chains and bolts.

“Thought you fucking went home,” Davy said. “Everyone’s asleep. Party’s over. Go away.”

There was a pause. A whisper I couldn’t quite catch. I rolled onto my side so I could see what was going on. The light from the hall threw the person in the doorway in shadows. I wasn’t sure who Davy was talking to, couldn’t catch his voice, couldn’t see his face.

Then Davy stepped back, walking away from the door, and the person followed him into the room. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but I could finally make out who it was–Anthony.

Well, no wonder Davy was upset.

I shifted to go back to sleep when I realized something wasn’t right. Anthony was following Davy, and I mean close on his heels. I guess Davy was tired enough not to notice. But Anthony didn’t look right.

Then I saw it—a spark of green light.

“Davy?” I sat.

Davy stopped and Anthony ran into him.

Davy yelled.

Anthony hadn’t just run into him, he had bit him on the shoulder.

Davy spun away and slammed a fist into Anthony’s face. Anthony reeled back. He turned and ran, holding his hand over his bloody nose.

Davy was shaking. The room filled with people startled awake and ready to kick ass. But none of us were fast enough to stop Ant before he ran out the door.

I ran, rushing past Davy, who was swearing, out into the hall, barefoot, breathing hard. Footsteps pounded from the room behind me, the faintest hush of shoes on the stairs ahead of me leading down.

Down.

I hit the stairs at a dead run. Heard the front door bang closed before I’d even made it down a flight. Didn’t care. Just kept going.

Made it to the bottom floor, bare feet slapping hard on the cold marble. I pushed out the front door, looked up and down the dark street. Didn’t see anyone on the street at all.

I took a deep breath, shivered at the icy cold, set a Disbursement—headache this time—and drew a Sight spell. I pulled magic into it. The world broke into shades of old magic among vibrant new spells, bright neon dripping down buildings, pastels drifting along the empty street.

Didn’t see Anthony, and couldn’t hold the spell any longer.

Magic burned, sticky and painful, down my arm to my fingertips. I clenched my teeth to keep from throwing up. What was wrong with me?

I canceled the spell and stood there, shaking, barefoot in the night, trying not to lose the peppermint tea I’d drunk a few hours ago. I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat and blinked back pain tears.

My arm felt swollen and hot and heavy. Something was really wrong.

It took me a minute—not a good sign—to notice there were people around me. Zay, Shame, Davy, Bea, Sunny, Jack. It took me more than that minute to realize they were talking, making some kind of plan to hunt Anthony down.

“ . . . take the east blocks,” Zayvion said. “Got that?”

Everyone agreed and split up, Zay and Shame jogging off to his car, Sunny and Bea headed down the street, and Davy and Jack standing there staring at me.

“You want to go get your shoes or what?” Jack finally said.

“Right.” I walked back into the building and took the stairs as quickly as I could. The sticky pain in my arm was easing and I didn’t feel quite as sick.

So, that was good news.

I found my shoes and made it back downstairs in no time. I was feeling better, though still moving a little like I was walking against a hard wind.

Jack threw his cigarette down, crushed it, and tipped his head. “You okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

“You haven’t said anything about the plan, and you generally make a point to tell us it’s wrong and boss us around.”

We started walking toward Davy’s car.

“I missed the plan.”

They both paused. “You sick again?” Davy asked.

“I’m fine.”

“When you cast magic—did it make you sick?” he persisted.

“It’s been a long damn day,” I said.

“So, yes.”

“Yes.”

He glanced at Jack. “Ever heard of that?”

“What?” Jack said. “That magic hurts? Gee, no, Silvers. That’s headline news.”

“Ass,” Davy said. “You setting Disbursements?”

“Davy,” I said, “drop it, okay? I’m fine. What’s the plan?”

Davy keyed the locks on his car. Jack took the backseat, which I hadn’t really expected. I took the front and shut the door.

The door hadn’t even latched before Davy did a very illegal U-turn, rolled the wrong way down a one-way street for half a block, then turned west.

“Is it only when you use Sight?” Davy asked.

“The plan,” Jack said over my response, “is to hunt that little pecker.”

“You throwing first?” I asked.

Jack shrugged. “That’s fine.” He took in a breath, held it, clearing his mind and focusing on the glyph he drew, then pulled magic into it.

It was a form of Sight, not the same one I used, but both our spells were subclasses of Sight. It didn’t seem to make him sick. Figured.

“You okay?” I asked Davy. “Did he bite you?”

Davy’s jaw clenched and so did his knuckles on the steering wheel.

“I think so. Haven’t had a chance to see how deep it is, but so help me God, if he drew blood, I’m going to break his jaw. I’m serious, Allie. I don’t care how much you think he can redeem himself. He’s an ass. Even Pike would have given up on him by now.”

I rubbed my eyes with my left hand, my fingers icy cold, even though my right arm still burned hot. “I can’t think of anything to excuse this,” I said.

Well, unless maybe that green spark I’d seen was caused by a Veiled. I didn’t think Davy would take that reason as an excuse for getting bit. I’d just have to find another way to help Anthony once we got this straightened out. Maybe Sid would take him on as a private student and make sure he stayed far, far away from Davy.

“Hounds don’t harm Hounds,” I said. “Not at the den. He knows that. I’ll tell him it’s off-limits and try to hook him up with someone else.”

“Finally, there’s sense coming out of your mouth.” He glanced in the rearview. “Anything?”

“Nope,” Jack said. “Keep driving.”

Jack canceled the spell, and drew another. I didn’t know how far out he was casting, and I didn’t feel like drawing on magic to find out. If I had to guess, I’d say he was looking in maybe a three-block radius, which would be a more detailed view than throwing Sight any wider.

“Your right shoulder?” I asked Davy.

He nodded.

“Want me to look?”

“Sure.”

I unlatched my seat belt and turned on the overhead light. I glanced back at Jack, but he was looking out the window and didn’t seem to care about the light. Looking through Sight, electric light wouldn’t make that much of a dent in what he could see. Spells, especially new ones, outshone regular light. Any Hound worth a paycheck knew how to see the older, ashy spells through the glare. Since we were looking for Anthony, we were looking for new spells—things he would use to hide or conceal himself.

Davy wore a T-shirt, and I was pretty sure he had been wearing that when Anthony came in the room.

I pulled his sleeve up.

“Ow!” he said. “Too hot and too cold. What are you using? A lighter and an ice cube?”

“My fingers.”

“Your fingers hurt.”

I touched my fingers to my face. Hot and cold, yes, but not enough that I’d yelp about it.

“Don’t be a baby.” I pulled his sleeve up to reveal the top curve of his shoulder. He hissed.

I didn’t see any marks, but his skin was bruised. From the yellow of the light and the slide of traffic lights rolling through the windows, I couldn’t tell how bad it really was.