Magic Without Mercy (11 page)

Shame fastened the spell into the glyph on Stone’s chest, where it flashed a soft blue, then sank and faded into the charcoal gray of Stone’s skin.

Stone dropped down on all fours
and sneezed. He shook his head and sneezed again. Then he looked up at Shame, grumbled and clacked, then trotted over to me and sneezed. He didn’t look any different, didn’t smell or act any different. And when I rubbed behind his pointy ears, he didn’t feel any different.

“Can we get that magic out of him again?” I asked.

Zayvion nodded. “The spell will hold it separate of any other magic. It can’t be opened by anyone except the caster, so Shame can get to it when we need to.”

“Not that it’s going to prove a damn thing.” Shame wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He flipped up his coat collar to cover his neck and stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching as if the room had suddenly frozen over.

“We might be wrong, you know,” he said. “That smoke and tar in the well might just be a temporary muddying up because of the cisterns being fouled.”

“Which is why we need a sample from each well,” I said. “Shame, can you send a message to your mom? Tell her we need a sample from the Blood well if she can get it. And Victor too. Ask if he can get a sample from the Faith well.”

“How many of the damn things do you intend to dip into, Beckstrom?” he asked.

“All of them should do it.”

“Do what, exactly?” Shame asked. “Besides get us caught or killed?”

“Dad said the combination of magic from each well might be enough to help us find an antidote to the poison, or a way to cleanse magic.”

“And who are we going to take this antidote to once we prove our theory?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know yet.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t like planning too far ahead. Just tell your mom and Victor. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

I turned to Zay. “Can you close the well?”

I hated asking him, but I couldn’t use magic, so I was out. Shame had just handled three large spells in a really short space of time right on the heels of a fight. He was currently rocking a hell of a fever from that last spell.

Maybe it would be better to ask Shame to do it since he hadn’t just dragged himself back from the edge of insanity.

Shame tapped the bracelet at his wrist, though I noticed he was shivering. “Sure, ask the crazy guy,” he said. “This ought to be interesting.”

Zayvion didn’t say anything. He simply drew a Disbursement, a short hard pain that snapped a thick black line down his spine. Zay stepped forward to the edge of the well and drew a Lock spell.

The glyph for Lock hovered in front of him, stretched to touch the ceiling and all four walls. Then it speared straight down into the well.

Zayvion threw his arms wide, then pulled his hands together, palm to palm. He said one word and the Lock spell set lines of bronze fire through the floor under our feet. The wood rolled and spiraled like gears flowing in oil. Magic, stone, and wood closed over the well.

The floor was just a floor again. Locked tight.

In the sudden un-magicness of the room, things seemed too quiet. “I think we should be going,” I said.

“I’ve been saying that for an hour,” Shame said, “and you get twitchy only now?”

We started across the floor, Stone trotting along behind, then ahead of us. Shame opened the door for him.

“Did you contact the others?” I asked.

“Yes. But that’s not going to do us a lot of good if we don’t know where to meet.”

Stone sniffed at the bottom step of the staircase back up to the outer world, then took off up it, half climbing,
half winging and clawing. If anyone was coming down those stairs, they were about to get a face full of gargoyle.

We started up after him, listening for sounds of people above.

I thought through possibilities of where we could meet up. The den was out. Not only did the Authority know that I owned it, but so did everyone else, including the police. We could return to Shame’s place, but after that Gate Roman opened I was pretty sure it would be under observation, or wrapped in yellow tape by now. Not Maeve’s place at the inn, not Zay’s place, not my place. Maybe Grant’s under Get Mugged. No, I’d already used him as a cover once. Twice felt like pushing it.

Collins,
Dad suggested.

There’s someone I wasn’t sure could be trusted. Sure, I’d hired him to take care of Davy after Davy had been bitten and infected. I knew Collins had no love for the Authority, for how they had Closed him, and nearly destroyed his ability to use magic.

But he had business dealings with my dad back in the day, and even though he’d said he was a doctor, Shame told me they had a fun little nickname for him: Collins the Cutter.

He was currently in hiding, trying to keep Davy alive. Maybe going to Collins would be a very good idea.

Why Collins?
I asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my dad. Okay, I wasn’t sure if I trusted him or not. He’d been really great recently, saved my life, maybe saved all our lives with that recorded box Roman had taken with him to England. Still, old habits were hard to break. And I had a long-standing habit of being suspicious.
Not that I don’t think it’s a good idea,
I added.

He has access to tech devices that may be far better equipped than Stone to contain the magics from the wells. He’s tending Davy. You want to check on Davy. And,
he
said, a little hesitantly,
Davy’s condition may give us more clues as to how magic is tainted and what can be done about it.

And that was my practical-nigh-unto-coldhearted father. Let’s go study the guy fighting for his life to see what this epidemic could do to someone up close.

Still, it was the best plan we had.

“What about us meeting wherever Collins is?” I said. We’d gotten about halfway up the stairs, Zay in front, then Shame, then me, Stone ahead of us all making gurgling sounds like he was talking to the walls. Which he probably was.

Zayvion was still moving stiffly, as if his left hip hurt with each step. He covered it pretty well, but I knew him enough to know when he was trying to bull through an injury.

“Where is old Cutter?” Shame asked.

“Bea told me he was in the warehouses under the water tower,” I said.

“Anyone who trusts Collins the Cutter, do a cartwheel,” Shame said, his voice slightly slurred. That fever must be a special sort of fun while climbing the stairs. “No?” he continued. “Well, there’s your answer, Allie.”

“He has Davy,” I said. “And we need a place to meet.”

“He’s gonna rat us out,” Shame said. “And if he rats us out, I get dibs on killing him.”

“I don’t think—,” I started.

“You get first blood,” Zayvion countered. “I get to break his neck.”

“But that’s what we did with the last rat bastard,” Shame whined.

“And how well did that go?” Zay asked.

“Grand,” Shame said. Then, “Fine, be that way. You get to break his neck.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. “He’s a doctor. He’s looking after Davy. We don’t kill him.”

“We?” Shame said. “
I
never took an oath not to hurt him.”

“No one hurts him until we know for sure that Davy’s okay,” I said. “We just don’t go in there guns a-blazing.”

“Us? Guns a-blazing?” Shame said. “No, never that.”

N
o one was on the hiking trail when we stepped through the door back into daylight. We must have been down there for longer than I realized. The light of afternoon was headed toward that hard gold of presunset, and the temperature had taken an uptick. It was at least in the high seventies, the kind of weather that made me want to go to the coast and put my bare feet in the sand.

Or used to make me want to do that. All it did today was make me sweat as we clomped down the trail back toward the bridge.

I’d told Stone to hide and find me tonight. I wasn’t sure how much of that he actually understood, but he got the hide part at least. He clattered up the hillside, disappearing in the greenery. He was fast and he was smart. He looked like a rock if he held completely still. I was pretty sure no one would spot him. He’d find me again.

On the downhill side of the bridge that crossed the bottom of the falls, Shame lifted his wrist and glanced at it, like he was checking the time. Only I knew he didn’t wear a watch.

One of the Pooh Sleuths must be checking in.

He glanced at Zay and nodded. They didn’t clue me in, and I didn’t ask until we’d gone across the walk and
over to the parking area again, where the highway traffic covered the sound of the falls.

“How about I drive?” Shame asked.

“No,” Zay said.

Shame turned to me. “Allie, he needs time. I’m not being a dick about it, but I do not want to be in the car if he hits a flashback of something he pulled out of someone else’s head and suddenly can’t feel his own extremities.”

“That can happen?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I looked over at Zayvion. He had his sunglasses on and looked every inch the cool, urban tough customer.

“Let me see your eyes,” I said.

He tipped his sunglasses down. Gold and brown. Gorgeous. He didn’t look out of his mind. But he didn’t argue with Shame. Which meant what Shame was saying was true and he knew it too.

“I think I should,” I said. “I’ve been doing the least heavy lifting. It’s my turn to pitch in.”

I held out my hand. After a slight hesitation, Zay dropped the keys into my palm. I unlocked the car and we all piled in, Zay in the front next to me, and Shame in the back.

“So who sent the message?” I asked.

“Victor,” Shame said.

“What was it?”

“He said Violet’s safe with Kevin and out of danger.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s in the book?”

“Forty-two, three, four, and forty-two, three, eleven: ‘quite safe with him’ and ‘out of all danger.’”

I just shook my head. “I still can’t believe you use that book.”

“You know I like to keep things simple.”

“Well, until I hear straight from Victor that Violet’s
not only okay but cleared the hell out of this town with my baby brother, I’m not going to stop worrying.”

“Of course not,” Shame said. “Worrying is what you do best.”

Zayvion reached over and put his hand on my thigh. Even through my jeans, his palm was hot, heavy, welcome.

I was careful to drive under the speed limit as we headed back to town. I didn’t know exactly where Collins was, and didn’t want to have to use a Tracking spell to find him. There were several old warehouses under several water towers in Portland. I wished I’d asked for specifics when Bea told me where Collins was hiding out with Davy.

“Do you know which warehouse?” Zayvion asked.

“Sort of in process-of-elimination mode,” I said. We were rolling down streets, trying not to look too suspicious as I scanned the buildings for any hint of where Davy might be. If I could use magic, I’d just flick out a Tracking spell. But I couldn’t do that. The few spells I could see clinging to the buildings weren’t exactly big neon signs telling me my dying friend was behind the burger joint.

“Careful,” Zay warned.

A car cut in front of me and then slowed to almost a complete stop.

“What the hell?” I muttered. Then I realized it was Jack Quinn’s car. Jack was a Hound and Bea’s boyfriend. The left blinker flashed on for just a second, and then Jack drove at speed again.

“Zayvion, I’m sorry to tell you I think I have a crush on another man.”

“Who is this unfortunate and soon-to-be-dead fool?” he asked.

“Jack. That’s his car. He must have been waiting for us, or maybe he followed us.”

“Jack Quinn has been following us?” Shame said.

“And now he’s taking us to Collins, I think.”

“Or a trap,” Shame said.

“He’s a Hound, Shame.”

“My statement stands.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” I turned left, following the car. “Hounds are loyal. Jack and Bea told me they’d help me if they could. They’re not going to turn against me while I’m in trouble.”

“What happens when you’re not in trouble?” Shame asked.

“Don’t know. It’s never happened.”

Jack slowed again to a complete stop and flicked on the left blinker.

I looked left. There was a narrow alley between two buildings and what looked to be an open garage door. Since there was also a water tower nearby, that must be where Collins had Davy.

“Nice hiding place.” I turned left while Jack continued on forward and drove away.

“Nice place for a trap too,” Shame said.

“And I worry too much?” I pulled into a garage next to a car that had a cover pulled over it. It was the kind of shop people probably used to use for metalwork of some sort. A repair shop. There was one door to the left that appeared to lead into the main building.

We got out of the car. I strode over to the door and tried it. It opened, revealing a brick hallway that led to a rusted yellow metal wall at one end. Halfway down the hall was an old white and dust-redbrick arch. Faint gray light filtered through that arch.

We went that way. I heard Shame pull a weapon, his gun, I thought, and Zayvion drew his blade. Since I was in the front of this exploration, I felt a little dumb not arming myself, so I carefully drew the gun out of the holster.

The gun was warm and heavy in my hand, having retained the heat of my body under my coat. It was strange. And uncomfortable.

I stepped through the archway into a huge, open room. There must have been some renovations done to the place since the structure was originally built. Metal beams crisscrossed the ceiling like someone had gone a little crazy with giant Tinkertoys. A huge square skylight filtered dirty gray light down to wash the wide, scarred plank wood floors with a watery patina.

More brick walls lined the place, more white and rusty red arches opened to spaces that were too dark to make out. Steel girders that looked like they were once railroad tracks ran down the center of the floor, plumb with the wood.

The room was empty, except for an old hunting trophy—a huge moose head—mounted on the wall to the right.