Magic Without Mercy (12 page)

I didn’t want to call out, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to play what’s-waiting-to-kill-you-behind-door-number-two either.

Zayvion and Shame stood on either side of me. I could literally feel the heat of pain rising off Shame from all the magic he’d thrown, though he wasn’t acting like he was in agony.

I pointed at the arches on either end of the room, indicating they should each take one, and strode off toward the arch directly across from us.

Zayvion caught my arm, and jerked me back toward him.

“We do not split up,” he whispered.

“We don’t have time for this,” I whispered back.

“Ah,” a man’s voice echoed out among the timbers and steel. “I see you’ve finally stopped by. So good to have company.”

And then Eli Collins strolled through the archway to our left.

Collins was probably no more than ten years older than me, and knew how to work the intellectual, shy-with-a-side-of-crazy look. But his short sandy hair was a little messier than usual and he was sporting dark circles behind those wire-rimmed glasses.

He had on his usual button-down white shirt, with a charcoal pin-striped vest and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his right forearm wrapped in gauze, the left burned red. He also had an impressive bruise spreading from his hairline down the right side of his face and neck.

He smiled, and opened his hands wide. I noted his right thumb and two fingers were also wrapped in gauze, as was the palm of his left hand.

Looked like something had chewed him up and spit him out. If I had to guess, I’d say that something was magic.

“You have come by to see Davy?” he asked when none of us moved.

“Yes,” I said, pulling my arm out of Zayvion’s grasp. “We have.”

“Please.” His eyes roved over Zay, Shame, and then stopped on me. He slowly and pointedly looked me up from boot to gun, short jacket, chest, neck, lips, eyes, where his eyes narrowed just a moment from my icy stare, then to my hair, and finally back to my lips again, as if they fascinated him. “Allie,” he breathed. “You look stunning.”

Zayvion pushed past me and was across the floor in four strides. He grabbed Collins by the shirt and shoved him up against the wall.

“Keep your hands,” he growled, “and eyes to yourself. Or I’ll hang them on my walls for trophies.”

Whoa. I’d never seen Zayvion lose control like that.

“Zay, don’t,” I started.

Collins tried a brief smile, but lost that when Zay tightened his grip on his collar. “I meant no harm, Zayvion,” he wheezed, “and intended no slight. Accept my apology.”

“Zay,” I said again.

Shame walked over to Zay and patted him on the shoulder. “Let him go, Jones. You promised I’d get first blood. No first blood, no neck breaking.”

Shame started off toward the archway. “You’re welcome, Collins.”

Zayvion showed no intention of backing off.

Collins just held very still, and honestly, I was pretty sure there was more curiosity in his eyes than any sane man in his current predicament should possess. He was either used to getting roughed up or too stupid to know that he was teetering on the edge of a beating.

“Are you sure I’m the person you want to hurt?” he finally said.

Zayvion released his shirt, but didn’t step back.

Collins nodded. “It’s been a challenging day for us all, I think.”

“Is there booze in this place?” Shame’s voice drifted back from beyond the arch.

“Yes.” Collins slid sideways to get out from between Zayvion and the brick wall. “Let me pour us drinks.”

He rubbed at his throat and headed through the archway. I stuck my gun back in the holster and walked up behind Zayvion.

“Done defending my honor?” I asked.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stared at the wall.

“Zay?” I walked around to stand beside him. “Love?”

He punched the wall, and at the last second opened
his palm. I rocked back half a step as dust shifted down between the bricks to powder Zay’s boots.

I waited while he breathed, his fingers digging into the edges of the brick. Hard, too hard, as if he was trying to dig his way through something, or dig his way out of something.

And then I knew what it was. Minds. The memories of the men he’d killed. Shame had said he could go through flashbacks.

I shifted so I could see his eyes. Hard and gold with dizzying emotions clashing through him. Too many memories, lives that were not his. He was sorting, sifting, claiming and reclaiming his center, his mind, his life, over and over again, pushing away the lives of the other men, but he wasn’t getting ahead of those images faster than they were piling up.

“Zayvion. I’m right here. And so are you.” I placed my hand gently on his cheek.

The contact was like lightning. Forget Grounding. Forget meditation. Forget sorting and sifting. Zay came back to himself, back to me, like a lightning bolt seeking iron.

He twisted and pulled me against him so quickly, I didn’t even have time to catch my breath. He pressed me back to the wall where Collins had been.

Then he was kissing me, hard, searching, hungry, needing this, needing us, needing me.

Desperate.

I opened my mouth, licking him gently, matching his hunger with patience, with gentle sliding strokes of my tongue, until he seemed to finally feel me, really feel me, there, against him, there, touching him, there, kissing him, breathing him as my own breath.

His heartbeat settled, the desperate hunger eased, and his mouth softened into the familiar caresses of the man I loved.

I pulled away from him, and looked up into his eyes.

Brown. Deep and warm. With only a glint of gold dusting them.

“Welcome home,” I said.

He leaned back enough that he could drag one thumb down my cheek.

“Did I kill him?” he asked.

“No,” I said, trying not to be surprised that he didn’t remember the details of what had just happened. “Shame wouldn’t let you.”

“Hm. Probably for the better. We’re not alone here, are we?”

I shook my head. “We came to see Davy.”

Zayvion closed his eyes, gathering himself, then pushed back. The absence of his body left me painfully tingly.

“I remember that,” he said. “Which way?”

I started off toward the arch. “Apparently, there’s booze.”

The darkness of the hallway was interrupted by pools of gold that made the scars and divots of the old wood plank floor glow like stripes of tigereye. The room opened up into a living area with chairs set in a nice sitting space along with tables and reading lamps. The brick walls were covered by heavy shelves made of girders and I-beams in rusted orange.

An arch at the far side opened onto a functioning kitchen, and I expected a bathroom might be back that way. From the layer of grime covering half of everything, the place looked more like a storage unit that had been turned out into a place to live than like a place to live that had storage in the corners.

Collins poured scotch into four glasses, while Shame mooched around the room, probably looking for something to steal.

“Where’s Davy?” I asked.

“He’s quite well,” Collins said. “Don’t worry yourself. But he’s resting right now. Here.” He strolled over and offered a glass to Shame, then two to Zayvion, who handed one to me. Collins kept his gaze carefully on Zayvion’s face, not mine. He, apparently, didn’t want to have his neck broken today.

I didn’t like scotch. And right now, I didn’t care.

“To your health.” Collins lifted his glass. We all shot it back. Yeah, it had been that kind of day.

The scotch burned a hot line down my throat to the soles of my feet, and my eyes watered. I managed to be a grown-up about it and didn’t make the “icky” face as I put the glass down on the shelf behind me.

“So, Ms. Beckstrom,” Collins asked with overt civility, his gaze properly fixed about two inches above my left ear. “How is it I may be of assistance?”

I rubbed at my eyes, ran into the damn glasses again. More finger smudges. Great. I took the glasses off and pulled the hem of my T-shirt, cleaning them.

“I’m here to check on Davy’s progress,” I said. “And I want—” I looked at Zayvion and Shame. “Maybe we all need to stay a while.”

“At least until the booze runs out,” Shame said.

Zayvion nodded once. Good. We agreed this would work as a place to regroup with everyone. At least temporarily.

“Is this your property?” I asked.

“Belongs to a friend of mine,” Collins said. “He’s out of the country right now. Uses it mostly for storage.”

“Do you think anyone would expect you to be here?” I asked.

Collins walked back to the bar and placed his glass there before turning and leaning his hip against the bar. “Which anyone are you asking about, Allison? The Authority? The Hounds? The police?” He was making eye
contact again, his gaze slipping to my lips. It was like an old habit that couldn’t be choked out of him.

“Not the Hounds,” I said. “I know they know you’re here.”

He nodded. “I think they’re keeping an eye on the place, though they haven’t been in to check on Davy.”

“I told them to stay low.”

“Well, they are indeed doing that.” He shifted so he could pour himself another drink. “As far as I know, the Authority doesn’t monitor this building or block. It’s one of the reasons why I chose it. As for the police, I haven’t seen many drive by. I keep the lights low and an eye on the doors, just in case.”

“Can we can stay here for a bit?” I asked.

“Too long, and I suppose someone will notice the comings and goings. But there is ample space for beds, and plenty of linens. Food enough for a few days, I’d think. I will, of course, have to add room and board onto the bill you’ll be paying for Davy’s medical care.”

“Of course,” I drawled. I’d hired Collins to give Davy magic and medical care. If Dr. Fisher and every other physician I knew who dealt with magic weren’t also involved with the Authority, and therefore pretty much out to get me, I would have much preferred to take Davy to a hospital.

But Collins was all I had.

For now.

“Shame, would you let your mom, Terric, and Victor know we’re here? Tell her to bring the magic with her tonight, if she can.”

“So many,” Collins said, a hard edge in his voice. “I didn’t realize you’d be inviting so many people for company.”

“Problem with that?” I asked.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine.”
And then he smiled, which meant we probably would not.

Terrific. Just.

“So,” Shame said. “The bathroom? I need to take a leak.”

Collins nodded to the narrow greenish hall. “Down there, second door on the left.”

Shame clunked his glass on the shelf. “Don’t kill anybody while I’m gone, you two.”

“Anything else you’ll need?” Collins asked as Shame stalked off. “Food? Supplies? Tranquilizers maybe?” He looked up at Zayvion instead of me. Zayvion hadn’t moved since we stepped into the room. He looked like a bouncer who was waiting for the signal to kick Collins down an elevator shaft.

“Where’s Davy?” Zay asked.

Collins immediately became interested in adjusting the bandages on his hands. “Resting,” he said. “Resting.”

That might not be a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.

“Take me to him,” I said.

“I’d rather not,” he said. “He needs the rest.”

“Take me to him or I’ll make you wish you had.” I put my hand on the gun under my jacket and managed not to flinch at that contact. He looked at my eyes, my hand, then at the gun.

“That is not the gun I gave you,” he said, a little offended.

“Davy,” I repeated.

He inhaled, as if weighing a difficult choice. “Tell me you didn’t lose my gun.”

I just glared at him.

“He
is
doing well, Allison.”

“Heard that. Now I want to see it.”

The shuffling of footsteps from beyond the darkened arch made me turn.

“Yes,” Collins said. “He’s in there. But I don’t think now is the time to see him. He’s still… recovering.”

“Recovering from what? The infection?” I asked.

“I had to make some choices,” Collins said. “Things to save his life.”

“What kind of choices?” I asked. “What did you do to him?”

A sick dread twisted my stomach. We didn’t know how to cure Davy. We didn’t know what would happen if the poisoned magic he’d been infected with wasn’t stopped.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Anthony Bell, who had been possessed by a Veiled and then bit Davy, had died from it. Pretty safe bet Davy would die from it too.

“I saved him,” Collins said, holding his bandaged hands out and down. “I saved his life.”

I pulled my gun, and didn’t care how it made me feel. “Then show me how you saved his life.”

“Put the gun away,” Collins said. “He’s fine. He’s not a danger. And he’s not in danger.”

I wasn’t listening. I was striding toward the shadows, toward the sound that was not quite footsteps beyond the arch. Toward the room Collins had said Davy was in.

“Allison, stop.” Collins somehow managed to outpace me and stood between me and the archway. His eyes were bright, clear. Sober and very, very sane. “He is fine,” he said. “You have my word on that. But I can’t let you in there with a gun in your hand. Give me the gun.”

“Like hell.”

“Then put it away. I don’t want you to do something stupid. I don’t want you to accidentally hurt him.”

I felt the presence of Zayvion loom huge behind me, the heat of his body burning like a fire across my nerves.

“Stand aside, Cutter,” he rumbled.

“I didn’t hurt him, Zayvion,” Collins said, reasoning or bargaining; I didn’t know which.

I pushed past him and into the darkened room. “Davy?” I called softly.

A shadow moved in the far corner.

I fumbled for a light switch on the wall. “What did you do?” I said to Collins. “What did you do to him?”

I found a whole bank of switches and flipped them all on, flooding the room with light.

The shadow in the corner, the thing that was Davy, flinched, and turned away from the light. But not before I saw him. Saw what he was.

He looked like a Veiled—a ghostly man-shaped shadow made of watercolor hues.