Magic Without Mercy (17 page)

“Come in, Allie,” he said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Don’t,” Zay started.

I pulled my gun out of the holster and pressed it in his hand. I also unpacked the clips and the knives.

Zayvion’s eyes were glowing gold in the low light of the room.

“You’ll know if I’m in trouble,” I said. “Just try not to kill my best friend’s police officer boyfriend if you come riding to my rescue, okay?”

I turned and walked into the light, leaving Zayvion behind. I didn’t have any magic on me, and I couldn’t use it even if I did have a spell planned.

I’d just given Zayvion all the weapons I owned. And I was walking into a room with at least one police officer who was armed and skilled with magic.

Not my smartest moment.

“Like hell,” Zayvion said behind me. He strode up, and was thrown off his feet from the barrier over the door. I hadn’t even felt it when I passed through. Hadn’t seen it. It must be some kind of Ward that activated only when someone with magic, or weapons, crossed the threshold.

Holy shit.

“Listen, Stotts,” I said as I turned back to the room.

To find him standing against the far wall, a gun in his hand, pointed at me. Stone was chained at the wrists, ankles, and neck to a metal loop in the wall, his big mouth duct-taped closed, his fingers also duct-taped together, his big round eyes glowing with anger.

“Have a seat, Allie,” Stotts said. “The Ward has a Knockout spell on it. Zay will be unconscious for plenty long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” I asked.

“For us to have a little chat.”

I
crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t bring any weapons in here. I can’t use magic. So I’d really appreciate it if you put the gun away.”

He considered me. I’d known Paul for a pretty long time now. Long enough to know he was a decent man, and in love with my best friend. I’d never seen that hard look in his eyes. I’d never seen him behind a gun. I’d never seen him look at me like he was looking at a criminal.

“Do you know you have been implicated in a crime, Allie?”

I nodded.

“Embezzlement from your own business. And then we get a tip about one of your investors—a man who recently made a deal with Violet Beckstrom for part ownership in your father’s company. We find that man dead. Killed. By magic.”

He must be talking about Bartholomew. I didn’t know how public Bartholomew had gone with his intent to screw over everything my father had ever planned and built. Public enough Stotts had found out about it. Which meant whoever was running the Authority had wanted him to find out about it.

“Just shortly after his death there was a spike on the grid. The mid cistern is blown like an old fuse. Someone
reported seeing a rock creature climbing up a building right after the cistern went out.”

He waited. Waited for me to say something.

“What?” I asked quietly. “What do you want me to say, Paul? I tried to tell you what was going on before, but you wanted proof. What I had to say wasn’t enough for you.”

He pressed his lips together, then holstered his gun. “Talk. I’m listening.”

I didn’t know where his crew was, didn’t know if he had already called in police, FBI, hell, maybe even a SWAT team.

“I’ve already gone over this,” I said. “There are a group of magic users who use five disciplines of magic, and have been doing so for centuries. They call themselves the Authority and are in charge of how much information the general public knows about magic. They have infiltrated into every level of society worldwide. They have the ability to wipe memories—they have many abilities.

“I got involved with them because my dad was involved with them. At that time the organization was breaking apart and each faction wanted magic in their hands. The right to say who could use it, and how it could be used.

“But they opened a door into death, and something—someone—got through. Now those someones want to rule magic in this world. The… things they released from death are soulless, heartless, insane. They’re called the Veiled.

“Some people have sided with them. Some people are trying to tear the Authority apart from the inside out. Some of us left the group and are trying to take care of the real problem.”

“And what is the real problem?” he asked. I couldn’t
tell by his tone of voice if he believed anything I was saying.

“The real problem is that the people who came through from death have poisoned magic—at least that’s what we think has happened. And now the walking dead—the Veiled—are spreading that poison. It’s why people are getting sick. It’s why people are dying. It’s why Anthony Bell died.

“And I’m doing everything I can to find out how magic has been poisoned, what has poisoned it, and how to stop it.”

“Alone. Without the police. Without going through any of the proper channels,” he said. “What you’re doing is illegal, Allie.”

“What I’m doing is the only chance we have to make this right. If I go to the police, to the proper channels, they won’t believe me. And they’ll want proof too. The members of the Authority inside those departments will make sure I’m dead long before anyone gets the proof they want.

“I’ve been framed, Paul. I didn’t embezzle from the company.”

“What about the cistern?” he asked. “Were you involved in destroying it?”

“Yes. But the cistern was booby-trapped, set to spread the poison as fast as it could through the network. I was trying to stop that.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, finally, “You told me you would name names.”

“And I will. But I don’t have time to fill out paperwork.”

He sighed. “I think you do. I think you have to.”

I did not want to fight him—hell, I didn’t think I could and come out on top. I couldn’t even cast the simplest Block spell. I was tired, weaponless. He was a trained
man of the law who had all the equipment he needed to put me down.

And Stone was tied and taped.

“Paul,” I said. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“Doorways into death? Monsters on the loose? Secret societies?” He shook his head. “Until I get names, dates, specifics, Allie, those are all just stories to me.”

“If I don’t get Stone in for testing, those stories are going to become nightmares,” I said. “The poison will spread unchecked. It won’t just stop at the edges of Portland—it will follow all the natural lines of magic through the world.

“Are you going to stand here arguing with me when we could be finding out how to save the people dying out there?”

Stotts hesitated, then glanced over my shoulder.

Zayvion walked up behind me. Man could be quiet when he wanted to be. Looked like he wanted to be. I didn’t know how he’d gotten through the Ward. From the look on Paul’s face, he didn’t know either.

“I can give you proof,” Zayvion said. Then he threw a spell at Paul.

“Zay,” I said, “no!”

Paul staggered back, his hand reaching for his gun as the spell wrapped around his wrists and throat.

Zayvion stormed over to him, just as angry as when he’d pinned Collins to the wall.

Was he having another flashback?

“Don’t hurt him,” I said. “Zay, don’t hurt him.”

Zay lifted his hand, fingers spread, and cast another spell. This one wrapped around Paul’s head, then pulled into a burning red glyph in the center of his forehead.

Paul had stopped moving. He was staring straight at Zayvion. He didn’t look like he was in pain, but he didn’t look like he was exactly conscious either.

Zayvion whispered a mantra, a litany, while he slowly, slowly closed the fingers of his right hand together, until the tips of each finger were touching and the glyph in the center of Paul’s forehead was a small red light.

“Don’t take his memories, Zay,” I said, touching Zay’s arm. “Don’t kill him.”

Zay took a deep breath, then said one word. “Open.” He opened his hand and the glyph spun like neon knot work, growing bigger, spreading over Paul’s head, face, and down to his heart.

Paul’s eyes went wide and he slumped forward. Zayvion caught him as his knees gave out.

“What did you do?” I said. “What did you do to him?”

“I gave him back his memories,” Zay said. He carefully lowered Paul to the ground and made sure he was lying in a fairly comfortable position.

“You Unclosed him?” I asked. Yes, I was a little stunned about that. I’d fought for the Authority to give Paul back his memories. And I’d been told Victor had Closed him. “How can you do that? Victor Closed him.”

“He did. Last time.”

Oh sweet hells.

“How many times has Stotts been Closed?” I asked.

Zay just shook his head. “Several. I think. He’s a good detective, Allie. He’s been on our heels for years. I Closed him only once, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Zayvion rubbed his hand over his face, resting the heel of his palm on his forehead as if pressing against a headache. Which was probably a doozy since he was paying the price for the magic he used. He hadn’t set a Disbursement—no time—so that meant magic could just pummel him however it wanted to.

“He stumbled on me Closing a Gate and fighting the Hungers a few years ago,” he said. “Pulled a gun on me.
I’d told him a lot of things, took him back to see Victor. And Closed him.”

“So Unclosing him will give him back all those memories?”

“Yes. I put a Sleep spell in with it to give his mind time to sort it out. He’ll be down for a couple hours, I think.” Zay lowered his hand away from his eyes and winced even though the room was only dimly lit. “Let’s get Stone.”

I nodded, trying to decide whether I should do something more for Paul. Nola would kill me if she found out I left him unconscious and alone in an abandoned building. I still had my journal in my pocket. I tugged it out, wrote: “I’m with Zayvion. Find the Hounds. Show them this note. They’ll take you to me if they know where I am.” And then I signed it and drew the glyph for Truth at the bottom.

I didn’t know if the Hounds would believe it, but they would know by the way I drew the glyph that it was really my signature and not some kind of forged note. I hoped it was enough to let Paul know I wasn’t trying to ditch him.

Well, not permanently.

I turned to help Zayvion with Stone. Zay was standing far enough away from Stone, Stone’s arms and wings couldn’t touch him. Stone’s eyes were narrowed slits, and he was growling.

Not a happy rock. “Is he hurt?” I asked.

Zayvion gave me a placid look. “I don’t know. He’s your pet. Does he look hurt?”

“He looks angry,” I said. “Hey, Stone,” I said, using a soft voice. “Are you okay, boy?”

I didn’t see any spells on him, didn’t see any nicks or scratches on him. Didn’t see anything missing or leaking. Still, he growled.

A whole lot of my common sense was telling me not to pull the tape off his mouth until he calmed down.

“Stone,” I said. “I’m going to fix it, okay?” I walked over to him and crouched down close enough to touch him. Close enough he could touch me too. He pulled against the chains, trying to reach me, his wings arching up over his back, the prehensile tips tugging and clipping at my short hair.

Oh. I didn’t look a whole lot like myself. I wondered whether Stone was so freaked-out from being trapped that he couldn’t tell it was me. I pulled off my glasses and my gloves. “Look, Stoney,” I said, showing him my magic-marked hands. “It’s me. Allie.” I held out my hands and he sniffed, then tipped his head to one side, his eyes still narrow. He woofed out air, puffing up his cheeks. One ear perked up. Which made him look like a doofus. A doofus who could tear me apart with one swipe.

“I’m going to fix your mouth,” I said. I caught hold of the duct tape and pulled it off.

He tipped his head back to center and opened and closed his big jaws like he was trying to get his ears to pop. Then his lips drew away from his teeth in a huge grin. He sat on his haunches and held out his duct-taped hands for me, his eyes wide and expectant, his ears pointed up.

“You’re going to come with us, boy,” I said as I tugged on the tape and unwound it from his right hand.

He wiggled his fingers and burbled at them like he was greeting long-lost friends.

I untaped his other hand. Stone reacquainted himself with those fingers too.

The bindings around his ankles, wrists, and neck were leather straps that buckled. It took me only a minute to get him out of them. I didn’t know how Stotts had talked
him into the things in the first place, but Stone did not seem harmed in any way.

“That’s it, buddy,” I said. “You’re free. C’mon, boy. Let’s go for a ride.”

Stone stomped around me in a wide circle, burbling at his hands and feet in what sounded suspiciously like complaining. Then he stopped and looked at Stotts. His ears tucked back and he showed more teeth. He growled. Took a step.

“No, Stone. He’s a good guy. He’s a friend. He’s just a little mixed-up. Want to go for a ride?”

Stone growled again.

“In the car, buddy?” I said.

Stone wasn’t budging.

“Go for a ride?” I tried.

“Stone,” Zay said. “It’s time to go.” Stone looked up at Zayvion and then trotted over to him like a well-trained dog.

“Fine, listen to the man,” I muttered. “Next time you get taped up, see who comes to your rescue.”

We walked through the door and I still didn’t feel the Ward or any other indication that we had passed through magic. “How’d you get through the Ward Stotts put up?” I asked as we picked up our weapons and strapped them back on.

“I canceled it. It’s not something he’d know to guard against.”

Zay strode over to the door, and looked outside. “Allie?”

I looked out the door too. “Clear. I don’t see anyone or any magic.”

We left in a hurry. Zayvion snapped his fingers several times to keep Stone with us. For some reason the stupid rock was really distracted and looked like he wanted to fly away. Maybe because he’d spent who knew how much
time tied up in a room. Stone didn’t like being tied up, chained up, stuck to the earth.

I couldn’t think of anything he would hate more than not being able to fly.

We crossed the street, the shadows keeping us hidden.