Magic Without Mercy (7 page)

“Wait,” I said as Shame got out of the van. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

“Of course I am,” he said. “Where did you think I’d go? With Terric?”

“With your mother maybe?” I said.

“Hayden’s with her. They know how to stay out of danger. I don’t want to send you two all the way out to Multnomah Falls to the Life well without… firepower.” He shut the van door. Zayvion walked around the vehicle and took a minute to talk to Terric.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You can’t use magic, Beckstrom. That means it’s Zayvion, and you and your weapons—which you don’t want to use—against whatever the Authority has set up at the Life well to protect their interests.”

I rubbed my eyes and ran into the glasses there, leaving a nice fat fingerprint smudge in the middle of the lens. I was so not used to the new me.

The van pulled away, and Zayvion strolled toward Terric’s car.

“We don’t even know if the Authority has someone calling the shots yet,” I said. “Much less if they are putting protection around the wells.”

“We don’t know they aren’t,” Zay said.

He was already opening the car doors. He wasn’t wearing the beanie anymore, and had put on a pair of sunglasses and a very nice leather trench coat that I wish I would have noticed before Maeve gave me the biker jacket.

Since Zayvion made a point of looking homeless most of the time, this sort of classy urban style was probably the best disguise for him, though I thought all that leather made him look a little too good.

“Let’s go,” he said, getting into the driver’s seat.

I took front. Shame slid into the back. “Stinks in here,” he said.

I took a careful sniff. It didn’t smell like magic, which was fine by me. But it did have the slight scent of Terric’s cologne.

“Are you sure we should use Terric’s car?” I asked. “Won’t the Authority be looking for it?”

“We switched the plates,” Shame said.

“When?”

“Last night when you were not sleeping.” He stretched out in the backseat and rested the back of his head against the window. “I’m closing my eyes for the drive. Wake me up if we’re going to die.”

Zayvion drove, keeping to the speed limit, and using his blinkers, which I was happy about. Didn’t want a random traffic infraction to tip us off. This neighborhood
was as noticeably unpeopled as the others we’d driven through, but that didn’t mean there weren’t police still on duty.

About five minutes into the drive, before we’d even managed to head east toward the falls, Shame was softly snoring.

So much for firepower. He still hadn’t recovered from the last few days. None of us had. But Shame had been forcibly possessed by Mikhail and nearly killed. If we weren’t running for our lives, I’d suggest he get about a month of bed rest.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I asked softly so as not to wake Shame.

Zayvion drove for a bit, not answering me.

“Zay?”

He sighed. “I don’t know, Allie. He’s stubborn. But he can be stupid about… everything, really. The odds of all of us surviving aren’t good. His odds?” He drove for a bit, the muscle at the edge of his jaw tight.

“We’ll find a way,” I said. “We’ll fix this, make magic right again, make Portland safe again. It’s not too late to turn this mess around.”

He glanced at me, and even through the dark tint of his sunglasses I could see the burn of gold in his eyes. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“Me,” I said honestly. “I want things right again. I want Shame to get well. I want to watch my baby brother grow up. Hell, I want to have enough damn time to eat popcorn and watch a movie with you on the couch, or cook a dinner together, or argue over who gets to use the best pillow in bed.” I stopped, worried I’d say more. Worried I’d tell how much I really wanted, needed, to think he and I might have a life—a normal life—together.

“We’ll find a way to make things right,” he said. “But
we won’t argue over the best pillow. That bad boy’s mine.”

I leaned my head on the headrest and looked over at him. That bittersweet longing filled me and I wondered how I just kept falling deeper in love with the man.

“Pillow hog,” I said.

“A man has needs.”

“Do you think they’ll have guards on the well?” I asked.

“I would.”

“What if we don’t make it to the well?” I asked quietly. “What if we can’t tell whether it’s poisoned—what if we don’t know how to clean the magic in the cisterns and the network? What if the Veiled take over the city and kill everyone? Davy, Violet, my baby brother? What if we fail, Zay?”

“Roman will get word to the Overseer. And hands, better hands than ours, will take up weapons and take up the fight. We’ll win this, Allie. Whether or not we’re standing by the end of it.”

I reached over, put my hand on his thigh. “I’d like to be standing by the end of this.”

“You will be,” he said. “Popcorn and a movie, remember?”

“Are you saying that for me or for you?”

A very small smile ghosted his lips. “Both. But I get to pick the movie. Also, I promised I’d keep this city safe. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. Starting with you, starting right now.”

“What? Safe driving and me whining is going to save the city?”

“No. You’re going to get some sleep. We have about a half hour before we get there.”

“I can’t sleep,” I said. But a yawn broke my oh-so-convincing lie.

“You’d sleep if I cast a Sleep spell on you.”

“Yes, and then I’d be barfing in your car.”

“It’s not mine; it’s Terric’s.”

“All right. Barfing in Terric’s car.”

“Not going to sing you a lullaby,” he said.

“No? Not even a Winnie-the-Pooh song?”

“Look at you with the funny,” he said. “Wonder what movie I’m going to pick now.
Rollerball
?
RoboCop
?
Platoon
?”

“Okay, fine, fine.” I shifted in my seat and leaned against the car door, tucking up one of my legs, and pillowing my head with the scarf. “I liked
RoboCop
.” Then, a minute or so later, “Does my hair look stupid?”

“No. It looks like I should strip you naked and ravage your body until you beg me for mercy.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” I murmured. “Zay?”

“Mmm?”

“In case this all goes to hell… I love you.”

“Even if things don’t go to hell, I love you too.”

“Allie?” Zayvion said. “We’re almost there.”

I took a deeper breath and realized I’d been asleep. The dreamless kind of sleep, which was my favorite. I sat up and rubbed at the kink in my neck, trying to get my bearings. “Everything quiet?”

“You mean Shame?”

“I mean your Pooh News. Any rumblies in the tumblies?” I gave him a big grin.

He shook his head. “You just can’t let that go, can you? And all’s quiet on that front. Shame too.”

I glanced back at Shame. I might have been sleeping, but Shame looked like he’d fallen into a coma.

“Shame?” I said. “Time to wake up.”

He jerked, then started coughing. When he finally got
a couple decent lungfuls of air, he pointed a finger at me. “Do not sneak up on me like that ever again.”

“Shame, we’re in a car. I can’t sneak up on you if I tried.”

“Bullshit. You’re a Beckstrom. You’re made of sneaky.”

“Hey,” Zayvion said. “Watch it, Flynn.”

“Like it’s not true. Nothing personal, Al, but you know it’s true.”

“No,” I said. “My dad might have been sneaky, but I am aboveboard. Way aboveboard.”

Shame scowled and dug in his coat pocket for his cigarettes. “Which is why you cut your hair, put on glasses, and decked yourself out in some ex-biker’s idea of the latest in men’s fashion. Totally aboveboard move.”

“Look who woke up under a little black rain cloud,” I said.

“That’s two,” Zayvion murmured.

I flashed him another smile, but to Shame, I said, “Maybe we should have left you with Terric.”

Shame lit his cigarette and rolled the window down enough that he could exhale the smoke out. “That’s just cold. Wouldn’t be in a bad mood if I hadn’t been snuck up on by a Beckstrom.”

“Shame?” Zayvion said. “Shut the hell up.”

And, wonders of wonders, Shame did just that.

By the end of his cigarette, he was in an obviously better mood, and we were pulling into the parking area just past Multnomah Falls. It was middle of the afternoon, a nice May day, and the place was crawling with tourists. Apparently, even news of a quickly spreading virus couldn’t stop people from driving out to see the falls. I had no idea how we were going to get up the trail to the doorway hidden in the hillside and down to the well without being spotted.

Zay parked the car and we sat there for a bit.

“Plan?” Shame asked. “Storm the castle?”

“Walk in nice and slow,” Zayvion said. “Maybe buy a cup of coffee.”

“I’d kill for a cup of coffee,” I said.

“What, like use a gun on someone? The horror.” Shame swung out of the car.

“Maybe I’ll start with him,” I mused.

“You’d have to get behind me,” Zayvion said.

I would have asked what had really put Shame in such a prickly mood, but it wasn’t hard to extrapolate why he was wound up so tight. There just was nothing fun about strolling off to your own death. And that was pretty much what we might be doing.

We got out of the car, the sound of the highway behind us as we walked the narrow parking lot toward the crosswalk to the falls. We let a car cruising for parking roll past, and then we were crossing the pavement toward the wide ribbon of water that fell six hundred or so feet off the tree-lined cliffs, the arched stone bridge crossing at the lower drop.

Waterfall ahead and slightly to the left, gift shop and restaurant to our right, and coffee stand between the two.

There were plenty of people here, which suddenly seemed like a good thing. If we’d been the only three to come strolling along, there would be more of a chance people would notice us and maybe be able to tell the police they’d seen us if they were asked. As it was, we seemed to blend in pretty well with our fellow waterfall gawkers, and we did indeed stop for an espresso before taking a leisurely walk up to the lower falls, then up the steeper concrete pathway that led to the footbridge over the lower falls.

“Bloody hell,” Shame said. “I hate hiking.”

“But it’s the great outdoors,” I said sweetly. “It’s not only good—it’s great.”

“Don’t care if it’s the sodding magnificent outdoors. Still hate the hiking.”

Zayvion paused once we reached the bridge, and we did what all tourists did: stopped and stared at the upper falls. It was slightly cooler here, the spray from the falls making the air taste like spring rain. Several groups of people stopped to take pictures, but luckily didn’t ask any of us to put our very fingerprinty fingers on their cameras.

Since I had on gloves, a scarf, and a jacket, I was sweating like a hog.

Zayvion looked how Zay always looked. Cool. Calm. Collected. And Shame just looked annoyed by the world, which was pretty much standard for him too.

After enough time for Shame to catch his breath, we headed up the hill again. Being out in the forest, or at least away from the city, was like a soothing balm on my magic-jangled senses. There weren’t very many spells out here—a few on the restaurant, the bridge, and any other man-made structure, mostly for stability and safety. And the lack of spells made me a very happy girl.

“What are you smiling about?” Zay asked as we chugged up the incline, old tree snags and mossy lichens and ferns adding to the lush, moist green of the place.

“No magic.” I moved to walk behind him to let a group going downhill pass us.

He paused so I could catch up with him again and took my hand. “I don’t think it’s the best idea for you to go down to the well with us,” he said quietly.

“Oh, I am so not letting you and Shame down there alone.”

“You might have to,” he said.

“No.”

“Magic makes you sick.”

“No.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see nothing,” I said. “I’m going down to the well with you.”

“It’s a long way,” Zay noted. “I’d hate to have to carry your unconscious body back up all those damn stairs.”

“Did you just threaten to knock me out?”

“No. Magic can knock you out all by itself.”

Crap. I hadn’t thought about that. Going down to the well, to one of the deepest, purest, and strongest concentrations of magic, might not be a good idea for someone who broke out in hives before hocus got all the way to pocus.

“I won’t get in your way,” I said.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

We kept walking. Zay might not be worried about it, but I was worried not only that I would go unconscious, but also that seeing might be a problem for me, since the place was likely swarming with spells. I dug in my memory for what the well was like. I seemed to recall the stairs that led downward were lit by electricity, not magic, and were made of wood. That shouldn’t be a problem.

No, the problem would be once we hit those double doors that led to the Life well, and stepped through them into that big underground chamber.

That was, if we didn’t run into Authority goons and have to deal with them first.

One thing was for sure. I’d forgotten how long and steep this stupid climb to the stupid hidden door to the well was.

And where was the hidden door anyway?

Zayvion stopped in the middle of the path. “This is it.”

He pointed at the rocks and moss and fern. Not a lot
else. But he knew exactly where the door was, even though I didn’t see any magic marking it, didn’t feel any magic marking it, and there wasn’t any other sign I could see.

“About damn time,” Shame huffed. He stood there, breathing heavily, and looking a little pale and nauseous.

“Ever think about giving up the smokes?” Zayvion asked.

“Sure. I’ve thought about killing you too. Guess which would happen first?”

Zay didn’t answer. He was setting a Disbursement—which formed in front of him like a gray mist, and disappeared into him when he inhaled. It was weird to see every magical step of what he was doing, also weird to see him setting his own price for working magic. Most of the people I knew in the Authority used Proxies for their price of casting magic. Including Zay.