Well, well. They shared secrets. How interesting.
“He’s a part of the group your father was involved in,” she said. “I’m not directly involved, but I am aware of the things that fall beneath their concern.”
“Could you be more vague?”
Kevin brushed off his hands over the plates. It looked like he was getting rid of crumbs, but what he was really doing was casting a very subtle Mute spell.
Holy hells, he was good. This plain-looking guy with eyes that were too big and a chin that was too small was suddenly up there on my list of people I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley.
That Mute spell would allow us to talk, and the people around us wouldn’t even notice they couldn’t understand what we were saying.
“Zayvion,” Violet said, “is a part of the Watch. A branch of the Authority. Has he told you this?”
“We haven’t had a lot of time to chat.” Which wasn’t entirely true. Zayvion had not told me he was a part of anything called the Watch. He had mentioned secret magic vigilantes. Maybe it was the same thing?
“The Authority is a private organization of people who do what they can behind the scenes to keep magic, and the people who use it, safe. Zayvion works for them.”
“And my dad was a part of this too?”
Kevin answered. “He was a voice in the Authority. He had influence and sway among the members.”
“Members like you?” I asked.
He nodded. “Members like me.”
“So you’re telling me there is a secret society of magic users, and that Zayvion Jones, and both of you, are involved in it to some degree.”
“Yes,” Violet said.
“Why tell me now? Why should I care?”
“I never agreed with your father keeping it a secret from you,” she said. “Some of the board members in Beckstrom Enterprises are also members of the Authority. I am not foolish enough to think you won’t eventually find out. I’m telling you now because your father’s death sent shock waves through that community.”
“But if I’m not a part of that community, what does it matter to me?”
“Shock waves is a polite term,” Kevin said. “Your father’s voice held wide-reaching power and influence over the order of the group and the direction it was going. Not everyone agreed with him. Now that he is gone, sides are being taken. It is very likely there will be a . . . confrontation. And you, Allie, are a prime target. Beckstrom’s child. Beckstrom’s blood. Culpable.”
“Whoa,” I said.
But Violet spoke over me. “And that is why we would like you to move in with me. With us, at the condo. The magical wards and locks are beyond compare, unbreakable, and Kevin is an excellent guard. Please, Allie. For your safety. Until this . . . confrontation blows over.”
It had been less than an hour since we’d admitted we might be family, and now she wanted me to move home with Mommy? There was no way she was talking me into coming home. That place had too many memories I would rather forget.
“No,” I said. “No thanks. Absolutely no.”
Violet gave me a hard look, and I raised my eyebrows, trading her stare for stare.
She finally looked away. “You are so like him. Stubborn.”
I let that slide. See how nice I was to the pregnant woman?
I looked over at Kevin. “Is Zayvion ‘watching’ me? Hunting me? Is Zayvion following me around to decide if I’m a danger to magic or to myself? Spying on me for the Authority?”
Kevin blinked. His eyebrows knitted and he leaned forward a little. “Why do you ask?”
“Just a yes or no will do.”
He didn’t smile, but he looked amused. “No.”
I watched his body language, which he patiently let me. He was hard to read. A lot like Zayvion, but without the Zen bit. Still, he didn’t smell like he was lying.
And if he was any good at reading body language, he just saw how relieved his answer made me. Hells, I had it bad for Zayvion. Something deep inside me feared his interest in me was nothing more than a game of who got to keep the magic. Something deep inside me wanted us, Zayvion and me, to have a chance for something more. A lot more.
“Do you know who is watching me?”
“No.”
Two for two.
“Do you know who Zayvion is watching?”
“Probably. If you want to know, you should ask him.”
Fair enough.
“But let me tell you this,” he said. “There are dangerous people and dark magics in this city, Allie. More than you can handle on your own. You should reconsider Mrs. Beckstrom’s offer.”
Mrs. Beckstrom? Wow, he was in serious denial. And he didn’t have to tell me about dangerous people—I had an appointment with Pike and the police to take down Trager today.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” End of conversation. “Thanks for the phone, Violet. And for breakfast. Call me if you need me.” I stood and put money on the table.
“Allie, I got it,” she said.
“No. I’ll pay my part.”
And instead of acting like my dad and refusing to let me stand on my own, pay on my own, she just nodded. “I programed my number into your phone,” she said. “Just in case.”
Just in case I said no and didn’t move in with her. See what I mean? Smart.
“Don’t forget to make an appointment with Mr. Katz,” she said. “His number’s in there too.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The spiderweb tingle of the Mute spell brushed over me as Kevin deftly unwove it. I walked to the door without looking back.
Okay, that hadn’t gone quite how I expected. Violet was pregnant. And secret magic vigilantes—the Watch, the Authority—were out to get me because I was my father’s child.
If I believed Kevin and Violet.
And I did.
All the more reason to meet with Pike, go to the cops, and tell them about Trager attacking me and wanting Pike. Then the police could take care of Trager, and Pike could retire, and I could go on a date tonight and get information out of Zayvion so I could find a way to keep myself safe that didn’t involve moving in with my father’s widow.
I wondered if I could hire a bodyguard like Kevin. Wondered if Zayvion would be my bodyguard. Right, like I wanted him all over me every second of the day. A wash of heat flushed through me at the thought of that. Okay, maybe the idea had some merit. Even if he said no, he’d know someone I could hire, at least until this “confrontation” blew itself out.
I made my way along the sidewalk, careful over the rock salt and ice. I didn’t see any cabs.
The phone in my pocket rang. I jerked and almost slipped. I fumbled the phone out of my pocket, expecting to hear Violet’s voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Allie, this is Detective Stotts. I’ve been trying to reach you. I thought this number wasn’t working.”
“It wasn’t,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I need you to come down to the station as soon as you can.”
Dread knuckled into my stomach and twisted. “Why?”
“Martin Pike is missing.”
“Are you sure? He was helping a friend on the east side. Anthony Bell’s mother.”
“We contacted her. She hasn’t seen him for several days.”
“Days?” Hells, I’d seen Pike just yesterday. Home improvements, my ass. Unless Anthony’s mom had a reason to lie. Which she might. Crap. “I’ll be there soon,” I said.
I pocketed the phone and took three steps toward the curb.
A sharp pain snapped electricity up my thigh. The pain shot through my stomach and then sawed up beneath my ribs. Something solid clamped my breastbone and tugged like an iron hook, biting hard and finding purchase.
Heart attack?
The pain faded, but I could not move, could not lift my feet. Could not swallow or blink.
The smell of sweet cherries wrapped around me, filled my nose, my mouth.
Blood magic.
“Come to me,” a man’s voice whispered.
A wash of sexual pleasure rolled beneath my skin, following the path of the pain. The pleasure blended with the echos of pain, creating a new sensation. Bitter and sweet. Oh. I wanted that. Wanted to feel that again. I didn’t know where the voice was, or who it was, but I would do anything to hear it again.
“Ankeny Square.” Words were cherry sweet in my mind, cherry sweet in my mouth, and they felt good. So very, very good. I shuddered.
The street, the city around me faded at the edges, blurring like a dream. I was panting now, too hot in the icy air. I held my breath, waiting, aching for the voice to speak again.
“Come to me.”
And then the presence of the voice was gone. I was left empty, alone. But able to move.
Ankeny Square. I had to go to Ankeny Square.
I stood on the curb until a cab pulled up. I told the driver to take me to Ankeny Square. I tugged off my scarf, my hat, my gloves. I was hot, too hot. The hook in my chest throbbed and cut, an uncomfortable pleasure. The stroke of pain on my thigh spread heat across my hips and made me squirm.
“Can you go faster?” I asked the driver.
I didn’t hear his answer.
The icy city slid past the window. I pulled off my coat and stripped out of my sweater. In jeans and a T-shirt, I still couldn’t shake the heat, couldn’t ease the lovely pain. What was wrong with me?
I leaned my head against the cool window and closed my eyes.
Was I dreaming? The vibration of the cab’s engine transferred through the glass, and sweat stung my eyes and salted my lips. No, this was too solid, too real for a dream.
Why was I was going to Ankeny Square? Because I had to. Because the voice told me to.
Wait. I was following a voice?
Heat snapped out from the hook in my chest and zagged down to my thigh. The pain slithered over the rise of my leg muscle, soft threads of heat licking down the inside of my thigh.
I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning.
This wasn’t right.
This was blood magic. What had Zayvion said? Blood magic was intimate.
Trager. It was his blood magic, his glyph on my thigh, his voice calling me. It was his touch I wanted. His touch he was making me want.
Shit, shit, shit.
Inhale, exhale. Pain, desire. The blood magic glyph on my thigh throbbed with wicked pleasure. Magic in my blood rose in response, pushing to be free, to be used. No, no, no. That would be bad.
Blood magic bit, tugged, chest and thigh, a luscious ache that overwhelmed my senses. I hated it, and I wanted it. Wanted more of it.
And all the while a small part of my mind screamed at me to stop, to wake up, to run away. I leaned away from the window. Blinked hard. Focused on the seat in front of me.
I will not go to him. I will not be his toy on a string, his dog on a chain. I exhaled as another wave of pleasure shuddered through me. I will not let him use me.
I needed help. I needed my phone.
Pain, pleasure. I inhaled, tasted sweet cherries, and then held my breath as the blood glyph cinched tight again.
My hands shook. I pulled the phone out of my pocket, managed to open it.
Dead.
Maybe I’d pulled out the wrong phone.
I reached back into my pocket, and my fingers brushed over the dagger. Zayvion’s knife. He had said I could use it to break the Binding. I exhaled. A stroke of heat pulsed through me again. I closed my eyes, waiting for it to pass.
Sweet hells. Intimate didn’t cover it. Blood magic was far more than that. It was sexual. Orgasmic. Needful. No wonder people got hooked. And if they mixed it with drugs . . . Hells.
“This is it,” the driver said.
I opened my eyes. Dawn was trying to wedge night aside. In the low light of streetlamps, the freestanding arched columns and cobbled bricks of Ankeny Square shone blue, black, and gold.
It was too early for any of the shops to be open yet.
My fingers were wrapped around the door handle.
Stop it, Allie, I told myself. Don’t open the door. Tell the cabbie to take you home. Tell the cabbie to call the police.
The hook in my chest tugged, and I bit my lip to keep from gasping. I had to get out of the cab. Had to go. Go to Trager.
I left money on the seat. Left other things there too, I think. My hat. My gloves. I got out. Stood there, trembling in pain and need in the ice-covered square. The cab pulled away.
The hook in my chest tugged again. Forced me to take a step. One step closer to Trager. To what I wanted.
No, what I didn’t want.
I still had my jacket. Still had the dagger. Breathing hard, I pulled out both phones and opened each in turn. Dead and dead. Okay, that left me, the knife, and magic.
I could do this. I could break this hold. But if I pulled on magic to fight Trager, the Veiled would try to eat me. And it didn’t matter how strong I was. I didn’t think I could fight off dead magic users while I was trying to take down one of the most notorious drug and blood dealers in the city, who had his hook in my chest and thigh.
So much for magic. Okay, that left me and the knife.
I took the dagger out of my coat pocket and drew it free of its sheath. Light caught at the slim edges, pooled in the glyphwork that flowed from the hilt, down the blade, across the glass center, and slipped off the razor edge, glowing in the same metallic shades as the marks on my arm.
I didn’t know how to break the Binding. Couldn’t remember what Zayvion had told me to do. Fine. There were other things a sharp blade could be used for. Things like self-defense. And kicking ass. I gripped the hilt like I knew how to use the thing and scanned the square for Trager and his goons. A shadow detached itself from the pillars. He—I was sure it was a he—started toward me with a slow, limping gate.
I inhaled, sorted through the smells of ice and asphalt, and got a noseful of hickory and soap. And blood. Lots of blood.
“Pike?” I breathed.
He continued his slow, slow walk. Damn him. He had Hounded Trager without me, without the police. He’d broken his promise. Gone vigilante. I was so going to kick his retired ass.
“Pike?” I said a little louder. Still no answer. The hook in my chest stung and throbbed, until I took another step. Closer to Pike. That worked for me, so I kept walking, trying to focus on Pike and not the strokes of pleasure and pain. I picked my way across the icy uneven cobbles.
Pike trudged forward, swaying drunkenly. And the closer I came to him, I knew why.
A gory portrait out of a bad dream, Pike was covered in blood. A meaty, sloppy mess was all that was left of where his left eye should be. His cheekbone stuck out of his skin. His left arm swung and grinded with a loose gristle-over-bone sound. His T-shirt was so wet with blood, there was nothing of the original blue left. The front of his jeans were so heavy with blood, each grueling step he took toward me left behind a dark, wet footprint.
He wasn’t breathing very well. Or very much.
“Oh, no. Oh, fuck, Pike,” I said. “Where’s Davy? Who’s watching you? Covering your back? Who has a fucking phone?” I tried to jog the remainder of the distance, tried to reach him.
Just as I was almost close enough to touch him, pain exploded in my chest. No pleasure this time. Hot spikes rattled over my ribs, each one in turn until I thought they’d break. I groaned.
Pike grunted, tipped his working eye up to look at me, and then folded down to his knees. His exhale wheezed with horrible wetness.
I stood above him, close enough to touch him but unable to move, unable to bend in the vise grip of pain and the damn Binding. I listened as his breathing grew more shallow. I didn’t know how he was getting any air through all that wetness.
In the still air of the morning, where traffic moved in the distance like a muted dream, I could very clearly hear the soft snicking of Pike’s blood falling onto ice and stone.
I pushed against the pain, the need, a
gainst the Binding that held me frozen. I couldn’t even move my fingers.
Then the pain eased and I could move. But I wasn’t the one in control of my legs any more.
I took a step away from Pike, a step past him. Trager. The asshole was dragging me to him. Making me leave Pike behind. Another step. Two.