Magic in the Shadows

  He grunted and rocked back the rest of the way onto his heels, one hand still in the plant that now looked shriveled, dried, dead. Drops of sweat, blood, or tears made small plick sounds against his jeans.

  “Are you okay?” I thought I could get it all out, but my voice was hoarse and I had to take a breath between each word.

  “Allie,” Maeve said softly. Or at least I think she was talking quietly. It could also be that my eardrums were blown.

  Come to think of it, I wasn’t feeling so great myself.

  “Fuck it all,” Shamus muttered, his words nasal and stuffy. He lifted his free hand to his face. I noted his hand was shaking as he wiped at his eyes and nose.

  Maeve had not moved. “Allie, I need your attention right now. It is very important.”

  I didn’t know why she wasn’t worried about Shamus. He was her kid, after all, and that spell, my spell, had just kicked the holy hell out of him.

  I looked up at her.

  Maeve was a tower of authority, twice as tall as I’d last seen her, red hair flowing like a river of flame in a wind I could not feel. Her skin glowed so bright it was like she had swallowed the moon. Only her eyes, deep, earth-holding green, showed a speck of her humanity.

  I had had this kind of vision before, had seen Zayvion covered in silver whorls and glyphs, his skin burning with blue-tipped black fire.

  But if Zayvion had been night and the edge of magic and ebony heat, Maeve was the pale, cruel light of dawn.

  “Come to me,” she commanded.

  “Hey.” I exhaled, inhaled. “You told me you”—pause for breath again—“wouldn’t do that.” It probably wasn’t Influence she was using right now anyway.

  Still, I started toward her. Okay, four feet had never felt so much like four miles. I didn’t so much hurt as feel very, very drained. I was empty and beyond tired.

  Maeve reached out one impossibly long arm. Her cool white fingers tucked under the right side of my jaw—the side marked by magic. She tipped my face so she could look into my eyes.

  And I mean look. Just like before. And just like before, my father skittered away somewhere in the back of my head, quiet as a rat.

  She drew the index finger of her other hand across my forehead, and I sighed at the cool relief that brought me.

  “How did you know End?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Think Dad knew it, maybe, used it, maybe?”

  Okay, I wasn’t thinking too well right now. Right now, all I wanted to do was sit on the floor and take a nap.

  “Yes,” she said. “He did. It is a dangerous spell, very old, rarely taught. I’d rather you not use it again without training.”

  She let go of my chin and took a step back. She looked normal again, her red and gray hair piled in a messy bun, her skin creamy and freckled, her eyes green. Just green.

  “Sure,” I said. “Sorry. It’s my first day.”

  A sound halfway between a snort and a choked laugh rose from where Shamus sat.

  “She’s right, Mum.” He tipped his face up. Black hair fell back, revealing the livid bruises across both eyes that were nearly swollen shut, and the bloody smear of red from under his nose and across his cheek.

  “This is only her first day. Give the poor slacker a break.” He laughed again, then rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to need a lot more to drink if I’m going to make it through her second day. So. You, Beckstrom, give a man a hand, eh?” He held his hand up toward me.

  I walked over to him, my energy slowly coming back—whatever Maeve had done with my forehead had helped—and took his hand. I hefted back as he rolled up onto his feet. He rocked a little too far forward, putting his mouth close to my ear. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “No one throws that much power untrained. Impressed the shit outta Mum. Good for you.”

  He straightened, though he rocked a little precariously on his feet. “Call it a night?” he asked.

  Maeve exhaled and seemed to let go of whatever it was that was bothering her.

  She’s afraid, my dad said. Smug.

  Hells. Me too. I so needed a drink.

  Maeve reached over and touched Shamus’s face, studying the blood and bruises. She drew her finger across his forehead, and he sighed happily. The bruises around his eyes faded just a little. Maeve made a tsk sound. “Next time we’ll have a Grounder here for you.”

  Shamus stiffened like she’d just told him she was going to dip him in fire.

  “Not Terric,” he said, a tinge of panic in his voice.

  “No, no. Of course not Terric,” she soothed. “Maybe Sunny. She works well with you.”

  Shamus relaxed.

  “All right, then,” Maeve said. “I think we can all call it a night. This wasn’t exactly what I had planned for your first day, but we’ve done well enough. How are you feeling? Any headaches? Pains?”

  I shook my head. I mean, I was still tired, but I felt more awake by the moment. “Shamus took the brunt of the spell.” I hated watching someone else pay the price for a spell I used. And seeing Shamus take an ass-kicking just to prove to his mother that I didn’t know what I was doing irritated me. “He did a good job.”

  Maeve’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course he did. He’s a Flynn. He knows his way around magic, not that you could tell by his manners. Or choice in clothing.” She gave him a wholly disapproving motherly look. “Out now.” She flicked her hand toward the door, and made it obvious she had released the Lock and Ward set there. “Allie, I want to see you tomorrow at ten. You too, Shamus.” She marched out the door ahead of us.

  “And Shamus, eat a decent meal. Then I don’t care how drunk you get.”

  “You’d think I was a bloody child,” he muttered beside me. “She never lets up,” he whispered, loud enough his mom was sure to hear. “Personally, I think she needs to get laid.”

  Maeve lifted her hand over her shoulder and made a little waving motion that somehow also managed to level the threat of a particularly uncomfortable spell—something in the line of an embarrassing rash—at him.

  “Love you too, Mum,” he called after her as she walked through the adjoining, empty room out into the restaurant area.

  He paused and touched my arm.

  “What?”

  He patted his pockets for a cigarette, pulled one out, and offered me the pack.

  “No, thanks.”

  He nodded, lit up, and took a hard suck. “Balls, woman,” he said, exhaling smoke with every word, “you pack a punch. Where did you learn to throw magic like that?”

  “On-the-job training.”

  “Well, don’t let my mum fool you. She was impressed.”

  “She didn’t look impressed. She looked angry.” The memory of her standing tall, pale, and burning above me flashed behind my eyes.

  “Naw, not angry about what you did. Just pissed she was wrong about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “She argued against you getting trained. ’Cause of what your da did to my da—not a lot of forgiveness in the Flynn blood. She said you were too old, too stubborn, too likely to be the sort of person your da was—a prick,” he added, in case I’d forgotten what he thought of my dad.

  “But Z-Jones—” he explained, “wouldn’t give up on giving you a chance. He pushed hard for you, took it all the way to the top—and I mean the top. Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have to pay something for that.”

  “Huh,” I said rather ungracefully.

  “Do you like him?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “Zayvion.”

  I focused on Shamus, his body language—leaning against the wall like he was just being casual, but the smell of fatigue mixed with the cigarette smoke told me he was leaning there because keeping his feet wasn’t going so well. Shamus was no slouch. He had Proxied a lot of pain. A hell of a lot of pain. And since I didn’t know what he thought of Zayvion, I didn’t know what answer would do Zayvion the least harm. Especially since I’d just found out Zay might have put himself in
some sort of debt to get me training.

  It was like the frickin’ magic mafia around here. I didn’t know whom to trust.

  I went with the truth. What else?

  “I like him. And that’s none of your business.”

  Shamus pushed his hair away from his face and smiled. “Aren’t you the sweetest? Now I see why he has it so bad for you. Tough on the outside and sweet in the middle. Well.” He shoved off of the wall. “Good on you both, and I mean that with all my cheating little black heart. It’s about time Mr. Somber had some fun in his duty-unto-death life. And watching my mom eat crow hasn’t been half bad either. As a matter of fact, for that alone, I’ll buy you a drink.” He pushed away from the wall, found an ashtray, and ground out his cigarette.

  “What’s your pleasure?”

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Anything.”

  He walked through the door, and I followed him.

  I felt the tingle of a Mute spell slide over my skin as I passed through the doorway.

  The noise of people talking came on suddenly. The entire room was full now, every table occupied with people eating, drinking, talking. The light outside the windows was diving into evening. I’d been back there with Maeve and Shamus for hours. No wonder I was so tired and hungry.

  “Pick it up, Beckstrom,” Shamus said.

  I did so, and followed as he wove his way between tables. He was aiming at the lunch counter, although in the dim light I didn’t see any available seats there either. Just suits, fancy dresses, T-shirts, and jeans. A mix of Northwest just-off-work and out-for-the-evening. Shamus made his way through the noise and down the length of the counter, then turned left, where eight or so stools held the end of the lunch area.

  Two of those seats were free. Shamus slid down into one and was already yelling over the loud conversations for the attention of one of the girls behind the counter. The stool next to him, toward the wall, was open. And in the seat next to that was Zayvion.

  He was partly turned, his elbow resting next to a half-empty glass of beer on the countertop, his back toward me.

  Being six feet tall gives me some advantage. One is I could look around Zayvion and see whom he was talking to.

  A woman, about my age, brown hair cut in straight bangs across her forehead and pulled back in a single long braid. Her face reminded me of a movie star’s—wide, catlike eyes, high cheekbones, and lips most women would mortgage the house for. She had on a black tank top, over which she had thrown a long-sleeved plaid flannel shirt, black jeans, and boots. No makeup—and she didn’t need it.

  She looked over Zayvion’s shoulder at me, and her eyes were sapphire in sunlight.

  “Allie?” Zayvion said—had been saying, I realized. I hadn’t heard him over the din. Well, that and I was still thinking a little slow.

  “Sorry.” I looked over at him. “Kind of loud in here.”

  His Zen was on full strength, making his face a dark, unreadable mask. But his gaze held some worry as he searched my face.

  I smiled to let him know I was okay.

  “This is Chase Warren,” he said.

  I stepped around Zayvion enough to shake her hand. Calluses on the girl. Strength. She obviously worked for a living.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “So, you’re the Allie Beckstrom,” she said. “Zay’s said a lot about you.” She gave me the oh-so-female up-down appraisal that made me want to grind my teeth. Really, I didn’t care what she thought about me, my faded jeans, or my sweaty, messy hair. And I smiled at her to let her know it.

  “That’s nice,” I said to cut this little convo short. I took the only seat between Zayvion and Shamus, and leaned both elbows on the bar.

  Shamus had finally managed to snag the attention of one of the girls behind the counter and she stood there, a small pad of paper in her hand.

  “What are you buying me, Shame?” I asked.

  “Beer. Wait. Bet you’re a wine girl.”

  “Beer’s fine,” I said, even though I didn’t like beer much, “dark.” Then to the waitress: “Could I get a glass of water, burger, and fries, please?”

  She nodded and headed off.

  “Nice shiner,” Zayvion said to Shamus. “How did she do?”

  Shamus leaned back so they could talk behind my back.

  “She’s sitting right here, you know,” I said.

  “Fucking amazing. I can’t believe the amount of power she pulled on—and you were right—she took it in her body, right through it. Got my mum’s panties in a knot, seeing all that. Might even make your bullshit about you two being Soul Complements a little easier for the Authority to swallow.”

  Zayvion made a little huh sound, then took a drink of his beer, hiding his smile. He was exceedingly pleased. It rolled off him in waves.

  “Did your mother actually say she was impressed?” Chase, who had leaned forward so she could see around Zayvion, asked. I caught a whiff of her vanilla perfume.

  “As much as.”

  “That’s a no, then.” Chase gave me a hard, flat look, and I wondered what the hell I’d done to piss her off.

  Maybe it was just hate at first sight. Lucky me. ’Cause that’s what I needed—another person who didn’t like me.

  I turned away from her. “What do you mean ‘bullshit about Complements’? We are, aren’t we?”

  “Not without Authority sanctioning you’re not,” Chase said.

  This time I looked at Zayvion. “I thought you said we were.”

  Shamus laughed. “Oh, sure. If I had a dollar for every time a man used that line to get a woman in bed, I’d be richer than your daddy—wait. Richer than you, Beckstrom.”

  “Shame,” Zay said, “you talk too much.” He leaned in toward me and the hops smell of beer mixed with his pine cologne. “It isn’t easy to quantify. Soul Complements are rare. So rare it is hard to prove.”

  “But there is a way to tell. Some kind of test?”

  “Yes. There is a way.”

  “Let me guess, it’s dangerous?”

  “Yes.”

  Great.

  “And if we don’t do it?”

  Zay pressed his lips together. I noted Chase, behind him, suddenly stiffened. “That’s a choice we make. It’s a practical choice. A safe choice. It’s the choice people who are afraid to risk it all take.”

  Chase swore. She dug money out of her pocket and threw it on the countertop next to her empty glass. Her pale cheeks were washed in red.

  “But?” I asked.

  “Safe doesn’t get you anywhere in life,” he said.

  Chase, now standing, tipped her head up and groaned loudly. “Give it a damn rest.”

  “Problem?” Zayvion asked her while still looking at me.

  Chase, behind him, looked back down. The smile she wore was not pretty—no easy feat with a face like hers.

  “With you?” she said. “Plenty.”

  “Will you two shut the hell up?” Shamus said. “This is supposed to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Hot new girlfriend meets hot ex-girlfriend, both get along like twins separated at birth, there’s probably at least one drunken three-way, and voilà, happy all around.”

  “Girlfriend?” I said before I could bite back my surprise.

  “Shame,” Zayvion warned.

  Shamus laughed. “Priceless. You didn’t tell her? You are such an idiot.”

  Zayvion gave me a pleading look while Chase scowled death at Shamus. I leaned back, and Shamus swiveled his stool completely around so that both his elbows were on the counter and his back leaned against it. He flashed Chase an innocent smile and held up his middle finger like he’d just discovered he had one.

  “Allie,” Zayvion started.

  “I just want my burger and beer,” I said. It came out calm, considering the thoughts spinning through my head. Normally I would be pissed off that Zayvion had put me in this kind of social situation without telling me he used to date her. If I’d known they were lovers, I would have
handled this totally differently.

  Or maybe I wouldn’t have. In the long run, I didn’t think it mattered.

  See? I can be practical about these kinds of things. I mean, I knew he hadn’t been saving himself for me all his life.

  And besides, he and I were together now, even though he didn’t look quite as sure as I was about that. His Zen slipped and he looked an awful lot like a man who realized he might have made a big mistake.

  Chase leaned full body against Zayvion’s back, wrapping her hands up under his arms so she could splay her palms over his chest.

  He tensed, and it wasn’t love in his eyes. Not quite anger either. Maybe tolerance. Maybe denial. It got me thinking about those scars he said he had on his heart. It got me thinking maybe she had put them there.

  Chase tipped her head down to Zay’s face, her perfect lips so close she wouldn’t have to move an inch to lick him. “Fuck you, Zay.” I didn’t actually hear her words over the noise in the room, but I was plenty close enough to read her lips.

  Shamus, who must also be pretty good at lip reading, laughed again.

  “Good night, Chase.” Zayvion did not move, but it was like he suddenly drew a wall of ice between himself and her.

  She tipped her head and rested her chin on his shoulder. She smiled at me, and for the life of me I could not figure out what kind of game she was playing.

  Have I mentioned I have always sucked at all the bitchy backstabbing games women play? Consider it mentioned.

  “Enjoy,” she said.

  I nodded. “I will.” Simple. Honest.

  I guess that wasn’t what she was hoping for. She stood, turned off her smile, and strode out the door on this side of the building.

  “That. Was. Awesome,” Shamus declared.

  Zayvion rubbed the back of his neck. “You,” he said, spearing Shamus with a look, “talk too much.”

  Shamus chuckled. “And you are too easy to rile up, but you’ll forgive me anyway.”

  “No,” Zayvion said, “I won’t.”

  From the tone of his voice, it was clear he liked Shamus. Maybe the way a person likes paying their taxes, or hanging out with an annoying little brother.

  Zayvion put his hand on my upper arm. Since I had planted my elbow on the counter and was cupping my chin in my hand, willing the waitress to bring me my burger, I leaned my head sideways to look at him.