Magic at the Gate

  “Shame?”

  “Fantastic. I’d like two of these kinds of days every week.” He pulled out a spare chair and slouched down in it. “What’s the news?”

  Victor rubbed his hand over his hair and pushed back from the table. “Assuming you were able to cap the Winter well?”

  Shame nodded. “We did. Terric did.”

  “Then we have one well capped, and so far, the other wells have not come under attack. We have closed over twenty gates tonight—”

  Shame whistled softly.

  Victor acknowledged that with a nod. “—and at this time are enjoying what appears to be an entire hour without either an arrest, a gate, the Hungers, the Veiled, or anything else happening.”

  No wonder everyone looked exhausted.

  “We think there are more living Veiled on the streets than just Truance and the man you ran into.”

  I covered my yawn with one hand. “What about the networks? At the graveyard, the Veiled were drinking down the magic over the well. They could do that to the networked lines in the city, right?”

  “Your father was very specific about how he created the wards and safeties built into the networked lines. He was aware of the Veiled, and Hungers, and other things that sometimes enter our world. The networks are guarded against them.”

  “He didn’t put safeties in place to keep the dead from draining the disks,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Hayden asked.

  “I asked Violet about it tonight. She said they never thought anyone would try to reglyph the disks. She’s redesigning them so there are safeguards in the future. I think Kevin’s helping her with that.”

  “That’s good to know,” Victor said. “I don’t think the Veiled can drain the networks.”

  “They can drain the wells,” I said. “Truance was at the well. She stabbed Terric.”

  Everyone looked at Shame. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his shoes.

  “She used Blood magic on him, but Shame canceled the glyph before he was taken to the hospital.”

  Victor rubbed at his already bloodshot eyes. “What happened to Truance?”

  “She disappeared.”

  “Unfortunate. If what Truance told you is true, the Veiled who have disks are looking for a way to recharge them. The wells make the perfect target. We’re considering capping the other wells if necessary. I’d rather just take care of the Veiled and reclaim the disks before it comes to that.”

  “There’s an approved way of taking care of the Veiled?” I asked around another yawn.

  “Death magic is best.”

  I glanced at Shame. He’d used Death magic to kill that guy on the street. I didn’t think he used Death magic in the graveyard. I was positive there was no way in hell I could drink someone down to dust. I didn’t know how many of the others here could use Death magic. Maeve specialized in Blood magic, and most everyone else was a Closer—Faith magic.

  “We doing this now?” Shame sounded as tired as I felt.

  “Not until tomorrow, maybe even tomorrow night, if all goes well,” Maeve said. “We need to rest. Sleep. Including you.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” He heaved up onto his feet. “Good night all. I assume someone will have a dangerous and daring plan in place by morning?”

  “We’re laying it out now,” Victor said.

  “Save a good part for me.” He rolled his shoulders and shuffled across the room, aiming for the hall that led to the rooms above.

  The outside door opened. Shame stopped. Turned.

  Terric walked through the door. Carl and his twin sister, La, were right behind him. Terric paused, took in the people gathered, his gaze resting the longest on Shame.

  Shame took a couple steps toward Terric, pure relief on his face.

  Terric smiled slightly.

  Shame smiled back.

  Then Shame seemed to notice that everyone in the room was paying attention to the two of them. That connection, too tenuous to begin with, broke under the weight of scrutiny. He scowled and stalked away down the hall.

  Terric’s smile fell, and he suddenly looked tired and sick.

  Shame had said sometimes you have to love someone enough to let go of them so you don’t hurt them anymore.

  I didn’t think he understood how much he was hurting Terric by pushing him away.

  “Are we going to do anything about the two of them?” Victor asked quietly.

  “There isn’t anything to do,” Maeve said. “Shamus refuses to take the test to see if they are Soul Complements, and at the moment there aren’t nearly enough of us to administer the test correctly.”

  “We could send Terric back to Seattle,” Hayden said.

  Maeve’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Finally: “That has to be Terric’s choice.”

  Terric walked the rest of the way into the room and, catching my gaze, headed my way. I met him halfway.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Not great. You?”

  “Could sleep a century away.”

  He glanced at the hallway Shame has disappeared down.

  “He’s worried about you,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “He’s worried he’s going to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s why he’s pushing you away.”

  Terric shook his head. “Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s lying. It’s not about me. It’s about him. Shame isn’t worried he’s going to hurt me. He’s terrified he might like me, and then he’ll have to deal with what that says about him. He can be such a selfish ass.” He took a breath that set him off in a spectacular coughing fit.

  I put my hand on his elbow, and helped him over to a chair. Or rather we both managed to get him to a chair without falling down.

  “Do you need water?” I asked.

  He shook his head, still coughing. His eyes were squeezed tight, tears at the corners, arm pressed against his ribs like he was trying to keep his guts in place.

  Maeve appeared beside me. “Be easy, Terric.” She gently brushed her fingers over his forehead, and his coughing eased, giving him time to breathe.

  “I wish I knew how to do that,” I said.

  Maeve smiled over at me. “I’ll show you someday.”

  “You going to be okay?” I asked Terric.

  Dr. Fisher walked in from the kitchen area, and made a beeline straight for him.

  “He’ll be fine,” Maeve said. “Get some sleep.”

  Terric nodded, and drank the water Sunny offered him. I stepped back to make room for the doctor. I figured he didn’t need four women fussing over him.

  “Nice work out there,” I said. “You deserve a medal for what you did tonight.”

  Dr. Fisher was already drawing a Sight glyph—one of the medical versions that gave you a better look inside a body.

  Terric winced a little. “Just doing my job. That’s all,” he croaked.

  It was a lot more than his job. He had put himself in danger, dealt with debilitating pain to use Blood magic and Death magic—was probably still paying the price now—and been stabbed by a lunatic undead Veiled to keep me and Shame safe.

  I slogged my way down the hall and up the stairs. I didn’t have to sleep in the same room as Zay. There were a dozen other rooms on this level, more below, more above. But my feet, my heart, took me straight to his door.

  Stupid feet.

  I crept inside, not wanting to wake him. Not wanting to fight with him. Not wanting to make him worry. All I wanted was to pretend that we were okay. That he was alive and well, I was alive and well.

  Zay wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, in the bed I’d been in. Looked like he’d gotten there himself, too. The covers on the other bed were hanging down to the floor, and the machine he’d had hooked up to him was turned off, but not pushed against the wall or moved to some other storage place. He didn’t have an IV or oxygen tube. He was on his sid
e, the extra pillow dragged from the other bed and now stuffed under his head. He faced the door and was snoring lightly. He’d taken my shirt I’d left on the bed and held it against his heart.

  For an infuriating man, he sure looked good sleeping.

  I slid out of my shoes and socks and took off my coat. Used the bathroom and then walked back out into the room. Should I take his bed?

  Everything in me didn’t want to lie down where he had been so hurt, so close to death. I hoped he was on for some serious spooning. The bed almost wasn’t wide enough for him.

  I wanted to strip naked, but didn’t know who would walk in, or how fast I might need to be ready in the morning. So I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pulled my bra off without taking off his sweater. Then I crawled into bed behind Zay. I pressed my forehead against the hollow of his shoulder blades, one arm around his ribs.

  He smelled so good.

  His breathing paused. He inhaled deeply, his muscles relaxing even more. Touching him, holding him, made me feel like I was sinking into deep, warm water. Made me feel like I was finally where I belonged. Home. Before he could exhale, I was out.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I dreamed of sitting on the plush couch in my father’s living room in the condo where I’d grown up.

  “More coffee?” Dad asked.

  Dad looked like he always looked—suit, tie, gray hair. But he was holding my red coffee carafe, the one Nola had given me. I loved that carafe.

  I glanced at the cup in my hand. Empty. “Sure.” I held out the cup.

  “You’re dreaming, you know,” he said as a stream of mahogany-colored coffee filled the cup with that happy rising gurgle, the rich, deep, earthy scent hitting my nose.

  “It’s nice so far. That’s not going to last, is it?”

  He sat in the chair across from me. “I doubt it. But why not have a drink first?” His chair was close enough that if I wanted, I could touch him without having to scoot forward. He had a coffee cup now too, and took a drink.

  I sipped. The coffee filled my mouth and burned warm and soft in my chest, soothing the hole where my magic used to be. It was delicious. Comforting. And nothing I’d ever expect from my dad.

  “I’m having a hard time remembering all the reasons I’m angry at you,” I said. “But I know I’m angry.”

  “It’s been a complicated few months.” He tugged at his tie with one hand, loosening the knot there, then unbuttoned the first button at his collar.

  “Since I can’t seem to talk to you when you’re awake, I thought this might be a good way for us to come to an . . . understanding.”

  That sounded bad. Dad’s “understandings” always involved the other party capitulating to his desires. I drank coffee because I was pretty sure I’d be throwing whatever was left of it in his face in a minute.

  “I have been reluctant to allow you to be aware of all the forces at work. Those who want magic, and why. But it is clear to me that our survival—both yours and mine—will be dictated by how well you and I can work together.”

  “So we’re screwed?”

  He smiled. Wow, I hadn’t seen him smile in ages.

  “No. There are always options. Careful thinking and careful actions see to that. But we are coming to an important crossroads. You remember we walked through death.”

  It wasn’t a question, but still, it took me a minute. Then I did remember. Not clearly, but my dad was there and Stone and the monstrous Veiled. I had been looking for Zay. And I’d found him trapped by Mikhail.

  “I remember.”

  “And you discovered that Mikhail and I, at this time, have complementary agendas.”

  “You mean you’re on the same side of the war.”

  “Yes. But we have different motivations. I am seeking to put magic in the right hands.”

  “And to live forever,” I said.

  “Yes. And immortality.” He said it like I’d reminded him he was wearing shoes. “To do so, I have made alliances.”

  “Mikhail. Who tried to kill us when Zay and I were testing. Who trapped Zayvion, and made me give my magic up to him and tried to kill Sedra. That Mikhail?”

  “Mostly. He will have his revenge, Allie. Over those who betrayed him and sent him into death. I have no say in that.”

  “And you’ll have your revenge too?”

  He flashed me a hard smile. “There is a reason why we have similar agendas.”

  “So the same people who killed you killed him? That doesn’t make any sense. James Hoskil was behind your death. And Greyson—but Greyson was a part of the Authority and James wasn’t.” My head hurt. I was having a hard time keeping my thinking on a linear path. Dreams could be so confusing. Or maybe it was just my life that was confusing.

  “They were hands to the one who wanted us dead. Pawns. Both of them. That is all.”

  “Then who? Who wanted Mikhail dead and you dead? And why? And how do I know you’re telling the truth anyway?”

  “Even in your own mind, your own dreams, you doubt me?”

  “We’ve been over that, but in case you need to hear it again—yes.”

  “Sedra killed Mikhail.”

  His words were like cold water. Cold, confusing water. Sedra was the head of the Authority. She made all the final decisions on magic and had stepped up as the head of the Authority after Mikhail’s death. “I thought Dane Lannister shoved him through a gate because he was trying to kill her.”

  “That is what Sedra convinced Dane of. It’s not true. Mikhail wasn’t experimenting with dark magic, he was trying to join dark and light magic. He was trying to heal magic. Sedra killed him for it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he succeeded. On a very small level, within Wards and Containments, he rejoined light and dark magic.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was there.”

  Okay. Even in my dream, I knew this was big. Important.

  “And you never told anyone?”

  “I did. They didn’t believe me. Not even with a Truth spell.” He smiled ruefully. “I am certain she is the one who sent Greyson to kill me.”

  For all that I did not like my dad, I was angry he had been killed. And right on top of that anger was my uncomfortable belief that he was the kind of man who might have done something that justified his murder.

  “I was in her way. My technology was in her way, so she killed me. And now you are in her way.”

  “Well, she’s been kidnapped, so I don’t see how she can do anything to me. I think you might be worried about this because you’re in my head. If I die, you die.”

  “That’s a part of it, of course. But even if you . . . fell . . . I would find a way to see my agenda is accomplished.”

  And there it was. My pragmatic, coldhearted father’s idea of love.

  “Go to hell,” I said without heat. “Get out of my dream. I want to wake up now.”

  “I don’t want you harmed. Not because it would be inconvenient to me, but because you are my daughter and I have always cared about you.”

  It was as close to saying he loved me as I’d ever heard. And I still didn’t buy it.

  He threw his hands open and looked up at the vaulted ceiling. “Impossible. You are impossible.”

  “I want to wake up now,” I said again.

  “You need to trust me. I am asking, asking you to trust me. It is too difficult to draw upon magic. I am tired.” It sounded like he had a hard time getting those words out of his throat. “I need you to stop fighting when I use magic through you. You could have been killed by Truance. And she isn’t nearly the most dangerous enemy out there. The Veiled have bodies. They’re the walking undead, and they’re using my disks to do it. If they find a way to recharge the disks, they will tear the Authority, this city, and the world apart. And they don’t pay any price to use magic. None. I need you to trust that when I use magic, I am doing it to keep you safe.”

  “Trust? If you want my trust you might want to try not lyin
g to me, not trading away parts of my soul when it suits you. And not possessing me. This is over. As soon as I can find a way to get you out of my head, permanently, I am going to do so.”

  I watched as his expression closed down harder and harder until the man in front of me might well have been made out of steel. “You know your hatred won’t stop me.”

  “My hatred doesn’t have to stop you. I’ll stop you. Cancel you. Cripple you. Send you back to death and make you stay there.”

  We glared at each other for what seemed a long time, and a million thoughts rushed through my head. Of Zayvion trapped in death, of saving Stotts, of Davy and Shame and Terric, and Violet. I’d been strong enough for all of them. I didn’t know how I was going to stand up to my dad since he was, literally, a part of me. But I was plenty strong enough to find a way.

  In dreams, we shared thoughts too easily. I know he had heard some of that. I ignored what he might be thinking. I did not want to be any closer to him than I already was.

  He finally looked away, out the windows I knew faced the mountain. It was dark out, night in this dream. I didn’t know what he saw there. “There is something I want to give you. A gift. Even if you will not give me your trust.”

  He stood. Walked toward the door that should lead to the kitchen. He opened the door.

  And my mother stepped through.

  Or rather, a memory of her. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt. Young, maybe in her twenties. I had forgotten how much red streaked her dark brown hair. I had forgotten the hazel-gray of her eyes. And then I was little again, laughing as she and I folded bright small pieces of paper into origami creatures.

  “It’s a crane,” she said in a voice that meant love, safety, and the world to me. “See how the wings make it fly?” She helped me hold the front of the origami figure, and showed me how to gently pull the tail so the crane’s wings moved.

  “And if you fold a thousand of them, they will bring you peace, or a wish come true.”

  “That’s going to take a long time,” I said, looking at the stacks of paper peeking out from the pretty envelopes on the table.

  “If it’s something you really want, then it’s worth giving up something to do it, right? This will just cost some time. Time is easy. All you have to do is start with one. What color? Pink? Yellow?”