Allie Beckstrom 09 - Magic for a Price

“We have evidence,” I said. “I’d say it’s even heavy.”

  “What, Roman Grimshaw telling us they were possessed?” Shame asked. “That’s testimony from a dead ex-con ex-Guardian of the gate who was jailed for life because he accused leaders in the Authority of being possessed. And yes, sure, he was right, but no one will care.”

  “We can prove it,” I said.

  “No one will listen,” Terric said. “Portland hasn’t been in good standing with other cities for the last year or so. We’ve broken too many rules, had too much strife between magic users. Most members of the Authority don’t get into magical battles, or try to raise people from the dead. We are without leverage in this argument.”

  “There has to be someone we can contact,” I said. “Some way we can make sure we don’t have the entire country west of the Mississippi down our throats. And if we do, if we fall, I want a backup, a plan C. I want someone, somewhere to know what’s going on.”

  Silence. They’d been thinking it too. If the Overseer wanted to turn all the guns in the world on us, she could. Leander and Isabelle had chosen well when they’d taken her body to possess. They had every contact, every resource in the world at their disposal.

  Hell, we’d be lucky if the military from three states around us didn’t roll up to our doorstep.

  And I was a little worried that it hadn’t happened yet. If I were the Overseer, my first order would have been to take us down immediately. Not in some sneaky scramble-Seattle kind of way either. I’d bring the big guns to bear against the city.

  Maybe they hadn’t done that because they didn’t know Roman Grimshaw had made it back to us and told us they’d possessed the Overseer.

  He’d bought us more than time; he’d bought us an upper hand.

  And then it hit me.

  “They don’t know,” I said. “They don’t know we know. That’s why they only sent twelve people. They don’t know.”

  “Guess who else doesn’t know?” Shame said. “Us. What the hell are you talking about, Beckstrom?”

  “Allie?” Zayvion glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “Leander and Isabelle,” I said. “Twelve people. That’s not enough. They don’t know.”

  “It sounds like English,” Shame said. “But it makes no sense. Zay, do you speak the babble?”

  “Shut up, Shame,” I said. “Listen, Leander and Isabelle would have scrambled more than twelve people from Seattle if they thought we knew they had possessed the Overseer. They would have sent the entire military force against us expecting us to fight, right?”

  “Maybe,” Zayvion said cautiously.

  “I don’t think they’re getting information from anyone here in Portland, which means no one’s turned on us yet.”

  “You’re expecting a betrayal in the ranks?” Terric asked.

  “In a fight like this, of course,” I said absently. “People will always look after their personal good over the good of others. But that doesn’t matter. I think Leander and Isabelle don’t know Roman made it through the gate to us. That’s the point I’m trying to make. Roman said it exhausted them to take over the Overseer. He said they couldn’t use magic yet, and they might not be able to use the gates to get here from England.”

  “Still not seeing the shiny side of it,” Shame said. “Try short, clear sentences.”

  “We’re not a step behind them—we’re a step ahead of them, maybe more than that. They probably think they can take their time getting to us. That we’ll be surprised by Seattle’s people coming down, infiltrating the city, and quietly taking out key players among our Authority. They think they can shut us down, easily. And then Leander and Isabelle can take their time to deal with us and the rest of the Authority any way they want.”

  “We still don’t know what, exactly, they want to do,” Shame pointed out.

  “Probably imprison the people they think will cause the most trouble,” Zayvion said, “and kill the others who object.”

  “Look at you with the morbid, mate,” Shame said with a grin. “Sure, yah. They’re going to kill, torture, lock away. But then what? What is their real goal? What do they want? Because that’s where they’ll show their throat.”

  “Magic,” I said.

  “They have that,” Shame said. “Power of rulership over the world of magic users too. What’s left?”

  “They’ll tip their hand,” Terric said. “As soon as they recover, we’ll know what they want.”

  “It’s not Portland, is it?” I asked. “Is there something unusual about Portland?”

  Shame chuckled, and shoved the bag of chips in the pocket of the side door. “How about I give you a list of things that aren’t unusual about Portland. It’d be shorter.”

  I shoved his shoulder.

  “Hey, now,” he said, “fragile Death magic user here.”

  “Fragile? Three hundred Proxies,” I reminded him. “Is there something specific about Portland that Leander and Isabelle want?” I asked Zayvion.

  My dad shifted uneasily in my mind.

  And there was the one advantage to sharing emotions with the dead guy. I knew he knew something. Something Leander and Isabelle wanted.

  What? I asked.

  He seemed to fade away, retreating to those far corners of my mind where it would take me a lot of concentration, time, and effort to dig him out.

  “Dad knows something,” I said. “How close to the Blood well are we?” The Blood well was in the basement of Maeve’s inn, on the other side of the river in Vancouver.

  “Less than five minutes,” Zay said.

  Shit. Not enough time to stage a war in my head. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it anyway.

  “Shake me when we get there.” I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, shutting away the sound of the car, the rocking hum of tires over pavement, the shifting and creaking of the seat as Stone moved around.

  I pushed away my awareness of Stone and Collins, of the light and darkness of Terric and Shame, pushed away the tactile knowledge of Zayvion just inches away from me.

  Inward. Quiet. Centered.

  Breathe.

  I’d never tried this exact way to communicate with my dad before. But then, I’d mostly tried not to communicate with him at all.

  Dad, I said, letting my voice reach out into all of the edges of what made me me. I know you have secrets you don’t want me to find out. I can respect that, even if I don’t agree with it. There are a lot of things you’ve done that I don’t agree with. But Leander knew you. He came back from death specifically looking to kill you. And I think you know why. Maybe you’ve been holding the information about Leander and Isabelle away from me for some good reason.

  But we don’t have time for that now. Leander and Isabelle care enough about Portland, or the Authority members here, or you, or something, that they want the city closed down and people killed.

  What do they want from us?

  He was silent for so long, I didn’t think I was going to get an answer.

  But then he drew forward, stepping out of the nooks and crannies he had retreated into—places in my mind I wasn’t aware of, and didn’t know if I could access. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kind of creepy.

  I tried not to hear Jingo Jingo’s words: “He owns your mind. He stole away anything he didn’t want you to know and fed you full of the things he wanted you to believe. Made-up memories. And when you had nothing of your own left, he moved into you, into those places he’d made for himself.”

  Dad finally spoke, shaking me from my dark thoughts.

  Leander and Isabelle want to rule magic. All magic. Light and dark, all disciplines, he said. They want to live the life they were cheated out of, here in the living world, together. If they have control of all the magic in the world, they will change it, bend it to their desires, their vision of what magic should be. And then they will find a way to become immortal. Even if that means killing and repossessing over and over again.

  This, I knew. Why Portland? W
hy send Seattle after us?

  There are…four wells under Portland.

  I noticed the hesitation, but before I could ask, he went on.

  That many wells in such a small area is unheard of and gives the location an unmatched advantage. If one wanted to change magic, poison it, or…or perhaps join dark and light magic together in the world again, Portland is the place for that.

  I knew that couldn’t be everything he knew. Is that all you’re going to tell me?

  Again the hesitation. It is all I can tell you that I know is absolutely true. When…if I know more, or have additional data, I will tell you…I will tell you everything, Allison.

  You’d better, I thought.

  “Allie,” Terric said. “We’re there.”

  I opened my eyes. Zay had stopped the van around the back of Maeve’s inn, so it wouldn’t be seen from the road or parking lot. No one had gotten out yet, but Collins was awake, and stretching. At least one of us was rested.

  “Okay,” I said. “Why are we waiting?”

  Shame nodded toward Zayvion.

  Zay’s eyes were half-lidded, his breathing deep and steady. It took me a second; then I realized what he was doing because I’d felt him do this before. Zay had a sense of the city. It was like he could feel it, feel the magic flowing through it and the people using that magic as if it were juxtaposed over his skin. I’d thought it had something to do with him being the Guardian of the gate but had never asked if that were the case.

  “Zayvion?”

  He rubbed his palms down his face, then opened his eyes as if coming back from a distance. His eyes glowed gold in the low light.

  “They haven’t tapped the wells yet,” he said. “No one from Seattle has made it to the wells. Let’s make this fast.”

  He opened the door and everyone piled out of the van.

  Collins took a few steps in the gravel, and stared at the inn, smiling. “Never thought I’d see the old place again. Well, and remember what it really is.”

  “That makes two of us, Cutter.” Shame walked to the back door and produced a set of keys from his pocket. He stepped through the door and flipped on the hall’s interior light.

  Terric hesitated for a moment, then stepped in behind him without a word or glance to any of us. Stone sat next to me, one foot resting on my boot, giving off a little cloud of light. I put my hand on his head and rubbed behind his ears. He cooed, but instead of the vacuum cleaner growl I was used to, he made a musical croon that was more like a cello and French horn harmonizing.

  “Well, that’s new,” I said quietly.

  He tipped his head up, one ear flopping to one side making him look like a dork. That was not new.

  Collins had already walked into the inn, so I started after him.

  Zayvion caught my left hand, and tugged me so quick, I didn’t have time to do anything but a sort of awkward turn toward him.

  “Hey,” I said softly.

  He kept his fingers threaded through mine, our hands raised just above shoulder height, his arm pulled possessively across my back, hand resting on my butt.

  As if we were paused, waiting for the first step in the dance.

  “Zay?”

  He pulled me closer, leaned down, just a fraction of an inch.

  “I love you,” he breathed over my lips.

  And before I could reply, he kissed me, his thoughts, his mind, reaching into me, my mind, my soul, claiming me. I didn’t want to let him go even though he was so close it would be easy to surrender, and lose myself in him.

  I knew he felt my fear of being lost as if it were his own.

  But he didn’t give into it, didn’t pull away. He gently evaded my concern and stepped through my fears. And found me. There, in my mind, alone, maybe not lost, but not exactly sure of where I belonged either.

  “With me,” he said.

  I wanted that. I wanted to hold him. Forever.

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.

  “Never. I will love you until my last breath. Don’t forget that.” His words had a weight to them that sank into me and anchored. It was comforting. Strong. “Don’t ever forget us.” Those words caught and held too, digging deep into my psyche and setting roots there.

  It wasn’t magic. Or not exactly.

  Soul Complements, Dad said softly from what seemed a far distance.

  And I knew he was right. Zayvion had just done something I’d never managed to do. He’d found a way to plant a knowledge in me, a memory I knew I’d never forget. No matter what magic did to me. No matter who tried to Close me.

  This was tied to my soul. His words. His love. Him.

  I would never forget him. Never forget us. And never forget our love.

  Zayvion gently pulled away and the awareness of my body, his body, of the air and world around me, came rushing back.

  “How?” I asked, when I could find words again.

  “We can make magic break its own rules for good things too,” he whispered to me. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You never will.” I rested my head against his chest and he pressed his cheek against the side of my face.

  For that moment, we were safe, secure. And everything was right.

  But only for that moment. We had work to do, a city to save, a war to fight.

  We both let go, and stepped apart. Zayvion had the messenger bag over his shoulder, the disks wrapped carefully within it. He started toward the door, crossing the rest of the way to the inn, and so did I.

  Stone wove his way in front of me and tromped into the inn ahead of us. I followed him, and then Zayvion shut the door behind us.

  The inn was quiet, no diners, no movement, no light. It was dark beyond the hall and the triangle of light coming from the door that led to the staircase going down.

  Stone stopped at that door, looked over his shoulder at me, his hand on the jamb.

  “Yes, we’re going down to the well,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure if Stone liked coming to this well, but he made a funny little chirring sound that kind of sounded like a flock of little birds.

  I grinned. “You’ve gotten pretty musical all of a sudden,” I said. “Think it’s from all that magic mixed up inside you?”

  Yes. From Dad.

  “Probably,” Zay said.

  “Dad agrees with you.” I gave Zay an isn’t-that-interesting look, then clomped down the stairs.

  Chapter Eight

  It didn’t take us long to get to the huge arched-ceiling room that looked more like a chapel than a basement below the inn.

  “So, how do you want to approach this, Beckstrom?” Collins asked. He was standing at the foot of the stairs. So were Shame and Terric, though they were as far apart from each other as they could be without stepping out into the room.

  The well was closed, which meant the floor looked like beautiful old marble with a gradation of white to black happening so subtly it was difficult to say where, exactly, white left off to become gray, and gray poured into ever-deepening darkness.

  I could feel the well just beneath that marble surface. Feel magic lashing, pressing, digging at the stone above it. Magic trying to break free.

  “If we open it, do you think it’ll explode?” I asked.

  “Only one way to find out, now isn’t there?” Shame bent and pulled off his shoes. Then he tugged off his socks and stuffed them back in the toes of the shoes. “Give me a disk.”

  He held his hand out to Zay.

  “You’ll have to use Blood magic,” Zay said, not moving.

  “I know, Jones. I’ve opened the well before. Live here, remember? Give over.”

  Zay still wasn’t moving. “Terric?”

  “Fuckssake,” Shame groaned.

  “Shame can open it,” Terric said.

  “Do not need your permission,” Shame grumbled.

  Terric continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “You or Collins can purify the well with a disk and the magic in Stone.”

  Stone warble
d at the sound of his name.

  “I’ll close the well,” Terric said. “I don’t know which of us will still be standing to cast the Tangle, Rebound, and Refresh combination, but whoever is, will handle that.”

  Zay weighed those options for a split second. I had the sudden feeling that he and Terric had worked through a lot of situations with pretty much this same approach. Making fast, hard decisions, and largely ignoring Shame’s impulses. He trusted Terric. Trusted his opinion.

  Zay slid his hand into the bag and pulled out one disk that shone hard flat silver against his dark palm. “Don’t screw this up, Flynn.”

  Shame smiled. “Don’t you know me better than that, Z? Or do you think I’ve changed that much too?”

  “Just do the job,” Zay said with no heat in his words.

  Shame tossed the disk as if getting the weight of it. The dark magic that surrounded him reached out to touch the disk, to taste it, lick it.

  I didn’t see the darkness actually pull on the disk, didn’t see any magic transfer between the disk and Shame. But after the darkness around Shame pulled away from the disk, he nodded once, as if knowing more clearly just what it was he had in his hands.

  That was different. I didn’t even know if he was aware of what he had just done with darkness. I didn’t know if it was a good thing or not.

  “I’ll make this fast,” he said. “And I mean fast. Someone better be ready with the other disk and rock boy over there in case this all does explode.”

  Shame paced across the room. Even though he’d said he’d take it fast, he moved a lot more slowly than I would have, and took a circuitous route toward the center of the room, pausing for the briefest of moments, and tipping his head down as if he could hear the magic, feel the magic pulsing beneath his bare feet.

  He finally made his way to the center of the room, and then knelt there. He placed the disk, carefully, on the ground directly between his bare feet, wiggling his toes just a bit before standing very still.

  Then he drew a glyph in the air in front of him with both hands. It was an Unlocking spell of some kind, though the order of it didn’t make any sense to me until he drew a switchblade out of his pocket, snicked the blade free, and cut the side of his hand.