Eleanor went from drifting along to a dead stop. She got one look at a hat shop on the corner and clapped excitedly. I groaned.
“I promised Terric I’d be there,” I whined.
She just raised her eyebrows. Yeah, telling her I didn’t want to be late for work was not going to fly. She knew I didn’t care.
“You can’t even wear them.”
She drifted toward the hat shop door. Got her max distance from me and waited, arms crossed.
“I don’t wanna.” I started toward her anyway. Living women: stubborn. Dead women: about a hundred times worse.
I walked to the front window, close enough she could go in the shop. She waved at me to follow her.
“No.” I pulled out a cigarette and backed away from the door so the shop owners wouldn’t call the cops on me for smoking. I lit up.
Glanced over. Eleanor stuck her tongue out at me, then slipped through the glass door into the hat shop.
I leaned my head against the brick and ignored everyone around me. Didn’t care that they were alive. Didn’t care that their pulse echoed in my skull like drums. Didn’t care that my cigarette was out before I’d had more than two drags on it. Did. Not. Care.
Pushed the world into dimness, into fog. Away. So I didn’t have to feel the life. So I didn’t have to feel.
Cold fingers pressed on my fingers. Eleanor. I let the world back in.
Snap, click. Pow. Edges and beating hearts.
She pointed at her head, then at mine. Big grin on her face, all excited. Talking. Too fast for me to figure out what she was saying, not that I could hear any of it.
A few more gestures toward the shop, and finally I got the basic of it.
“No. Hell no. I do not want a hat.”
I pushed off the wall and ignored her for the next five blocks.
She finally gave up floating in front of me with her hand in my face—sorry; that doesn’t make me trip anymore—and flipped me off before window-shopping along behind me.
Building, up a flight of stairs, office: destination achieved.
Pushed through the second set of doors and past a short lobby that had four potted plants, all growing.
When had the place gotten so damn green? I pushed through the next set of doors, leaving two potted plants still growing.
Tall ceilings, lots of light coming in through windows, hardwood floors, shelves, and several desks. Modern, but unable to shake its past as a grain warehouse, it was expensive real estate the Beckstrom fortune had donated to the Authority back when Allie’s dad was moving and shaking the world of magic.
Eleanor floated off and sat outside on the window ledge to pout.
There was exactly one heartbeat in the room besides mine.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Dashiell Spade,” I said to the man walking toward me with a file folder in his hand.
He was younger than me by a few years, about five eleven, dark hair combed back and up with just a bit of muss to it, black-rimmed glasses that didn’t hide the fact that he had a face that had probably gotten him all the prom dates he could handle. Trim, dressed in a checkered long sleeve with a light sweater, slacks, and dress shoes. Northwest office chic.
Came in as our assistant three years ago. Looked like the poor guy hadn’t found a way to break free. Wondered what kept him here.
“Shame! It’s great to see you again. Coffee? Booze?”
“Yes, please.”
“The whiskey’s where you left it,” he said. “I’ll pour the coffee.”
I pushed off to the desk where I used to sit. Corner of the room where I could see the doors and all the windows.
Everything was pretty much where I’d left it. Phone, computer, knife stabbed into a stack of notes. There were also three potted plants on the desk, two of which were some kind of vine that crawled up the brick wall into the rafters and across the windows.
Those I had not left there.
“So, how’s life been treating you, Dash? I thought you’d have moved on by now.”
“Things are good, thanks.”
I crouched down and pulled the bottle out of the holster that kept it stuck beneath the top of the desk.
“We’ve missed you around here,” he said. “Most people’s long weekends don’t last for months. Or years.”
“Well.” I stood, studied the bottle, which was nearly full. “I knew the place was in good hands. Terric, he’s all right at what he does, I suppose.”
Dash grinned and shook his head. “No one’s cared more or worked harder than he has.”
“Proving my point. And you are damn near the best secretary . . . administrative assistant?”
He handed me the cup of coffee. “Second. I’m Terric’s second.”
“So, that’s a step up, right?”
He nodded. “I’ve left you a few messages lately.”
“Oh?”
He glanced over at the door and frowned.
“Terric should be here soon,” I said. “Out with it, lad.”
He seemed to make up his mind. “Come on back to my office.”
“You have an office?”
He just pointed toward one end of the large room that had been sectioned off into two with wooden walls and windows. The office on the right took up the majority of the room and lorded over the outer windows. That would probably be Terric’s.
I, correctly, took the door to the left into the smaller office.
He stepped in behind me, and shut the door.
“You okay with this?” he asked.
“With what?” I gulped coffee and whiskey and savored the double burn. His heartbeat was steady, calm.
“Close quarters, all these plants, me living. That what.”
He sat behind the desk and watched me, waiting. He had hazel eyes that were moss green with bits of brass in them. And those eyes were giving me a very knowing look.
Jesus. He knew. How much I wanted to consume. That I barely held it in check. I hadn’t ever talked to him about it.
Well, maybe just that one time when I was really drunk.
“Want me to pinkie-swear I won’t kill you, mate? Worried that I’ll lose control of Death magic and squeeze the pulse out of your ticker?”
“No. You’ve got this. Your control is solid. Criminally so.”
“Bless you. Talk.”
“I try not to get into Terric’s personal life. But there’s something that I can’t stay quiet about anymore. I”—he looked down at the desktop, suddenly interested in the calendar there that he pushed slightly to one side— “care for him.” Eyes up again, steady on me. “As his second. We’ve worked together for a long time and he is—his health is important to me.”
Lie. Well, not lie. More like truth pushing to be heard behind all those careful, yet oddly clumsy words. He cared for Terric as his boss, sure. And he cared for him a hell of a lot more than that.
Huh.
“Right,” I said, letting the subtext go. “I know that. But if you’re going to give me the lecture about how I should be around more because I make him feel better, Soul Complements, and blah-de-blah, don’t bother.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You already know you should be. You’ll change your mind, or you won’t. It doesn’t matter what I say about that. I’m talking about Jeremy Wilson.”
“Who?”
“The man he’s dating.”
“Do I need to know about this?”
“I think Jeremy is hurting him.”
Silence. I drank coffee. Not because I had nothing to say. A hurricane of words and rage ignited in my head, pounding to get out. If I said one thing, I’d be yelling. Incoherent. And then I’d kill.
Dash waited. Didn’t make any sudden moves. Didn’t breathe faster, didn’t elevate his heart rate.
He was a smart man. A good man. He waited me out while I bitch-slapped my demons.
I took one last swallow of the coffee and set the empty cup down on the edge of his desk. The cup crumbled into a dusty p
ile of ceramic.
And . . . I had my cool back.
Dash’s eyebrows ticked up. “Maybe I should talk to you about that other thing.”
I gave him a smile, shook my head. “I never liked that cup.”
“Noted.”
“Talk to me about Jeremy.”
“He and Terric started dating about four months ago. Terric was . . . discreet about it. He tries to keep personal stuff away from work. But about six weeks ago, I came into the office early. Found Terric coming out of the bathroom without his shirt and shoes. He’d slept here most the night. He had burns down his arms—cigarette burns. His wrists were raw and his ribs were black and blue.”
Ticked it off like a laundry list. No emotion. But his pupils dilated. Dash was pissed about this.
“Maybe he and the boyfriend like it rough,” I said. “Terric can take care of himself.”
“I know he can. And he did. By that afternoon, the burns and wrist scars were gone. He wore a T-shirt just so I’d notice. He has Life magic in his blood. He can use it to heal himself.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I supposed he could, though.
“I’ve seen him with a lot of men, and never seen a mark on him,” Dash continued. “But every time he’s with Jeremy, he comes in bruised or limping.”
I shrugged. I just couldn’t picture Terric willingly being abused. There must be more to it than that.
Dash leaned back a bit. “Shame, he can heal himself. And he does. I think Jeremy makes sure that no matter how fast he heals himself, he still walks away from their time together injured. And too tired to make himself better.”
“Maybe he just—”
“Too tired to make himself better,” Dash repeated, “because he’s spent his energy, poured his life into Jeremy.”
I took a breath, let it out. “Dash, you’re a smart guy. But I think you’re stretching this a bit.”
“So I looked Jeremy up,” he went on quietly like I’d never said a word. “Records are easy to get ahold of. He used to be into Blood magic. Ran money for some of the drug lords. Big syndicate.”
Bet I could guess which one.
“No recent activity of that on his record now. Not since his diagnosis. Cancer, Shame. Brain. Stage three. He’s dying. He’s been dying for years. But in the last four months, he’s gone into complete remission.”
“Because of Terric,” I said unnecessarily.
Dash pressed his lips together, then nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“Okay. Fine. Listen, maybe it looks like a twisted sort of relationship to you”—I held up one finger at his expression—“and to me, but Terric is a grown man. He’s made his choice and lives his life the way he wants. If he didn’t like the guy, he’d walk away in a flat second. You’ve seen him go through boyfriends before.”
“That’s true. I have. Which is why I’m telling you, this guy is different. He’s hurting Terric, and Terric’s not doing anything about it. You know him, Shame. Better than I do. Does that sound like Terric?”
“No.”
That was all I had time to say, because the exterior door opened.
Dash looked over my shoulder through the window to see who was coming into the office. I didn’t have to look. I’d know that heart, that pulse, that life anywhere. Terric.
“You killed my ficus,” he called out across the room.
I stood. Strolled out into the main office. “They were ugly.”
“They were fragile. And hard to keep alive.”
“Took care of that. You’re welcome.”
He dragged his fingers back through his platinum white hair, grabbing at the back of his head before letting go. “It’s coming out of your paycheck.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t work here anymore. Neither,” I said, “do you.”
“What?” Dash came into the room. “You quit?”
“No,” Terric said. “I didn’t quit. The Overseer has named a new Head of the Authority. Perfectly normal. The position should change hands every once in a while. Keeps things fresh.” He gave Dash a small smile.
Dash swallowed several times, not doing a very good job of hiding that the news had shattered something inside him.
I watched Terric. He didn’t seem to notice Dash was devastated that they wouldn’t be working together anymore.
“But don’t worry about your job,” Terric said. “Clyde is taking our position, and he’ll need a strong second to keep the continuity of everything flowing. You’ve always been the heart of this place, Dash. I’ll hope you’ll stay.”
“I . . .” Dash looked down. When he looked back up, he’d pulled it together and didn’t look shaken at all. “Of course. Of course I’ll stay. Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”
“Pack,” Terric said. “Take care of some paperwork. Get drunk.”
“Singing my song, mate,” I said. “Well, except for the packing and paperwork thing.” I offered him the whiskey. He took the bottle, pulled the cork, and then tipped it up for a long, hard drink.
“Good,” he said, gesturing toward me with the bottle. “Thanks.”
He started off to his office. With my bottle.
“Just give me a minute or two, and I’ll be right back out,” he said.
Then he walked down the hall. With my bottle.
And shut the door. With my bottle.
Dash exhaled and folded down on a chair, his palms pressed evenly on his thighs. No more calm heart, his pulse was clattering. “Why?” he asked. “Why would the Overseer take this away from him? It meant . . . everything.”
“Dash, buddy. It’s going to be okay. Mommy and Daddy will still love you. They just can’t come to work with you anymore.”
“Fuck you, Shame.”
Had a little fire behind that. Good. Fire meant I wasn’t going to have to deal with tears.
“Honestly? It probably has more to do with me than him. I haven’t been pulling my weight lately.”
“Not everything is about you.” Dash tugged his cuffs, checked the buttons to make sure they were buttoned. They were. Then he got back on his feet. “You want any help packing your desk?”
“Hell, let’s just set fire to the thing. Nothing there I want.”
“So I can have the knife?”
“No. Fine. Get the boxes, Boy Wonder.”
Dash walked out and down the hall to the storeroom. I stood there for a bit, enjoying the aloneness. Except being this close to Terric meant I wasn’t really alone. I wandered over to my desk. Then I found myself walking instead down to Terric’s office.
I paused just before his door. I could see him through his office window. Sitting with his desk at his back, bottle resting on his thigh, other hand over his eyes, head bent.
I should probably just leave. Let him deal with this loss in private.
Terric lifted the bottle, but instead of drinking, he held it out toward me. Still had his hand over his eyes.
I opened his office door. Leaned there in the doorway.
“I don’t want the booze,” I said quietly.
“Yes, you do.” He took his hand off his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah, I do.” I walked in, took it from his hand. It was a fair share lighter than it’d been just a few minutes ago.
Tipped it up, took a swallow. Booze went down hot, but the mouthwatering sweet of cinnamon and mint lingered on my lips. Life magic stirred the need in my belly. Terric had been drinking out of the bottle. I should have wiped it off before doing the same.
“I was good at this, Shame,” Terric said. He wasn’t looking at me.
I sat in the chair against the wall opposite his desk. “You’re still good at this.”
“We were amazing at it,” he said.
“True.”
He didn’t say anything else. I took another swig of the whiskey. Ignored my disappointment that the taste of life was gone.
A couple minutes ticked by in silence.
“So, if you don’t ne
ed anything,” I started.
“Just.” Terric turned, held my gaze. Blue eyes darkened by sorrow. “Would you shut up and sit here for a few minutes?”
I opened my mouth.
“Please.”
I closed my mouth. Handed him the bottle. He took another drink and handed it back, swiveling his chair so he could stare out the window.
I watched him for a minute. Thought about things I could say. Thought about things I probably should have said a long time ago.
Decided to just do what he asked and kept quiet. I even remembered to wipe the taste of him off the bottle before I took another gulping swallow.
Chapter 6
I left Terric in his office and took the half-empty bottle with me. Dash was moving around the office like a cleaning lady who wasn’t sure what to dust first.
A pile of empty boxes towered next to my desk. Enough to pack away the room, Terric’s office, and probably everything else on this floor of the building.
Lord.
“How about you give me a hand?” I said.
Dash walked over. “I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to pack.”
“I see that.”
I gave Dash the whiskey and he turned to place it on a windowsill. Eleanor was back in the room again, and seemed interested in some of the art on the walls.
“No. Drink,” I said. “You need to relax a little, mate.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Fine, then I need you to relax. A lot.” I gave him a drink-up gesture and turned to the pile of boxes, chose one, and dropped it in front of my desk.
Listened for the cork, swish of liquid, then cork before I spoke again. “There was something else brought up at the meeting today.”
I opened a drawer. So that’s where I left my gun.
“What?” Dash leaned against the windowsill, his shadow stretching out over the boxes.
“Do you know what Soul Complements are?”
“Two people who are a perfect match when casting magic.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“They’re usually perfect matches in life too. Partners, friends, lovers. But it’s incredibly rare to find that kind of match, especially with magic. Since being even a little unmatched can cause spells to destabilize and blow.”