He put his arms around my waist. “I’ll even catch you if you fall.”
Sweet. But the idea of casting magic and having it hurt that much again made my hands sweat. That wouldn’t keep me from doing it, though. Because he was right. We needed to know this. I needed to know this.
“For cripes’ sake. Fine. Something small.”
Light was one of the earliest spells I’d learned, and the easiest. I cleared my mind, and had to recite the Miss Mary Mack song to get my nerves settled enough so I could cast. When I was feeling calm, I set a Disbursement, not a headache—I’d had enough headache lately from the concussion. I went for muscle aches. I planned to make Zayvion give me shoulder rubs until they went away.
And then I cast the glyph for Light.
So far, so good. But I hadn’t pulled any magic up into the glyph yet.
I hesitated, the glyph balanced on my fingertips.
“Allie?” he asked.
“Fine. I’m fine.” I exhaled, and pulled magic up out of the ground, out of the pipes that networked the entire city of Portland, and drew that magic into me, like I always did, and directed that magic into the glyph, like I always did.
But before the glyph could so much as begin to glow, my vision started to dim. Magic burned, too hot. It bit my skin and tore across my nerves. I wanted to get away from it, get it away from me, cut a vein or do . . . something to purge it.
I tried to stay focused, even through the pain, tried to complete the spell because I’m a Hound, damn it, and I can deal with pain.
Zayvion’s hand closed over mine, destroying the glyph, and probably giving himself a second-degree burn on his palm.
“Allie?” he said. His hand pressed on my forehead, then my cheek. “Allie?”
“I’m good.” It was weird. With all the ringing in my ears and the need to throw up, my voice sounded really far away. “Barf,” I added.
What did you know? Zay caught my subtle hint and helped me over to a patch of dirt where I could heave.
He even held my hair back. Aw. True love.
But since he had been the whole reason I was chucking up that which I hadn’t even downed yet, I was not in a good mood.
It took a bit, but finally my stomach stopped cramping, my ears stopped ringing, and all the rest of me stopped hurting. I straightened and wiped the tears off my face. Zay handed me a fast-food napkin from out of his pocket, which I took and then blew my nose.
“Magic is making you sick,” he said.
“Brilliant deduction, Holmes,” I said.
“Magic didn’t seem to be acting any different to me,” he said. “I was watching with Sight.”
Huh. I hadn’t even seen him cast Sight. “Well, it’s different for me,” I said. “And now I think we’ve both proved our point and you owe me coffee and breakfast. Big time. And shoulder rubs.”
I started off toward the sidewalk, trying not to inhale too deeply. It wasn’t just using magic that was a pain. The stink of magic bothered me too. All those Lure and Attractions and safety Wards and other, long-term refresh spells just made the entire city stink like rotted meat.
This was getting old fast.
Zay caught my wrist, and I stopped to look at him.
“What?” I said.
“You’re just going to walk off and get coffee? Even though we both know magic is making you sick?”
“Yes.” At his frown, I said, “I don’t know what else to do about it, Zay. Maybe being around Anthony and Davy, and them being infected by the Veiled did something to me.”
I thought about it. No, back when Melissa had cast Truth on me, magic had made me sick and that was before I’d seen either Hound. I’d thought it was because she was making me Proxy the cost of the Truth spell—and maybe that was partly it—or maybe even then magic was starting to make me sick.
“But unlike Anthony and Davy, I’m fine if I just don’t use magic.”
“Are you?” he asked. “Fine?”
I held his concerned gaze. “Yes.” Didn’t have to lie because it was the truth. So far. “I’ll be better when we figure out how the hell to stop the epidemic, and how to save Davy. But until then, I want coffee.”
Zay nodded and walked beside me, between me and the building, where most of the spells lingered, which was sweet of him, though I wasn’t sure it was doing me any good.
Yes, I was a little cranky. Girl needed coffee, food, and to stay far away from magic.
Zayvion opened the door for me and I paused just inside it. I’d never really cast Sight to see what kind of spells Grant kept around the place. From how busy he was, I’d expect he had at least a Relax or maybe something to stimulate appetites.
But Get Mugged was bare. The only magic I saw in the place clung to the people themselves. Some little safety spells like Return and Lock on valuables like cell phones and purses, and of course, those who could afford the Proxy price or the pain, carried Enhancement spells to make their wrinkles disappear, noses straighten, and teeth whiten.
Other than that, the space was completely and blissfully empty of spells.
I strolled over to the counter, where Grant’s employee Jula was working.
“Hey, Allie, Zayvion,” she said, putting down the receipts she was sorting. She had dyed her hair black with orange stripes and little blond polka dots. It was cute. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a coffee, black, and a cheddar quiche,” I said.
“Same for me,” Zayvion said.
Zay stepped up and pulled money out of his wallet. I looked at him and he raised his eyebrow. Well, at least he’d been listening when I told him he owed me coffee.
“Here or to go?” she asked.
“To go,” I said.
“It’ll be right up.”
Zay and I stepped to one side to let the person behind us order, and I eyed the food behind the glass. Lots of scones, breakfast bars, and crumbles. Looked like Grant had doubled his menu.
I didn’t see him in the dining area and figured he must be in the back cooking, or maybe he actually took a day off and was in his apartment below the shop.
Jula had our order done quick and Zay and I picked it up and started walking. I took a sip of the coffee—so good—and then we headed over to the den.
I did my best not to inhale the stink of magic. Keeping the coffee near my nose helped some. We took the stairs, and by the time we reached the den, I was really hungry.
“Morning,” I called out as I walked in. The Hounds gathered were a mixed bunch. Most were the regulars, Sid and Bea and Jamar. But a couple of them were new faces to me. A tall, thin redheaded woman in black slacks and sweater, and a dark-haired bearded man who looked like he could use a bath, a meal, and a cardboard sign that said WILL HOUND FOR MONEY.
“Who are the new recruits?” I asked with my all-business-all-the-time voice.
“Allie,” Sid said, “this is Toya. She’s been working Vancouver for a couple years. Says she’s Jack’s friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said from across the room.
“And,” Sid continued, “this is Karl. He’s just back from Klamath Falls. We don’t know him,” he added.
“Hey,” he said, with a nod. “Sorry about the clothes. And, I assume, the smell. It’s been a long year.”
I unpacked my breakfast and found a fork. Zay did the same. “What brings you both here?”
“I heard about this group you’ve started,” Toya said. “Jack is a friend of mine, so I thought I’d come check it out. Maybe talk to you about starting something like this in my own neighborhood.”
I took a bite of the quiche. Hot, melty, salty, delicious. I wanted to stuff the entire thing in my mouth, but then there would’ve been no room for coffee.
“And you?” I asked Karl as I carried quiche and coffee over to my desk and settled in. Zay stayed put in the kitchen, where he could keep an eye on most of the room.
“I was just working my way north. Heard about this place from some Hounds on
the street. I’d be grateful if the rumors about a complimentary shower were true.”
“Right back there,” I said. “Knock yourself out.”
He smiled and headed back to the bathroom. I had set this place up to take in Hounds who needed a place to crash and recover from the pain the job put them through. We didn’t get a lot of new people that often, since Hounds were suspicious loners by nature, but it was pretty clear Karl didn’t have another door to knock on.
I wasn’t running a full-time charity, though. He could stay here a night or two, but then he’d need to move on. This was a pit stop, not a home.
“I’d be happy to go over the details with you,” I said to Toya. “Have a seat.”
She did a not-very-subtle check to see what the body language and reaction from people around us was to that comment. Sensing there was no trap, because, duh, there wasn’t, she sat in the chair across from my desk. If she was a Hound, she wasn’t very good at it.
“So how do you fund this place?” she asked.
I liked a girl who could cut to the chase.
“I cover rent and utilities. Food is handled by each person. Linens are taken care of by a service that I also pay. And that’s about it.”
She nodded. “I’d hoped you tapped into some kind of federal or state funding that helped with this sort of thing.”
“Nope. I was thinking of setting up a fee-based system. Haven’t gotten around to it yet, though I’ve negotiated with the police and other public officials to raise the baseline Hounding rate for jobs hired. That’s something.”
“That’s a lot,” she agreed. “Did you have someone inside any of the agencies you worked with? Someone I could contact?”
I finished off the crust and took a drink of coffee. Her question had suddenly gone from interested to prying. She was digging for something. Maybe for someone. Problem was, I didn’t know who she was digging for.
“My business dealings are not up for public scrutiny, but you can be assured that I contacted all the appropriate people and agencies before going forward with this venture.”
I could do business-speak “back-it-up-missy” like a pro.
She smiled with her mouth, but it didn’t make it to her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you had done anything illegal.”
“Of course not,” I said. “We also have some rules in the house to keep things running smoothly. No drugs, no weapons, no contraband. The house operates on an open warrant for the police to search it at any given moment, which makes people who have something they want to hide stay away. It’s worked so far.”
“It seems that it has,” she said with a laugh that would have fooled me if I hadn’t seen that hard spark in her eyes. “So do you also decide who gets what jobs?”
“No. We’re all responsible for finding our own business. So how long are you in town for?”
“Oh, just the day. I’m visiting some family in the area.”
That was a lie. I think the other Hounds were picking up on it. The atmosphere in the room took a sudden, tense dive.
“It was great meeting you,” I said, not getting up. “I have a lot of things to take care of today. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
She stared at me a half second too long. And then she got up and, unconcerned about the sudden silence among the other Hounds, which should have been a dead giveaway that none of us trusted her, she left.
“Who told you she was a Hound?” I asked Sid.
“She did, when she walked in.” He shook his head. “Posers gotta pose.”
Zayvion walked very quietly over to the door and looked out. I didn’t have to. I heard the elevator doors open, heard her heels as she stepped in, and that particular grind of the motor as the elevator went down, not up. Which meant she wasn’t going upstairs to try to nose around Davy or Collins.
Not that the Hounds looking after him up there would let her in.
“Anyone have anything on her?” I asked.
Sid had his tablet out and was plugging in data. “Give me a sec. I’ll see what I can find.”
The shower turned off. I leaned back in my chair and gave Zayvion a small smile. We’d see who this Karl turned out to be before long too.
I could hear him towel off. Then he stopped moving. He must have noticed that none of us were talking. Good. Meant he was paying attention to his surroundings, and the people in it. A very Hound-like thing to do.
I felt a subtle pull on the magic network and smelled the faint stink of rotten meat. He had drawn a spell. I wondered if it was something to enhance his hearing. I thought maybe I should find out.
“Take your time,” I whispered. “We’re all still here.”
“Didn’t know if I’d interrupted a moment of silence or something,” he said, loud enough to be heard through the walls with normal hearing. “Should I let myself out the window?”
I grinned. Overcautious, slightly suspicious. Definitely a Hound. Everyone went back to what they were doing and making noise. “No. There’s coffee and food in the kitchen. You’re welcome to it.”
I stood. “Tell him the rules, Sid. He can stay the night if he needs a place, but nothing permanent.”
“Got it, boss.”
I strolled over to Zayvion. I felt better. A lot better. A little food and kicking someone out of my space somehow gave the whole day a little more shine. Maybe I’d stroll on up those stairs to Davy and tell him that he had to get better now because I said so. Not that it would work, but a girl could dream.
Chapter Thirteen
“Hey, you,”I said to Zay as I walked across the room, “let’s get moving.”
“Lead the way.”
I did. Right out the door to the hall. I took a deep breath, didn’t smell Toya, didn’t hear her. “Terric stopping by?” I asked.
“He’s down at Get Mugged now,” Zay said, holding up his phone and the message there. “On his way up.”
“Tell him we’ll be on the third floor.”
I started up and Zayvion texted, then followed.
I tried the door—it was unlocked but Jack was right on the other side.
“Beckstrom,” he said. “Jones.”
Zay nodded and I said, “Do you know a Toya, Jack? Tall, thin, good-looking red-haired thirtysomething woman who Hounds in Vancouver?”
Jack frowned. “I don’t know any tall, thin, good-looking redheads from Vancouver. Any reason why you’re asking?”
“She was here, downstairs. Saying she was a Hound and she was your friend. One of those things I know for a fact is not true. You could go get a sniff and see if you recognize her.”
“Huh. I’ll let you know.”
“Give us a half hour or so, okay?” I said. “I want a private conversation with Mr. Collins here.”
Jack looked at Collins, who was currently spread out in the easy chair, a book opened across his face, in what looked to be a sleeping pose except for the fact that he wasn’t breathing evenly enough. Then Jack looked back at me and Zayvion. “All right. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
He left and I walked across the room, not trying to hide the sound of my footsteps across the old wood, though Zayvion behind me glided like a cat’s ghost.
“So how’s Davy?” I asked.
Collins pulled the book off his face and put the chair into a sitting position. He gave me a quick half smile, then stood and turned to face Zayvion.
“Mr. Zayvion Jones. So very good to see you again.”
“Collins. Is there a reason you’re still in town?”
“I live here.”
“That’s news to me.”
“Perhaps you’re a little behind on recent headlines.”
Zayvion approached him with that calm Zen-like manner. “Why don’t you catch me up?”
“Allison has hired me to tend to her young friend here. Frankly, I don’t know what you are doing here.”
“He’s here because I asked him to be,” I said. Obviously they had history. And while I
was curious about it, right now I wanted to know how Davy was doing. “Any change?”
Collins paused before turning his back on Zayvion. He tried to hide that it didn’t bother him to have Zayvion behind him, but it was clear that he was very, very uncomfortable with that man of mine. Interesting.
“He hasn’t gotten any worse that I can tell,” he said as he took the few steps over to the side of Davy’s bed. “He is resting comfortably even though I’ve reduced the amount of narcotics. The Syphon is still active and seems to be doing a fairly good job of keeping the magic from spreading.”
From his tone, I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole story. “But?” I asked.
He studied my face, his gaze lingering the longest on my mouth before he finally said, “I have been unable to find a way to stop the poison.”
“Tell me what that means in very clear language,” I said.
“Davy is dying. A much slower death than the people who are being tended by more . . . traditional medicines and procedures. But I haven’t found a way to stop the spread of the poison. Soon it will reach his organs and shut down his vital functions.”
I just stood there. I thought that kind of news would devastate me, but I’d known that’s what we were dealing with since I’d seen Anthony’s dead body in the alley.
“Blood transfusion?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s magic. It won’t drain out with blood just because blood is draining.”
“Antidote?”
“Not of the magical nature. I’m using very slight magical spells on him, spells that do not radiate much magic at all. Like the Syphon. I’m concerned that any stronger magical intervention will just accelerate the speed of the poisoning.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood there staring at Davy. He looked like he was running a fever—too pale, the scars he still carried on his face from Greyson’s attack months ago pink against his parchment skin, his freckles too dark.
He didn’t look well, but he didn’t look like he was dying either.
“Which Syphon are you using?” Zayvion asked.
Collins looked over at him, then back at Davy. “Draw with an alternating second current.”