“Allie,” he said.
“Terric.” He walked past me and straight to the tequila. He poured a shot, and winced as the blonde on the couch laughed. Shame’s chuckle followed hers, low and naughty. Terric set his shoulders and took the shot back in one gulp.
Interesting. “So who is she?” I asked.
“Tiffany Lowe.” He poured another shot. “She’s in marketing.”
“The Authority has a marketing department?”
Terric half turned and gave me a look.
“Okay, okay. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of the entire thing being run like a corporation.”
“Believe me, it is.” He swigged the second shot, then replaced the shot glass on the counter and pushed it away with his fingertips, his fingers still stretched out, but not touching it. He stood and stared at the empty shot glass while Shame and Tiffany laughed again.
I moved over so I could lean against the counter. Not because I’d have a better chance to stop him from pouring the entire bottle down his throat.
Okay, mostly for that.
“You don’t like her?”
“She is a perfectly lovely person,” he said through his teeth.
“Oh?”
He rolled one shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he picked up the tequila bottle.
“Might want to slow it down, Terric. You’ve got all night to get hammered.”
He poured, but filled the shot glass only halfway. “Isn’t that the damn truth?” he said. He picked up the glass, but did not drink out of it. He did, however, turn and look at Shame.
Shame glanced up, as if someone had called his name. He caught Terric looking at him and raised an eyebrow. Terric just lifted his glass in a toast. Shame frowned but lifted his Coke.
“So she really is a perfectly lovely person?” I asked.
“No,” Terric said. “Not when I knew her. She was the kind of person who would do anything—and anyone—to get what she wanted. And she wanted to be the head of the Authority, a Voice at the very least.”
“So why’s she flirting with Shame?”
“I can’t imagine. He is just the only son of the last member of our local branch who is a Voice—Blood magic too. If she’s harboring a discreet habit of blood and drugs—highly possible considering her past—she just might want to get on Maeve’s good side.” He paused, sipped the tequila. “Or, you know, maybe she wants Shame to get her on Maeve’s good side.”
“And we’re not interfering because ... ?”
“He knows what he’s getting into.”
“Then why are you angry?”
He glanced over me, maybe a little surprise in his eyes.
“Jealous?” I asked. I suddenly realized I’d never come out and asked Terric if he was gay. It just hadn’t crossed my mind that it mattered. But maybe it mattered very much to Shame. Maybe that was part of why Shame didn’t want to be around Terric.
The surprise faded away to annoyance. “I’m not jealous.” That was a lie, but I could tell he couldn’t admit it. “I’m glad he’s happy—my God, I haven’t heard him laugh in weeks. He’s barely smiled. . . .”
Shame chuckled again and leaned in toward Tiffany, as if whispering a secret. Terric swallowed another mouthful of tequila, his gaze burning with heat, fixed on Shame.
“I just want . . . it’s not like I’m asking for his undying devotion,” he said. “But it’d be nice if he didn’t make me feel like I was a dirty inconvenience.”
“He asked Mikhail to heal you,” I said. “When he thought he was going to die if Mikhail possessed him, he only thought about you, Terric. That doesn’t sound like an inconvenience to me.”
“You think he did that for me?” Terric gave me a wry smile. “He did that for himself. For his guilt, his failure. He wasn’t thinking about me. When Mikhail touched me, it marked me. Changed how I can use magic. I can handle some of the”—he paused, realizing that talking in a normal tone was practically shouting when you were around Hounds—“other spells that used to make me sick. But it’s not like it made it so I could take over for Zayvion.”
He meant take the job as Guardian of the gates and use both light and dark magic, something Terric had once trained for.
“The real good that seemed to come out of it is when I’m around Shame, I think it eases his pain. He won’t admit it. Since being around him also makes me feel better, he won’t have it. And now he can sleep easy knowing he sacrificed his own health so I could be repaired from him attacking me all those damn years ago.” Terric knocked back the rest of the drink. “There is no talking sense with him. No getting a straight answer, an honest feeling, a logical agreement. It is maddening.”
The door opened and I glanced up. Grant, the owner of Get Mugged, came strolling through the door, two platters of food in one hand. So that’s who Zay hired to cater this.
He caught my eye and strolled over. “Hey there, Allie. Quite the shindig you’re throwing. I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?” He grinned and placed the platters of bite-sized quiches and fancy desserts on the counter.
Normally, I’d have tried to find some excuse for Grant not to be here. These people were part of the Authority, and I did not want him getting mixed up with them. But hell, I figured he’d been here when we’d all come licking our wounds from the fight with the Veiled at Maeve’s inn, so he might as well be here with us now.
Plus, he cooked like a frickin’ angel.
“I just found out about the party a couple hours ago,” I said. “Otherwise, of course I would have invited you.”
“No harm done. So—” He gave Terric, who was still staring at Shame, a nice long look, glanced over at Shame, then back to me. “Want to introduce me to your friend here?”
“Oh, sorry. Terric Conley, this is Grant Rhine. Grant owns Get Mugged, and Terric is a graphic designer and friend of Zay’s from Seattle.”
Terric snapped back into focus and finally noticed Grant.
“Pleased to meet you.” Grant extended his hand and Terric took it and shook.
“Nice to meet you,” Terric said.
Shame’s laugh cut off suddenly and I looked over at him. He was glaring at Terric. Terric didn’t look at Shame. He didn’t have to look at Shame. Instead, Terric grinned at Grant, warm, a little sexy, a little drunk.
“It is very nice to meet you,” he amended, holding Grant’s hand just a bit too long. “So what delicious treats have you brought with you tonight?”
Grant smiled. He knew what Terric was doing. Must know that there was some sort of bad blood between him and Shame. Didn’t look like he cared. “Quiche and marionberry key lime tarts,” he said. “So good they’re a class five sin.”
“Class five, eh? Can’t wait to get my mouth on that.” Terric walked past him to get a look at the food, and loosened his tie with one hand.
Grant, his back to Terric, waved one hand in front of his chest, fanning himself and mouthed the word “hot” to me. He tapped the ring finger of his left hand and raised his eyebrow in question.
I shrugged one shoulder. As far as romantic relationships went, Terric was available.
But when I looked over, Shame was still glaring at Terric.
“I don’t know what to try first,” Terric continued. “What goes best with tequila?”
“Besides me?” Grant gave me a wink and turned to Terric. “Anything on that platter should be a nice chaser.”
Terric picked up a quiche and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed, and his eyes widened. “That’s really good.”
“Thank you,” Grant said. “You should try the tart.” He reached past Terric, angling so they stood shoulder to shoulder, and chose a tart for him. He handed it to Terric.
Terric took a bite out of it and smiled at Grant.
“You’re amazing,” Terric said.
“And that’s just my cooking,” Grant replied.
Tiffany, next to Shame, let out a giggle. Shame had scooted over and put
his arm around her, his head tipped in toward her, his finger tracing down her chin to the neckline of her blouse.
It was like a game of who could out-jealous whom.
Sweet hells. This was so none of my business. The last thing I needed to deal with was two boys playing underhanded games with each other’s feelings.
I walked away, leaving Shame and Terric to their little flirt fight. Zay was still engrossed in his conversation with Victor. Although I’d classify the conversation as an argument at this point. Zay was holding a very subtle Mute spell between the thumb and finger of his right hand. I could hear them talking, but none of the words were clear. He must have modified the spell with a Distraction to help avert curious eyes without being obvious about it.
Nice piece of magic, that. Especially for an angry man who’d had a couple drinks.
Maeve was sitting down to a poker game with Jack, Hayden, Sunny, and a couple people I didn’t recognize.
Davy had managed to detach himself from Sunny and was instead over by the TV talking with Sid.
I went that way.
“Hey,” I said when I was close enough.
They both nodded and made room so I could stand next to them.
“What I want to know,” I said, “is how much it’s going to cost me to buy my way out of your bodyguard services.”
“Not open to negotiation,” Davy said.
“Oh, I’ll listen,” Sid said amicably. “How much do you think it would take?”
“I’d offer you each a thousand. And an extra five hundred each if you talk the other Hounds into giving it up too.”
“Last time you offered us money it was five times that much,” Sid said.
“I can’t believe I’m having to pay to get rid of protection services,” I said, irritated. “You should be happy I don’t file a restraining order on the lot of you and have you arrested if you’re found in the same city with me.”
“What do you think, Davy?” Sid said. “Fast money.”
“Nope.” Davy tipped up his beer, gave me a hard look. “We are your guards. End of conversation.”
“Sid?” I said. “Tell me you have the sense to realize that if I don’t want to be followed, I will make your trying to do so a miserable experience.”
“I do have that sense.”
“So?”
He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’m with Davy on this,” he said cheerfully. “These people you’re involved with? I’ve done some checking up on them.”
I rolled my eyes. This was exactly what I was worried he would do. “And you don’t like what you’ve found?”
“No. Everything I’ve tracked back to these individuals pans out. Looks legal, legit, common. But my gut tells me there’s something more. On paper, these people are fine. They don’t stand out in any appreciable way. But when you meet them in person, or when you get a bunch of them together all in the same room . . . Well, look at them. They don’t add up. They’re hiding something.”
“Everyone’s hiding something,” I groused. “I don’t know why you suddenly have to get all protective about me.”
“We like you,” Davy said.
“And your money,” Sid said.
“Which I’d be happy to give to you if you’d stop following me around.”
The phone on my desk rang and Jamar answered it. He looked over at me, said “yes,” and hung up. Wondered who was checking in on me.
“Going to tell us who died?” Davy asked, changing the subject.
“Will it get you off my back?”
“No.”
I glared at him. He took another drink of beer, unconcerned.
“Her name was Chase. She was a friend of Zayvion and Shame and Terric. I guess she knew all these other people too, except for the Hounds, of course. Or, at least I don’t think you knew her, did you?”
Davy and Sid both shook their heads.
I shrugged. “I don’t know why they didn’t hold the memorial somewhere else.”
“You don’t?” Davy gave me a pitying smile. “It’s because they knew you wouldn’t say no. You never say no when someone needs something.”
I raised one eyebrow. “You think so, huh?”
“Not that it’s a bad thing,” Sid amended quickly. “We appreciate the place, and we especially appreciate you didn’t say no to the food and booze.”
“Free booze,” Davy added.
“The best kind,” Sid said.
“Enjoy it, boys,” I said, “’cause this is the last free booze you’ll see here in a long, long time.”
For all my grumpiness, everything did seem to be going just fine. People were clumped up in small groups talking, Hounds and members of the Authority mixed and blended as if they’d been gathering like this for years. No one appeared to be fishing for secrets, crossing lines, getting their memories taken away.
Maybe we’d get through the next couple hours without anything bad happening.
A girl could dream anyway.
Then the door opened and Anthony Bell walked in. He paused just inside the doorway as if expecting to be immediately thrown out.
“Fuck me,” Davy growled.
“I invited him to come by,” I said. “Not tonight, and he was supposed to call, but I did invite him, Davy. He wants to be a Hound. And as long as the rules of the den are followed—Pike’s rules—he can have his chance.”
“Aren’t you done defending him?” Davy asked. “He’s a loser, Allie. He’s a nothing.”
“He’s a Hound,” I said in my boss voice. “That means he’s a part of us until he does something to make us kick him out.”
“Killing Pike wasn’t enough?”
I ignored that. Davy and I had rehashed Pike’s death plenty of times. And while I didn’t expect Davy to forgive Anthony, it wasn’t only Anthony’s fault that Pike died. Pike had gone into a dangerous situation without any backup—breaking one of his own rules he set for the Hounds—and had done so even though he’d agreed he would take the police with him.
“I ran into him and his mother this morning,” I said. “She’s nice, Davy. Pike liked her and took Anthony on because he cared about her. She cares about her son. I owe Ant a second chance. And he’s getting one. You don’t have to be around when he’s here. You don’t have to be a part of it.”
“I hate everything about this,” he mumbled over the neck of his beer bottle as he took another drink.
“Noted,” I said. “Leave him alone, okay? I don’t want to see you two within twenty feet of each other.”
“I go where you go.”
“We’ll see. Stay out of my way tonight. This is a pretty open floor plan, and everyone here is a friend. You’ve got good eyes and ears. Use them.”
I walked over toward Anthony, who, once he realized he wasn’t getting kicked out, had helped himself to a Red Bull and some chips.
“Didn’t think you’d show up tonight,” I said.
“Saw Zay’s car outside and figured you’d be here. I called. Jamar said you were here.”
“Next time call me. My cell,” I said.
“All right.” He shrugged. “What’s the party for?”
“Friend of Zayvion’s who died.”
“Who?”
“Her name was Chase.”
He shook his head. “Didn’t know her.”
“She was nice.”
The last word didn’t come out quite as convincing as I’d hoped.
“But you didn’t like her, eh?”
“She was also Zayvion’s ex-girlfriend.” And that pretty much explained it all.
Anthony looked across the room, spotted Zay, who was staring out the window. Victor was still standing next to him, also looking out the window. Neither of them was talking. It didn’t look like either of them had won the argument, but Zay had dropped the Mute and Distraction.
“Ex,” Anthony said. “Right.” He turned back to me. “This a private thing? Want me to go?”
I wanted to say yes, but I was do
ne trying to keep all the parts of my life from colliding. “Don’t go anywhere near Davy. He’ll kick your ass.”
“Got it.” Anthony’s voice was a little quieter, and more serious than I’d heard before. Maybe there was a chance he had learned a thing or two. “Anything else I should know about the people here?”
“Nothing I can think of.”
“Then I’m gonna get some food, okay?”
“That’s what it’s here for. The next Hound meeting—the next real one where we work out who’s covering which part of town and who they’re partnered with—will be Monday morning, seven o’clock. Got that?”
“I’ll be there.”
He finished off his drink and strolled to the stove, where he ladled a bowl full of the soup.
I thought about telling him he should also keep his hands off Sunny, since Davy and she seemed to have a thing going, but hell, he’d figure it out.
I snagged a beer out of the refrigerator and wandered across the room, saying my hellos to a few people while I took a winding route to Zayvion.
I was pretty sure he didn’t see me coming, was pretty sure he didn’t hear me.
Still, before I was close enough that both he and Victor should sense me, Zayvion shifted and gave me a smile over his shoulder. “Hey.”
Victor stirred and turned. “Thank you for offering this place, Allie,” he said, leaning his hip against the windowsill. “It’s . . . refreshing.”
I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Victor since he’d been fired from being a Voice of the Authority for Faith magic.
He didn’t look like he was taking the news too badly. As a matter of fact, he looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. Instead of the perpetual suit and tie, he was wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. I’d never seen him in jeans. He didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep, but the wary edge he carried in his eyes and body language had softened slightly. Maybe getting fired was a good thing for him.
“No problem,” I said. “How are you doing?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Fine, in the long term. In short-term matters, I have . . . concerns over the direction Bartholomew is taking things, but nothing so great I think I should call foul.”
“They fired you.” I said.