Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm

I was the last person she needed to explain memory loss to.

“Keep a journal,” I suggested, with as little sarcasm as possible.

She actually laughed at that. “I can’t believe I said that to you.” She pressed her fingertips against her lips. “Pregnant makes me a little stupid. I’m sorry.”

“At least you won’t be pregnant forever.” I gave her a crooked smile to take the sting out of my words.

“True. True. And I was saying you do have a price. We all do. It’s human nature. But you’re not easily bought.” She nodded. “You’re like your father in that. Unbreakable morals.”

I swear she and I had not known the same man.

My father, in my head, exhaled a moan, and the need, the loneliness, swelled in me.

“Take care, okay?” I said. “And let me know if you need anything. Anything I can do for you.” It came out soft, concerned. I didn’t know how much of it was me, and how much was my father.

Probably mostly me. When he tried to take control of my mouth, I got shoved into the back of my head and had to fight to regain control.

“I’ll be fine.” She looked around like she was missing something. Kevin handed her purse to her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I would have completely forgotten it. What would I do without you?”

He smiled back. Polite. Friendly. But I watched how he held his breath, how his shoulders tensed, how his fingers spread open as if trying to catch or hold something fleeting.

Something inside me hurt. That something was my father.

And yes, it worried me. My father was not a nice man when he was in pain.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Beckstrom,” Kevin murmured.

“Good night, Allie,” she said. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll call if I hear anything has changed with the. . project.”

“Night, Kevin,” Zayvion said. Zayvion had been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was sitting there. This, I decided, was what it would be like to date the invisible man.

“Night,” he replied. “Coffee on me next time.”

“Let’s make it a beer,” Zay agreed. “Shoot some pool.”

“Pool sounds good. Give me a call, okay?”

I was pretty sure they weren’t really talking about coffee and pool. It wasn’t just Zay and Shamus who had a secret code.

Before Violet could open the door to let herself out, Kevin was there, bending over her, smooth, unhurried, holding the door for her.

They both stepped out into the night.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Zay shrugged.

“Pool?” I asked. “You play pool?”

“Why do the most mundane things about me surprise you?” he asked.

“Because you never tell me any of this stuff.”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you’re curious about?”

“Hockey? Polo?”

“Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates.”

I rolled my eyes. “Forget I asked.”

“No, I’ll show you sometime.”

“Deal. Horses on ice skates, Jones. Now, what were you and Kevin really talking about?”

“Business. Someone doesn’t like the idea of your father’s latest wife running the company.”

“I know that. She told me that. I mean the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“Beer and pool.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “It’s beer and pool. One’s a drink. The other’s a game. That’s all. Ready to go?”

I let it slide since I didn’t want to cast a Mute spell when we could just talk about it at my house in a couple minutes. The coffee shop had quieted some. Enough I could hear the music, something that had a country beat, and a sitar. I took a quick look at the people still in the shop.

And noted Anthony was gone.

“When did Anthony leave?”

“After you sat down with Violet.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“The warehouse. To see if Davy was there. He wants to apologize.”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.”

Great. If Davy was there-and I thought he’d mentioned he was going to check on the place this evening-there’d be blood on the floor before I could dial 911. I rubbed at my eyes, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have promised Pike anything. Hounds were nothing but trouble.

“Listen,” I said, “if you want to head out, you can. I’ll go up there and mop up the blood and call the cops on someone.”

“When are you going to stop that?”

“Stop what?” I asked.

“Telling me to go away.”

“I don’t do that.”

“You do.” He caught one of my hands. His fingers were warm. His touch radiated a sense of peacefulness, of calm.

I, on the other hand, radiated nerves. Too many things were going wrong: Dad, Greyson, Chase. And now Violet was in trouble over the disks. The whole Anthony-Davy-Pike’s-death thing was one more hassle I didn’t need.

“I’m staying right here, with you,” Zayvion said. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

I inhaled his words, felt the assurance of that promise reverberate through me.

“Me too,” I said. And I meant it. Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty.

Not a single one of which was among my strong points.

He gave me that sexy smile that usually got me in bed, then pulled away. It had been a few seconds, us touching. But the absence of him, of the awareness of him in my mind, rolled through me like a cold chill. I took a deep breath to keep from reaching out for him.

Being Soul Complements made letting go difficult.

Understatement of the year.

Zay didn’t appear to have the same problem. He lifted his ratty jacket off the back of the chair, then gathered his empty coffee cup.

But I’d been around him enough to know he was gliding through those motions. Like a mantra, the ordinary actions guided his muscles and body, helping to clear his mind. I knew there was a storm inside him. And that storm was sparked by a need for me.

I liked that I could ignite that kind of heat in the man.

But right now I had to see if Davy had thrown Anthony out a window.

I finished my coffee and waved to Grant, who waved back. Zayvion and I left Get Mugged and strode to the warehouse next door.

Zay and I let ourselves into the warehouse through the side door. There was an elevator inside, but I took the stairs behind the door.

Grant leased out the second and third floors to me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the third floor yet, but liked the view and the strange architecture enough to keep it.

At the top of the second-floor stairway was a door. I pushed it open, out into the wide hall that split the entire floor in two. Half the space nearest Get Mugged was reserved for my office, a dojo, and a smaller kitchen/living area that had enough locks and wards, I could keep the Hounds out if I needed to. The other side of the building was set up as the main living quarters for the Hounds. Bunks would eventually line one or two walls, and there were a couple bathrooms, showers, and a larger kitchen. A few couches, a TV, computers, and a space cordoned off for meetings.

It wasn’t a home, but it was a roof and walls, and a place out of the weather.

Right now, it was open loft space with bits of furniture here and there. Which meant it was easy to hear who was here, and easy to find them.

I planned on keeping it that way.

Davy Silvers, arms crossed over his chest, leaned against one of the walls on my side of the floor, between the windows that overlooked Get Mugged. Anthony was halfway across the room from him, about dead middle of the space, his hands out of his pockets, empty. No guns, spells, or blood yet.

“Hey, Davy,” I said. “Anthony. You boys figure things out?”

Davy spoke. “He said you okayed him being here. Hounding.” It came out low and soft. Even though it had been several weeks since Davy had been mauled by Greyson and betrayed by his girlfriend, Tomi, he still hadn’t fully recovered. A few weeks ago, we’d found out Tomi left Oregon. Went back to California to stay with her grandmother. Ever since Davy had heard that news, there was something different about him. Something broken inside him.

And out of that breakage poured a cold anger I’d never seen in him before. I figured it would just take time for him to get his footing again, to feel normal without Tomi. And I figured he did not need Anthony rubbing salt in his wounds in the interim.

I wandered over to my desk, letting my oh-so-casual body language wet-blanket as much fire out of their standoff as I could. Davy was my secretary and righthand man when it came to Hound business, and had been indispensable during the renovations. He’d put a few files on my desk for me to look through. I opened the first one, and pretended to read it.

“I told Anthony he has to get his act together before he can be a part of the pack,” I said.

Davy shifted his fists to crack his knuckles against his ribs. “I don’t like him,” he said. “I don’t want him here.”

“If we only opened our doors to Hounds who got along, there’d never be more than one of us here at a time.” I closed the folder. Looked over at the boys.

Still hadn’t moved. Still looked like they were ready to attack.

“Did I mention the new rule? No killing each other. If you two can’t be in each other’s presence, then I don’t want you in the same room.”

To my surprise, it was Anthony who listened. “I should go. I just wanted to say-”

“Good-bye,” Davy said. End of conversation.

Anthony looked over at me. I nodded. Kid had guts. No smarts, but plenty of guts.

“See you around, Anthony.”

He looked down at his shoe. He walked over to me, head still down. Davy tensed with every step Anthony took.

Me too, but I hid it better.

“Here.” Anthony handed me a piece of paper. “Like you said, right?”

I glanced down at the note. It was a name and a number. His counselor, I assumed. “So far,” I agreed. “Go on home.”

He hesitated. “I was trying to tell him, you know, the same things I told you.”

“Fuck,” Davy whispered.

“Go home, Anthony,” I said a little stronger. “While you can do it walking. This isn’t going to get solved in one night.”

He hitched one shoulder and gave me the angry gaze. Didn’t like me much. Yeah, well, I already had friends.

“Good night,” I said.

“Screw this.” He strode across the room and out the door without once looking back. When it was clear he had taken the elevator down, I opened the file on my desk for real.

“You staying here much longer?” I asked Davy.

He finally shifted away from the wall and walked over to me. I kept my eyes on the paper but out of my peripheral vision paid attention to how he moved. He wasn’t limping anymore, which was good, but still looked a little stiff, as if something inside hurt every time he took too deep of a breath.

He sat in the chair on the other side of my desk, leather, comfortable-hey, I had some money. “I was just headed out when Bell showed up. You could have warned me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know he was coming up here. He was down at Get Mugged. Wanted to apologize. Wanted to join.”

“And you’re gonna let him?”

“He screwed up, Davy. We all know that. I can’t forgive him for what he did to Pike. But I won’t throw him under a train. If he can pull his life together, I’m not going to get in his way.”