Magic in the Shadows

Chapter Sixteen

“Come on, now. Wake for me,Allison Beckstrom.” I didn’t recognize the voice. Deep, male, almost a purr. I could not resist it. Influence, most likely.

I opened my eyes. I was lying in a soft bed, not my own, in a clean room that smelled like honeysuckle. I’d never seen this room before. Maybe a hotel?

I had, however, seen the man who sat in the chair next to the bed. He had been at my father’s funeral.

Big didn’t begin to describe him. He was the kind of guy who needed all three seats on an airplane. His eyes and skin were almost the same color, coffee dark, and there was a gentleness to his expression that was at odds with the intensity of his gaze. He might look like a nice guy on the outside, but he creeped me out. I inhaled and caught the sweet scent of licorice and something more chemical that tasted like death.

“My name is Jingo Jingo.” He smiled, and fear rubbed fingers across my stomach. At the sound of his name, an image of candy in his pocket and little bones came to me. What was it my father had whispered to me at the funeral? He had a thing for the bones of little children?

“I am a teacher here,” he said. “I understand you know my student, Shamus Flynn.”

I did. And I also knew Shamus didn’t like him. Shamus said he was a freak.

Shamus was a very smart boy.

Plus, Davy had said Tomi was messed up with Jingo. None of this inspired my trust in the man.

“Yes,” I finally said.

“And I understand you’ve been hearing your father. Ever since that unfortunate happening in the warehouse.”

It took me a second to place which unfortunate happening in which warehouse he was talking about. Probably the one after Pike had died, after I’d killed Lon Trager, when Frank Gordon had dug up my dad and tried to use him to open the gates to death.

Unfortunate, indeed.

“Have you?” he asked.

What were we talking about? I was tired, muzzy-headed. What the hell had Chase done to me?

We were talking about my dead dad in my head. Right. Even though I didn’t like this man, didn’t trust this man, he was a teacher in the Authority, and innocent before being found guilty and all that. Even Maeve had told me she wanted him to look in my head and see if my father was really still there.

And after everything Greyson had done to my father, now would be the best time to find out if my dad was still alive, still in my head.

“I’ve heard him, yes,” I said. Could I sound any more like an idiot?

“I’m going to look into your mind, Ms. Beckstrom. To see how much of your father is still with you. Do I have your permission to do so?”

“Do you have to have it?” Well, that was a stupid thing to ask.

“It does make this a more. . pleasant experience.”

“Okay.” I hated that someone I did not know, someone I did not trust, was going to get inside me, feel around.

Sure, I tried to think of Jingo Jingo the same way I thought about having a new doctor. He was an expert. He had my best interests in mind.

I wasn’t buying it.

“Just relax.” He shifted so he could rest his hand on my right wrist, the arm where magic had left its indelible mark.

His fingers were soft. Warm.

Just like Maeve, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, copper fire glinted in their brown depths.

He reached into my mind-a slick warmth that felt a lot like a finger going down my throat. But instead of gagging, I felt a numbing sensation follow his touch.

My vision shifted. I didn’t know whether it was because he was in the middle of my head, looking around, or whether I had lost control of the magic inside me and had accidentally invoked Sight.

Jingo Jingo no longer looked like a man. Or rather he did. He just didn’t look like the same man. The man revealed to me was skeletal, lean, empty, and hungry as an addict. All around him, tied by candy-colored lines, were the images of ghostly children.

He had a thing for the bones of little children.

I blinked, but the ghosts did not disappear. They shifted and moved, a fog of sorrowful faces and wide, frightened eyes.

Shamus said Death magic was a transference of energy. Did that mean Jingo Jingo, a user of Death magic, was somehow drawing upon, using, or (shudder) harvesting the souls of little children?

I wanted to look away. Wanted to unsee what I was seeing. But Jingo Jingo’s thick fingers were in my head, holding me still. Pinning me down to the mattress beneath me.

“Beckstrom,” Jingo said in his soft baritone, “come to me, Daniel Beckstrom.”

A flutter, soft as a one-winged moth, flickered at the back of my head.

Betrayer

, my father whispered.

Jingo Jingo’s eyes went wide. I saw his fear.

Call me petty, but I liked the look of it.

He withdrew from my mind, pulling away from me both physically and mentally.

He blinked. The copper fire in his eyes was gone. And so were the ghostly children.

He was just a man again. Except I knew he was not.

Still, he smiled that warm smile and hid the fear in his eyes. “You are fine, Allison,” he said. “Your daddy isn’t going to bother you no more. He was something once, but nothing to worry about now. Just a couple echoes of his memories in you. But he’s gone. He’s gone.”

Really? Then why did I feel that flutter in my mind again, still faint, but growing stronger? Why did I smell Jingo Jingo’s sweat? His fear.

I didn’t believe my father was gone. Maybe drained. Maybe broken. But I was pretty sure he was still in me. I was pretty sure I’d just heard him. And I was pretty sure that scared the hell out of Jingo Jingo.

Wasn’t that interesting?

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Come on in,” Jingo Jingo said. He seemed awfully happy for the interruption.

The door opened and Maeve walked in carrying a tray with a bowl and cup on it. I smelled chicken soup and fresh coffee.

My stomach growled.

“Ready for some food?” she asked.

“Please,” I said.

Jingo Jingo took that as his cue to leave. “I’ll leave you to your meal, Ms. Beckstrom.” He pushed up to his feet, filling more space than I thought the room had.

My heart notched up at that, claustrophobia kicking in. I really needed him to go, to leave, to empty out the room and leave me with air to breathe.

Or, hells, he could stay and I’d be happy to leave. He and Maeve could have the room and spend all the time they wanted there.

I pushed the covers down to my legs, thinking now would be a great time to get out of here.

“Could I speak with you?” Jingo Jingo asked Maeve.

She nodded, and expertly deposited the tray over my uncovered lap. “Stay here. Eat.”

No Influence behind it, but such a motherly command it had the same result. Before I could push away the tray, she and Jingo Jingo were out the door, leaving a lot more air and the smell of chicken and vegetables behind to remind me that I hadn’t eaten for what felt like a long, long time.

They shut the door behind them, but that was okay. The room itself was large. It just wasn’t large enough to contain me, Maeve, and Jingo Jingo.

I picked up the fork. It wasn’t soup, but a nice stir-fry that filled the bowl. I took a bite. Salty, savory, with veggies that still snapped with flavor. I ate as quietly as I could, listening to the drift of Maeve and Jingo Jingo’s voices.

Hounds don’t need magic to have good hearing.

“How is she?” Maeve asked.

“Tired. Her father left some memories behind. As is to be expected with the magic Frank Gordon used to resurrect his soul. But Daniel is not in there. I’d go so far as to say he never has been. Nothing but a few of his memories left behind for the poor girl.”

I stopped with a fork full of rice halfway to my mouth. Lies. He was lying to Maeve. He had seen my father in me. And even the tiniest flicker of my father’s presence had made him afraid. Why wouldn’t he want to tell Maeve the truth?

Was he part of Greyson using Tomi? Was he part of my dad’s death? Part of the hit on Boy out in St. Johns that almost got me, Zayvion, and Cody killed?

“Thank you,” Maeve said. “That’s one less thing we’ll have to worry about.”

“My pleasure, always, Mrs. Flynn,” he said.

“If you’d like dinner or a drink, help yourself, on the house.”

“Thank you. But I’m sorry I have to refuse. I have a few errands to attend to before she is tested.”

He said his good-byes, and so did Maeve. I got back to eating.

I don’t know why she waited for so long, but about five minutes later, Maeve knocked on the door. She opened it. “May I?”

“Come in.” I left my fork in the empty bowl and picked up the coffee cup. “This is your place, right? Your inn?” The food and coffee were doing wonders for clearing my head.

She nodded. “Our guest rooms are often used for people recovering from the demands of magic. Though we get our ordinary travelers through the place, too.”

She walked over to the chair where Jingo Jingo had been sitting and pushed it back against the wall where it probably belonged. Then she sat on the edge of my bed. “You were listening,” she said.

“Hound ears.”

“He says your father is not inside you. Which is good. Removing a soul is a difficult, painful procedure. It is nice to have some good news.”

I think Zayvion had told me that once. After experiencing what Greyson had done, I didn’t want to get anywhere near soul removal for a while.

“So what’s the bad news?” I asked.

“It has been decided by the Authority that you will be tested tonight.”

I guessed I should be frightened or worried. Instead, I was tired enough to just accept it and move on. After all, I’d just faced down a half-beast ex-man who killed my father. Or at least killed most of him. Twice. I could handle a little test.

“What about my classes with you?”

“I’m afraid there’s no time for that now. The things you’ve done on the hunt with Zayvion, Shamus, and Chase, and the things Chase said you did to Greyson, makes it too dangerous to allow you to continue using magic untrained. Or perhaps at all,” she added softly. “Chase demanded you be tested or Closed. There are some who support your Closure. But more who believe we should test you. All agree we can not wait.”

“I didn’t do anything to Greyson,” I said.

She half nodded. Not an acceptance or rejection.

So it was clear I wasn’t going to convince her of my innocence. “Can you tell me what to expect?”

“The test will be held here in the lower level of the inn, where there is an appropriately Warded room. Many of the Authority will be there, including Sedra.”

“She’s the president of the Authority, right?”

“She is the head of it, yes. You will be asked to stand and defend yourself, magically, against one opponent.”

“It’s a wizard’s duel? Seems like a silly way to decide who can be a part of the secret magic club.”

That, finally, got a smile out of her. “It is a magic-user test. Carefully orchestrated to measure you. Both of you will be instructed to draw upon every capability at your disposal. You cannot hold back, Allie. No matter what. If you want to survive the test, you must be relentless. Show us your true colors.”

That sounded familiar. My dad had told me something similar, although he’d told me to use anyone and anything I had to to survive. “I’ll do what I can,” I said.

“Good,” she said, “I expect you to do so.”

“How much time until the test?”

“It’s four o’clock now. We’ll begin at eight. I think it would be best if you got some sleep.”

“Can I talk to Zayvion?”

“No.” She reached over and took the tray off my lap. “I can send Shamus in, if you’d like.”

“Okay. And I need to make a phone call.”

“We can do that.”

She stood, got halfway to the door.

“Maeve?”

“Yes?”

“What happens if I don’t pass?”

There wasn’t even time for her frown to register before it was replaced by a neutral line. “You’ll be Closed.”

“How Closed? Just my memories of this place? Of the Authority?” What I didn’t say, what I didn’t ask was, Will I forget you and Shamus? Will I forget Zayvion? Will I lose the ability to use magic? I realized my chest hitched at that thought. I didn’t want to lose them. Didn’t want to lose Zayvion. And I didn’t want to lose this life I was living, even though this life was currently kicking my ass.

“Very, very Closed,” she said softly. “You don’t want that to happen, and I don’t want that to happen. You belong here, Allie. You belong with us. And I know you are strong enough to prove me right. I’ll send Shamus in. Then I hope you’ll take my advice and get some sleep.”

“I’ll try,” I said in answer to both her suggestions.

She left. I needed to use the bathroom, so I got out of bed. I was still in my jeans and the tank I’d put on under my sweater, but no boots or socks. My coat draped one corner of the bed and my hat dripped dry on a towel on the dresser top.

I walked across the floor, wood and waxed to a deep shine. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. Everything hurt.

Oh, right. Probably from the Disbursements I’d set. Wondered whether the headache was going to kick in too.

The bathroom was small, clean, and white. The honeysuckle smell was stronger here. I used the facilities and washed my hands. I turned my wrist to see if there was any mark left from the cuff and disk I’d been wearing. There were no marks other than the ribbons of colors on my arm. Nothing to remind me of what it had been like to feel the heartbeats of three people, to feel their emotions, to be part of them. I rubbed my thumb over my wrist, pushing away the sudden loneliness.

Pull yourself together, Beckstrom

, I told myself.

This is no time to get all sappy. People out there were going to try to kill me or Close me. Take my memories away.

I stood there, warm water pouring over hands that had been clean for at least a minute, trying to gather up the guts to look at myself in the mirror.

Stupid, stupid, stupid

, I thought.

Just look. See what you’ve become. What you are. You can do it. You’ve done it before.

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to look up.

For once, I didn’t look as bad as I felt. No bruises, no strange burned circles on my face. My eyes were a little dilated, and pale, pale green. The only person looking back at me through my eyes was me.

Maybe Jingo Jingo was right. Maybe my dad was gone.

Or maybe he was just very, very tired.

Yeah, that made two of us.

I turned off the water and walked out of the bathroom. Got all the way back to bed and under the covers before the knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Shamus breezed into the room like he’d spent the day strolling through the Rose Gardens.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Are you okay?”

He paused and gave me a strange look before continuing on over to the chair Jingo Jingo had sat in. He dragged it away from the wall, over to the side of my bed.

“Am I okay? You’re the one in bed, trying to shake off a Paralyze spell in time for the test of your life. I’d say of the two of us, I’m gold.” He flopped down into the chair and stuck his feet on the bed frame.

So that’s what Chase threw at me. I hoped she Proxied her own spells and was barfing from the pain.

“Honestly.” I gave him a serious look.

He smiled. “I don’t think you and I are close enough for

that

much honesty. You’ll just have to trust that I’m fine enough.”

“That’s fair,” I said. “How is Tomi doing?”

“The bait? She’s had a bad time of it. We did what we could to take away the memories. Someone’s staying with her to help her heal. There’s a cover story about a hell of a bender, drugs, too much cutting. Blood magic. Bad crowd. That kind of thing. Not all that unusual for a Hound, eh?”

“No,” I said. The sudden reality of what being a Closer really meant sent shivers down my back. How many times had I woken up not remembering? How many times had I blamed it on drugs, booze, magic? Was there something else I should have blamed it on? Someone else? Closers. Chase? Zayvion?

“You Close Hounds?” I asked.

Shamus tipped his head to one side. “Don’t tell me this is the first time you figured that out.”

“Yes. How often do you Close Hounds? Whom do you Close? Have you Closed me? Have you taken my memories?”

Shamus held up one hand, his black fingerless gloves making his fingers look ghostly pale. “

I

don’t Close anyone.

I

am not a Closer. Death magic, remember?”

“Who?” I demanded. “Who Closed me?”

“Listen, love,” Shamus said with a hard smile. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but I have no fucking idea. You weren’t even on my radar until a couple months ago when Zayvion went head over shit kickers for you. Well, I did harbor a bit of hate for you, seeing that your da killed my da. Other than that though, I didn’t care you were alive, much less who might be Closing you.”

I just sat there and blinked. It was cold water to the face. These people-Shamus, Maeve, Zayvion-did things to people, made choices without the advice of law or courts. They had probably done things to me.

“Scary, ain’t it?” Shamus asked when I was quiet a little too long. “This secret magic shit is crazy stuff. The things we can do to try to keep people and society safe. Most all of it is in good intention too; that’s honest. If it helps any, I can ask around. You’ll be on the files if you’ve been Closed. I can’t access the files on that, but I can talk to Victor about it. See if he’ll release some information.”

“Do they ever tell someone if they’ve been Closed?” I finally asked.

“Tell someone? Darlin’, haven’t you been paying attention? We can do anything. Tell you if you’ve been Closed. When and where and why. Or-this is a possibility-give you back your memories if the person who Closed you is willing. It’s not so easy as clicking your heels and everything snaps back into place, but it happens.

“You won’t believe this, but sometimes people want to leave the Authority, and so their time here is Closed. Then sometimes they wander back, and their memories are Opened. Just like new.” He stuck out one hand and made the so-so motion. “More or less.”

“Is that your pep talk?” I asked.

“Not mine so much, no. Standard-issue. Drag it out whenever the situation calls for it. Did it work?”

I rubbed at my eyes and tried to let go of my anger and fear. If they had Closed me, I’d find out. First, I had to survive the test. I pulled my hands away from my face. “Let’s pretend it did,” I said. “So Chase pushed to get me tested tonight?”

He nodded, his eyes wide. “Woman is chewing glass and spitting sparks over what she thinks you did to Greyson. You remember that part, right?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“No one Closed you,” he said. “By the time I got there, Zayvion and Chase were yelling to bring the roof down. Neither of them got in your head. I made sure of that.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said. “It’s a serious thing what went down there. Greyson. You.”

“I didn’t do anything to Greyson.”

“No? Just coincidence he was there? That he used the Hound girl for bait to lure you? Made her open the gates with the other Hound, Davy, and release the Hungers? You did notice Greyson, he isn’t exactly human anymore, right? Oh, and one of your da’s disks is crammed in his craw?”

“Listen,” I said. “He tried to kill me. Three times. Of course this wasn’t a coincidence.”

Shamus was good at hiding his body language, but from the subtle tensing in his shoulders, I knew that Greyson trying to kill me was news to him.

“And I didn’t do anything to him. He killed my father.”

“Is that true?”

I nodded.

“So you think your father implanted the disk and converted him to a Necromorph?”

“No.”

“Come on, now. Don’t be dense. It’s your da’s disk. Who else has access to the disks? And you say he killed your da. Two and two. It adds up.”

I shook my head. “He was still a man when he killed my dad. He didn’t have the disk in his throat.” I dug for the flash of Dad’s memory that I had seen, of Greyson standing in front of him with a knife and a disk in his hand.

“I find myself potently curious as to how you know this,” Shamus said.

“My dad told me.”

We stared at each other for a minute or so.

“In your noggin?” he finally asked.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” That was it, nothing more.

But my head was spinning. I had assumed the stolen disks had been used on Greyson. But Shame brought up a very good point. There were other people who had access to the disks. People like my father. And people who worked for my father. People like Violet and probably even Kevin.

So it could be a stolen disk in his neck, and stolen disks being used to open the gates. Or it could be someone inside Beckstrom Enterprises was supplying them.

Is that why Dad said Greyson would hunt Violet?

Shamus shifted his feet on the bedframe. “We do have Greyson contained. Off the street, thanks quite a bit to you. That’s a problem we’ve been trying to take care of for months. I’m sure someone will figure how to get in his head and pull the truth out of him. Find out who morphed him.”

“I don’t understand why anyone would even want to do that,” I said. “It’s dark magic, right?”

“Very. With technology to bolster it. Bad shit.”

“Why mess someone up like that?”

He took a deep breath and leaned back so he could stare at the ceiling. “I forget you haven’t read the history.” He was quiet a minute.

“Basically,” he looked back down at me, “magic has always been around. It took mankind a long time to discover it, and even longer to learn how to access it. Lots of hints of that show up in the history books if you know what you’re looking for. We, the Authority, have mostly covered up the reality of magic until about thirty years ago, when your da and a few of his cronies went public with the ‘safe’ technology to access magic.

“Magic is a natural part of this world. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Some ways to use magic are still kept secret from the general population. Death magic, for sure. Blood magic to some degree, and lots of ways magic can be used aren’t taught-dark magic especially. Those college classes that teach how to use magic for business, counseling, medicine, construction, the arts?

“Who do you think developed those courses? The Authority. Who do you think teach it in the universities? Mostly members of the Authority. See, once your da let the devil out of the bag, damage control was the best the Authority could do.

“It’s worked okay. Some people who were dead set against magic being used by the general public changed their tune. Making magic available has helped the world more than hurt it. So far, anyway, and so long as the Authority keeps a close eye on what ‘advances’ are being released.” He shrugged.

“And making someone into a beast is an advance?” I asked.

He held up a finger. “Getting to that. So magic is bright, right? It casts a shadow when it’s used. And that shadow contains magic too. That shadow is a twisted version of magic-dark magic.

“Dark magic can do very bad things. That’s why it’s forbidden. But making something forbidden only means it gets used in secret, which is why some people think dark magic should be sanctioned, taught, and regulated. The price for using dark magic is death, so that goes a long way toward deterring users. Still. .”

He shook his head. “People, right? Crazy. Anyway, dark magic is used sometimes. Not often, because, well, it’s sort of hard to access. Like catching a shadow. But just like magic casts a shadow, so does life. Life’s shadow is death. You still with me?”

I nodded.

“So for a long while, dark magic was rarely used. But your da opened the door to experimentation with the rules, changed centuries of tradition. Gave people ideas. Wasn’t long before someone discovered where dark magic was most plentiful: in death. All you had to do was find a way to tap into it, and just like sucking magic out of the ground, dark magic was at your fingertips.

“Frank Gordon gave it a go, and tried to reanimate your dad’s corpse to open the gates between life and death.”

“Why?” I asked. “Don’t we have enough trouble dealing with light magic?”

“I think it’s all about control, who has the most magic at their disposal, and who can keep it that way.

“But legends say that a man who can walk between life and death will be immortal. Maybe that’s what Frank was trying with your dad. Maybe that’s what someone is trying with Greyson, seeing as how he isn’t quite living as a man. Frank’s dead, so we can’t ask him. But now we have Greyson, so maybe we can find out who’s been dipping their fingers in the naughty sauce, and take care of them before this blows into a war.”

Shamus shifted in his seat, crossing one ankle over his knee. He was quiet, letting me absorb it.

That was crazy. Impossible. Half-alive, half-dead magic users. Light magic, dark magic, life and death. Controlling all the magic, all the time. Was I the only one who thought that was a hideous idea? And immortality? Hadn’t that been what my half-alive, half-dead dad had told me he wanted?

Okay, even though it was crazy, it could also be true.

I rubbed at my eyes again, hoping this might be a dream and I might wake up and find out that my world was just a world again, that my city was filled with regular people going about regular lives with simple, regular magic that made their shoes look shiny.

“Holy shit, Shame. Are you joking?”

“Dead serious,” he said, and I knew he was. “Frank was on to something, thinking your da, out of all the powerful magic users of our time, might be able to pull it off-life and death, dark and light. Might have done it too, if you and Zayvion hadn’t stopped him. That was probably the one thing that got you the chance to be a part of the Authority, you and Z shutting Frank down. Well, that and Z saying you’re his Soul Complement.”

I didn’t even know what to say about that. About any of this. Okay. Regroup. Back to the problem at hand.

“What happened to Stone?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The gargoyle.”

Shamus’ smile spread into a grin. He looked like a kid who’d just taken a dive into a pile of cotton candy. “Hell of a thing. Awesome. Just.” He twisted his wrists so both hands spread open, palms up, fingers wide. “Magic. Don’t ever get to see that kind of thing anymore. Animation is part of the old ways. Not all that useful, a parlor trick, not much taught. I thought the knack had been lost. How’d you do it?”

“He was already animated, I just, uh. . gave him a boost and set him free.” There was more to it than that. I had used magic on him, and I was pretty sure my magic had triggered something more inside him, like oxygen to a flame. But since I wasn’t sure how I had done it, I didn’t know what more to say. “He’s okay, right?”

“Absolutely. Well,” he amended, “we couldn’t have him rampaging through the house. Knows how to mess up a place. Plus he seemed pretty upset when Mum woke him. Think he was looking for you. She stuck a Grounding Stone on his head to keep him quiet while we figure out what to do with him.”

Great. Now I not only had to survive the test, I needed to make sure they’d set Stone free no matter if I passed the test or not. I did not want him to be trapped here just because he’d come to my rescue.

“You should set him free,” I said.

Shamus laughed. At my look, he sobered. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were serious. I don’t think they’ll let him free. A gargoyle loose in the city? How are we going to keep that under wraps? Plus, he’s too. . interesting, you know?”

“Anyone ask him if he wants to stay here?”

“You do know it’s not really alive,” he said.

“Yes. He’s not really dead either,” I said.

“A lot of that going around lately. That’s part of what makes him so interesting.” He pointed at my head. “Heard you saw Jingo Jingo. Let him look in your attic?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think?”

“Of Jingo Jingo?”

Shamus nodded, his fingers now folded together, index fingers steepled against his lips.

“I don’t trust him and I don’t like him.”

His eyes squinted in a smile. “He think your da’s in there?”

“No.”

“You believe him?”

“No.”

We sat there, neither of us breaking eye contact. I don’t know what Shamus had expected of me. For all I knew he was Jingo Jingo’s ears, a student and spy.

But I didn’t give a flying fig what he told Jingo Jingo. There was no way I could feel good about a person who wore the ghosts of children like a winter coat.

“What’s with all the children’s ghosts around him anyway?” I asked.

Shame blinked. “What?”

“When he uses magic, if you look at him with Sight. You know, those little ghost people attached to him?”

“How hard did you hit your head?” he asked.

“You can’t tell me you don’t see them.”

“I don’t see them.”

“But Zayvion? When he uses magic? Don’t you see the silver glyphs, the black flame. .?” From the look on his face, the answer was obvious.

“I know Hounds use all sorts of things to deal with pain,” he said, “and I’m not going to ask you what you’re using. But you might want to back off it a wee bit.”

“Never mind,” I groused. My tolerance for weirdness had come to an end.

“Is Jingo Jingo going to be a part of my test?”

“He’ll be there. A lot of people will be. Maintaining the Wards. While you’re pushed to your limit to see where you crack.”

“Nice.”

“Think you’re ready?”

“I’m always ready.”

He shook his head. “You are so full of shit.” He pulled his hands away from his mouth. “Zayvion will be there too, you know.”

Something about the way he said it, or maybe his carefully neutral body language, set off my warning alarms.

“Going to talk to me about that?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Just thought I’d mention it.”

There was more to it, but it was clear Shamus wasn’t going to, or maybe wasn’t allowed to tell me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Sure. You should get some sleep.”

“Wait. Could I use your phone?”

“If you tell me who you’re calling.”

“Why? Afraid I’ll call the cops?”

“Like I’d care about that. Just curious.”

“I’m going to ask Nola how Davy is doing. And tell her I won’t be home tonight.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Can’t believe you’re worrying about him with what you have going on in a couple hours.”

“He’s one of my Hounds. That means I look after him no matter what I’m dealing with. Besides, if I screw up and don’t pass the test, I might not even remember him, right?”

“It’s possible.”

“So I take care of him now.” It came out calm, confident, businesslike. I was really glad we weren’t still wearing the disk cuffs, because he’d feel how fast my heart was pounding. He’d know that I was scared and wanted to get the hell out of here and never look back.

He handed me a phone like Zayvion’s. Cased in metal and glass and glyphed to death. “Need privacy?” he asked.

I shook my head and dialed. Nola picked up on the third ring.

“Beckstrom residence.”

Her sunshine voice sent a wave of homesickness through me. Nola had always been there for me when my life was going to hell. This time was different, though. This time I had to do it alone.

“Hi, Nola, it’s Allie.”

“Allie, honey, I’ve been worried about you. Where are you?”

“I’m at Shamus’ mom’s place; she runs an inn.We’re talking business and investments. I’m going to stay late, maybe even overnight to finish up some things. How’s Davy?”

“I got a call from Sid Westerling a couple hours ago. Davy’s in ICU. He’s in critical condition, but stable.”

“Are any of the Hounds staying with him?”

“Sid said everyone’s gone home for the day, but they’re going to take turns looking in on him tomorrow. He also said they’ve done what they can to contact his parents; they don’t live in the area.”

“Okay, good. Any luck with Cody?”

“Yes. I got the call today. They’ve approved his release.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise. As soon as Zayvion had Closed him, Cody was free to go live three hundred miles away on an extremely magicless farm.

“I’m going to go pick him up in an hour or so,” she said.

“Alone?”

“Paul, I mean, Detective Stotts is going to go with me.”

“That’s really great, Nola,” I said. “Are you heading right back to Burns?”

“Of course not! You and I have hardly had a chance to talk since I’ve been in town. You’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

I glanced at Shamus. He didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to the conversation. And since he was not a Hound, he might not have heard what Nola asked.

“Hang on.” I palmed the phone. “Think I’ll be home by tomorrow night?”

“Who knows?”

I drew the phone back up to my ear. “I’ll try to be home tomorrow. If something comes up I’ll call.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Yes.” I put as much cheerfulness as I could into that lie. “I’m great. Just trying to take care of something for the Hounds. I’ll be home soon, promise. Please ask Sid and the other Hounds to keep you up-to-date about Davy, okay?”

“I already have. Take care.”

“I will. Bye.” I hung up. I hated lying to Nola, but didn’t want to worry her. I handed the phone back to Shamus. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He tucked the phone in his pocket and headed toward the door. “Get some sleep, if you can. You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”

“Shamus?” I asked before he was out the door.

He turned and looked at me.

“You did this, right? The test? And came through it okay?”

“I did something like this. But you’re different, Allie.” He gave me a tight smile. “Lucky you.” He turned out the light and shut the door.