Magic on the Line (23 page)

“That,” Zayvion said as I bumped into his arm.

“What that?”

He put his arm around me, and I could tell he wasn’t angry, just sort of frustrated and curious. “That drunken stagger you’ve got going.”

I slapped his chest, which didn’t do anything since I wasn’t trying to hurt him, and his ski coat was too damn fluffy.

“I’m not staggering. Or drunk,” I added.

“So?” he asked.

“I can see magic. Everywhere. All the time. It’s just ... distracting.”

“Are you using Sight?”

Oh, right. I hadn’t told Zayvion about this yet. “No. Ever since I tried to use magic, passed out, and gave myself a light concussion, I’ve been seeing magic. All the time.”

Zayvion stopped again. We were on the corner now, the front door to the coffee shop in sight, just a few steps away.

“Coffee?” I pointed at the door.

Zay moved to stand in front of me and put both arms around my waist. “When,” he asked quietly as if we were lovers sharing secrets, “did you pass out and get a concussion?”

Ah. Apparently I hadn’t been doing a very good job keeping him in the loop. “Yesterday. After coming back from the meeting with Bartholomew. I saw a Veiled step out of a woman on the street. And when I tried to cast Hold so I could maybe get a better look at the Veiled, I passed out. I woke up to people calling 911, but told them I was fine. Jack Quinn took over from there.”

“Do you think casting magic made you pass out or was it something else?”

“I don’t know.”

He got that look on his face that told me he’d made up both our minds. I hated that look.

Then he swung his arm around my waist and started us walking back the way we’d come.

“No,” I whined. “Coffee was right there. I could smell it. Can’t you smell it? C’mon, Jones. We’ll do all the magic talking you want over coffee. Please?”

He didn’t answer and didn’t stop walking. The worry radiating from him was the only reason I didn’t trip him so I could get my way. He rounded the corner to the back of the building and I sighed. So close to coffee, and yet so far. I pulled out of his arms.

“Just for that, you are paying for breakfast,” I said.

“Cast magic,” he said.

“No.”

We stared at each other for a minute or so.

“I could order you,” he said.

“Which would make me refuse to do it until they put me in the grave.” Yes, I’m stubborn that way. Zay knew it.

“Allie, I need you to do this so I can watch and see if it’s magic that’s hurting you.”

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.