Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm

Give me back my body! I screamed at him. Yes, like a two-year-old getting her tantrum on.

Shame, in the corner of the room, suddenly stood out of the chair and walked over to the opposite side of Violet’s bed. He tipped his head a little, letting the light under his hood, almost reaching his eyes. He stared at me, at my dad behind my eyes, and his eyebrows hitched up.

“I think he would be upset,” Violet said, still gazing at her belly. “About everything. About me. I’ve made a huge mess of things.”

“Perhaps some things, yes. But not everything. He most certainly wouldn’t be upset with you. And he’d be stunned.” He swallowed-I swallowed, whatever-then said, softer, “He’d be so very thrilled about the baby.”

“Do you think so?” Violet looked up, eyes unfocused but searching for hope, for comfort, for understanding. And I felt my heart, my body, stir with love and desire for her.

Okay: no. I just could not wrap my brain around where this road might lead. I had a complicated enough relationship with her. I didn’t need to mess it up with Dad’s desires.

“I know so,” he said gently. “Trust me, Vi. He is looking down on you right now with nothing but love.”

She smiled. “Daniel used to call me Vi.”

Shame snapped his fingers. “Wow. Isn’t that neat? I have an idea. It’s time for us to leave. Now.”

It was about time Shame picked up on the weirdness. You’d think someone who dealt with Death magic would have caught on sooner there was a dead guy running the show.

“You’re not a part of this family, Mr. Flynn,” Dad said through me. “You can wait.” And I knew he tried to put Influence behind it, because I could feel the twist and pull on the small magic inside me, but I wrapped around that flame, holding it back, far, far out of his reach. The magic, the small magic, stayed with me and Dad was shit outta luck.

Shame chuckled. “No, I can’t wait. And neither can you, Allie. We should let Violet get her rest.” Shame put his hand on my hand and licked his lips, smiling with his lips parted.

I felt it.

So did Dad.

Shame’s hand was warm, almost too warm, his palm slick on the back of my hand. Very clearly, the tingle of something being drawn out through my skin, like a leech had just stuck onto the back of my hand to suck my blood out, or like a really bad Band-Aid rip, prickled my skin.

Dad did not like it. We both knew what Shame was doing-taking a little nip of him. So much for needing magic to draw on energy. I guess Shame could draw on life-or was it death, since my dad was undead? — without magic.

That made Dad angry.

And distracted.

I shoved him with everything I had.

And fell back into myself, a wave of vertigo doing damage to my knees. I had the presence of mind not to fall on top of the pregnant woman.

No, I had more sense than that. Enough that I pulled my hand off hers, Shame pulling his hand off mine at the exact same time. But just before my fingertips left Violet’s hand, I felt the bump of movement in her belly.

“Oh,” she said. “Did you feel it? The baby moved.” Her words were slurring, and her eyes were only half open now. The lines on the monitor jumped again, uneven, ragged.

Somewhere in the center of my brain, my dad raged.

“I did,” I said, my mouth tasting of wintergreen and old leather, and not feeling nearly enough like it belonged to me. “It’s wonderful, Violet.” I tried to smile, but wasn’t sure I did it. “Shame’s right. You should get some sleep.”

Then there were nurses, striding into the room, moving briskly, doing things with the tubes that ran in and out of Violet. They told me she’d be fine, but needed me to leave so she could rest.

I turned and walked out of that room, leaving Violet and my unborn sibling to their care, and took my father and his pain as far away from them as I could.

Chapter Eighteen

Shame and I made it down to the car without any arguments about stairs. I didn’t care if he took the elevator-I needed to stomp, to move, to stretch out and feel my body as my own again. The stairs suited me perfectly.

We made it to street level. I straight-armed the door, and practically ran across the street to the parking garage. Fear, hate, and, yes, anger got me where I was going-anger at my father. For doing this to me. For using me. Again.

I was so done with it. I didn’t care what it took-I was going to get rid of him. He wasn’t going to stay in my mind and use my body, my thoughts, my emotions, ever again.

You, I thought, are going down.

A hand caught my elbow and yanked. Hard. “Slow the hell down.” It was Shame, breathing hard, looking even more like death, if that were possible.

“You are going to get yourself killed.”

A car, horn blaring, rolled down the parkade ramp.

“That car almost hit you. Allie? Are you in that noggin somewhere listening to me? Or is there another Beckstrom I’m addressing?” Shame’s grip was punishing, and the pain cleared my mind.

“I heard you,” I said. “Holy shit, Shame. I am so fucked-up.”

He blinked, gave me a weird smile. “And?”

I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. Zay was in a coma. Violet could lose the baby. My dad was raging in my mind. The storm was coming, Stone wasn’t working very well, and someone out there had disks of magic that could kill us all. I’d forgotten to ask Violet about the break-in, but there wasn’t a herd of elephants that could drag me back into her room right now.

How come I had to be the one to fix everything? How come I had to be the hero? I sure as hell didn’t feel like a hero.

“No hero does,” Shame said.

I must have said some of that out loud.

He tugged my arm again, this time gently, and pulled me into a hug. He was a little shorter than me, thinner than Zayvion-the last man I’d been this close to-but strong, and careful. It was a simple, brotherly gesture. I had to work hard to not cry for the comfort of it.

“You,” Shame said, not letting go of me, “are going to save Zayvion. Not because you’re a hero, or he’s a hero. Not even because you’re Soul Complements. But because you love him, he loves you, and you deserve the chance to be together. Whatever that takes. Don’t give up on him. Don’t give up on yourself. You can do this. All of this. For him. For you.”

I inhaled, caught the deep burn of tobacco on his clothes, the spice of cloves beneath it. Shame was half dead, his heart pounding slow and hard, a slight tremble shaking his body. But he was standing there, giving me the strength he had left. So I could save Zayvion. So this could somehow turn out happily ever after.

“Thanks,” I whispered. It wasn’t enough. There weren’t enough words to say how much I needed him to be here for me, this way, right now.

He let go of me, searched my face. I wiped the tear off my cheek, waited for his approval. He nodded.

“You did notice I didn’t grope your ass,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “You always have to take a good moment out at the knees, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started toward the car. “I just want it on the record when Jones wakes back up. I did not grope your sweet bits. And I had ample opportunity, what with how you were pawing at me.”

“Keep digging, Flynn. Six feet makes a grave.”

We got in the car, and Stone turned his head. He was moving even more slowly.

“Hey, boy. Have a nice nap?”

He opened his mouth and clacked. It sounded like his gears were missing a few cogs.

“That’s okay.” I turned around and rubbed his head. “You rest.”

He put his chin back on his arm. Shame started the car, but I stayed twisted in my seat, petting Stone’s head.

Shame’s phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket. “Flynn.”

I had good ears. But I couldn’t quite make out the words. I knew who the speaker was, though: Terric.

I recognized his voice, and also I knew it had to be him from the way Shame tensed up.

“Where?” A pause. “Unbelievable. Fine. We’re stopping by Mum’s place first.”

He snapped his phone shut and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“I hope you didn’t have plans for today.”

“Other than hunting down Greyson and Chase?” I shifted so I was sitting facing forward again and buckled my seat belt.

“Sedra has ordered everyone to go out to St. Johns.”

“Why?”

“They’re setting up some kind of storm rod, to try to divert as much of the storm as they can and to channel it into one place when it hits. St. Johns, probably because there is no magic there. It’s the one place that could handle a huge blast without blowing out the networks. I have to admit, it makes sense.”

“You’re surprised Sedra is making sense?”

He licked his lips. Stared at traffic for a second or two. “She’s been. . different. I don’t know if it’s the storm, or your dad dying-which, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you-what the hell happened back there with Violet?”

I rubbed at one eye. “I’ve told people he’s in my head. I’ve told you. Jingo Jingo doesn’t believe me, so no one else in the Authority does-”

“Jingo is a one-man freak show. And he’s been lying this entire time about not knowing your dad is in your head. I believe you. After seeing your dad glaring out from behind your eyes? Oh yeah. I’m convinced.”

“Good. Now help me get rid of him.”

Shame shook his head. “Magic. And not even your pretty pink crystal can hold enough for the kind of magic it takes to draw a soul out of a body. Even if the soul doesn’t belong there in the first place. Plus, it will hurt. A lot.”

“I don’t care about the pain. Greyson did it, and I held up pretty well.”

Shame glanced over at me. “Greyson did what?”

“He sucked Dad out of my head.” Should have left you in him. Let him eat you, I thought.

“So he’s really in Greyson?”

“No. He’s in me. And maybe some of him is in Greyson.”

My dad shifted in my head, as if uncomfortable. That was how I knew it was true. Part of him was still in the Necromorph, in the man who had tried to kill him. Who had tried to kill Zay.

Shame was quiet a moment. “You know how you said you were really fucked a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to change my response to ‘and how.’”

“Wonderful. Thanks for that, Mr. Good News.”

“If your dad is in Greyson, or a part of his soul is in Greyson, then you are tied to Greyson through him. He’s spanning two minds, two lives. It makes for an interesting state of being for him. I can appreciate the advantages, though.”

My dad in my head went very still. He listened to Shame like he had just found an expert in the one subject he could not figure out.

Yes, that scared the hell out of me.

“Uh, I’m not sure that you should tell me right now. Dad’s listening.”

Shame laughed. “You are such a creepy girl. Not that I mind. But I just never expected Jones would go for the whole goth-chick-possessed-by-the-dead-guy thing. Talk about Daddy issues. And I’m not at all sure what that says about Zayvion, psychologically speaking. Tell me, does your dad know when you and Jones are, you know, doing it?”