How had my life changed so that I had to say those words before breakfast?
Zayvion put the knife on the countertop, found a clean towel on the linen rack, and handed it to me.
I took the towel, keeping the shower curtain between us. “No blood magic, no lectures, no stabbing, no knives, no nothing until I’m dry and dressed. Get out of my bathroom, Jones.”
Zayvion picked up his knife and walked out of the room.
That was too easy.
I dried quickly, checked that he wasn’t outside the door waiting to jump me, and then went into my bedroom and got dressed. My head hurt, but the chills were gone, leaving me feeling dizzy. I was probably still running a fever, but at least my teeth weren’t chattering.
I found Zayvion at the window in the living room, looking through the curtains. The knife glinted silver- bright in his dark hand. On the round table next to him was the carton of orange juice, some bagels, cheese, and strawberries.
Strawberries in late November. I could get used to this.
“Lon Trager has your blood.” Zayvion turned away from the window.
“I know. I was there when he took it.”
He nodded, as though maybe he was just making sure I remembered it.
Oh. He probably was making sure I remembered it. “And the spell he worked, the one on your leg, will let him draw you to him any time he chooses.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a form of Binding. That glyph-” He nodded toward my thigh. “-and the blood he took from you are connected by the magic in your blood and the magic in the glyph. If he wanted you, there would be nothing you could do to resist going to him.”
My stomach clenched. I was a dog on Trager’s chain. How damn great was that?
“And you know how to break it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Will Trager know it’s broken?”
“What?”
“Will Trager know the Binding is broken?”
“If his blood was on the knife or needle, he’ll know. Blood magic is… intimate.”
I’d bet my boots Trager’s blood was all over that damn needle. Great. Not only did I have to deal with blood magic; I’d need to go get screened for diseases too.
“Let me break it,” Zayvion said again.
“No.”
Mr. Zayvion Jones spent most his time looking like a pretty nice guy. He could do that street drifter, shy- boy smile that tugs the heartstrings, and he could do the unflappable Zen Master bit where his patience seemed endless. But right now, Mr. Zayvion Jones was angry-and he did angry like a caged animal.
“No is not an option.” He took a step.
I mentally set a Disbursement-sweet hells, I’d pay for this-and traced a glyph for Impact.
It was not a spell I liked to use, but it was effective. I held off pouring magic into it. Which was not easy.
Zayvion stopped. “Allie. Don’t think I won’t fight you for this. You’re being stubborn and stupid.”
“You said you trusted my stubborness,” I said. “The Binding stays. And you can leave.”
Zayvion became very still, very quiet, as if all his anger and frustration were being drawn into a deep dark hole somewhere inside him. That was a bad sign. You can’t cast magic in states of high emotion. Can’t cast it when you’re angry or panicked.
Zayvion Jones was cool, calm, and therefore more than capable of casting magic. Like I said, dangerous.
When he spoke, he was frighteningly Zen, frighteningly formal. Controlled. Just like at the graveyard.
“My apologies,” he said, “if I have crossed a line. I am concerned for you and your safety. If Lon Trager is willing to risk Binding you with his own blood, he is willing to harm you. And he will do so. He is simply biding his time.”
Biding his time, I guessed, because I didn’t have Pike with me. But I would. This afternoon at the police station. Then me, Pike, Detective Stotts, and the rest of the police force could go pay Lon Trager a visit. With the glyph that was still on my leg as evidence, I’d charge him with magical attack with intent to do harm. A felony. Jail time.
“I know,” I said. “I plan to use that against him.”
“How?”
“I’m going to the police. The MERC.”
Zayvion tipped his head and narrowed his eyes, as if that weren’t an option he had considered. “And what will you tell them?”
“I’ll show them the Binding. That’s a felony. And it’s my evidence to throw Trager’s ass in jail.”
“Do you really think prison will be enough to hold a man like him?”
“This time, I am the evidence. No one’s going to tamper with that. His conviction will stand.”
Zayvion looked at me, his eyes cool gold.
I looked him right back and said, “Unless you want to come down to the station with me, which I believe the police would like since they mentioned they’re looking for you, you need to go now. Good-bye, Zayvion,” I said. “Don’t forget your coat.”
Zayvion’s jaw twitched, and his fingers rolled into a loose fist. But not to cast magic. I checked.
Just in case I was wrong, I didn’t let go of the Impact glyph.
“No,” Zay said as he reached over to the chair he had sat in yesterday. “I don’t think going down to the station with you would be in the best of either of our interests.”
He picked up something on the seat of the chair and placed it on the table.
A single long-stemmed pink rose.
He gathered his coat and draped it over his arm. Walked toward me. I moved to the side so he could pass, out of reach.
He paused in front of me. “Promise me one thing.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Promise me you won’t take on Trager alone. Stay with the police, do as they say, and you should be fine. If, however, you do meet him alone-” He flicked his hand out from beneath his jacket and offered me the hilt of the thin silver dagger. “Use this to break the skin on your thigh and cut the tip off the outermost line on the Binding. Then pull the magic out of it-all of it. Doing that untrained will hurt like a mother. But it should break his hold on you. Give you a chance.”
I took the dagger with my left hand-the hand I was not holding the Impact glyph with. “Thanks,” I said.
“Thank me tonight, over dinner, after you have returned from talking to the police and not from Hounding down Trager on your own.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
Angry Zayvion, Zen Zayvion, gently touched the edge of my right cheek, where marks of magic whorled. Even though he was angry, mint soothed through me, easing my ache and racing heartbeat.
“Be careful,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose you twice.” Then he walked out of my apartment and closed the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
The silver dagger was so clear and deep, it looked more like white gold, the blade tucked in a simple leather sheath. I pulled it free of the sheath. From the tip of the blade to the rounded top of the hilt were carved glyphs in the same colors as the metallic swirls on my arm. The center of the blade encased a thin
