circumstances. If you were bringing me in to see if someone had cast a spell to purposely change the flow of magic in the well, I didn’t see anything that could accomplish that.”
She visibly exhaled. Oh, she had been very, very worried about what I would find. And that worried me. If she thought it was that likely someone would come in here and mess up the well, I was more than a little terrified at their security measures.
“It’s a start. Thank you.” She strode across the room to the staircase, and Zay and I followed.
“Did you think someone broke in?” I asked.
“No, but not all members of the Authority have the same agendas. There is always the chance someone has played their hand.”
Why can’t the secret, powerful magic users all just get along?
“The meeting is at ten o’clock,” she said. “Upstairs. I want all three of you there.”
Shame scoffed.
“Yes, even you, Shamus Flynn. You’ll not shirk your duty this time.”
This time? That sounded interesting.
Still crouched in the center of the room, Shame straightened, then strolled toward the stairs. He wasn’t looking at his mom, or at us. His eyes were on Greyson. And Greyson’s eyes were still on me.
Shame frowned, tipped his head to get a better angle on Greyson’s gaze. Followed it. Right to my eyes. Raised his eyebrows when he found Greyson’s gaze ended at me.
Yeah, I didn’t like it either. And the less time I was in Greyson’s eyesight, the better. I turned and walked up the stairs.
Weird, weird, weird.
Only my tennis shoes and Maeve’s boots made noise. Zay was Zay. Silent. Brooding. When he carried himself like that, he was a force, a darkness, a power.
I was glad he was on our side.
Once at the top, Maeve called down to Shame. “Come up, now. Jingo Jingo will be by soon to look in on Greyson. I don’t want him to find you poking at that cage.”
More stairs, and some doors; then we started down the hall.
I rubbed at my arms, trying to banish the image of Jingo Jingo with Greyson.
“Why is Jingo coming by?” It was none of my business, and I really should learn to shut my big mouth and let the senior members of the Authority deal with the big problems. Like the storm. Like the well. Like Greyson.
“He has been working with Greyson. Trying to diagnose exactly how Frank Gordon implanted the disk.
Trying to see if there is any mercy in breaking the spells worked into him.”
“You mean trying to turn him back into a man?” I asked.
Maeve gave me a look that said more than words ever could. “He is trying to find a merciful answer to the question of him,” she said.
Shame clunked up behind us. For a man who had just been moving silently across the marble floor like it was made of thin glass, he sure could make a lot of noise.
“Chase been by?” he asked.
Maeve frowned. “I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Huh,” he said, then, “Anyone else thirsty? All that hard work watching Allie Hound deserves a beer, don’t you think?” He moved past his mom, and exchanged a short glance with Zayvion.
I didn’t think the two of them could actually hear what the other was thinking, but I was positive they had a secret code. Zay had even hinted as much, saying he always knew when Shame was up to trouble.
And that look had been more than just a look.
“Ten o’clock, Shamus,” Maeve called after him.
“I heard you the first time, didn’t I?”
Maeve tapped one fingertip against her lips, and watched him go. “He knows something,” she decided. “Is up to something. Zayvion, you’ll watch that he doesn’t stir too much trouble, won’t you? I do not need any more problems right now.”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said mildly.
“When that son of mine gets a wild idea in his head, it never ends well.”
She sounded angry, but her body language said more. It said she was worried. Worried she was about to lose something precious to her. Maybe her son.
“He’ll be here tonight,” Zay said. “Sober. He knows this isn’t a game.” I wondered how many times he’d told her that over the years.
“Terric will be here,” she added more quietly.
“He knows.”
Maeve brushed her hair back again. “I thought as much.” She shook her head. “Well. What will be will be. I’ll see you both this evening.” She strolled off, her bootheels clacking across the old wooden floors.
The moth-wing flutter scraped at the backs of my eyes, pressing harder, insistent. It made me think of Greyson, of him watching me, wanting me and my dad in me. I swallowed and tasted wintergreen and leather-my dad’s scents. Great.
I suddenly really wanted fresh air, a shower, hells, to be anywhere but here right now.
My creep-out quota for the day was officially maxed.
“I need air.” I strode past Zay, not waiting to see if he followed. It wasn’t exactly tactful, but he’d watched me fight my claustrophobia before. Stayed out of my way. Boy had smarts.
Maeve had turned the opposite way down the hall, so she wasn’t in my flight path either. I took the first opening I could and walked right out into the main dining area again.
The noise was up, every table filled. The smell of food and drinks and people-perfume and soap and cigarettes-closed in on me.
Out more. I needed much more out more.
I did not run, because I am composed even in full-throttle panic mode. But I made quick work of that room- long legs had their use-and straight-armed that door open.
The evening wind hit like a sharp slap to the face, and I inhaled a huge lungful of cold, misty air.
I didn’t stop at the porch. There was too much roof on the porch, too many railings around the porch, too much building behind the porch. I clattered down the stairs, and jogged across the gravel, looking for out, for space, for air.
“Afraid of the dark?” a voice asked from one side of me.
Okay, yes, I was freaking out from claustrophobia. And yes, I was already a little freaked-out over the whole cold-magic weirdness and empty well. Add to that Greyson staring at me out of his magic-blocked and warded cage, and my dad, or maybe only half of him, shuffling around in my head-or even better, him spending time-shared brain space with Greyson-and what I really needed was just a few seconds of normal.
Instead, I got Chase.
“Chase,” I said, relatively calmly too, considering. “Did you hear about the meeting tonight?”
Zayvion’s ex-girlfriend was nearly my height. If I had seen her walking down the street, I’d think she was a model, not a Closer. Her pale skin was almost luminescent in the low light, and her eyes belonged to a cat, framed by the blunt wedge of dark brown bangs. I’d never seen her use makeup, not that she needed it. I’d never seen her dress in anything other than jeans, T-shirt, and flannel.
Tonight was no different.
“I heard about it.” She took a step toward me, her hands very obviously held with fingers spread, as if she was looking for a spell to grab hold of.
A sound behind me made her look up. She bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile. And not a very pretty one.
“Hello, Zayvion. Still babysitting all the troubled children for Mommy Maeve?”
“I do what I can,” he said. Unconcerned. Zen. “Are you done running away?”
“Running away from what?”
“Greyson.”
Chase held very still. Something moved across her eyes, a shadow, sorrow, pain. Maybe fear. Maybe hope.
