He glanced down at the laptop, then back up. “I know many of you have. . vested concerns in the way magic is made available to the public. Here in this city, and in others. Now is not the time to push those agendas forward. Loss of life has never been the Authority’s goal, and certainly now, more than any other time, a significant loss of life at the hand, influence, or neglect of a member of the Authority would carry dire consequences to any and all involved.”
Threats. There’s a neat way to ruin friendships and attract enemies.
“We’ve put together a suggested list of which businesses and services we’d like members to monitor. It’s been an. . exhausting few days.” He took a drink of water.
“This list isn’t perfect. I’m sure there will be changes. We’ll distribute it in a moment. Are there any questions so far?”
There were. About forty-five minutes of questions, most of them dealing with things I did not understand. It was like everyone had suddenly switched to a foreign language, half of which sounded like it dealt with magic, and the other half sounded like some kind of underground lingo.
“Should I be understanding any of this?”
Zay leaned back a bit. “It’s pretty standard elbowing and power plays for who gets to do what.”
He didn’t look concerned, so I took his lead and passed the time trying to remember names and what kinds of magic the people in the room preferred to use.
The gathered members of the Authority were pretty evenly split between the four disciplines-well, five if you counted the mix of magic and technology my dad had pushed into use.
But watching how they spoke to one another, or more so, how they didn’t speak or look at one another, I could see the tension, the cracks and fractures, between them, divided not by what magic they used but rather by who should use it, and how.
And I found it fascinating-no, frightening-that no one had mentioned that there was the very real possibility that the well was already being affected by the coming storm. The magic in it was being drained-maybe by the storm. Seemed to me that we had two potential disasters on the horizon.
Perhaps that went without saying.
It sucked to be the newest kid in the club. And I hadn’t even earned my decoder ring.
Sedra stood. Everyone watched her, waiting. It wasn’t exactly reverence, but more a shared acknowledgment that she would make the decisions they would all have to live with. For good and bad.
“We will set spells in place to further monitor vital systems and services throughout the city,” she said, her musical voice at contrast with her strict demeanor. “But until the storm hits, we wait.”
You couldn’t have quieted a room faster if you’d shoved a sock in every mouth.
Zayvion looked Zen on the outside, but inside he burned with anger.
“I thought it was agreed we would coordinate our efforts,” he said, his quiet voice filling the room.
“That,” Terric said, “is what I also understood. We would plan for the worst, and meet it head-on. We have time on our side for once. We can plan how to mitigate the magical onslaught.”
With every word Terric spoke, Shamus hunkered into himself, his hands tucked into his pockets, one shoulder hitched as if he could deflect the pain.
Sedra gave both men a cool, emotionless gaze. “Closers,” she said, like it was a dirty word she didn’t want in her mouth, “will need to watch for gates opening, for breaches between life and death. I expect you are willing to do your duty and abide by the wisdom of the Voices of the Authority?”
Voices. She meant the highest-level magic users: Maeve, Victor, Liddy, and Sedra herself. My father too, once, though no one had yet taken his position.
“I will do what is asked of me,” Terric said.
“Zayvion?” she asked. “Will you abide by the wisdom of the Authority?”
Okay, I was starting to dislike her imperious, overly formal, condescending tone. Oh, who was I kidding? I hated the way she high-handed people. I’d watched it over the last couple months. When this woman said
Yes, she was the head of the Authority. But there was something unrelenting about the woman. As if she had to work hard to cover her hatred for everything and everyone around her. And I knew Zayvion Jones, the gate- guardian-do-my-duty-until-death, would bow to her just like everyone else.
“I’ll do everything in my power to keep the city safe,” Zayvion said.
Well, well. Not exactly a “yes, ma’am.” I wondered whether she would let it pass.
“So let me get this right,” Hayden said. The burly giant was standing by the door, arms crossed over his wide chest. If Zayvion’s voice had been loud, Hayden’s was thunder. “No pre-spells, no triggers, no traps, filters, no backup conduits or overload lines? How exactly are we supposed to keep these places, hospitals, prisons, nursing homes, warded from the effects of the storm?”
Victor nodded. “We’ve decided to approach this with as little magic use as possible because of how powerful the storm appears to be. Too many spells and too many members supporting those spells, managing the pain-even with Proxies-will limit how quickly we can react when the storm hits.”
“The big plan here is to wait and see how bad we’re beat before we start fighting?” Hayden chuckled. “There’s a winning strategy.”
Victor glared at Hayden, but the big man just put his hand out, as if to say it wasn’t his bright idea.
“All considerations have been addressed, Mr. Kellerman,” Victor said. “We work together, as we have worked together in bygone times. If we fight each other, there will be consequences that will benefit none of us.”
“Well, then.” Hayden clapped his hands together and so effectively broke the tension building in the room, I wondered if he’d cast a spell. “Sounds like all that’s left is to gut and clean. What part of town am I covering?”
He strode across the room toward Victor. As he passed, people sort of shook off the intensity of the meeting. Smaller conversations cropped up again, and people stood, stretched. Shame was on his feet, and heading to the lunch counter and bar at the back of the room. I turned to watch him. I wasn’t the only one.
Terric shifted in his chair, and stared at Shame’s back. His expression seemed calm, but the tightness at the edges of his eyes, in the angle of his jaw, spoke of restraint. And desire.
Interesting.
Shame slipped behind the lunch counter and dug around for something. I heard the thick clink of beer bottles; then Shame reappeared, three beers caught in the fingers of one hand, the fourth already pressed to his lips.
He lowered the beer, grinned at me, and then strode over, changing his gaze to meet Terric’s straight on.
Boy didn’t run from trouble. That was sure.
Terric stood and walked over to our table. Looked like he didn’t run from trouble either.
Zay turned to face Shame too. Shame was still grinning. Since I was not about to be the only person sitting if this was going to turn into a brawl, I stood as well.
“Allie.” Shame offered me a beer. “You still owe me.”
I took it even though I didn’t like beer.
“Zay.” Zayvion, behind me, reached over my shoulder and took the beer Shame offered.
“Terric.” Shame extended the last beer to him.
Terric took the beer. “Think you owe me more than a beer, Shamus.”
Shame’s heartbeat rose, but I didn’t think the other men noticed. They weren’t Hounds. They didn’t have to live off instinct and the subtle shifts in the people around them to survive.
“Well, today you’re getting a beer,” Shamus said. He tipped his and gave us all a half nod. “To the hunt. To the kill. Till the world stands still.”
“To the hunt,” Zay and Terric said.
I just raised my beer and took a tiny sip. Nope. Still didn’t like the stuff.
“I heard about Greyson,” Terric said.
Shame nodded. “Have you seen him?”
“I just got in a couple hours ago.”
Shame glanced around the room. “It’s not like they’ll let us out of this, but we’ve got a few minutes. Want to see?”
Zay took another drink of his beer. He wrapped his hand around my hip and hooked his thumb in my front pocket, the heel of his hand pressed against my hip bone. This close, I could feel his worry and anger that did not
