He mustered a small smile, but still hadn’t opened his eyes. “You don’t like your dad’s company.”
“No, but I like Violet and her baby having enough income to keep them out of the poorhouse. Hells, everything I’ve done to get the Hound warehouse up and running was funded by my stake in that company. And my dad is dead. It’s my company now.”
“Like they’d kick you out if I followed you.” This time he turned his head and opened his eyes. Red flashed there again, and I smelled a different scent on him. Something sweet like cherries, but different, muddied by other smells. Magic. That was certain. But whether he was using it, or it was being used on him, I didn’t know.
How long could the effects of what Tomi had done to him last? It would help if I knew exactly what Tomi had done to him, but the only one who knew that was caged in the basement of the inn, and he was not the talkative type.
“Okay, I’ll say it one more time,” I said. “You have to stop following me. There are personal things I don’t want you involved in. Business things that, yes, would get me kicked off the board running Beckstrom Enterprises. These people don’t see you as just a Hound. They see you as a possible information leak. As someone who probably does drugs to kick the pain, and who wouldn’t take much to become desperate enough to sell what you know, what you’ve seen, for your next fix.”
Yes, I was lying. And even though I was pretty good at it, because some of what I was saying was true and I’d been working on a bulletproof explanation for some time now, I was also hoping he was in enough pain, or distracted enough, he wouldn’t scent the lie on me.
“Nice bunch of people you do business with,” he said. His voice was a little stronger and he didn’t seem to be sweating quite so badly.
“Business isn’t about friendships. It isn’t about nice,” I said. “Everyone has their own interests to protect.”
“And you’re protecting your money.” He rolled his head forward to look out the front window. “Sweet of you.”
“No. I’m protecting the people I care about. Violet. My sibling. The Hounds. And that means you, Davy. But so help me, if you don’t smart up and listen to me this time, I am going to report you to the police for harassment, stalking, and anything else that will keep you from getting in trouble. Or getting me in trouble. Do you understand that?”
“I heard you,” he said. But from the set of his jaw, he wasn’t listening. Stubborn, angry young man.
“I should take you home.”
“Thought you had a job lined up with Stotts.”
When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “You’re such a hypocrite. All Hounds need a backup. Those are your rules. Yours. I’m your backup tonight.”
“My backup can’t stand.”
“Since when do you need me to do jumping jacks?” he asked. “I just need to watch. I won’t get in the way. You know I’m good at that.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I want to see what happened to Bea. Want to know what I felt, if I really felt it.”
We were on the bridge now, and traffic was light, since it was pretty late and there weren’t any big games or concerts letting out.
“Please,” he said. “I need to know I’m not going insane. That magic. . that it didn’t screw me up, permanently.” And the last bit was quiet, wrenched out of him like he was angry with himself for even saying it. Or just very, very afraid it might be true.
Magic in me pushed, warmed under my skin, and left a prickly itch behind. The lights on the bridge flickered for a moment, went dark. The magical backup generators for the lights did not kick on.
Davy felt the drop in magic too. He grunted. “What was that?”
Lights, regular electric lights, flicked back on, burned bright.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t. I had ideas. The storm was brewing. They didn’t know exactly when it would hit. They thought we had a few days. They could be wrong.
We were on the other side of the bridge. Davy didn’t say anything. Just waited as I slowed the car, weighing my odds of actually getting him home, out of the car, and locked in his apartment while I used his car to get to Stotts.
Wasn’t gonna happen.
I headed into town.
“Thanks,” he said. He didn’t say anything else until it started raining.
“Wipers are on the left.”
I flicked them on. Glanced at him. His eyes were closed again. Still tired, but the pain seemed to have passed. Maybe the pain was physical. Side effect from his head wound, from his collapsed lung. Appendix or something.
Magic wasn’t the only way people got hurt.
“I noticed Zayvion was there,” he said.
“And?”
“I didn’t think he had an investment in your dad’s business.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” I said. “We have an investment in each other.”
“And Shame?”
“Anyone tell you how nosy you are?”
“No. I usually keep my nosy questions to myself.”
“Shame’s mother owns the inn. She used to know my father. They weren’t friends, but she is a smart business-woman. If you were paying that close of attention, you also noticed he’d had a couple beers. I don’t think he was there to enhance his portfolio. I think he was there for the free booze.”
Davy smiled again. “My kind of guy.”
“Do not make friends with him,” I said. “He’s trouble.”
“And I’m not?”
“No, Davy,” I said, angling the car toward Chapman Square. “You’re a good kid. If you’d work on your pain- in-the-ass tendencies, you’d be real nice.”
“Too bad that isn’t going to happen anytime soon,” he muttered. “Real nice doesn’t get you very far.”
“Real nice can keep you from getting beat up,” I said.
He smiled. “Right. Maybe we should both work on it, then.”
Like I said. Pain in the ass.
The blue and red lights of the ambulance glided over the dark, magic-caged buildings that surrounded the area. I spotted the MERC’s cleanup van, and a few people who might have been Stotts’s crew moving around in the shadows. The ambulance was just easing away from the curb, lights on, but no siren. I wanted to follow it, go to the hospital, make sure Bea was all right.
I briefly considered sending Davy along to do just that, but his eyes were closed. Kid was in no shape to drive. From the pace of his breathing he’d be asleep soon.
Police tape and traffic cones sectioned off part of the park, which as far as I could see was empty. I didn’t know what job Bea would have been Hounding. Sometimes a Hound was hired by the city to make sure there wasn’t any magical mischief going down on city property, but usually Jack took those calls. I searched my memory, wondering if he or Bea had mentioned going to Hound Chapman Square.
“Davy?”
He sucked in a quick breath. I’d just woken him. He blinked, sat a little straighter, got his bearings pretty fast, and glanced over at me. “Yeah?”
“Did Bea or Jack say they were doing the park?”
He looked out the window at the police tape. “No. Not at last week’s meeting. Maybe a last-minute jobber?”
“Maybe.” I parked the car a block away. “Stay here. Get some sleep. I’m going to be right over there with the cops-”
“The cursed cop,” he corrected.
“Allegedly cursed cop,” I said. “Stay here. Do not walk out on that street. Do not drive this car. You are too
