The rain, at least, had arrived. How much longer until the wild-magic storm hit?
Shame, drenched, squatted on his heels next to me, one hand on mine, the other releasing my chin. He smelled of sweat, blood, cigarettes, and fear.
On the other side of me, of Zay’s prone body, was Terric. I thought Shame looked bad. Terric sat tailor-style, his hand still on mine. His head hung so that his heavy hank of shock-white hair fell over his left shoulder. And his hair was sticky, wet with more than just the rain. He did not look up, did not move. If I hadn’t felt his heartbeat at my wrist, I wouldn’t have thought he was alive.
“Stone?” I asked.
Shame shook his head. “I don’t know.”
I looked over where Greyson had been. Where Chase had been. Where Stone had been.
Nothing. They were all gone.
“When I got here,” Shame said, “it was just you and Zay and Terric.”
“We need to find them,” I said. “They can’t just do this and disappear. I want them dead.”
“First Zay,” he said. “Then we find them. Then we make them dead.”
Rain fell in a steady stream into his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice. There was a darkness in him that burned hot, strong. A killing hatred.
I liked it.
“Do we carry him?” I asked. The very mundane mechanics of getting Zayvion out of the rain and safe were suddenly more complicated than I had the brain to handle. Using magic, all that I had, all that they gave me, had left me weak, shocky, and not thinking straight.
Of course Zayvion dying might have something to do with it too.
“No,” Shame said. “They’re coming.”
And it was like magic words. Because I suddenly realized there were people walking toward us through the rain.
Even in the low light, even through the rain, I could make them out. Lean Victor, wearing a trench coat and carrying a sword that slicked silver and black in the rain. Next to him, tiny Liddy wrapped in an ankle-length coat that kicked open to show the whip she carried strapped to her hip.
The twins Carl and La strode step in step, heads up, moving as if the rain didn’t exist, curved scythes clenched in Carl’s right and La’s left hands. Other people too-short and fit Mike Barham, who wore glowing, glyphed gloves; Sunny, dark, angry, knives in both hands; the Georgia sisters, who each held a staff.
Maeve had pulled her hair back in a stark ponytail. She wore stiletto boots and a leather full-length jacket, two blood daggers strapped to her boots, her hands in her pockets. The hulking mountain of Hayden strolled behind her with a rolling gait, big as the world. I was wrong-he didn’t carry a battle-ax or a cannon. He carried a broadsword over one shoulder and a shotgun over the other.
Last was big Jingo Jingo, wool coat and fedora, his voice a low, soothing murmur, maybe a song, maybe a prayer, as they came. All of them. Toward us. To save the day.
This was not a funeral procession-Zayvion was still alive. This was the cavalry arriving a little too late.
As soon as they reached us, time, which had felt like it slowed, suddenly snapped up to normal speed.
I sat there while voices-while people-investigated spells, checked the area, made plans. I sat there, Zayvion’s heartbeat beneath my palm, while Victor and Maeve and Hayden came over. Maeve helped Shame to his feet, and Victor helped Terric. And lastly, big Hayden picked up Zayvion, like he was a child, and carried him to a gurney, then to a waiting van.
I pushed up on my feet, swayed. It was Jingo Jingo, of all people, who was there for me, his wide, warm hands catching under my arms, holding me upright while I breathed heavily and waited for my knees, my muscles, to start working again.
I would not cry. Not now.
I tried not to think about the ghosts of children who clung to Jingo like a winter cloak. Tried not to think about how much he bothered me. I focused, instead, on his strength-and he had a lot of it-on his warmth and his calm. I focused on his voice, low, soft, comforting.
“There, now, Allison, angel. You’re gonna be just fine. Take a step for me. That’s good. Good. You’re something, aren’t you? Yes. Yes, you are. And it’s gonna all work out. Keep going; you’re fine.”
I did as he said and walked, following Zayvion, because Jingo Jingo was one of my teachers and he was here for me, helping me. Even though he was a freak.
“You’re not gonna have to worry about tonight,” he said, and his words sank into my head and body with the weight and warmth of wine. A spell, I thought. Or maybe I was just exhausted and he was telling me what I wanted to hear.
“You’ve done enough for the night. Kept Zayvion alive.” He said it as if he hadn’t expected I would do it. “Done all you could. More than that. Rest now. Rest.”
And my knees, which were working, suddenly felt like they were made of water. I slumped against Jingo, fought not to pass out, not to sleep.
As he picked me up, I wondered why he had cast the spell on me. And wondered why behind every gentle word, I could sense his fear.
Chapter Fifteen
Voices, talking in hushed tones, woke me. I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling- plaster and dark wood beams-and an unfamiliar, narrow bed. I took a deep breath. The honeysuckle and lemon- polish scent of this place told me where I was.
Maeve’s inn.
The hushed tones were coming from outside the room, the quiet murmur of people nearby. I glanced around the room-or as much of it as I could see from the bed. White plaster walls, window curtained to block all light, small lamp on the dresser in the corner, not nearly bright enough to break the shadows down, and another narrow bed next to mine.
In that bed was Zayvion Jones. Sleeping, I thought. Breathing. Thankfully, breathing.
Medical equipment hooked into him, something that silently flickered with green light, an IV, and a few other things I couldn’t see clearly. Gina Fisher, the Authority’s doctor, had been here to see him.
The reality of what had happened, the fight with Chase and Greyson, hit, and I moaned softly.
“He’s alive.” A voice, Shame’s, from the shadows by the window.
I pushed up, sat. My bones felt hollow, ached, empty of magic. It was a strange feeling, like I had somehow lost a part of myself. Maybe it was just that I couldn’t feel Zayvion, couldn’t sense his emotions, his thoughts. If I weren’t staring at him, I wouldn’t even know he was in the room.
I still had on my shirt, though someone had gotten me out of my jeans and boots and replaced them with something that felt like sweatpants, or maybe pajama bottoms. A cool weight shifted against my breastbone and I realized I was still wearing the void stone.
No wonder magic was so silent in me. Maybe that was blocking it.
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.
Shame shifted in the chair. I couldn’t make out his features in the shadows of the room.
“It’s evening the next day. You’ve been asleep sixteen hours.”
“Zay?” I asked. It was only one word, because I couldn’t get my head around all the other words, and all the fears they contained.
“He’s been seen by the doctors. They’ve done everything they can for him. Medically. Magically.”
“He’s okay, right? He’s going to be okay?” I didn’t like the tremor in my voice, so I swallowed and clutched the void stone in my hand, hoping it would calm my mind along with my magic.
Shame stood, slowly, I noted. He walked over to the foot of my bed, where he sat. Light finally revealed him to me.
I bit down on a gasp. “What happened?”
Shame looked like hell. His skin was pale and greenish, sunk in, all the bones of his face showing through too
