Magic in the Shadows

Up ahead was a one-story cedar-shingled shop huddled between two higher buildings. It was set back from the sidewalk a couple yards, but seemed to be in good repair. No light reached the walls and the windows were dark. Perfect crack house.

This one? I thought.

Perfect

, he said.

Lucky in every way. That’s me.

I jogged down the short brick walkway to the door and ducked into the shadows there, pressing my back against the wall.

The thing was close. Its snarl echoed from a block away, and I shivered from the sound of it. Not human enough to be a man, not animal enough to be natural.

What do I do?

I thought as calmly as I could.

The snarl came closer, maybe two buildings back. Tracking me.

Clear your mind

, he said.

I thought calm thoughts like my life depended on it. Which, strangely enough, it did.

I recited a mantra, the Miss Mary Mack rhyme, until my racing heartbeat and thoughts slowed, became calm as still water.

Very good

, he said with the strangest tone in his voice. Approval, I think, but I wasn’t sure. I’d never heard him use it before.

Let go of your hands, and I will use them to trace the spell.

What? Use me? My body? Oh, hells no.

I stay in the driver’s seat

, I told him.

Just tell me what to do.

There is no time

He pressed outward, spreading like a heavy ache, reaching into places in my mind I was positive I didn’t want him touching.

No

, I pushed back at him, trying to picture him trapped in a small corner of my head, a small room where he could not get out, could not touch me, could not make me do what he wanted me to do for him. A place where he could talk to me, maybe do charades through a window at me, but not touch me, or take me over.

If you fight me, he will see me-see us

, he corrected.

Just tell me how to cast the damn spell

, I said. Because he was right. We were out of time. The thing, the man-dog thing, had paused, right out there on the sidewalk where I’d been standing a moment ago.

The wind was blowing toward me, which meant he might not be able to smell me. For once luck was on my side, but I didn’t know how long it would hold.

Tell me how to cast Camouflage

, I said again.

If that thing kills me, you aren’t going to have anyone’s mind to hide in anymore.

It is too complicated.

And this time it wasn’t approval in his voice, it was anger. And fear.

Yeah, well, welcome to my life.

The creature hunched his far-too-human shoulders, hung his head, and scented the wind. He moved toward me, on all fours, human hands curled under so only the knuckles touched the bricks, body a tragedy of bone and sinew and maggot-white skin. He looked bigger than before. Stronger.

If you don’t give up

, I said to my dad,

we’re both going to be dead.

I felt him pause, still, as if he held his breath. Felt him decide.

You are right

, he said quietly.

And while I would have crowed in victory at that admission when he’d been alive, staring down my own certain death sort of dampened the thrill.

My dad reached out into my mind and yanked that damn cord again. Pain rushed over me in a wave of fire. The wave, my father’s will, crashed down over me so fast and so hard, I didn’t even have time to exhale my scream.

Both of my arms raised, palms forward-even though I was not the one moving them.

Back off

, I said. I pushed at my dad, built brick walls between us as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t working.

No. Stop. I won’t let you do this to me

, I said.

You have never known when to fight, Allison

, he said. Without my consent, my fingers traced an intricate glyph pattern. All I wanted to do was puke. Watching someone-worse, feeling someone-use me, puppet me around, control me, brought nightmares screaming through my mind.

Oh, hells, no.

I pushed at him. It was like shoving a mountain of sand-lots of movement, and none of it did a damn bit of good.

You have never known the right thing to fight for

, he said, his voice growing stronger in my mind, his willpower blasting apart the walls I scrambled to build, leaving nothing but dust behind. His hands, my hands, traced magic into the air to his bidding. His will sucked at the magic in my bones.

And you have never known what is worth losing to get what you want

With that, he shoved me so hard, I felt like I’d just fallen down an elevator shaft. My body jerked, hit the back of my head against the wall, but I felt it only distantly, as if I’d been huffing nitrous oxide. Dad was doing something to screw with my vision. I couldn’t see anything but blackness. But even at the bottom of an elevator shaft I could still hear, and I could still smell.

The scent of butterscotch and rum filled my nostrils and slid down my throat-the Camouflage spell.

If my dad could shove me out of my own conscious mind, take over my body, and cast a spell, I was on the hard end of a screwing.

Fine. I may not like my father, but that didn’t mean I was stupid. He had the upper hand for the moment, and since it was in his best interest not to let his current ride, aka me, get killed, I hated to admit it, but letting him cast that spell was probably saving my ass. The butterscotch-and-rum meant the spell was in effect. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and let Dad hide us until the beast moved on.

The thing was close. I could smell the foul rot of flesh and death and blood from it.

I held very still, wrapped in darkness, breathing butterscotch, and straining to hear anything, any hint of it walking away.

“Daniel.” The word was low, a growl. “I know you. I smell you. I see you,” it said. “You cannot hide. Your death calls me.”

“Go on your way,” I heard myself command. I could feel the honey twist of Influence my father brought to bear behind those words. “Or I will undo you.”