He blinked and gave me a disinterested look.
Fabulous.
“I have an appointment to keep.” I started walking to the door. “You going to be okay?”
“Sure.” He didn’t move away from the wall. He just leaned his head back, clenched his hands into fists, and closed his eyes.
“If you need anything, call,” I said.
He didn’t respond. I felt bad leaving him alone in the hall, but I really had to get home if I was going to make it to class on time. And I had some new questions I needed to ask Maeve.
I strolled back out into the building and took the stairs that exited to street level.
It was raining. Hard. I paused under the dubious cover of the building’s overhang and dug my knit hat out of my pocket. Hat on head, I strode across the street, not waiting for the light to change. I caught the MAX light rail train instead of waiting for the bus.
I made it to the bottom of my hill and started up. I finally spotted Zayvion’s car, parked a block away from my apartment.
More walking in the rain. I was soaked, cold, and the wind was picking up. Still, instinct told me to slow my steps before getting too close to Zayvion’s car. Something was wrong. By now he should have at least acknowledged that he saw my approach.
The back of my neck tingled and magic, deep and hot within me, pushed to be released.
A moth-wing flutter on the back of my eyes reminded me that my dad was still there. Not exactly comforting.
I paused beneath an overhang in front of a glass shop, set a Disbursement-a headache again-then drew the glyph for Sight with my fingertip and poured magic into it.
The street filled with the ghostly multicolored ashes of old spells, many dissolving and regenerating-business spells set on cycles or loops as the magic pulsed into them-the price for the constant refresh going off somewhere to Proxy pits and penitentiaries.
A dozen Veiled, men, women, wandered the street, so far uninterested in me. Time to get a move on before they changed their minds.
I used Sight to look at Zayvion’s car. No new spells wrapped it; no ashes of old spells clung to it. It looked like any other magically unenhanced vehicle. And when I looked a little closer, past the car to the single occupant inside, I did not see traces of Wards or traps or trips there.
It took me all of ten seconds. And in that time, the Veiled turned and shuffled toward me.
I hurriedly dropped Sight, breaking the spell and ending the feed of magic into it. The street snapped back into rain and traffic. I took a couple deep breaths, letting go of the adrenaline rush. I did not like having to worry about the Veiled attacking every time I used magic.
, my dad’s voice whispered through my mind.
I thought at him.
Too late for that. Much too late.
I strode the rest of the way to Zayvion’s car, but kept an eye out for nonmagical threats. All I needed was for some whack job to jump me for my wallet.
Nothing and no one stopped me. Even though all I wanted to do was rush into the shelter of the car, I bent and looked through the passenger’s-side window before so much as touching the door handle.
The car was empty except for Zayvion, who slouched in the driver’s seat, his shoulders angled so that his face was pressed against the window. His eyes were closed. I bit the inside of my cheek and watched. His chest rose, fell.
He was still breathing.
The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. Zayvion didn’t stir as cold wind blasted into the car.
“Zayvion?” I touched his arm.
He jerked awake. His eyes, normally dark brown, were flooded by rivers of gold. He’d been using magic. Lots of magic. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his dusky skin was a shade too gray. He looked sick. I smelled the bitterness of exhaustion and the powerful metallic odor of spent magic mixed with his pine scent.
“Allie?” He straightened and rubbed at his face with hands that shook. “Sorry. Tired. Ready?”
I might have said yes if it hadn’t taken him two tries to hold the keys tightly enough to start the engine. This man was in no shape to drive.
“You are not driving.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because I value my life.” I got out of the car and didn’t hear his reply.
I jogged in front of the car and opened his door.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
And I might have believed that if he hadn’t slurred his words.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
Maybe it was the tone of my voice. Maybe it was the look in my eyes. Whatever, Zayvion squinted up at me, then fumbled with his seat belt and finally got it off. He grabbed the doorframe and used it as leverage to get his legs out of the car.
He paused there, breathing hard.
“Shit,” he said softly.
“What happened?”
“Just.” He swallowed. “Bad day at the job.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I reached down and gripped his arm to help him get out of the car. “Is this from magic? Did you kill someone? Close someone?” The memory of the Necromorph who had cornered me, and then the strange shadow magic that had brought him back to life, rushed behind my eyes. I literally shivered.
“Did something attack you?”
“No,” he said. “Sleep. Just need sleep.”
“Well, you’re in luck. My bed’s upstairs. Come on, big guy,” I said as I pulled back to get him up on his feet. “Time to go for a walk.”
I tugged his arm toward me, ducking to put it over my shoulder.
“Walk?” he muttered.
“Walk,” I said, pushing a little Influence behind it. “You need some sleep, so we’re going up to my place. Ready?”
“Influence doesn’t work,” he grunted as he took a step, “on me.”
I’d forgotten that. “Well, how about, ‘Please don’t argue with me, because I can’t fucking carry you up three flights of stairs’?”
He took a deep breath. Exhaled while he spoke. “Since you asked so nice.”
I led us to the apartment door, keeping his arm over my shoulder and my arm tight around his waist. “Are you hurt?” We paused by the door so I could dig the key out of my pocket. “Were you attacked?”
“Just tired. Should pass in an hour or so. Heavy lifting.” He didn’t say
, but I knew that’s what had exhausted him.
“There’s this new thing on the market. Called a Proxy,” I said. “Maybe you ought to try one sometime.” I pushed open the door.
“Did,” he said. “You don’t know. It’s. .” He lowered his voice to mitigate the echo in the lobby. “I am the only one who can do it. Closing. Closed. Like that.”
Well, at least now I knew what he’d done.
“Does it always hit you this hard?” I asked as we walked over to the stairs. “Closing?”
“No. He. This one. Complicated.”
“Who’s complicated?”
