Shame parked in the one spot open in front of the den (lucky bastard) and I went around the block and found parking down two blocks or so.

I turned off the engine. “Zay?” I said quietly as the cooling engine clicked and snapped.

He didn’t open his eyes.

I reached over. Shook his shoulder. “Zayvion?”

He jolted forward, and since he hadn’t latched his seat belt, slammed his hand against the dash, stopping himself from hitting the window.

“Hey, hey,” I said. “It’s okay. We’re in the car.”

He shot a look at me. His eyes were dark, almost completely black.

“Zayvion?” I said calmly. “You need to wake up.”

He blinked hard, shaking whatever that darkness was from his eyes. Maybe he’d been asleep, maybe he’d just shoved himself so far back into that pain that it was a long road back to reality.

“You with me?” I asked. “We’re at the den. For Chase.”

Those words seemed to sink in.

He exhaled and sat back. “I thought . . .” He stared out the window. “We’re at the den?”

“Yes.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Shame?”

“In his car. Or probably up in the den finding someone to unload the hooch.”

“Zay,” I said, “are you—”

“Let’s go,” he said. He opened the door and stepped out into the late-afternoon light.

I squeezed the steering wheel and tried not to hit something. I hated being cut off, brushed off, pushed aside.

He was mourning. Grieving, I reminded myself. He deserved a little time and space. I’d do my best to give both to him.

Today.

Tomorrow was a different story.

I got out of the car, locked it. Zay waited for me on the sidewalk. I stepped over to him. “Let’s get going.”

He started walking, and it was like watching someone rebuild a kicked-down sand castle. With each step, he pulled his shoulders back, relaxed his body language, and moderated his breathing, settling his face into a pleasant neutral expression.

No red in his eyes. No sorrow caught in the corners of his lips, in the shallowness of his breath. The Zayvion that opened the door for me when we walked into the lobby of the building was not the same man who had been sitting next to me in the car. And I didn’t think this Zayvion was anything more than a well-practiced disguise.

Maybe I did need a drink.

We walked across the lobby and up the stairs. The sound of people talking greeted us before we reached the second floor.

That was a new thing. Hounds tended to make a point of being quiet. But it wasn’t the Hounds gathered here. Or rather, wasn’t just the Hounds.

I walked up to the doors and let myself in.

Maybe three dozen people were standing, or lounging on the couches and chairs, talking. Someone had had the foresight to take all the files off my desk in the corner, and, I hoped, lock them in my desk. The wine, beer, and hard liquor were set up by category in the kitchen, and a pot of something that smelled like tomatoes and basil and garlic was simmering on the stove. Platters of finger food were set around in easy-access places.

Zay paused, for just half a second, then fastened a smile into place and strolled out into the crowd.

I watched him work the room, shaking hands, patting shoulders. Finally shook my head. If he wanted to act like everything was both peachy and keen—all the power to him. I wanted a glass of wine.

I walked into the open kitchen area, where Davy was hanging out, eating and talking to Sunny. They both had a beer in their hands, but I didn’t think they’d looked away from each other long enough to actually take a drink. Davy had a soft, almost goofy smile on his face that I’d never seen before, and Sunny’s eyes were bright as she excitedly told him about a band that was coming to town that she really wanted to see, but tickets were so hard to get.

I could tell Davy was already working out who he’d have to blackmail to get her tickets to that show.

Ah. Young love.

I glanced at the wine, chose a red, and poured myself half a glass. I figured I was going to be the driver tonight. Even if Zayvion didn’t drink, I didn’t trust his decision-making skills at the moment.

The wine was bitter and went down hot. I mooched around the kitchen until I found rolls and cold cuts, then made myself a sandwich.

I ate that and watched the people gathered. Zay talked quietly to Victor, who had taken him off to one corner of the room where they could both lean on the windowsills and look out at the city. Zay had somehow scored a beer, and from the angle he tipped it to drink, it was already almost empty.

I could read their lips just enough to know they were talking about Closing, and Bartholomew. Victor seemed to be calmly explaining something to Zayvion that involved “your duty” and “Guardian” and “Authority” and “superior.” Zayvion seemed to be in an arguing mood, and more than once said “no” and “not you” and “it’s not right.”

Shame had commandeered the lion’s share of the couch, one arm across the back, one leg up on the coffee table. To my surprise, he had a can of Coke—not a glass of whiskey—in his hand and was pouring on the smile and charm to a pretty blonde I’d never met.

Terric strode into the kitchen. He’d taken off his coat and sunglasses, but still cut a sharp figure in slacks, shirt, and tie.

“Allie,” he said.

“Terric.” He walked past me and straight to the tequila. He poured a shot, and winced as the blonde on the couch laughed. Shame’s chuckle followed hers, low and naughty. Terric set his shoulders and took the shot back in one gulp.

Interesting. “So who is she?” I asked.

“Tiffany Lowe.” He poured another shot. “She’s in marketing.”

“The Authority has a marketing department?”

Terric half turned and gave me a look.

“Okay, okay. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of the entire thing being run like a corporation.”

“Believe me, it is.” He swigged the second shot, then replaced the shot glass on the counter and pushed it away with his fingertips, his fingers still stretched out, but not touching it. He stood and stared at the empty shot glass while Shame and Tiffany laughed again.

I moved over so I could lean against the counter. Not because I’d have a better chance to stop him from pouring the entire bottle down his throat.

Okay, mostly for that.

“You don’t like her?”

“She is a perfectly lovely person,” he said through his teeth.

“Oh?”

He rolled one shoulder and took a deep breath. Then he picked up the tequila bottle.

“Might want to slow it down, Terric. You’ve got all night to get hammered.”

He poured, but filled the shot glass only halfway. “Isn’t that the damn truth?” he said. He picked up the glass, but did not drink out of it. He did, however, turn and look at Shame.

Shame glanced up, as if someone had called his name. He caught Terric looking at him and raised an eyebrow. Terric just lifted his glass in a toast. Shame frowned but lifted his Coke.

“So she really is a perfectly lovely person?” I asked.

“No,” Terric said. “Not when I knew her. She was the kind of person who would do anything—and anyone—to get what she wanted. And she wanted to be the head of the Authority, a Voice at the very least.”

“So why’s she flirting with Shame?”

“I can’t imagine. He is just the only son of the last member of our local branch who is a Voice—Blood magic too. If she’s harboring a discreet habit of blood and drugs—highly possible considering her past—she just might want to get on Maeve’s good side.” He paused, sipped the tequila. “Or, you know, maybe she wants Shame to get her on Maeve’s good side.”

“And we’re not interfering because ... ?”

“He knows what he’s getting into.”

“Then why are you angry?”

He glanced over me, maybe a little surprise in his eyes.

“Jealous?” I asked. I suddenly realized I’d never come out and asked Terric if he was gay. It just hadn’t crossed my mind that it mattered. But maybe it mattered very much to Shame. Maybe that was part of why Shame didn’t want to be around Terric.

The surprise faded away to annoyance. “I’m not jealous.” That was a lie, but I could tell he couldn’t admit it. “I’m glad he’s happy—my God, I haven’t heard him laugh in weeks. He’s barely smiled. . . .”

Shame chuckled again and leaned in toward Tiffany, as if whispering a secret. Terric swallowed another mouthful of tequila, his gaze burning with heat, fixed on Shame.

“I just want . . . it’s not like I’m asking for his undying devotion,” he said. “But it’d be nice if he didn’t make me feel like I was a dirty inconvenience.”

“He asked Mikhail to heal you,” I said. “When he thought he was going to die if Mikhail possessed him, he only thought about you, Terric. That doesn’t sound like an inconvenience to me.”

“You think he did that for me?” Terric gave me a wry smile. “He did that for himself. For his guilt, his failure. He wasn’t thinking about me. When Mikhail touched me, it marked me. Changed how I can use magic. I can handle some of the”—he paused, realizing that talking in a normal tone was practically shouting when you were around Hounds—“other spells that used to make me sick. But it’s not like it made it so I could take over for Zayvion.”

He meant take the job as Guardian of the gates and use both light and dark magic, something Terric had once trained for.

“The real good that seemed to come out of it is when I’m around Shame, I think it eases his pain. He won’t admit it. Since being around him also makes me feel better, he won’t have it. And now he can sleep easy knowing he sacrificed his own health so I could be repaired from him attacking me all those damn years ago.” Terric knocked back the rest of the drink. “There is no talking sense with him. No getting a straight answer, an honest feeling, a logical agreement. It is maddening.”

The door opened and I glanced up. Grant, the owner of Get Mugged, came strolling through the door, two platters of food in one hand. So that’s who Zay hired to cater this.

He caught my eye and strolled over. “Hey there, Allie. Quite the shindig you’re throwing. I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?” He grinned and placed the platters of bite-sized quiches and fancy desserts on the counter.

Normally, I’d have tried to find some excuse for Grant not to be here. These people were part of the Authority, and I did not want him getting mixed up with them. But hell, I figured he’d been here when we’d all come licking our wounds from the fight with the Veiled at Maeve’s inn, so he might as well be here with us now.

Plus, he cooked like a frickin’ angel.

“I just found out about the party a couple hours ago,” I said. “Otherwise, of course I would have invited you.”

“No harm done. So—” He gave Terric, who was still staring at Shame, a nice long look, glanced over at Shame, then back to me. “Want to introduce me to your friend here?”

“Oh, sorry. Terric Conley, this is Grant Rhine. Grant owns Get Mugged, and Terric is a graphic designer and friend of Zay’s from Seattle.”

Terric snapped back into focus and finally noticed Grant.

“Pleased to meet you.” Grant extended his hand and Terric took it and shook.

“Nice to meet you,” Terric said.

Shame’s laugh cut off suddenly and I looked over at him. He was glaring at Terric. Terric didn’t look at Shame. He didn’t have to look at Shame. Instead, Terric grinned at Grant, warm, a little sexy, a little drunk.

“It is very nice to meet you,” he amended, holding Grant’s hand just a bit too long. “So what delicious treats have you brought with you tonight?”

Grant smiled. He knew what Terric was doing. Must know that there was some sort of bad blood between him and Shame. Didn’t look like he cared. “Quiche and marionberry key lime tarts,” he said. “So good they’re a class five sin.”

“Class five, eh? Can’t wait to get my mouth on that.” Terric walked past him to get a look at the food, and loosened his tie with one hand.

Grant, his back to Terric, waved one hand in front of his chest, fanning himself and mouthed the word “hot” to me. He tapped the ring finger of his left hand and raised his eyebrow in question.

I shrugged one shoulder. As far as romantic relationships went, Terric was available.

But when I looked over, Shame was still glaring at Terric.

“I don’t know what to try first,” Terric continued. “What goes best with tequila?”

“Besides me?” Grant gave me a wink and turned to Terric. “Anything on that platter should be a nice chaser.”

Terric picked up a quiche and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He chewed, and his eyes widened. “That’s really good.”

“Thank you,” Grant said. “You should try the tart.” He reached past Terric, angling so they stood shoulder to shoulder, and chose a tart for him. He handed it to Terric.

Terric took a bite out of it and smiled at Grant.

“You’re amazing,” Terric said.

“And that’s just my cooking,” Grant replied.

Tiffany, next to Shame, let out a giggle. Shame had scooted over and put his arm around her, his head tipped in toward her, his finger tracing down her chin to the neckline of her blouse.

It was like a game of who could out-jealous whom.

Sweet hells. This was so none of my business. The last thing I needed to deal with was two boys playing underhanded games with each other’s feelings.

I walked away, leaving Shame and Terric to their little flirt fight. Zay was still engrossed in his conversation with Victor. Although I’d classify the conversation as an argument at this point. Zay was holding a very subtle Mute spell between the thumb and finger of his right hand. I could hear them talking, but none of the words were clear. He must have modified the spell with a Distraction to help avert curious eyes without being obvious about it.

Nice piece of magic, that. Especially for an angry man who’d had a couple drinks.

Maeve was sitting down to a poker game with Jack, Hayden, Sunny, and a couple people I didn’t recognize.

Davy had managed to detach himself from Sunny and was instead over by the TV talking with Sid.

I went that way.

“Hey,” I said when I was close enough.

They both nodded and made room so I could stand next to them.

“What I want to know,” I said, “is how much it’s going to cost me to buy my way out of your bodyguard services.”

“Not open to negotiation,” Davy said.

“Oh, I’ll listen,” Sid said amicably. “How much do you think it would take?”

“I’d offer you each a thousand. And an extra five hundred each if you talk the other Hounds into giving it up too.”

“Last time you offered us money it was five times that much,” Sid said.

“I can’t believe I’m having to pay to get rid of protection services,” I said, irritated. “You should be happy I don’t file a restraining order on the lot of you and have you arrested if you’re found in the same city with me.”

“What do you think, Davy?” Sid said. “Fast money.”

“Nope.” Davy tipped up his beer, gave me a hard look. “We are your guards. End of conversation.”

“Sid?” I said. “Tell me you have the sense to realize that if I don’t want to be followed, I will make your trying to do so a miserable experience.”

“I do have that sense.”

“So?”

He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’m with Davy on this,” he said cheerfully. “These people you’re involved with? I’ve done some checking up on them.”

I rolled my eyes. This was exactly what I was worried he would do. “And you don’t like what you’ve found?”

“No. Everything I’ve tracked back to these individuals pans out. Looks legal, legit, common. But my gut tells me there’s something more. On paper, these people are fine. They don’t stand out in any appreciable way. But when you meet them in person, or when you get a bunch of them together all in the same room . . . Well, look at them. They don’t add up. They’re hiding something.”

“Everyone’s hiding something,” I groused. “I don’t know why you suddenly have to get all protective about me.”

“We like you,” Davy said.

“And your money,” Sid said.

“Which I’d be happy to give to you if you’d stop following me around.”

The phone on my desk rang and Jamar answered it. He looked over at me, said “yes,” and hung up. Wondered who was checking in on me.

“Going to tell us who died?” Davy asked, changing the subject.

“Will it get you off my back?”

“No.”

I glared at him. He took another drink of beer, unconcerned.

“Her name was Chase. She was a friend of Zayvion and Shame and Terric. I guess she knew all these other people too, except for the Hounds, of course. Or, at least I don’t think you knew her, did you?”

Davy and Sid both shook their heads.

I shrugged. “I don’t know why they didn’t hold the memorial somewhere else.”

“You don’t?” Davy gave me a pitying smile. “It’s because they knew you wouldn’t say no. You never say no when someone needs something.”

I raised one eyebrow. “You think so, huh?”

“Not that it’s a bad thing,” Sid amended quickly. “We appreciate the place, and we especially appreciate you didn’t say no to the food and booze.”

“Free booze,” Davy added.

“The best kind,” Sid said.

“Enjoy it, boys,” I said, “’cause this is the last free booze you’ll see here in a long, long time.”

For all my grumpiness, everything did seem to be going just fine. People were clumped up in small groups talking, Hounds and members of the Authority mixed and blended as if they’d been gathering like this for years. No one appeared to be fishing for secrets, crossing lines, getting their memories taken away.

Maybe we’d get through the next couple hours without anything bad happening.

A girl could dream anyway.

Then the door opened and Anthony Bell walked in. He paused just inside the doorway as if expecting to be immediately thrown out.

“Fuck me,” Davy growled.

“I invited him to come by,” I said. “Not tonight, and he was supposed to call, but I did invite him, Davy. He wants to be a Hound. And as long as the rules of the den are followed—Pike’s rules—he can have his chance.”

“Aren’t you done defending him?” Davy asked. “He’s a loser, Allie. He’s a nothing.”

“He’s a Hound,” I said in my boss voice. “That means he’s a part of us until he does something to make us kick him out.”

“Killing Pike wasn’t enough?”

I ignored that. Davy and I had rehashed Pike’s death plenty of times. And while I didn’t expect Davy to forgive Anthony, it wasn’t only Anthony’s fault that Pike died. Pike had gone into a dangerous situation without any backup—breaking one of his own rules he set for the Hounds—and had done so even though he’d agreed he would take the police with him.

“I ran into him and his mother this morning,” I said. “She’s nice, Davy. Pike liked her and took Anthony on because he cared about her. She cares about her son. I owe Ant a second chance. And he’s getting one. You don’t have to be around when he’s here. You don’t have to be a part of it.”

“I hate everything about this,” he mumbled over the neck of his beer bottle as he took another drink.

“Noted,” I said. “Leave him alone, okay? I don’t want to see you two within twenty feet of each other.”

“I go where you go.”

“We’ll see. Stay out of my way tonight. This is a pretty open floor plan, and everyone here is a friend. You’ve got good eyes and ears. Use them.”

I walked over toward Anthony, who, once he realized he wasn’t getting kicked out, had helped himself to a Red Bull and some chips.

“Didn’t think you’d show up tonight,” I said.

“Saw Zay’s car outside and figured you’d be here. I called. Jamar said you were here.”

“Next time call me. My cell,” I said.

“All right.” He shrugged. “What’s the party for?”

“Friend of Zayvion’s who died.”

“Who?”

“Her name was Chase.”

He shook his head. “Didn’t know her.”

“She was nice.”

The last word didn’t come out quite as convincing as I’d hoped.

“But you didn’t like her, eh?”

“She was also Zayvion’s ex-girlfriend.” And that pretty much explained it all.

Anthony looked across the room, spotted Zay, who was staring out the window. Victor was still standing next to him, also looking out the window. Neither of them was talking. It didn’t look like either of them had won the argument, but Zay had dropped the Mute and Distraction.

“Ex,” Anthony said. “Right.” He turned back to me. “This a private thing? Want me to go?”

I wanted to say yes, but I was done trying to keep all the parts of my life from colliding. “Don’t go anywhere near Davy. He’ll kick your ass.”

“Got it.” Anthony’s voice was a little quieter, and more serious than I’d heard before. Maybe there was a chance he had learned a thing or two. “Anything else I should know about the people here?”

“Nothing I can think of.”

“Then I’m gonna get some food, okay?”

“That’s what it’s here for. The next Hound meeting—the next real one where we work out who’s covering which part of town and who they’re partnered with—will be Monday morning, seven o’clock. Got that?”

“I’ll be there.”

He finished off his drink and strolled to the stove, where he ladled a bowl full of the soup.

I thought about telling him he should also keep his hands off Sunny, since Davy and she seemed to have a thing going, but hell, he’d figure it out.

I snagged a beer out of the refrigerator and wandered across the room, saying my hellos to a few people while I took a winding route to Zayvion.

I was pretty sure he didn’t see me coming, was pretty sure he didn’t hear me.

Still, before I was close enough that both he and Victor should sense me, Zayvion shifted and gave me a smile over his shoulder. “Hey.”

Victor stirred and turned. “Thank you for offering this place, Allie,” he said, leaning his hip against the windowsill. “It’s . . . refreshing.”

I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Victor since he’d been fired from being a Voice of the Authority for Faith magic.

He didn’t look like he was taking the news too badly. As a matter of fact, he looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. Instead of the perpetual suit and tie, he was wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. I’d never seen him in jeans. He didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep, but the wary edge he carried in his eyes and body language had softened slightly. Maybe getting fired was a good thing for him.

“No problem,” I said. “How are you doing?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Fine, in the long term. In short-term matters, I have . . . concerns over the direction Bartholomew is taking things, but nothing so great I think I should call foul.”

“They fired you.” I said.

He shrugged. “They had to put the blame on someone they could discipline. That someone was me.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“No.” He looked at me, his eyes hard with anger. “I am very much not okay with that.”

“They’re idiots for what they’ve done,” Zayvion said, pretty much voicing my opinion. “I don’t know how I can follow that man. He doesn’t even understand what he’s doing, much less how to use magic—”

“Your job,” Victor said. “Following him means you are doing your job. And your superior’s capabilities aren’t yours to question, Zayvion. You might not like him, but you will do as he says. No matter what he asks you to do.” Here he gave Zay a hard look. This was obviously a point of contention between them. “That is your duty. To follow orders.”

Zay scowled.

Victor didn’t seem to care. “It’s important we get things back on an even keel. This is no time to be questioning our jobs, our duty, or the methods of those who are in charge. This is the time to make sure all the loose ends get tied up and things go back to normal.”

“He fired you,” Zay said quietly. “If you’re not a part of ... it,” he said, to avoid saying “the Authority,” “it will never be back to normal.”

Victor pressed his lips together in a hard line. This had all the earmarks of the argument they’d gone over many times.

“Making hasty and uninformed decisions won’t help anything, Zayvion,” Victor said, though he was looking at me. “You getting angry does none of us any good and it certainly won’t serve your ability to perform your duties.”

“So how about another beer?” I handed Zay the beer and he took it. He was carefully reconstructing his mask of calm again, though I could feel his annoyance. “What’s up with Anthony?” he asked.

“I told him he could come by if he called. He called. He came by. He has lousy timing.”

Zay checked to see where Davy was in the room—still next to Sid, though Sunny had left the poker game to join them. She took Davy’s hand and wandered off to the far side of the room with him. She walked until his back was against the wall, then took the beer bottle away from him. Davy was smiling now.

Sunny stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Thoroughly.

Well, looked like things were working out for those two.

“Zayvion tells me you had your backpack stolen,” Victor said, in a very nice small-talk segue.

I looked away from the lovebirds. “Nothing in there but my gym clothes, so they didn’t get anything. Stupid and annoying, though.”

“Did you track him?”

“What?”

“Did you use magic to track him?”

“I tried. Blew the spell. I wasn’t feeling very well after my meeting with the new boss.”

Zayvion slouched so his hip was propped against the windowsill.

“Have you been using magic much, Allie?” Victor asked.

“As much as always, I guess. Why?”

“I was curious. I heard you had a strong reaction to magic when you saw Bartholomew. Dr. Fisher told me,” he said to answer my unspoken question. “And Zayvion also brought it to my attention.”

That was interesting. Victor wasn’t a Voice anymore, which should mean he didn’t have any sway in the Authority. Or at least no more than any other person. And yet both Zay and Dr. Fisher had gone to him with concerns about me. For Zay it made sense, I guess. Victor had been his teacher, mentor, and boss for years. But I didn’t expect Dr. Fisher to go to him about me.

“We’ve all used more magic than normal lately,” he said. “I wondered if it contributed to your discomfort.”

“Could have.” I walked up closer to Zayvion and looked out the window. “Or it might have been because his right-hand chick is a bitch and took her time to make sure that Truth cut deep.”

“Oh?”

“She put pain in it, Victor. On purpose. And she enjoyed it.”

“Hmm,” he said.

Zay didn’t glance at him, but I could tell this was another part of the argument they’d been having.

I didn’t know what good arguing with Victor would do. He had no more power than the rest of us now.

“Has he assigned someone to your place?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Victor said. “Though I suggested a few people I thought would be well suited to the position.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. “Let’s see what he does, who he chooses.” He drank the last of his scotch. “It will say a lot about him.” He gave me a steady look, glanced at Zay, who had gone back to staring at the city beyond the window, and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to refresh my drink.” Victor placed his hand kindly on Zayvion’s arm, then strolled off to the kitchen.

I leaned my shoulder against Zay and felt the heat of his anger, mixed with frustration and sadness. And, almost like a top note on too many deep scents, his relief that I was there, next to him.

“And everyone says I worry too much,” I mumbled as I slipped my arm around his waist, hooking my finger in the belt loop of his jeans.

He shifted his beer to his left hand and draped his arm around me. “You do,” he said.

“So do you,” I said.

“I hide it better.”

That was true. I stared out at the street, content in his arms, content in this moment, content that he was sharing some of his sorrow with me, holding me instead of pushing me away.

Evening was coming on, the day not yet ready to give up to dusk, but the sunlight gone a deep tangerine orange and gold, cutting yellow edges over the buildings and casting blue shadows below. A few people walked the street, many of them headed to Get Mugged or coming out of it, and I realized once again that Grant had set up a very successful business that seemed only to be getting more popular.

I wondered if he would ever give it up, sell out, turn it into a franchise. I heard him laugh, and Terric chuckle. Things were certainly changing. All of us were changing. It was strange to suddenly notice that I, and my friends, wouldn’t be this way forever. That we might choose paths that took us far away. That we might take paths that meant we’d never see each other again.

Zayvion’s arm tightened for a moment. He might not be able to tell exactly what I was thinking, but he could probably feel my melancholy. I leaned my head on his shoulder and watched the people walking on the street below.

A flash of green caught my eye. I focused on the source, hoping it was nothing more than an odd reflection off a store window, a car windshield, or maybe a camera flash.

But it was a man, wearing a brown sweater and a green scarf and a painter’s cap. He was walking up the block, keeping pace with the rest of the crowd. The green flashed again. He paused, slowed his steps, and pressed his hand against his chest.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Zay.

Zay glanced down. “Asthma attack?”

“He flashed green.” I used my right hand to draw a very small Sight spell, set my Disbursement—muscle aches—and set magic into the glyph. Magic poured up into me and down my arm in a sticky, nauseating wave.

I held my breath to keep from throwing up my lunch and calmly focused on the Sight. A man-shaped, watercolor shadow stepped out of the guy on the street, stretching out of his chest, head, then legs one at a time, and last, his arms and hands. It was almost as if the watercolor shadow had been stuck inside and had grown too large. Like a crab shucking its shell, the shadow—the Veiled—pulled completely free and walked down the sidewalk, not exactly solid, but less insubstantial than before.

“Do you see that?” I asked.

Zay had also cast a quick Sight spell. “It doesn’t look solid.”

“It’s not just a ghost either.”

The Veiled strode up the block, then paused. It turned, looked straight at the den—straight up at Zayvion and me. And then it started toward us.

It got halfway across the street before it faded from sight, both magical and mundane.

“Um,” I started.

Zay pulled away and strode across the room. A few people looked up as he passed. He walked out the door and I was on his heels. He took the stairs—faster than the elevator—and so did I. Within a second or two I heard more footsteps. Davy, for sure. After a floor, someone else.

Zay took the lobby in a few strides. I jogged to keep up. Once we hit the sidewalk, Zay poured magic in a very precise Sight spell.

I paused beside him. I wasn’t feeling very well. That Sight I’d cast made me feel like I had a horrible case of motion sickness. And pounding down the stairs hadn’t helped any. I was going to lose it. I jogged to the bushes and weeds on the corner and retched.

Good-bye, wine. Good-bye, lunch.

The breeze pulled over the back of my neck and across my bare arms. I sucked down lungfuls of it, trying to get the cold to settle my stomach. My right arm itched. It felt like hot oil was trickling down every line of magic there, scratching me bloody and leaving behind a hot, uncomfortable, cramping sensation.

To sum up, I was feeling fresh as a tulip, thank you.

“Need some water?” That was Davy.

“Napkin?” I asked. He produced one from somewhere, and I used it to wipe my mouth with shaking hands. I felt like I’d just been kicked in the gut by the worst and fastest flu ever. As I straightened, I was no longer nauseous. Even the pain in my arm was already easing.

Weird. Really weird.

I blew my nose and wadded the napkin up in my fist. Then I stepped back and looked around.

Zayvion was up on the corner past Get Mugged. He seemed to be smoking a cigarette. He didn’t smoke. So, that was an Illusion. I was surprised to see Anthony across the street, where we’d last seen the Veiled, and walking up to the next block. What was he doing out here?

“You do know we have a bathroom,” Davy said.

“What?”

“You could have puked there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Zay, avoiding, I noticed, looking at Anthony. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I thought I saw something out here. Zay decided to check it out. Let’s go see what he says.”

“What sort of something?” Davy asked as we walked. He paced himself to my stride, close enough he could catch me if I stumbled, but far enough away that his shoes wouldn’t get dirty if I got sick again. He was a pretty smart young man.

“I don’t know. A flash of magic I’ve never seen before.”

“Maybe a new ad?” Davy didn’t pull Sight, but he took a closer look at the buildings around us. “Art? They’re doing those magic art walk shows all the time now.”

“Maybe.” We passed in front of Get Mugged and I peered through the window, looking for flashes of green. Nothing.

I inhaled the deep burnt-chocolate scent of coffee and it didn’t bother my stomach at all. Other than the lingering heat radiating off my arm, it was almost as if I hadn’t been sick.

I stopped next to Zayvion. “Hey.”

He threw down his cigarette and rubbed it out with the toe of his boot. That motion was mostly just to cover him letting go of the Sight and Illusion and whatever other spells he’d cast that he didn’t want people to see. Worked pretty well. I don’t think anyone on the street would look his way twice, though I knew Davy saw right through it.

Zay turned, his eyes filled with the gold fire of magic use, and put his arm around me, tipping his head in close. We started back toward the den. “You feeling okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m okay now. Well?”

Zay kissed my temple gently. In that touch, that intimate contact, I could tell he hadn’t found anything, hadn’t felt anything, hadn’t seen the Veiled.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t there, couldn’t maybe still be there on the street. The Veiled were the leftover bits of dead magic users. Ghosts who wandered the city, and usually weren’t any problem. But recently, they’d become more than a problem. Leander had crossed over into life, and then he had found a way to use the experimental technology my father had made—disks that could hold magic and let the user access that magic without a price—to make the Veiled solid. And when dead fragments of powerful magic users came back to life, they tended to be angry. The last batch had tried to kill me, and my friends.

Luckily, there was a swift way to deal with them—remove the disks from their necks and drain the disks of magic. Disks weren’t easy to recharge, and as far as I knew, Leander didn’t know what spells it took to do that. Without the disks, the Veiled were insubstantial ghosts.

But the Veiled I had seen just a few minutes ago didn’t seem to have a disk in its neck. It had stepped out of a man. That was something new.

Davy lingered a moment, looking up the street after Anthony. Then he shook his head and followed behind us.

“So?” Davy asked. “You see anything, Zay?”

“Not really.” That was mostly the truth.

“I’m getting pretty tired of you two keeping secrets from me,” Davy said. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m on your side?”

“What side are we on?” I asked.

Davy shrugged. “Don’t care. Just can’t keep an eye out for you or for danger if you don’t tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Beer,” Zayvion suggested. “You should be looking for beer. Because that’s all I want right now.”

We started up the stairs, and Davy did not take the elevator, which meant Zay and I had no chance to talk.

Once we reached the second floor, the sound of everyone talking and laughing washed out into the hall, and I decided I didn’t care. So I’d seen a Veiled. They were all over the city. Yes, it had appeared to be inside someone, but we saw no sign of a dead body, or the man actually being harmed in any way. Maybe it was just one of those things where the living and the dead were accidentally occupying the same space at the same time, and somehow, temporarily, merged.

Whatever. I wanted some tea to settle my stomach.

We walked back into the room. The party had gotten a little louder. The poker game had gathered a few onlookers, and the pile of cash in the middle of the table was respectable. Only three people were still in for that hand—Jack, Jamar, and Maeve.

Victor was sitting with some people I didn’t know. He had refilled his glass, and looked comfortable.

Shame stood behind his mother and was dividing his time between watching the poker game, with his arm around Tiffany’s waist, and glancing over at Terric.

Terric must have had another shot. Okay, maybe two. His tie was off, tucked into Grant’s back pocket and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing glimpses of his very toned chest and stomach. Grant and he were across the room from the poker game, near my desk, both standing, though Terric leaned against the wall, probably for support. Grant had a beer. Terric was grinning and describing something using a lot of hand motions to get his point across. Whatever he was talking about, it looked dirty.

I glanced at Shame again, and he didn’t look angry. No, when he looked at Terric there was concern and a kind of compassion I hadn’t ever seen in his eyes before.

He caught me staring and just held eye contact with me, not explaining, not ignoring. There was a sort of pained reluctance to that look, as if he were trying to make a decision and having a very hard time of it. Then he turned his attention back to the poker action.

Terric laughed. Shame shook his head and slid a smile his way. Terric had the kind of laugh that was contagious, and I found myself smiling too.

Maybe the two of them, Shame particularly, would get it through his thick head that they were both pretty good guys who could have a decent friendship, if they’d just forget about the Soul Complement angst.

“Stop babysitting.” Zayvion pressed a cup of tea into my hands.

Aw, I hadn’t even asked for tea. I took a sip. Peppermint. Even though I am a coffee drinker, my stomach probably couldn’t have handled much more than this. “Thank you,” I said.

He nodded once toward the poker game. “I’m gonna get in on the next hand. You want to play?”

I shook my head. “You bring home the money, baby. I’m going to drink my tea.”

Zay hesitated a second and took in the whole of the room as if just now realizing it was filled with people. His gaze held a moment on Terric, and then he looked at Shame, who was convincingly entranced by the cards.

Zay walked over to Terric.

Oh, I was not going to miss this. I walked that way too, hoping to catch whatever Zay was going to say to Terric.

Unfortunately, Zay just said hi to Grant and exchanged small talk about the great job he did catering the event.

I found a comfy spot on one of the oversized leather chairs and drank my tea. Zay, having finished his sudden need to be social, with no more than a “How’s the tequila?” to Terric, and likely had also satisfied his curiosity of what was going on between Terric and Grant, strode over to the poker table.

Tension was high as the last hand was called.

A cheer roared out from the crowd. Maeve stood and bowed. Shame was quick to help her gather the spoils of her win, and pocketed a wad of it before she slapped his hands away. Then the six chairs around the table filled up with new players, Zayvion among them.

With a room full of Authority members and Hounds and civilians, I did something I never thought I could do. I sat there, relaxed, and didn’t worry about a damn thing.