“He won’t answer.” I stuffed my phone back in my pocket.

“He gets like that.”

“Like what?”

“Closed off. Moody. Angry.”

“You think he’s angry?” I said. “He was just doing his job, right? Isn’t that what you were trying to convince me of back there? This is nothing personal, all in the name of duty?”

Shame drove for a bit, uncharacteristically quiet. “You know how everyone kept saying there was a war coming? That the Authority was falling apart, turning against itself, people taking sides?” He paused. “All the fights we’ve been in, all the hell we’ve been through, all the people we’ve lost—we’ve done it all to keep the Authority together. To uphold the rules, the things the Authority has always stood and fought for.

“But I don’t know how much longer I’ll stand on the side of an organization that tears down the people who were standing in the line of fire, and standing up for those ideals. I might not be able to play by their rules anymore.”

“You sure you want to tell me this, Shame?” I asked. “They could drag it out of me with a Truth spell.”

“What’s a little treason between friends?” he said with a fast smile.

“Don’t do it, Shame, whatever you have planned,” I said. “I don’t want you to be Closed too.”

He shrugged. “What I do or don’t isn’t yours to worry about. And it’s not even the point I was making. I was telling you this so you’d know that’s the way I look at what’s going on right now. We’ve been screwed. By our own people. And there is no way to correct that under Bartholomew’s rules.

“But,” Shame continued, “Zayvion isn’t like that. He would never think the things I’m thinking and would certainly never act out on it. He won’t break away from the Authority and its rules. He’s a good soldier. I’m a good fuckup.”

“Maybe you underestimate the both of you,” I said.

“I think I have a pretty clean bead on this. You might want to decide what, exactly, you are,” he said. “Because if you’re going to stay in the Authority, in Bartholomew’s Authority, you’d better be a lot more soldier and lot less so what.”

“Maybe I’ll just be me,” I said.

“Don’t know if Bartholomew has room in his Authority for someone like you, Allie.”

We were at Zay’s place. It had been a while since I’d been here—I liked my place and he seemed more than willing to hang out with me there.

“Want me to wait?” Shame asked.

“Just until he lets me in, okay?”

He nodded and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

I pushed the door open, then leaned back into the car. “I love him, Shame,” I said. “But I have spent my life not doing what I was ordered to do unless I thought it was the right thing.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s one of the things I like about you, love. Go on, now. Go get your man.”

I shut the door and walked quickly to the front steps of the building. It was dark now, the streetlights straight electric yellow, the closest spells attached to power boxes to deter criminals, and a very nice Flourish planted like a row of softly glowing red mushrooms in the shrubbery along the walkway to the door.

The smell of rotten meat was still on the air, but not as strong as when Collins had cast it. I resisted the urge to get down and sniff at the mushrooms and see if the very faint magic that supplied that spell also stank of the dead.

I climbed the few steps to the door and rang the bell. I could hear the rumble of Shame’s car engine, and knew he was still waiting. But the way the building was situated off the road, he couldn’t see me. I rang the bell again.

Just as I reached to hit the buzzer one last time, Zayvion answered.

“Yes?”

“It’s Allie,” I said. The silence went on so long, I almost pressed the buzzer to make sure we were still connected. Then the door made that sound that meant it was unlocked, and I opened it.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Shame’s number.

“Did he let you in?” he asked.

“Yes. Bye, Shame. See you tomorrow.”

“Be careful, all right?” And then he hung up.

That was weird. He’d never told me to be careful around Zayvion before.

I climbed the stairwell—all concrete but well lit and so quiet I would have been able to hear a fly sneeze. At the top of the stairs, I looked through the window in the door, which showed the hallway beyond. No one there, lots of light, no problems.

Well, one problem. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Zay. I felt angry and betrayed that he’d Closed my friends—his friends. I’d always known his vows to do his duty and uphold whatever the Authority told him was right took precedence in his actions, but this?

This was criminal.

It changed how I looked at him. Made me wonder what else he might do just because the Authority told him to do it.

I headed down the hall to Zayvion’s door, then knocked.

Again the long wait. I wondered if maybe he was in trouble. Maybe Bartholomew’s men were in there with him, holding him captive or making him Close people or something.

Maybe he’d been Closed.

Hells.

I thought about pulling on magic, but passing out into someone’s arms didn’t really count as a surprise attack.

I so needed to get a nonmagical weapon.

The footsteps approaching from the other side of the door sounded like Zayvion’s pace. He paused, threw the locks, and then broke the protective Ward on the door.

I held my breath, but not in time. The smell of rotten meat hit me.

What was it with magic and me lately?

The door opened.

Zay wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had on his jeans, no shoes. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled faintly of alcohol, scotch, I’d guess. Just like when I looked at him with Sight, he appeared taller. The silver glyphs of spells wrapped around his body and burned with black flame.

It was a weird, sort of double vision of him—I could see Zayvion as Zayvion, and I could see him as a tower of a man covered every inch in magic.

“What do you want, Allie?” he asked in a voice that sounded like it had been sanded down.

“For you to let me in.”

He hesitated. Finally stepped back so I could walk through the door.

There were no lights on in his house. The only light came from outside the window, where the city chipped at the night like faraway stars. I could smell the booze a little stronger in here.

“What do you need?” He hadn’t moved away from the door, though he’d shut it. Hadn’t locked it, but the Ward triggered automatically and sealed the door magically.

“I need to talk to you,” I said evenly. “Have you been sitting here in the dark all night?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Davy’s sick,” I said.

Still nothing.

“Zay ...” I took a step toward him. He didn’t move. I stopped before touching him. What could I say? How could I tell him how angry I was? How could I tell him I needed him to be the man I loved? The one who didn’t go around ripping out his friends’ minds.

“I know what you did,” I said. “I know that you Closed them. Maeve, Victor.”

“It is my job and my duty,” he said stiffly. “I have sworn. . . .” Here his voice faded.

“You know it’s not right,” I said.

We stood there, that truth between us.

“Doesn’t matter what I know,” he said. “I don’t have a say in if it’s right or not.”

“You could have tried—”

“I tried,” he said, cutting me off.

“You could have refused.”

“And what?” he asked, his voice growing louder, “let one of Bartholomew’s men cleaver through their brains? Just stand down and watch someone else do my job?”

“Would it have killed you?” I asked, a little more heated than before. “Couldn’t you have found a way to stop them? To stop Bartholomew?”

“He is my superior,” Zayvion said.

“So was Victor until you tore his brain apart!”

He lifted his head as if I’d just slapped him and glowered down at me. But his voice was ice cold.

“Victor was relieved of his position before I Closed him. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that either.”

I took a couple of breaths to rein in my temper. Zayvion was obviously hurting from this, from what he had been ordered to do. And I was standing here angry at him, when I should be taking my frustration out on Bartholomew. “Victor would have wanted you to do . . . something,” I said, much softer, but still unable to let it go.

“No,” he said. “He wanted me to do my job. The job he trained me to do. That was what he was telling me at Chase’s wake. To follow orders. To follow Bartholomew. No matter what Bartholomew ordered me to do. And I did exactly that.”

His voice didn’t rise, no room beneath that ice for emotion to lift it or drag it down. He was a statue of silver and black fire. It reminded me too much of when I’d found him in death, standing right in front of me, close enough that I could touch him, but was still unable to free him from the chains that bound him.

“I know,” I admitted. I dragged my hand back through my hair, pulling it away from my face and then letting it go. I was frustrated. But I was fighting the wrong battle. Zayvion wasn’t the only one at fault in this. He wasn’t even the main person at fault. He may have been the weapon, but Bartholomew was the man who had told him to strike.

“Is that all?” he asked. Cold, shutting the conversation down. More than that. I couldn’t feel him, couldn’t hear his thoughts or feel his emotions even though we were standing near enough that I should have been able to. He had pulled so far back behind walls that I didn’t know if he was furious, or sad, or just tired of talking about it. Or maybe just tired of me.

“No,” I said. “That is not all.”

I took the remaining three steps toward him and pressed my body against his, wrapping one hand up around the heat of his bare neck, sliding the other around his bare waist to hold him hard against me.

I kissed him.

He did not return my kiss, not for a long, long moment. Then it was as if a glacier had sheared apart under the heat of the sun.

His emotions whipped through me like a hot summer wind, and I had to lock my knees to stay on my feet.

Allie, he thought, asked, called. That one word filling me with his desire, filling me with his need.

I wanted him. Needed him. Needed to know he was still the same man I loved. Needed to know we were both still the same. That even this hadn’t destroyed what we were together.

Too full with my own desire, I poured into his mind, his soul. There were no walls between us. No hiding. No doubt. No different. We were Soul Complements. One. As we chose to be.

His mouth moved against mine, hard, hungry, his arms holding me so tightly I almost couldn’t breathe, but I wanted him to hold me even tighter. He pushed his hands under my coat, rubbing his palms up my back, then down the curve of my hips.

I knew what he wanted, could feel the hunger for it thrumming beneath my skin. And he knew what I wanted.

I savored the smoky whiskey of his mouth, savored his anger, his sorrow. Drank down the realness, the sameness of him. Heat and need trickled down my spine, licked between my legs and shockwaved upward.

I was not naked enough.

Neither was he.

He pushed my coat up, but that wasn’t enough, so his hands tugged at my jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with two quick twists.

He slid his hand into my pants and gently stroked me there.

I took a hard breath.

Yes. My hands slid around his waist and unbuttoned his jeans.

There were too damn many layers of clothes between us.

I don’t know if that was his thought or mine.

“Wait,” I said, gasping for air. I took a step away from him, but he caught my wrist. His gaze was heavy-lidded, smoldering, as he pulled me back to him.

“Hold on, lover,” I said. “I need naked, more naked.”

He held my wrist, breathing hard, deciding, as I was trying to decide, if he, if we, could wait that long.

I lifted his fingers off my wrist but didn’t step back. We were so close together, I could feel the heat radiating off him. I shivered under his exhales against my skin, heard the litany of thoughts running through his mind, things he wanted to do to me, things he wanted me to do to him, and had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. I did a little careful gymnastics not to knock into him with my elbows as I shucked my coat and then my sweater.

I kicked off my shoes and wriggled my jeans down over my hips.

That did it.

Zayvion wrapped his hands around my rib cage and lifted me. I am not a small girl, but he made it feel like I weighed nothing. He shifted his grip to cup both hands under my butt, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, dragging his mouth up to mine so I could taste him again.

We kissed, hard, his tongue laving stroke after stroke of pleasure that slid deeper, hotter, feeding the deliciously heavy hunger blooming between my legs. Lightning shot through my body, every nerve on fire. So hot. So good. I drew a shuddering breath, wanting to pull that fire into every inch of me. I bit Zay’s lip, tugged, and he responded with a growl, a deep rumble of pleasure.

Love me, he said, I said, we thought as one.

My hip hit the doorway as he walked into the bedroom.

My foot knocked something over on his dresser. Then we were on the bed, and I made it my one and only goal to get Zayvion Jones out of his pants.

He pinned me down, pulling my bra up and over my head, then dipped down to kiss my breasts, each one slowly, his tongue sliding heat across my hard nipples, and leaving a cool wash of mint behind.

I dragged my fingers up through the tight black curls of his hair and arched against his mouth, wanting more. Wanting now.

“More,” I breathed. His thought, my thought.

I moaned.

Heat, pleasure, and pain wrapped me in a shock wave of sensations, of need and sorrow as his body joined with mine. Bodies followed souls, souls followed sensation, pleasure, love, lifting, pausing, only to lift again. No longer two people, no longer separate, no longer alone.

Sweet wings of pleasure rolled through me and I shivered beneath the heat of his body. Our bodies. We answered before the other asked, a tangle of thoughts, emotions, memories, hope, need, rising higher, higher, into a sweet single moment.

I wanted him to never let me go.

Never, he said, I said, we said, caught on the edge of ecstasy.

We surged over that edge. Broke. Fell together, still together. Always together. One. There was something dangerous about this. We knew it. Knew breathing as one, thinking as one, soul to soul, was wrong.

It didn’t feel wrong.

But slowly, slowly, we drew apart, one last languid stroke, one last lingering touch, one last gentle kiss.

I was aware again of my fingers, clenched against his back, my nails digging too deep. I was aware of his teeth at the curve of my neck and the tender heat of a bruise there. Then finally, finally we pulled away.

He relaxed against me in increments, breathing hard, sweating, just as I was breathing hard and sweating. Each of us tried to sort which thought was our own, which body was our own.

I don’t know how long we lay there, him on top of me, as I ran my fingers back through his hair, his head resting on my breast. But finally the cool air of the room was too cold and I shifted. He moved with me, lying beside me, and then pulling me tightly against him as he drew the covers up over us.

I curved into the familiar shape and feel of him, and took a deep breath. I was just me again. Mostly. There were still echoes of Zayvion within me. Echoes I hoped would never fade.

He was quiet and held me tightly as if he was afraid I’d leave.

“So not going anywhere,” I said.

“Damn right,” he whispered into my hair.

I waited for him to fall asleep, for his breathing to even out, for his heartbeat to slow. But even after what felt like a long time, he was still awake.

I, however, was fading fast. His warmth, his arms around me, were enough to lull me, until I fell blissfully asleep.

I heard the phone ring at a distance, but I was too tired to go get it. Luckily, I didn’t have to. Zayvion shifted, rolled away from me, and slipped out of bed. He made the phone stop ringing. I was pretty sure he said something, but sleep tugged on me, and I followed.

The next time I woke, I realized Zayvion had not slid back into bed with me.

The shower was running. The bed was empty. It was morning—or at least the clock on his bedside table said it was a little past eight o’clock. His windows were curtained so heavily, no light could shine through.

I rolled over onto my back and stared at the ceiling. If I had any say over what would happen today, it would involve coffee, Davy waking up and feeling fine, and Bartholomew deciding he had important business on the other side of the world.

One of those things I could absolutely guarantee: coffee.

I got out of bed and went looking for my clothes. Found them scattered like a trail leading out to the living room. I carefully plucked my sweater off Zay’s bonsai tree and checked through my haul. What was I missing? Ah, yes, my bra.

I walked back to the bedroom. Zay was standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist, my bra dangling from one finger. “Looking for this?”

“Yes. And the bra too,” I said with a grin.

He gave me that shy-boy smile that made my heart beat faster.

“So,” I said walking over to him. “How was the shower?”

“Good. Not as good as last night.” He held the bra out of my reach.

“Hey, now.” I stretched, trying to grab it.

He put his other arm around me and pulled me in close.

“Need something?” he asked.

I was naked, except for the clothes currently clutched in my arms. Zay was naked except for the towel around his waist. It made for a very pleasant predicament indeed.

“Hmm. Bra or sex?” I mused. “I suppose it depends. You got any coffee in this house?”

“Yes,” he said.

I grinned. “Mmm. Coffee sounds so good. Bra it is.”

He chuckled. “You sure?” He leaned down, just a bit, since he and I were nearly the same height, and kissed me. He smelled of pine and soap, and tasted like mint toothpaste. Warm, slow, easy. Way better than coffee.

My phone rang. Since it was in my jeans pocket between us, it was pretty hard to ignore.

I pulled back.

Zayvion growled.

“It might be important,” I said. “Just a sec.” He released me and I fumbled with my clothes until I dug my phone out.

“Beckstrom,” I said.

Zayvion leaned down and nibbled on my ear, then pressed a soft kiss on my neck over the sweet ache of the bite he had left there, and started working his way down along the marks of magic across my collarbone.

“Allie, this is Stotts. The lab has the results of the cause of death for Anthony Bell.”

“Okay. What?”

The heat from Zay’s mouth against my skin, against the magic that always flowed beneath those marks was making me a little dizzy in a hot and bothered kind of way.

“He was poisoned. By magic.”

I stepped away from Zayvion and held my hand up. That was exactly what Collins had said about Davy. “Someone cast a spell on him that poisoned him?” I asked.

“His toxicology report is off the chart,” Stotts said. “He had more magic running through his veins than blood. It went gangrenous.”

“Have you ever heard of that before?” I asked, searching my own memories—what I had of them—from college, from all I’d learned from the Authority of that ever happening.

Pretty much if someone cast magic at you that did a damaging thing, they had to bear an equal or similar damage. It was why people didn’t kill people with magic. Death to someone else meant death to the caster.

And while I knew now that I was part of the Authority, that people could kill people with magic and do creative things with Offloads and Proxy costs so they didn’t actually end up dead, most people did not know that.

“No, I haven’t,” Stotts said. “But he’s not the only one.”

“What?”

Zay dragged his fingertips down my arm, then walked over to his dresser for his clothes.

“There have been similar cases reported. The death count is rising.”

“That’s bad,” I said. “What can I do to help?”

“I talked with his mother,” he said.

“How is she?” I asked. I hadn’t called her yet. Hadn’t faced her.

“She’s . . . coping. She has family in the area. They’re caring for her.”

“That’s good,” I said. I was glad she had someone to lean on.

“She wasn’t able to give me much information about where Anthony was that night. Do you know where he was, who he might have been in contact with, anything he told you about the kinds of magic or spells he was using?”

“He was at the wake at the den—briefly. He left quickly after that. I last saw him walking up the street. That was before he bit Davy.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Was he doing a Hounding job?”

“No. Wait.” I looked over at Zayvion.

Zay, who had done a pretty good job following the conversation, shrugged. “The Veiled?” he suggested quietly.

“He might have been looking for something. For someone,” I said.

“Who?”

“Remember those ghost things that attacked you and me in the graveyard? They’re called the Veiled. They’re attracted to magic. It might be the Veiled he was looking for.”

Stotts was silent, but I heard the squeak of his office chair and two soft clunks of his shoe heels resting up on his desk.

“Why do you think that?”

I rolled my eyes and walked back over to the bed, dropping my clothes there, and digging for my panties. “I saw a Veiled. Or I thought I did, while I was looking out on the street. I was worried it was, um . . . bothering someone.”

“Bothering? How?”

I managed to get into my panties one-handed and picked up my jeans. “I don’t know, maybe I’m remembering things wrong.”

I most certainly was not remembering things wrong. But I didn’t want to tell him the Veiled had been inside some man, then walked off, and how weird that was, and that I thought maybe Anthony had been bit by the Veiled. No, wait. Maybe I did want to tell him that.

“Do you think Anthony could have been bit by the Veiled?” I asked.

“Bit? The marks on Anthony weren’t the same as the ones you and I got back in the graveyard by the . . . creature that attacked us then.”

“True. So we can rule that out?”

“Mmm. Maybe not,” he said. “Anything else you can remember about Anthony? Did he mention anything to you?”

“Other than getting his diploma, no, that pretty much sums up what I know.”

The chair creaked again. “Okay. I’ll keep you in the loop if I have any other information.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Allie?”

“Yes?”

“How is Davy Silvers?”

“Still sick. Why?”

Stotts didn’t say anything for a minute. I heard his chair creak again. “I have nothing to back this up,” he said, “but if Anthony was sick, infected, it’s possible he passed that infection on to Davy when he bit him. You should make sure he goes to a hospital to get checked out.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve had a doctor look in on him. You said there have been a lot of people dying from this . . . from this magic poisoning?”

“Yes.”

“What are their symptoms?” I asked.

“You watch the news lately?”

“Yes.” A chill rolled down my spine. Don’t say it, I thought. Please don’t say it.

“Their symptoms are flulike.”

Holy shit. The epidemic. Could it be a plague of people being bit by the Veiled?

“Well, hells,” I said.

“Pretty much, yes,” he said. “Gotta go, Allie. Stay in touch.”

“Bye.” I thumbed my phone off.

“Zay,” I said, “I think we have a big problem on our hands.”

“We always have big problems on our hands,” he said as he tucked his shirt in. “What did Stotts want to know?”

I filled him in on the other side of the phone conversation.

Zay put on his shoes as I went over everything. “So you think the sickness sweeping the city is from the Veiled biting people?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Yes? Maybe? I think it’s something we should consider. We could at least see if Bartholomew is looking into it.”

He went silent.

“What?” I asked. “You don’t think he will look into it?”

“I don’t think he’ll want to share any information with us even if he does,” Zay said. “He runs the Authority his way. Which appears to be through demands, orders, and his people to back him up with physical and magical consequences.”

“You’ve seen him work before?”

“I’ve heard what other people have said about him. Victor, Maeve. Even your dad.”

“Dad still doesn’t like him.”

Zay chuckled. “Well, that’s an upgrade. They used to hate each other with a passion. Bartholomew was convinced that magic and technology should never be used in concert with each other. He was outvoted on a national level, mostly, some people say, because your dad had the funds to push his agenda and buy off other members of the Authority to see things his way.”

“He bought votes?” I asked. Sounded like something Dad would do.

“It’s rumored,” Zay said. “Although as soon as the tech and magic devices were developed for use in health care, there wasn’t anyone who thought mixing magic and technology was a bad thing.”

Except maybe Bartholomew.

“He can’t ignore what’s going on, though,” I said pulling one of Zayvion’s sweatshirts over my T-shirt. “The Authority is all about keeping people safe from magic. And if the Veiled are why people are getting sick, that’s a part of magic.” I found my socks and put on my shoes.

“What was that other call earlier?” I asked.

“Terric. He wants to meet with us today. I told him he could find us at the den looking in on Davy.”

“How’d you know that’s where I was going this morning?”

Zayvion shrugged. “You’re predictable. When someone’s hurt, you immediately think you need to do something to fix them.”

“That’s not predictable. That’s having a conscience. And besides, Davy was hurt because of a decision I made.”

“I doubt Davy would see it that way,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter.” I picked up my coat, looked around his living room to make sure I hadn’t left anything else behind. “Still how I see it. You coming?”

Zayvion shrugged into his ratty blue ski coat and pulled on a brown beanie. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take us long to get to the parking garage below the building. We didn’t say much. Zayvion was walking in front of me, and I could tell from his movements that he was worried, or angry. Probably both. Even the silver glyphs that superimposed his body flickered with a rise and fall of light that was similar to a heartbeat. Whatever was bothering him—and if I’d had to put money down I would’ve said it had everything to do with Bartholomew and the Closing he’d ordered Zayvion to do—was digging into him bone deep.

The glyphs of magic he had always worn as a badge of honor were chafing like chains.

We got in his car and I asked, “Get Mugged for coffee and quiche?”

“I thought you didn’t like quiche.” He smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back. This felt like normal again, if we’d ever really had a normal.

“If there’s cheese, I like quiche. If not, you know, other eggs are superior.”

“I could use a cup of coffee,” he said.

We drove to Get Mugged and parked around the back side of the buildings. It was early enough that the morning coffee crowd was still in full swing and street parking was scarce. That was okay with me. I wanted a walk in the cool air, in the sunlight. Even though the magic I could see everywhere was still pretty distracting.

“What are you doing?” Zayvion asked me as we passed by yet another window with an Unbreakable Ward so strong I could almost feel the prickly heat snapping off it.

“Walking?”

“Really?” He stopped and I stopped too. “I think that’s called weaving.”

“I’m not weaving.”

“Yes, you are. I almost ran into you three times already.”

“Well, then let me walk on the outside of the sidewalk.” I stepped in front of him, but hadn’t realized there was a Lure spell on a piece of statuary just ahead. As we headed that way, I corrected my course so as not to get caught by it.

“That,” Zayvion said as I bumped into his arm.

“What that?”

He put his arm around me, and I could tell he wasn’t angry, just sort of frustrated and curious. “That drunken stagger you’ve got going.”

I slapped his chest, which didn’t do anything since I wasn’t trying to hurt him, and his ski coat was too damn fluffy.

“I’m not staggering. Or drunk,” I added.

“So?” he asked.

“I can see magic. Everywhere. All the time. It’s just ... distracting.”

“Are you using Sight?”

Oh, right. I hadn’t told Zayvion about this yet. “No. Ever since I tried to use magic, passed out, and gave myself a light concussion, I’ve been seeing magic. All the time.”

Zayvion stopped again. We were on the corner now, the front door to the coffee shop in sight, just a few steps away.

“Coffee?” I pointed at the door.

Zay moved to stand in front of me and put both arms around my waist. “When,” he asked quietly as if we were lovers sharing secrets, “did you pass out and get a concussion?”

Ah. Apparently I hadn’t been doing a very good job keeping him in the loop. “Yesterday. After coming back from the meeting with Bartholomew. I saw a Veiled step out of a woman on the street. And when I tried to cast Hold so I could maybe get a better look at the Veiled, I passed out. I woke up to people calling 911, but told them I was fine. Jack Quinn took over from there.”

“Do you think casting magic made you pass out or was it something else?”

“I don’t know.”

He got that look on his face that told me he’d made up both our minds. I hated that look.

Then he swung his arm around my waist and started us walking back the way we’d come.

“No,” I whined. “Coffee was right there. I could smell it. Can’t you smell it? C’mon, Jones. We’ll do all the magic talking you want over coffee. Please?”

He didn’t answer and didn’t stop walking. The worry radiating from him was the only reason I didn’t trip him so I could get my way. He rounded the corner to the back of the building and I sighed. So close to coffee, and yet so far. I pulled out of his arms.

“Just for that, you are paying for breakfast,” I said.

“Cast magic,” he said.

“No.”

We stared at each other for a minute or so.

“I could order you,” he said.

“Which would make me refuse to do it until they put me in the grave.” Yes, I’m stubborn that way. Zay knew it.

“Allie, I need you to do this so I can watch and see if it’s magic that’s hurting you.”

He put his arms around my waist. “I’ll even catch you if you fall.”

Sweet. But the idea of casting magic and having it hurt that much again made my hands sweat. That wouldn’t keep me from doing it, though. Because he was right. We needed to know this. I needed to know this.

“For cripes’ sake. Fine. Something small.”

Light was one of the earliest spells I’d learned, and the easiest. I cleared my mind, and had to recite the Miss Mary Mack song to get my nerves settled enough so I could cast. When I was feeling calm, I set a Disbursement, not a headache—I’d had enough headache lately from the concussion. I went for muscle aches. I planned to make Zayvion give me shoulder rubs until they went away.

And then I cast the glyph for Light.

So far, so good. But I hadn’t pulled any magic up into the glyph yet.

I hesitated, the glyph balanced on my fingertips.

“Allie?” he asked.

“Fine. I’m fine.” I exhaled, and pulled magic up out of the ground, out of the pipes that networked the entire city of Portland, and drew that magic into me, like I always did, and directed that magic into the glyph, like I always did.

But before the glyph could so much as begin to glow, my vision started to dim. Magic burned, too hot. It bit my skin and tore across my nerves. I wanted to get away from it, get it away from me, cut a vein or do . . . something to purge it.

I tried to stay focused, even through the pain, tried to complete the spell because I’m a Hound, damn it, and I can deal with pain.

Zayvion’s hand closed over mine, destroying the glyph, and probably giving himself a second-degree burn on his palm.

“Allie?” he said. His hand pressed on my forehead, then my cheek. “Allie?”

“I’m good.” It was weird. With all the ringing in my ears and the need to throw up, my voice sounded really far away. “Barf,” I added.

What did you know? Zay caught my subtle hint and helped me over to a patch of dirt where I could heave.

He even held my hair back. Aw. True love.

But since he had been the whole reason I was chucking up that which I hadn’t even downed yet, I was not in a good mood.

It took a bit, but finally my stomach stopped cramping, my ears stopped ringing, and all the rest of me stopped hurting. I straightened and wiped the tears off my face. Zay handed me a fast-food napkin from out of his pocket, which I took and then blew my nose.

“Magic is making you sick,” he said.

“Brilliant deduction, Holmes,” I said.

“Magic didn’t seem to be acting any different to me,” he said. “I was watching with Sight.”

Huh. I hadn’t even seen him cast Sight. “Well, it’s different for me,” I said. “And now I think we’ve both proved our point and you owe me coffee and breakfast. Big time. And shoulder rubs.”

I started off toward the sidewalk, trying not to inhale too deeply. It wasn’t just using magic that was a pain. The stink of magic bothered me too. All those Lure and Attractions and safety Wards and other, long-term refresh spells just made the entire city stink like rotted meat.

This was getting old fast.

Zay caught my wrist, and I stopped to look at him.

“What?” I said.

“You’re just going to walk off and get coffee? Even though we both know magic is making you sick?”

“Yes.” At his frown, I said, “I don’t know what else to do about it, Zay. Maybe being around Anthony and Davy, and them being infected by the Veiled did something to me.”

I thought about it. No, back when Melissa had cast Truth on me, magic had made me sick and that was before I’d seen either Hound. I’d thought it was because she was making me Proxy the cost of the Truth spell—and maybe that was partly it—or maybe even then magic was starting to make me sick.

“But unlike Anthony and Davy, I’m fine if I just don’t use magic.”

“Are you?” he asked. “Fine?”

I held his concerned gaze. “Yes.” Didn’t have to lie because it was the truth. So far. “I’ll be better when we figure out how the hell to stop the epidemic, and how to save Davy. But until then, I want coffee.”

Zay nodded and walked beside me, between me and the building, where most of the spells lingered, which was sweet of him, though I wasn’t sure it was doing me any good.

Yes, I was a little cranky. Girl needed coffee, food, and to stay far away from magic.

Zayvion opened the door for me and I paused just inside it. I’d never really cast Sight to see what kind of spells Grant kept around the place. From how busy he was, I’d expect he had at least a Relax or maybe something to stimulate appetites.

But Get Mugged was bare. The only magic I saw in the place clung to the people themselves. Some little safety spells like Return and Lock on valuables like cell phones and purses, and of course, those who could afford the Proxy price or the pain, carried Enhancement spells to make their wrinkles disappear, noses straighten, and teeth whiten.

Other than that, the space was completely and blissfully empty of spells.

I strolled over to the counter, where Grant’s employee Jula was working.

“Hey, Allie, Zayvion,” she said, putting down the receipts she was sorting. She had dyed her hair black with orange stripes and little blond polka dots. It was cute. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a coffee, black, and a cheddar quiche,” I said.

“Same for me,” Zayvion said.

Zay stepped up and pulled money out of his wallet. I looked at him and he raised his eyebrow. Well, at least he’d been listening when I told him he owed me coffee.

“Here or to go?” she asked.

“To go,” I said.

“It’ll be right up.”

Zay and I stepped to one side to let the person behind us order, and I eyed the food behind the glass. Lots of scones, breakfast bars, and crumbles. Looked like Grant had doubled his menu.

I didn’t see him in the dining area and figured he must be in the back cooking, or maybe he actually took a day off and was in his apartment below the shop.

Jula had our order done quick and Zay and I picked it up and started walking. I took a sip of the coffee—so good—and then we headed over to the den.

I did my best not to inhale the stink of magic. Keeping the coffee near my nose helped some. We took the stairs, and by the time we reached the den, I was really hungry.

“Morning,” I called out as I walked in. The Hounds gathered were a mixed bunch. Most were the regulars, Sid and Bea and Jamar. But a couple of them were new faces to me. A tall, thin redheaded woman in black slacks and sweater, and a dark-haired bearded man who looked like he could use a bath, a meal, and a cardboard sign that said WILL HOUND FOR MONEY.

“Who are the new recruits?” I asked with my all-business-all-the-time voice.

“Allie,” Sid said, “this is Toya. She’s been working Vancouver for a couple years. Says she’s Jack’s friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said from across the room.

“And,” Sid continued, “this is Karl. He’s just back from Klamath Falls. We don’t know him,” he added.

“Hey,” he said, with a nod. “Sorry about the clothes. And, I assume, the smell. It’s been a long year.”

I unpacked my breakfast and found a fork. Zay did the same. “What brings you both here?”

“I heard about this group you’ve started,” Toya said. “Jack is a friend of mine, so I thought I’d come check it out. Maybe talk to you about starting something like this in my own neighborhood.”

I took a bite of the quiche. Hot, melty, salty, delicious. I wanted to stuff the entire thing in my mouth, but then there would’ve been no room for coffee.

“And you?” I asked Karl as I carried quiche and coffee over to my desk and settled in. Zay stayed put in the kitchen, where he could keep an eye on most of the room.

“I was just working my way north. Heard about this place from some Hounds on the street. I’d be grateful if the rumors about a complimentary shower were true.”

“Right back there,” I said. “Knock yourself out.”

He smiled and headed back to the bathroom. I had set this place up to take in Hounds who needed a place to crash and recover from the pain the job put them through. We didn’t get a lot of new people that often, since Hounds were suspicious loners by nature, but it was pretty clear Karl didn’t have another door to knock on.

I wasn’t running a full-time charity, though. He could stay here a night or two, but then he’d need to move on. This was a pit stop, not a home.

“I’d be happy to go over the details with you,” I said to Toya. “Have a seat.”

She did a not-very-subtle check to see what the body language and reaction from people around us was to that comment. Sensing there was no trap, because, duh, there wasn’t, she sat in the chair across from my desk. If she was a Hound, she wasn’t very good at it.

“So how do you fund this place?” she asked.

I liked a girl who could cut to the chase.

“I cover rent and utilities. Food is handled by each person. Linens are taken care of by a service that I also pay. And that’s about it.”

She nodded. “I’d hoped you tapped into some kind of federal or state funding that helped with this sort of thing.”

“Nope. I was thinking of setting up a fee-based system. Haven’t gotten around to it yet, though I’ve negotiated with the police and other public officials to raise the baseline Hounding rate for jobs hired. That’s something.”

“That’s a lot,” she agreed. “Did you have someone inside any of the agencies you worked with? Someone I could contact?”

I finished off the crust and took a drink of coffee. Her question had suddenly gone from interested to prying. She was digging for something. Maybe for someone. Problem was, I didn’t know who she was digging for.

“My business dealings are not up for public scrutiny, but you can be assured that I contacted all the appropriate people and agencies before going forward with this venture.”

I could do business-speak “back-it-up-missy” like a pro.

She smiled with her mouth, but it didn’t make it to her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you had done anything illegal.”

“Of course not,” I said. “We also have some rules in the house to keep things running smoothly. No drugs, no weapons, no contraband. The house operates on an open warrant for the police to search it at any given moment, which makes people who have something they want to hide stay away. It’s worked so far.”

“It seems that it has,” she said with a laugh that would have fooled me if I hadn’t seen that hard spark in her eyes. “So do you also decide who gets what jobs?”

“No. We’re all responsible for finding our own business. So how long are you in town for?”

“Oh, just the day. I’m visiting some family in the area.”

That was a lie. I think the other Hounds were picking up on it. The atmosphere in the room took a sudden, tense dive.

“It was great meeting you,” I said, not getting up. “I have a lot of things to take care of today. I’m sure you can find your way out.”

She stared at me a half second too long. And then she got up and, unconcerned about the sudden silence among the other Hounds, which should have been a dead giveaway that none of us trusted her, she left.

“Who told you she was a Hound?” I asked Sid.

“She did, when she walked in.” He shook his head. “Posers gotta pose.”

Zayvion walked very quietly over to the door and looked out. I didn’t have to. I heard the elevator doors open, heard her heels as she stepped in, and that particular grind of the motor as the elevator went down, not up. Which meant she wasn’t going upstairs to try to nose around Davy or Collins.

Not that the Hounds looking after him up there would let her in.

“Anyone have anything on her?” I asked.

Sid had his tablet out and was plugging in data. “Give me a sec. I’ll see what I can find.”

The shower turned off. I leaned back in my chair and gave Zayvion a small smile. We’d see who this Karl turned out to be before long too.

I could hear him towel off. Then he stopped moving. He must have noticed that none of us were talking. Good. Meant he was paying attention to his surroundings, and the people in it. A very Hound-like thing to do.

I felt a subtle pull on the magic network and smelled the faint stink of rotten meat. He had drawn a spell. I wondered if it was something to enhance his hearing. I thought maybe I should find out.

“Take your time,” I whispered. “We’re all still here.”

“Didn’t know if I’d interrupted a moment of silence or something,” he said, loud enough to be heard through the walls with normal hearing. “Should I let myself out the window?”

I grinned. Overcautious, slightly suspicious. Definitely a Hound. Everyone went back to what they were doing and making noise. “No. There’s coffee and food in the kitchen. You’re welcome to it.”

I stood. “Tell him the rules, Sid. He can stay the night if he needs a place, but nothing permanent.”

“Got it, boss.”

I strolled over to Zayvion. I felt better. A lot better. A little food and kicking someone out of my space somehow gave the whole day a little more shine. Maybe I’d stroll on up those stairs to Davy and tell him that he had to get better now because I said so. Not that it would work, but a girl could dream.