“Eli must be stopped. He will kill each Closer involved with his closing, and then he will kill more. Anyone who ever spoke against him or stood for the laws of the Authority. Anyone who ever stood aside, knowing what had been taken from him. If he finds his Soul Complement . . .” Victor paused, swallowed. “Her broken mind will drive him deeper into darkness. And if they break magic together, and use it to shape the world to their desire . . .”
He didn’t have to tell us what would happen. Having that much power drove people insane. Even people with good intentions were lured by the madness in magic, the temptation of simply making and unmaking the world. And people with bad intentions did things like start the apocalypse.
“Do not show him mercy, Terric,” Victor said, “for he will refuse it. Stop him before he removes every Soul Complement and every magic user in the Authority.”
Terric opened his mouth, but I spoke up over him. “The only way to stop him will be to kill him,” I said. “You understand that, don’t you, Victor?”
“Yes, I do.”
“At any cost?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll do it.”
Terric sighed heavily. Here’s the thing: Death and me pretty much saw eye-to-eye. I knew one of these days someone would have to take me down when I lost control of magic. And Eli wasn’t just a poor magic user caught by an evil government. Yes, he’d been used by the Authority and others. But even if he had once been a good man, that was over.
He liked killing. Craved it. If the world bowed at his feet, he would want violence, destruction.
I understood those kinds of dark desires. I had no problem ending it for him.
Victor looked between Terric and me. Finally settled on me. “Thank you, Shamus. I know your burden isn’t easy. Death magic—”
“Don’t,” I said.
“Shame,” he said firmly. “Let me finish. I know the changes magic has made in you and in Terric have been painful. I know you struggle for control.”
“Hey, now,” I started, but he just leveled a gaze at me. What could I say? It was the truth. And he knew it.
Victor was not a stupid man. He had known me my entire life. It didn’t take eyes to see how close I walked the edge of disaster every day.
“Your father was a good man, Shame,” he said. “A dear friend of mine.”
I hunched my shoulders unconsciously. I didn’t like it when people brought up my father. He and I had gotten on as most fathers and rebellious slacker sons do. Really, he was a lot more patient than I would have been. I missed him, but I’d had enough time to know he was gone from my life for good.
That wasn’t what bothered me. No, what haunted me was the thing Jingo Jingo had said before I killed that sick bastard. That my father had fallen on his knees and begged Jingo Jingo to end me. To end the monster he knew I would become.
A Death magic user.
Only I hadn’t just become a Death magic user—I’d become a vessel that carried Death magic in my body and soul.
If my dad were alive, I figured he’d want me dead. Before I gave in to the monster inside me.
“This is something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” Victor said. “Jingo was lying. Your father didn’t beg him to keep you from using Death magic. Your father warned Jingo that if he grew too hungry, if he ever lost control, it would be you, his son, who would stop him. Your father saw the strength in you. Saw how you, of all magic users we had ever seen, have the ability to use Death magic without succumbing to its allure.
“He was proud of you, Shamus. As am I.”
Not what I was expecting to hear. And for once in my life, I didn’t know what to say.
Chapter 18
Victor gave us all the information he had on Thomas Leeds, which wasn’t much, but it was more than the files Terric and I could access. Actually it was a lot more than the files Clyde and Dash could access too. I found that very interesting, and Terric found it very annoying.
“We were the head of the Authority,” Terric said, slowing for traffic in the afternoon downpour. “We should have had access to every file on every person we wanted.”
“Victor doesn’t play by the rules,” I said. “He’ll probably always see a reason to keep the secret organization secret. Or at least as secret as he can. Very old-school skullduggery. I like him for holding to the old, distrustful, cynical standards.”
“You would.”
I grinned and folded my arms, carefully, over my chest. The run through the rain to the car had gotten both of us pretty wet, but Terric had on a coat. Even though I was still wearing the sweater, I wished I had my black peacoat instead.
“Stop by the inn,” I said. “I want a coat.”
“I have a coat in the trunk.”
“I want my coat.”
“We are not stopping this investigation so you can get your comfy clothes.”
“Investigation? Is that what you’re calling it?”
“What do you want me to call it?”
“A manhunt,” I said. “That’s what it is.”
“We’re going to the office,” Terric said.
“Why?”
“I want to tell Clyde what Victor told us, in person. Or at least most of it, so he has the heads-up.”
“Why?”
“If I were running the Authority, I’d be furious that I didn’t have this kind of information. Also, I want to find out if they’ve seen Davy.”
“Fine,” I said. Mostly because I was pretty sure I’d left an old coat there.
“Why the statue?” Terric asked.
“What?”
“Why did you buy a statue of the Grim Reaper with wings?”
“Caught my eye.”
“I’ve seen your apartment, Shame. Art never catches your eye.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t care what he thought. This conversation was done.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, at where the statue was carefully propped up so that Eleanor could sit next to it.
Don’t remember her, I thought. Don’t ask about her.
Unlike Zay and Allie, we couldn’t read each other’s minds. But we’d known each other a long time. My bluff didn’t hold.
“It’s Eleanor, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
I stared out the window.
“She’s still . . . connected to you,” he said. “I’d forgotten. I’m sorry, Shame. I’d forgotten.”
“Don’t want your pity. Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is she still angry? Can you hear her? Talk to her?”
I dug in my pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, smoked. Didn’t open the window.
He rolled his eyes at my petty disobedience. “She wanted the statue, didn’t she?” he asked. “Why?”
I glanced over at him, lifted the cigarette to my mouth, inhaled, tipped the sunglasses down so he could see my eyes. When he looked over at me, I said, “Leave it the hell alone.”
“Maybe I could help you with her. Maybe we could—”
“No,” I said. “We did what we could. We tried what could be tried. Now I deal with it my way, and you don’t ever speak of it again.”
He glanced in the rearview again. “Later,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.” Then he turned his attention to where it might actually do some good—looking for parking.
Found a spot a block away from the office, which was about as good as we were going to get at this hour. I was not looking forward to the walk in the rain, but I was looking forward to getting out of the car and the silence that was filled with Terric’s promise to not let the Eleanor situation go.
Pushed the door open before the engine was off, clomped across the sidewalk and under the awning. We were in front of a bank. It was an uphill walk to the office. Not as many people out right now, which made it easier on my hunger. I lit another cig, then put my boots to work.