“Get him in the car,” I said. “I’ll drive.”
Dessa took Terric’s hand and said something to him in a soothing tone. He went with her, and sat in the backseat of the car, which showed me how confused he was. She got into the front.
I pulled on socks and boots, pulled on my coat, and picked up the baseball bat. Then I locked and shut the door and ran to the car, Eleanor right behind me.
I slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted it for my legs instead of Terric’s, and got us out of the parking lot as fast as I could.
“Tell me what happened, Ter,” I said. “Tell me what you know about Victor.”
“I got a call. From Davy. He only got a few words out. That Victor had been hit.”
“Did you call Victor?”
“Yes. He didn’t answer.”
I was taking the fastest route I could to Victor’s house, and was going eighty-plus. This time of night at least I didn’t have to worry about traffic.
“Did you call the police?”
“N-no.”
“You just drove straight out to the inn?”
“Yes. You were there.” He was starting to sound a little clearer. I don’t know how he’d managed to drive in the state of mind he was in.
“Do you have your phone?” I asked.
He sat up a straighter and checked his coat pockets. “Jesus,” he said in a shaky voice.
“Hand it to Dessa.”
“I can do it,” he said. “Hello,” he said to Dessa, as if just noticing her in the car.
“Hey,” she said back.
“Call Stotts,” I said. “Dessa, do you have a phone?”
I’d left mine in the room, but she pulled hers out.
“I need you to dial this number.” I told her Allie’s number. She dialed.
I took the phone from her, each ring an eternity. What if Victor wasn’t the only one who’d been hit?
Stotts must have answered almost immediately because Terric was already talking, and as far as I could tell, his voice was steady, and he was giving clear information.
“Jones,” Zay answered.
“This is Shame,” I said. “Victor’s been hit. Davy got a message to Terric. We’re on our way to Victor’s now—”
I braced, ran a light at speed, and avoided a head-on collision with a garbage truck.
“Shame?” Zay said.
“Keep your eyes open and be ready in case anything’s coming your way,” I finished. “I’ll call in when we know more.”
“Keep it tight,” he said. “Listen to Terric.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Terric looked like he’d finally shaken off his confusion and had gotten his head straight. “I’ll do that,” I said.
I handed Dessa the phone, then slowed to seventy or so as I navigated the neighborhood streets.
Came up on Victor’s house. The cops hadn’t made it here yet. We were out of the car before the engine stopped growling.
Dessa pulled her gun. My gun was also somewhere in my room with my jacket. Neither Terric nor I carried any weapon other than the magic at our fingertips. I glanced over at him, checking to see if he was together enough for this.
“I’m clear,” he said without looking at me.
I got to the front door first. It was locked. But then, if Eli had used that gate technology, he wouldn’t need to open the door.
“Shoot it,” I said.
Dessa stepped up, shot it without hesitation. Then she shouldered into the room, gun raised.
Damn it. I did not want her in harm’s way.
And there was the drawback to having an assassin girlfriend.
“Victor!” I yelled. No answer. “Fuck.”
I took off running to the living room and kitchen. Terric ran past me to the bathroom and bedroom.
Victor was an uncle to both of us—no, more than that. A father when my father died. A trusted counselor when Terric had lost his ability to use Faith magic. A steady wisdom and calm voice throughout all the pain and struggle and uncertainties of magic, the Authority, and our place in the world.
He had, in a very real way, made us the men we were.
He trusted us, demanded the best of us. He stood by us when we took on the challenge of building a world where magic was no longer a secret.
I knew the moment when Terric found him. Knew it even before I heard Terric’s anguished moan. Could feel the pain and sorrow like a shot straight through Terric’s heart, tearing through mine.
Victor was dead.
I knew it as I ran to Terric, knew it as I stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. Terric knelt on the floor next to the bloody, broken form of Victor.
Everything went silent. I couldn’t hear Terric pleading, couldn’t hear Dessa jogging our way, couldn’t hear my own heartbeat. The world was smothered.
I closed my eyes, hovering there in that mad lucidity.
The monster within me stretched, opened its arms, and latched each slick tentacle around me, drawing me into it, into the nothingness where it promised blood, destruction, and vicious release. Where it promised I would never have to feel pain again. Where it promised the terror of others would fall upon me like a numbing salve.
“Shame?” Dessa’s hand rested on my arm.
I opened my eyes.
And the world, the room, pounded down around me.
Terric, on the phone, blood on his hands, blood streaked through his hair where he must have pulled at it with his fingers. Dessa at my side, her gun still in her hand and aimed at me.
“Dessa,” I said. “Are you . . . are you all right?”
“I’m not the one on fire.” She nodded at my hand.
I lifted my right hand. The rings were glowing red, but as I watched, the burn was fading like coals dusted at the edges.
“He’s sane,” Terric said to Dessa as he pocketed his phone. Then, in a voice louder than that whisper, “Dessa, put the gun down. He could kill you before you pulled the trigger.”
She hesitated. Finally lowered the gun.
I turned. Looked into blue eyes that were not frightened—but were very wary.
As she had every right to be.
“Did I hurt you?” I said with what gentleness I could manage.
She searched my eyes. I did not know what she saw there. Maybe Death magic. It was there, just behind my will, lapping at my control. Pressing and promising.
She held up her hand, turned it one way and the other to examine the skin. “Felt like all the skin burned off when I touched you.”
“And now?”
She curled her fingers to her palm. “Everything works.” She pulled her shoulders back.
“Don’t touch me for a while,” I said. “I’m in control, but it’s not solid.”
She nodded.
I finally turned my full attention to Victor.
He was on his back, in his pajama pants, his shirt cut to shreds, the edges of it burned. Blood soaked the carpet. Terric was kneeling in it.
I walked the few steps to Victor’s prone body. It seemed to take three long years before I reached his side. I rested my hand on Terric’s shoulder and for a second, he leaned his head against my arm.
I felt his sorrow as if it were my own. Because it was.
I wanted to scream. Instead Terric whispered a prayer. It was the words of a very old spell—Peace.
Grief knotted my throat and clenched my gut. I didn’t have time for grief. I couldn’t have time.
So I pushed it away, fed it to the monster within me. Any pain would sate it, even my own.
Terric lifted his head away from me and stood as I knelt, trading places, his hand falling now on my shoulder. Perhaps it seemed an odd thing, the way we moved in tandem without thought, but it was natural as breathing to me.
“The marks,” Terric said.
I moved the edge of Victor’s shirt away, uncovered the shredded mess that was his torso. He had been carved, and carved, and carved again.
Spells: Pain, Refresh, Fire, Refresh, Crush, Break, Sever. Refresh, and Refresh again. Every dark agony cut into him in a continuous circuit of unending torture.