I walked up the stairs nearest Terric. The applause faltered as I crossed the stage, and was completely silent when I stood next to him.
But now that I was this near, I could see the tension bleed out of him just a fraction. Yeah, the tie between us worked that way for him too. Some things were easier for him when I was around. Still, the majority of things, important things like living, were harder.
He was really wound up over this firing thing. Probably worried it would look bad on his résumé.
“...and Shamus Flynn did his part too,” Clyde finished.
Faint praise, and true. But he didn’t mean it to sound derogatory, and I didn’t take it that way. When Clyde had a problem with me, he let me know. No bullshit from that guy.
“I will do everything in my power to listen to the concerns of the magical community here in Portland and make sure magic is running smoothly and working efficiently with the nonmagical businesses and communities in the Northwest.
“Now”—he glanced over his shoulder at the Overseer—“is there more that needs to be discussed on the stage, or should we open this up to a full conversation?”
Mr. Moretti strolled over to the microphone. “There is just one last thing. Please, each of you who are a Soul Complement, ask me any questions you have. I will need to know by tomorrow morning what your decisions are: to stay, to retreat. Remember we have places in all the world where you can hide.
“I will hold a second meeting with the Voices tomorrow afternoon, and tomorrow evening we will have a plan in place to accommodate the needs and safety of Soul Complements. Please make your decisions swiftly and carefully.”
Decent of him. Didn’t think it was going to help much. Unless the Authority had a hell of a lot more guns and technology than I knew about—which I didn’t imagine they did seeing as how they’d spent hundreds of years relying on magic to take care of their problems—then it was just a matter of time before the government outpowered whatever the common magic users were doing to try to help the Soul Comps.
Cue the conversation. The rise of voices stroked across my senses and rattled my hunger loose. Sure, Terric’s magic had helped push the need to feed away a bit, but this many people in one place, especially all worked up with heartbeats elevated, triggered my need to drink them down. The whole rich, alive stew of them.
But if I started feeding, I’d wipe out the room, then wipe out every living thing in the building and probably a block radius.
I stuck my right hand in my jacket and ran my thumb over the Void stone rings, rubbing them together when what I really wanted was to tear something, anything, apart. Breaking things kept my mind off the need to feed.
Terric’s hand landed on my shoulder and I shivered at the rush that shot down my spine and clenched my gut. Life magic right there inside him, easy for the picking.
Jesus.
He leaned in close enough he didn’t have to raise his voice over the sound of the crowd. “Be nice, shake hands, make it quick. We’re going to the office to take care of things.”
“Why would I want to go to the office?”
His hand squeezed until my neck hurt. “Because. I. Need. You. To.”
Then he released my shoulder and walked away, calm and smiling, and in control. The bastard.
I strode across the room, making eye contact with anyone who looked at me. They all looked away. Terric played his part. Shook hands, made conversation, appeared concerned for people.
But I was doing them the highest favor of alclass="underline" getting the hell away from them.
Eleanor drifted along beside me, arms crossed, and frowning.
I stopped halfway down the hall and fumbled for a cigarette. Pulled out the pack and tapped out two. Lit one, which burned to ash in my shaking hand almost too quickly for me to use it to light the other cigarette.
I inhaled, savoring chemicals and tobacco, and more so, savoring the burning, destructive death of plant matter and paper. Got about halfway through it before I noticed Eleanor was pointing at a NO SMOKING sign.
“Sorry, love,” I said. “I’m immune to rules. Followed too many when I was young.” I exhaled smoke. “Built up a tolerance.”
I leaned on the wall next to the sign, finished off the cigarette, and lit another one. Even at this distance and through the Mute spell, I could feel their heartbeats, could feel the pulse of their lives filling that room like warm, thick water I wanted to drown myself in.
Terric was in there. I could sense him like a clear beam of light in the dark shit hole of my life. Sure, I could consume all those people. Or I could consume him. He’d be better. Far better than the entire population of this city.
Then he’d be dead.
“You know what?” I said, pinching out the smoldering end of the cigarette with my fingers. Ouch. Yeah, even pain could feed my need, if necessary. “I’m done waiting. Let’s go.”
Eleanor pointed at the closed door to the meeting room, then tapped her wrist like she had a watch there. She didn’t, but I got her point.
I hadn’t waited very long for Terric.
“I’ll leave him a note, all right?” I was already walking toward the elevator and she, of course, followed along.
When I’d first killed her, I could hear her. She had been angry, furious. But as time went on, it was harder and harder to hear her. Either that was how it always was for ghosts, or maybe it just took a hell of a lot of emotion to make words carry between the living and dead.
Charades usually got her point across, and even though it meant I talked out loud to myself like some kind of crazy, it worked.
Plus, it made people avoid me. So, win-win.
Didn’t see anyone on the main floor.
Outside. Still too damn sunny and freezing. October sky was blue, but the air was bitch-cold. I flipped up my collar and strode up the block to Terric’s car.
Pulled a piece of gum out of my pocket, chewed. Smoothed out the gum wrapper, pulled out a pen. Used the top of his hood to write See U There on the gum wrapper, then spit out the chewed gum and stuck it and the note on his windshield, dead square in the middle of his field of vision.
“There,” I said to Eleanor. “Note. Let’s get moving.”
Buses were a bad idea—too many people. Same for the light rail. I had enough money for a cab, but walking was good. The motion, the burning of calories, did a lot to satisfy my need to destroy, consume. But there was no way in hell I was walking clear across town.
I’d probably catch the MAX—light rail—on the other side of the bridge.
Forty, twenty-seven, three, sixteen. I counted the people in the shops I passed, could tell by their heartbeat if they were young, old, or really old.
Hardest to ignore were the young and old, both so close to one side of the grave. Easy pickings.
I shoved my hands harder down in my coat pockets and dug my nails into the weave of my pockets, tearing at the threads.
Could this day tick by any damn slower?
I needed to feed. And if not that, because fuck me if I was going to kill anyone today, I needed a damn drink. Several, actually. Something to take the hard light out of the day, and sand all the edges off the world.
I was about a block away from the bridge when the slick black Corvette rolled up and stopped just in front of me. I probably should have been paying attention, but survival hadn’t really been my thing lately.
“Hey, you!”
I pulled my chin up out of my coat collar, and the world snapped down around me with all its clean, hard edges.
Situation: two guys in dark coats stepping out of the car. Driver built like a lumberjack, hair skinhead chic with a shaved lightning bolt, or maybe scar showing skin about three inches into his hairline above his right eyebrow. Unibrow, eyes set too close together, old acne scars.