Recordings with burning fingers that like to eat magic.
“What did the Hungers used to be?” I asked.
“Some say they are failed spells from the ancient days when magic was first used by mankind. Some say they are the fears, the panics, the horrors of all the world’s tragedies, the nightmares of mankind’s dreaming mind. Some say they are hunters, killers, creatures that dwell in the world beyond the gates, hungry for the blood and magic of the living world.” He shrugged. “Your basic denizens of death.”
“Huh,” I said.
“What?”
“I was just trying to remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who used the words
dwell
and
denizens of death
in the same breath.”
“Your point?” he asked.
“You are a seriously strange man, Zayvion Jones.”
That got a surprised grin out of him. “You don’t know me very well, then.”
Well, well, look at who had gone all Mr. Tough on me. It looked natural, easy on him. I had a feeling there was a side to Mr. Jones that I hadn’t seen yet. The bad-boy hunter side. And I liked it.
“So, the Hungers?” I prompted.
“Right. Cross over from death. It happens, but not very often, and usually only one at a time. You saw more than one?”
“Six, I think.”
“That’s a large crossing. It would have taken a lot of power behind the spell to crack the gate that wide.”
Maybe that was why Tomi looked so exhausted.
“Is Davy being hurt a part of it?” I asked.
“Yes. Death magic takes a sacrifice. It doesn’t have to be a life, just an exchange of energy. But the old ways, dark ways, always use a sacrifice.”
“You said those ways were forbidden.”
Shamus, who was done with his phone call, laughed. “They are. But first someone has to catch you doing it. Death magic is hard stuff to Hound.”
I didn’t know that. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse, knowing there was a kind of magic less detectable to Hounding.
“There’s something else,” I said. “Davy said Tomi mentioned a man named Jingo. Is she part of the Authority?”
They both got quiet. Finally, Zay spoke. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Told you he’s a freak,” Shamus muttered. “Gonna be a fuckin’ war.”
The muscle of Zay’s jaw tightened. “Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we’ll find a way to fix this first.”
Shamus snorted. “Optimism does not suit you, my friend.”
“So is Jingo Jingo using Tomi some other way?” I asked. “For Hounding? A little light on the subject would be nice.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Zayvion said. “I don’t know if Jingo Jingo is involved with Tomi at all. There are. . people who would plant his name. Make false trails to cover their own tracks.”
“Backstabbing and double-crossing? Fantastic show you’re running,” I said.
“There’s a lot of unrest among magic users right now,” Zayvion said. “Especially since your father’s death. A lot of finger pointing, blame of magic and knowledge being improperly supervised, leaked, used.
“But right now, we need to deal with the Hungers,” Zayvion said, changing subjects.
I still wanted to know what Jingo Jingo had to do with all this, but for all I knew, Shamus was more than his student. He could be his spy.
Where was that secrets spreadsheet when I needed it?
“Do you still think they’re in St. Johns?” I asked.
“Probably. There’s a reason the gate was opened there. There isn’t magic in St. Johns. Nothing is piped in, nothing natural beneath the ground. I think Tomi didn’t want us knowing the gate had been breached. It’s possible the Hungers are waiting for nightfall to slip into the rest of the city.”
“And once they’re in the city, what do they do?”
“They kill,” Shamus said.
“So why haven’t I heard about this on the news? Dead bodies? Rampaging nightmare creatures? That’s got to be good enough to at least hit the morning shows.”
“You don’t hear it because we are very, very good.” Shamus grinned.
“No, if someone dies, it’s noticed,” I said. “By a neighbor, a friend, a coworker.”
“We don’t hide the bodies,” Zayvion said, “when there are bodies. We just make sure the cause of death never points toward the magical.”
“That doesn’t sound easy,” I said.
“After years and years of training?” he said. “It’s not.”
“Crap,” I said. “Training. Shame, would you call your mom and tell her I’m going to be late-later? Please?”
He just shook his head. “You’re gonna owe me for all this sugar I’m pouring on her.” He dialed, and spent several minutes explaining exactly what we were going to be doing.
Finally, he hung up. “Says she’ll consider it extra credit, but no getting into the middle of anything really dangerous. Thinks I’m gonna look after you.”
“I can look after myself,” I said.
Shamus nodded. “Of course you can.”
I was demure enough not to flip him off with both fingers.
We drove past the park. Police tape closed off the parking lot, but North Bradford Street was clear. Zayvion parked the car several blocks away, tucked down a one-way gravel and bramble dead-end road, then popped the trunk.
Shamus jumped out and started rummaging through the gear in the trunk.
“I don’t suppose I could talk you into staying in the car?” Zayvion asked.
“No.”
He didn’t look surprised by my answer. “Did your father teach you any of the Closing spells?”
“No.”
“Attacks?”
“What? No.”
“Allie. .” He rubbed the back of his neck and tipped his head down.
“Listen,” I said. “I don’t have to be the one who kills these things, but I do want to see how they are killed. I’m here to watch and learn so the next time one of my Hounds gets attacked, I’ll know what to do. I’ll stay out of your way. Think of me as a job shadow.”
He stopped rubbing his neck. “I’d like to think of you as a lot more than that. Alive and safe, for one thing.”
“How about stubborn and smart enough to look after myself?”
“Mmm, that too. But I’m still going to go with alive and safe.”
He leaned toward me. I met him halfway. We kissed, and delicious warmth spread through me, filling me. The taste of him-a little smoky and sweet, along with the scent of pine that would forever remind me of him, of his touch-poured through me and made me want him more.
He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. “Please. Please take the keys and drive home,” he said softly.
I leaned away, just enough that I could see his eyes. Just enough that I wouldn’t fall into needing to do what he said. Not because of Influence or anything magical between us. But because I hated to hear the worry in his voice.
“Just tell me what to do if one gets too close to me. I promise I am not going to get close to one of them.”
He licked his bottom lip, and I wondered if he could still taste me, taste our kiss.
“Shield will work against them,” he said. He was all teacher now, all Zen. Calm. Reassuring. Matter-of-fact. Like he hunted nightmares every day.
Which, come to think of it, he probably did.
“Camouflage works too. If things get hot, back off and back out. Most of the defensive spells-Hold, Sleep-won’t do a thing. The Hungers absorb anything thrown at them. So your best defense is to not attack. Try to blend in, try not to smell like magic or give off the sign that you use magic.”
I rolled my eyes, and he nodded. “I know. But try. Blocks will work on you, not on the Hungers.”