I gently put my hand on Violet’s back. She had both her hands across her stomach now. She was shorter than me, thin, petite. Standing this close to her, touching her, made me realize how small and breakable she was, and I felt an overwhelming desire to protect her, to not let her, or my sibling she was carrying, get hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She did not look at me. Did not look away from the grave.
“So am I,” she whispered.
“Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded. “It’s going to take some time. More time,” she said faintly.
“If you need me,” I said, “I’ll be here.”
I wanted to say more, wanted to tell her words of comfort, wanted to tell her that I had spoken to him, to his spirit, but it seemed like the worst time ever to bring that up.
“Take care of her.” I said to Kevin. He nodded. I walked back to Zay, and he fell into step with me as we crossed the graveyard.
“Where were you?” I asked. I hadn’t meant for my voice to catch.
“Lobbying for you.”
“With whom?”
“Them.” He pointed in the direction of the people leaving the cemetery.
“Maeve stopped by.”
Zayvion, the graceful, the unflappable Zen master, tripped on smooth ground. “She did?” he asked as he pulled himself back up and dusted his muddy hands.
“That worries you?” I asked.
He took a deep breath, let it out through his mouth in a cloud of steam. “Honestly? Yes. Yes, it does. What did she want?”
“She and I… talked. She mentioned some teaching.”
Zayvion smiled and put his hands in his pockets. I could almost feel the tension draining from his body. “And you said yes, right?”
I shrugged one shoulder.
“Allie.” He sounded worried. “You did say yes, didn’t you?”
“You never asked me if I wanted you to lobby for me, Zayvion. You went out and decided my future for me.”
He stopped. Looked off at the horizon, his breath coming out in steam. It was still raining and he hadn’t removed his knit cap. He looked like he was trying hard to keep it together. Like maybe a lot was riding on this.
“You should have asked me,” I said.
He turned back to me, Zen, calm. Ready to hear my answer. “I see that now. Did you say no to her?” His eyes were brown, but flecks of gold sprayed through them, as if he were trying very hard not to use magic. Or maybe that was what his eyes always did when he was worried.
“No,” I said. “I told Maeve I want to learn. But don’t ever assume you can make decisions for me, Zayvion Jones. Men who do that don’t stay in my life. Period.”
“I’ll remember that.”
We started walking again.
“Thank you, though,” I said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “It is not an easy thing to learn. It means giving up a lot. A lot of your life. Paying the price.”
Yeah, I got it. Using magic was hard. But if I wanted to survive in this new secret world of magical back-stabbing, corpse-stealing soul suckers, I needed to learn the moves. An image of Pike flashed behind my eyes. Maybe if I had known more about this world, about Zayvion’s world, I could have kept him safe.
“Was it worth it? I asked. “For you?”
“It is now.”
He unlocked the car door and walked around to the driver’s side. I lowered my ducky umbrella and closed it. Then I opened the car door.
The overwhelming scent of summer-roses and irises-wafted out of the car. Zayvion was leaning on the roof, watching me with those warm brown eyes of his.
I bent and looked in. Roses in every shade of pink filled the car. Interspersed with the roses were irises in soft lavender and deep purple. There was even a bouquet of roses buckled into my seat.
Wow. It must have cost him a fortune to get that many flowers in the dead of winter.
“Well, well,” I said as I unbuckled the roses. “What would have happened if I told you I didn’t need a ride?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I had a good feeling about it.” He got in the driver’s side.
I got in too, maneuvering under the bouquet with one hand as I buckled my seat belt.
“I thought you were going to bring these by my hospital room.”
“It was suggested. That didn’t work out how I wanted it to.” He started the car.
I stuck my nose in the roses and inhaled, long and deep.
Lovely.
“What didn’t work out?” I asked.
“Everything. I should have known something would go wrong when I saw Trager’s blood magic mark on you. I should have gone with you to the police, been there when you confronted Trager.”
“Zayvion, you are not my guard.”
He didn’t say anything.
“You aren’t. You know that, right?”
“Sure.” He didn’t sound very convincing.
“Did Violet hire you to be my guard?”
Nothing.
“Zayvion? Hello? An answer here?”
“Would you like lunch? I think I still owe you that date.”
“Zayvion. Focus. Are you working for Violet?”
“No.”
“So you’re not my bodyguard?”
“Did you want me to be?”
“No.” Yes. No.
It was confusing being me.
“We haven’t even decided if we’re going to date,” I said.
“We can take care of that. Let me take you to lunch.”
I suddenly remembered the card in my pocket. Davy’s invite for me to go to Pike’s last meeting. I glanced at the clock in the dash.
“You have plans?” Zayvion asked.
“No. Yes. Maybe. I have lunch plans. I think.”
“You aren’t sure?”
“It’s Davy Silvers. He’s a-”
“Hound. We met.”
“You did?”
Zayvion looked over at me, frowned. “Ah. Memory loss?” he asked.
“I don’t know. When did you meet him?”
“During the… in the warehouse with Frank Gordon. Do you remember that?”
“Some. Can you tell me about it?”
“Sure. How about over lunch? On our date.”
Was there nothing without a price in this city?
“Fine. Take me to O’Donnel’s.”
Zayvion turned the car in that direction.
We found parking in the lot behind what used to be the old treasury building that had been turned into the pub. We got out of the car. A few patrons were smoking beneath the awning, and we walked past them through the haze of smoke and into the back door of the pub.
The place was small but had two levels. Off in one corner was a player piano. Velvet curtains sectioned off parts of the walls, giving it plenty of private booths. Everything was black walnut, red velvet, and brass.
Classy.
I scanned the room, looking for Davy. The flame of a cigarette being lit caught my eye. Jack, the Whiskey Guy, leaned on a door to an alcove area. He tipped his chin up, turned, and walked into the alcove.
I strode across the room. Maybe more like limped. My feet were numb in my wet boots, and honestly, I’d been doing a lot more standing and walking today than I’d done in the last five. I was feeling pretty worn-out. My stamina was shot. The doctor said I’d feel a little stronger every day. He was an optimistic fellow.
Still, it was a small enough place that I held my own and walked into the alcove area, Zayvion behind me.
The room was filled. Maybe thirty or forty people. Most standing, a few seated at the table. They were grouped by vice, as I suppose made sense. Hard drinkers to the right, street drugs in the back, prescription meds to the left, and smaller pockets of those who used specialized pain-avoidance techniques-the cutters, smokers, sex addicts, exercise freaks, and gamblers-sprinkled throughout. Still, no matter what group they belonged to, everyone had a drink in their hands. Platters of food covered the table, and in the center of all that food was a plain black urn.