The Death magic inside me yearned for that pain.
She must have seen that. Seen how her pain kicked up the hunger in me.
She stepped back. “I am against this, Shamus.”
“I know,” I said.
“I can’t watch this,” she said. “Won’t.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be here, Mum.”
She held my gaze a moment more, then turned her back on me and walked out.
I could count on one hand how many times she’d turned away from me. Each time she’d been right to do so. I had screwed up each of those times by not listening to her. Maybe I was screwing up now.
“You still think this is a good idea?” Hayden asked.
“I never said it was a good idea. But it needs to be done. Are you going to help or not?”
He looked off the way my mom had gone, then back at Terric. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”
Yes, that surprised me.
“Did Dash tell you what we need?” I asked.
“Other than matching straitjackets?” Hayden paced away from the wall, pointed at Terric. “Cop a squat, Terric. This would hurt at the hands of an experienced Closer. An amateur like Shame isn’t going to make this any kind of joyride.”
“Amateur?” I complained.
Terric looked around, decided the floor would work and sat, leaning his back against the wall.
“You.” Hayden pointed a finger my way. “Stand right here.”
I stepped up next to him, expecting him to tell me how to draw an UnClose spell.
“If you ever treat your mother’s heart like a toy you can tear apart,” he said quietly to me, “if you ever look at her like a meal you can slice up and swallow like what I just saw—”
“I didn’t—”
“—I will put you down,” he said. “Do you understand me? Son?”
Death magic rolled over me at that threat, but I hauled back on it, locking it behind the thin barrier of my flesh and bones. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Go apologize.”
“That’s a really bad idea,” I said as Death magic kicked at me.
“You want my help, you go patch it up with your mom.”
“She needs some time to cool down,” I said. “So do I. Just. Just show me what I need to do with Terric. Then I’ll talk to her. I promise.”
I really needed him to listen to me. The hunger was gaining on me. If I were left alone, with my mom. . . . no. I wouldn’t hurt her. I couldn’t.
“Please, Kellerman. Just. Please.”
“Fine,” he said. “Against my better judgment. Faith magic spells used to Close a person aren’t like casting Death magic. You must be mechanically precise. You must be controlled. You must be disciplined.”
Great. I was pretty much none of those things.
“How must must I be?”
“Depends on how badly you want Terric’s brains to remain unmangled. This is precision work, Shamus. You so much as deviate on any aspect of the spell, improvise or wing it, and he’s losing memory, or brains, for life. Are you getting what I’m saying, or should I take you around the dance floor one more time?”
“I heard you. Precision. Discipline. My middle name. Then what?”
“You’ll cast Close. Backward.”
I glanced up at the big guy. “Is that all?”
“Not as easy as it sounds. You have to trace the original Closing spell from end to beginning. Hard enough if it was a spell originally cast in your signature. Damn impossible to trace someone else’s handwriting backward. Blindfolded. With a handful of fire.”
I knew how to fake another magic user’s signature, but not good enough to fool anyone. Not exactly right. Only a few people in the world could pull off that kind of deception.
But I knew someone who could do it. An artist with magic. Good enough he’d run on the wrong side of the law for years taking forgery jobs.
“Son of a bitch,” I said. “Dash, get Cody here. Now.”
• • •
Cody showed up less than fifteen minutes later. Walked into the room, paused, then grinned. “We’re UnClosing Terric, aren’t we?”
“That’s the idea,” I said. “I need you to do it.”
“Do what? I can’t cast magic anymore, Shame. That’s what I gave up for letting magic use me as a cocktail shaker, remember?” He walked over to the table, poured himself some lemonade.
Dashiell lifted a few fingers in greeting. Davy did the only thing Davy seemed to do lately—glare at me.
“Just because you can’t use magic doesn’t mean you can’t draw a spell,” I said. “Your hands aren’t broke, Miller.”
He held up his right hand and wriggled his fingers. “Hands, sure. But I’m not a Hand with magic. Not anymore.”
“He’s right, Shame,” Dash said.
“I’ll take care of the magic part,” I said. “You just draw.”
“Just draw.” He glanced at Hayden, who shook his head and shrugged.
“Putting aside for the moment that it’s not going to work,” Cody said, “why do you need Terric unClosed? Can’t you still use magic, break magic, Shame?”
“Not reliably. Not with control. I need . . . I need Terric for that. It’s going to take both of us to kill Eli. To stop Krogher. To do something about those drones.”
To save the world before I destroy it.
With Allie and Zay down and every other Soul Complement in hiding, we were the only people left who could take them on. End them.
“All right,” he said. “We UnClose Terric. Or try to. What’s in it for me?”
“Saving the world isn’t enough return on your investment?”
“I want something personal. From you.”
“Like I don’t break your nose?”
“Like you make me an unbreakable promise.”
“Everything breaks,” I said.
“Sealed with Blood magic. Terric’s blood and your blood.”
Terric spoke up from the floor. “Nope. I won’t be a part of Shame’s deals. Not after that poker game in Astoria,” he said. “I’m Closed, not suicidal.”
“Okay, your blood,” Cody said to me. “You make me a Blood promise, that the two of you won’t change how I mended magic. No matter what else you do together, you leave magic gentle like it is now, and I’ll help you get his memories back.”
I threw my hands up. “What the hell does you mending magic have to do with anything? We’re not doing anything to change magic. We’re trying to get Terric’s brain back so we can use magic.”
“Then it’s an easy promise, isn’t it?”
I’d heard those words out of Cody since we were teens. He usually said them right before I made a deal I ended up regretting.
“Don’t care if it’s easy,” I said, drawing my pocketknife and slicing my left palm. “You got the promise. I won’t screw with how you healed magic if you show me how to fix Terric.” I held up my bloody palm, used the tip of the knife to draw a Binding spell between us. “Happy?”
He held his hand out for my knife. I gave it to him and he sliced his palm. “Good enough.”
We shook, blood to blood, and I felt the binding of word and magic in the clasp of our hands.
“Good. Now . . .” Cody wiped his palm on his jeans. “Let’s pry open his brain, shall we?” He strolled over to Terric and stared down at him. “Ready for this?”
“Should I do something? Bite down for pain?” Terric asked.
“No. You’re fine,” Cody said. “Shame, I need Sight.”
“Not your magical slave, mate.”
I stepped up to him and drew a clean Sight spell, then drew on the magic beneath the inn to fill it. The spell hissed to life, deep blue light carving three perfect concentric circles.
“Not too bad,” Cody said.
“Considering it’s perfect?” I asked.