Chapter Eight
S
totts went dead still, and my stomach lurched. “Where? When?” he asked.
“St. Johns behind the Homestyle Cafe. About fifteen minutes ago. They’re shaken but fine. And you know that gargoyle you had me pounding bricks for? It’s standing between me and them.”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up. “Everybody out.” He dialed another number and nodded toward the door. “I’m cordoning this off as a crime scene. Out.”
To my surprise, Victor and Zayvion did as he said.
I was more than happy to get out of there, away from the blood, the magic, and the death.
Stotts, behind me, gave orders for someone to come lock down the scene. Sounded like another member of his Magical Enforcement Response Corps—the MERCs. Which made sense—they were the secretive branch of the law that dealt with magical crimes.
“You and I will finish this later today,” he said to Victor. Then we all made our way to the shore. A police cruiser pulled up, and the mile-wide mass of Officer Makanie Love stepped out of it. He met us at the top of the stairs.
“Detective,” Makanie said with his island accent. He wore his uniform, which should have made him look fat, but instead made me realize that behind that easygoing Hawaiian manner was a man who didn’t need a Taser to knock you out cold. “What’s the situation?”
“Walk with me.” Stotts and Makanie rumbled off toward Paul’s car, and Victor and Zayvion strode in the opposite direction toward our vehicles.
I jogged off to catch up with Stotts and Makanie.
“Where are you going?” Victor called to me.
“Nola’s hurt.” I reached Stotts just as Makanie was walking away toward the docks.
“Tita, you get into more hot water than a pot of lobsters, you know that?” he said as he passed me.
“I know. Gotta go. Paul,” I called. “I’m coming with you.”
He nodded and slid into his car.
I was right behind him and ducked into the front seat and slammed the door behind me as he started driving. “What happened to Nola?”
“You heard.”
“The gargoyle won’t hurt them.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
I nodded and glanced in the side-view mirror. Zayvion was watching us drive away. He swore, then strode down the road toward Shame’s car. I hoped he wasn’t going to follow me. I could take care of Stone, and if someone didn’t stay behind to clean up the mess of magic here, and keep Detective Makanie from learning things he shouldn’t, we were screwed.
“How?” Stotts asked.
What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. Stone.
“I know the gargoyle won’t hurt them because he’s mine,” I said.
“You told me it was Shamus Flynn’s art project.”
“I lied. It’s mine, and it is one of the statues from the restaurant. I accidentally did something with magic to wake it up, and now it kind of follows me around like a dog.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“For one, I didn’t report that he followed me home when it happened,” I said. “The restaurant says he’s stolen, right?”
“If you had explained yourself and returned him, they might not have wanted to press charges.”
“I know. But I can’t return him. He has a mind of his own.”
Paul considered that. He’d been around Stone only once, but he was smart enough to realize Stone wasn’t just a magic trick. Or, actually, that he was a very unusual and very complicated magic trick.
“How did you ‘wake it up’?” he finally asked.
“I’m not exactly sure.”
“Does it have something to do with those people you’re involved with back there? Your father’s technologies and the kidnapping?”
I took in a deep breath and let it out. My arm was starting to hurt again, and so was my butt. I wasn’t sure if I had any extra pain pills in my pocket. I shifted in the seat to try to ease my hip.
“Not really,” I said honestly. “I think Stone’s just one of those weird things that can crop up when people have messed around with magic for hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?”
“I meant thirty.”
Paul was silent. “Want to go over that answer again?”
“Not on the record.”
“All right.” He nodded. “Let’s do this off the record. What aren’t you telling me, Allie?”
I thought about it. About exposing my nice detective friend, and my best friend’s nice boyfriend, to all the crazy magic business going on. He deserved to know something. Enough to keep himself and Nola safe. Even if that meant bending the Authority’s rules a little.
“That whole business back there with my dad’s technology is kind of hard to explain,” I said. “Victor’s a good guy. He means it when he says he really wants people to be safe—really wants magic to be safe. He didn’t know, we didn’t know, what had happened to Sedra Miller until we got there.”
“Did you ever think he might be lying to you?”
“Yes. But he’s showed me the things he’s tried to do to keep magic safe. Like channeling the wild-magic storm. I was there when they did it.”
“They?”
“I’m not going to name names.”
“So why are you telling me about it now?”
“Nola’s in town. I know you can handle yourself with magic, but she doesn’t even know a basic Block spell. I want you to know I trust Victor and that I think there might be some bad magic use going on in town. Jingo Jingo was a part of why I’m worried. Dane too.”
“How deeply are you involved with these people, Allie?”
“Well, I’m dating Zay, and he looks up to Victor like a father.”
“Zayvion Jones?” He frowned. Yeah, I know, it was hard to put Zay’s street-drifter image into the idea of being a powerful magic user.
“He’s very good with magic,” I said. “Trust me.”
Stotts shook his head. “Over the years I’ve thought . . . thought there was something going on with magic I couldn’t put my thumb on. Every time I got close, the evidence fell apart. . . .”
“You were right to be suspicious.” I rubbed at my forehead, realized my hands still stunk of Jingo Jingo and old magic, and let them drop to my lap.
“Allie,” Stotts said. “Just because you haven’t seen them do anything wrong doesn’t mean they’re innocent. If they were so right in their ways, why would they hide from the law?”
“You hide from the law.”
“I am the law,” he corrected.
“Yes, but no one knows that there’s a secret division of the police force that deals with magical crime. Why don’t they know? The less they know, the safer they are, right?”
He took a breath, let it out. “They’re vigilantes, Allie.”
“No,” I said. “No more than Hounds are. They do their part to try to keep magic safe. Just like Hounds. Legal, just like you.”
“I don’t think you understand the definition of
legal
,” he said. He parked the car in front of the cafe and opened the door. I got out.
“Can you talk to the gargoyle?” he asked.
“He’ll listen to me.”
The white MERC van was parked down the street. Standing next to it, texting on his cell phone, was a tall, thin, older man wearing a Grateful Dead tie-dye shirt and worn-out jeans. Officer Garnet, one of Stotts’ MERC crew.
“They’re round back,” Garnet said as we neared. “Hello, Allie.”
“Hey.”
We walked around behind the building. The pavement was broken and uneven. Weeds growing through the cracks brushed against my shoes and made it a little slippery to navigate. Then I saw them.
Nola stood with her hand on Cody’s shoulder. Cody sat cross-legged on the ground, petting Stone’s back.
And Stone, that lunk of concrete, stood with his back to them both, watching the street, his fangs bared, his ears flat, looking like he was ready to tear someone to bits and eat their bones.
Which I knew he could do.
No one was bruised or bleeding or broken. Nola looked a little shell-shocked.
Stone caught wind of us coming and growled.
Stotts put his hand on his gun.
“Stone,” I said, resting my fingers briefly on Stotts’ sleeve. “What are you doing out in daylight, Stoney?”
His ears pricked up, and a few less fangs were showing. “He’s safe,” I told Nola.
“You know what that is?”
“That,” I said, “is my gargoyle. He’s made out of magic mostly. He won’t hurt you, will you, Stone?”
He cooed, and Cody laughed.
I walked over to Stone and patted his head. “What are you doing out in the daylight, you crazy brick? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“It’s magic?” Nola said, not sounding at all sure about it.
“Yes. Not a common magical thing, but he’s magic. Are you okay? They said you were attacked.”
Paul had walked over with me, and while he kept an eye on Stone, he at least did not draw his gun, which I didn’t think would work on rock anyway.
“We were going for a walk to the park,” Nola said. “Then I couldn’t move. There was a man. . . .”
“Shadow man,” Cody said quietly.
Holy shit. The only shadow man I knew of was Leander.
“Did you get a good look at him?” Paul asked.
“No,” Nola answered. “It was like Cody said. Just a shadow. But upright as if he were solid, and shaped like a man. Maybe it was something magical? An art piece or advertisement? He said he wanted Cody.”
“Did he touch him?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think. Cody, did the shadow touch you?”
Cody looked over at Nola. “My monster. See my good monster?”
“Are you hurt, Cody?” Detective Stotts asked.
“I have a good monster.”
“Yes,” Nola said. “He is a good monster. Very nice. He chased away the shadow. Do you remember that?”
Cody nodded.
“Did the shadow touch you?” she asked again.
Cody frowned. Finally nodded.
“Where?” Nola asked.
Cody pointed at his head. “Inside my head. But monster was here.”
“In his head?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know,” Nola said. “Can we go back to our hotel room? I don’t want to be standing out here anymore, but every time we tried to take a step, that thing followed us. I might be able to get a real answer out of Cody if he has a quieter place to think.”
“You’re sure you weren’t hurt?” Paul asked.
“Shaken,” she said. “I’ve never had . . . never had to deal with magic like that before.”
The other two MERC crew—Julian, who looked like he should be trading stock, and Roberts, who looked like she could play blocker for the Rose City Rollers—were already sweeping the area, looking for magic, looking for leads. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to identify the spells Leander used, if it had been Leander. For one thing, he’d been dead for five hundred years and last I knew was still in a ghostly form. For another, he must have used dark magic, and no one, not even the MERCs, knew about dark magic.
“Let me take you home,” Stotts said.
“To the hotel?” she asked.
“No,” Stotts and I said at the same time.
He glanced at me. “It’s not safe enough there. If this was a magical attack on Cody, specifically, I’d rather have you somewhere I know you’ll be safe. I’d like you to stay with me.”
“No, I can’t put you out like that, Paul. The hotel will be fine. Maybe you could just assign us an officer to look in on us for the night?”
“Nola,” I said. “He’s right. I told you there are some strange magical things happening in the city right now, and if you’re going to be here, I’d really like you to be somewhere safe. And I’m sure Paul has safeties and wards on his place.”
“Nothing will be able to reach you there,” he agreed. “And this?” He pointed at Stone. “Thing?” He looked over at me.
“Stone. He would probably be happy to stay with Cody, if that’s okay with Nola. I think he likes him.”
Stone tipped his head side to side, nudging Cody’s hand and sniffing it like he had a treat hidden inside. Cody was rubbing his snout with first one hand, then the other, sending Stone into wriggle-gasms. It didn’t take a sharp eye to see that they were made for each other.
“I don’t know,” Nola said.
“Oh, come on,” I said, trying to make the idea sound like fun. Having a police officer look after Nola was good. Having Stone as a protector was even better. “He’s just a little bigger than Jupe. And heavier. And made out of rock. And not a dog. But otherwise, he’s a good boy.”
“Does he eat?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve seen. He does like to stack things.”
“Excuse me?”
We were walking back toward the car now. “Like blocks or cups or shoes. Likes to stack them up. You don’t have anything too breakable at your house, do you, Detective Stotts?”
“I don’t love the idea of that in my house. How intelligent is it?”
“Smarter than a dog. Tends not to like mean people who do bad things with magic.” I gave him a significant look, which he interpreted correctly. Stone would make a hell of a protector for Nola and Cody.
Stone walked along at Cody’s pace, and Cody kept his hand on Stone’s shoulder. Just like when I had walked through death, Stone unfurled his wing across Cody’s back and over his shoulder, holding on to his jacket with the prehensile tip of his wing. Cody had the most peaceful look on his face I’d ever seen.
A boy and his gargoyle. Match made in heaven.
Nola looked a little less wide-eyed than when we’d first arrived. She usually regained her footing pretty quickly when things turned strange.
“What else do I need to know about Stone?” she asked. “And about what happened today?”
“He’s a lot smarter than he looks,” I said, “has opposable thumbs—so that means he can open doors and unscrew peanut butter lids. And he makes messes.”
He gurgled like rocks moving under water.
“But mostly he just entertains himself, stacking things. He’s usually nocturnal.”
“Do you let him outside?”
“He pretty much comes and goes as he pleases. Thumbs.” I wiggled mine for emphasis.
“How long have you had him?” she asked as we reached Stotts’ car and Cody opened the door for Stone to get in the backseat. Stone did so, then turned around and stuck his big head back out the door, blocking Cody’s way to get in. Cody laughed and pushed on his head until Stone made room for him.
“Since you last visited, I guess.”
“You never told me about him,” she said.