. . Won’t let me help . . . You know how crazy that is?”
I felt a strange twinge in my chest, sorrow for him. I knew what it was like to lose everything. If we were somewhere alone, I might even talk to him about that, give him a sisterly pat on the shoulder or something. Instead I placed my hand on his upper arm.
He couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d hit him with a Taser.
Have I mentioned Hounds don’t do contact?
“If she won’t take our help, then we’ll get her pointed in the right direction to help herself.”
“Like that’s going to work,” he muttered.
“Maybe not. Lots of Hounds fuck up and die. But Tomi’s pretty smart. And she’s strong. A survivor.”
He nodded, watching me, and not doing a very good job of hiding how miserable he was and how much he really wanted to believe there was some hope left for her.
“Do you know who she’s with?” I asked. “That guy you said she was working for, cutting for?”
“She calls him Jingo.”
“What?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Mr. Jingo. I looked. There isn’t anyone in Portland by that name. I figure it’s just what he’s told her.”
Bea and Jack came strolling down the corridor. “One side,” Jack said as they neared. Then, “After you, Beatrice.”
Bea smiled and walked past us. “See you later, Allie, Davy,” she said.
Jack just gave us a short nod, and then both of them were out the door into the building proper.
Jingo. Not nearly a common enough a name for it not to be Jingo Jingo. But what would a member of the Authority, a teacher of Death magic, want with a Hound? Maybe he wanted what anyone wanted from a Hound—someone to track magic. Or maybe he had taken her on as a student, like Maeve had taken me on.
“Have you ever met him?”
“No.”
“Okay. Let me look into it. I’ll see if I can track him down. You just stay away from her for a little while.”
He glared at me.
“She said she’ll get a restraining order on you if you don’t.”
“Like that matters,” he said.
“It does. I’ll pay medical bills, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to post bail for you, Silvers.” We glared at each other. I won.
He looked down at his shoes.
“She’ll come around,” I said. “Just give her some time.”
“You don’t know Tomi,” he said. “She never comes around.”
“Just promise you’ll stay away from her until she cools off,” I said again.
He blinked and gave me a disinterested look.
Fabulous.
“I have an appointment to keep.” I started walking to the door. “You going to be okay?”
“Sure.” He didn’t move away from the wall. He just leaned his head back, clenched his hands into fists, and closed his eyes.
“If you need anything, call,” I said.
He didn’t respond. I felt bad leaving him alone in the hall, but I really had to get home if I was going to make it to class on time. And I had some new questions I needed to ask Maeve.
I strolled back out into the building and took the stairs that exited to street level.
It was raining. Hard. I paused under the dubious cover of the building’s overhang and dug my knit hat out of my pocket. Hat on head, I strode across the street, not waiting for the light to change. I caught the MAX light rail train instead of waiting for the bus.
I made it to the bottom of my hill and started up. I finally spotted Zayvion’s car, parked a block away from my apartment.
More walking in the rain. I was soaked, cold, and the wind was picking up. Still, instinct told me to slow my steps before getting too close to Zayvion’s car. Something was wrong. By now he should have at least acknowledged that he saw my approach.
The back of my neck tingled and magic, deep and hot within me, pushed to be released.
Danger, danger, danger.
A moth-wing flutter on the back of my eyes reminded me that my dad was still there. Not exactly comforting.
I paused beneath an overhang in front of a glass shop, set a Disbursement—a headache again—then drew the glyph for Sight with my fingertip and poured magic into it.
The street filled with the ghostly multicolored ashes of old spells, many dissolving and regenerating—business spells set on cycles or loops as the magic pulsed into them—the price for the constant refresh going off somewhere to Proxy pits and penitentiaries.
A dozen Veiled, men, women, wandered the street, so far uninterested