Magic on the Storm - By Devon Monk Page 0,30

ordinary actions guided his muscles and body, helping to clear his mind. I knew there was a storm inside him. And that storm was sparked by a need for me.

I liked that I could ignite that kind of heat in the man.

But right now I had to see if Davy had thrown Anthony out a window.

I finished my coffee and waved to Grant, who waved back. Zayvion and I left Get Mugged and strode to the warehouse next door.

Chapter Five

Zay and I let ourselves into the warehouse through the side door. There was an elevator inside, but I took the stairs behind the door.

Grant leased out the second and third floors to me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the third floor yet, but liked the view and the strange architecture enough to keep it.

At the top of the second-floor stairway was a door. I pushed it open, out into the wide hall that split the entire floor in two. Half the space nearest Get Mugged was reserved for my office, a dojo, and a smaller kitchen/living area that had enough locks and wards, I could keep the Hounds out if I needed to. The other side of the building was set up as the main living quarters for the Hounds. Bunks would eventually line one or two walls, and there were a couple bathrooms, showers, and a larger kitchen. A few couches, a TV, computers, and a space cordoned off for meetings.

It wasn’t a home, but it was a roof and walls, and a place out of the weather.

Right now, it was open loft space with bits of furniture here and there. Which meant it was easy to hear who was here, and easy to find them.

I planned on keeping it that way.

Davy Silvers, arms crossed over his chest, leaned against one of the walls on my side of the floor, between the windows that overlooked Get Mugged. Anthony was halfway across the room from him, about dead middle of the space, his hands out of his pockets, empty. No guns, spells, or blood yet.

“Hey, Davy,” I said. “Anthony. You boys figure things out?”

Davy spoke. “He said you okayed him being here. Hounding.” It came out low and soft. Even though it had been several weeks since Davy had been mauled by Greyson and betrayed by his girlfriend, Tomi, he still hadn’t fully recovered. A few weeks ago, we’d found out Tomi left Oregon. Went back to California to stay with her grandmother. Ever since Davy had heard that news, there was something different about him. Something broken inside him.

And out of that breakage poured a cold anger I’d never seen in him before. I figured it would just take time for him to get his footing again, to feel normal without Tomi. And I figured he did not need Anthony rubbing salt in his wounds in the interim.

I wandered over to my desk, letting my oh-so-casual body language wet-blanket as much fire out of their standoff as I could. Davy was my secretary and righthand man when it came to Hound business, and had been indispensable during the renovations. He’d put a few files on my desk for me to look through. I opened the first one, and pretended to read it.

“I told Anthony he has to get his act together before he can be a part of the pack,” I said.

Davy shifted his fists to crack his knuckles against his ribs. “I don’t like him,” he said. “I don’t want him here.”

“If we only opened our doors to Hounds who got along, there’d never be more than one of us here at a time.” I closed the folder. Looked over at the boys.

Still hadn’t moved. Still looked like they were ready to attack.

“Did I mention the new rule? No killing each other. If you two can’t be in each other’s presence, then I don’t want you in the same room.”

To my surprise, it was Anthony who listened. “I should go. I just wanted to say—”

“Good-bye,” Davy said. End of conversation.

Anthony looked over at me. I nodded. Kid had guts. No smarts, but plenty of guts.

“See you around, Anthony.”

He looked down at his shoe. He walked over to me, head still down. Davy tensed with every step Anthony took.

Me too, but I hid it better.

“Here.” Anthony handed me a piece of paper. “Like you said, right?”

I glanced down at the note. It was a name and a number. His counselor, I assumed. “So far,”

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