Magic on the Storm - By Devon Monk Page 0,52

the Hounds? Not even Tomi?”

His breathing hitched, and it took him a little longer to answer. “No.”

I didn’t smell a lie on him.

“Where were you when this happened?”

“Here.”

“The car?”

“Yes.”

“Driving?”

“Parked outside the inn.”

“Davy, how many times do I have to tell you to stop following me? That was a private business meeting between a lot of investors who want their interests in Beckstrom Enterprises kept quiet. If they find out I have a Hound on my heels, it could seriously damage my dad’s company.”

I’d kept that lie ready for months now.

He mustered a small smile, but still hadn’t opened his eyes. “You don’t like your dad’s company.”

“No, but I like Violet and her baby having enough income to keep them out of the poorhouse. Hells, everything I’ve done to get the Hound warehouse up and running was funded by my stake in that company. And my dad is dead. It’s my company now.”

“Like they’d kick you out if I followed you.” This time he turned his head and opened his eyes. Red flashed there again, and I smelled a different scent on him. Something sweet like cherries, but different, muddied by other smells. Magic. That was certain. But whether he was using it, or it was being used on him, I didn’t know.

How long could the effects of what Tomi had done to him last? It would help if I knew exactly what Tomi had done to him, but the only one who knew that was caged in the basement of the inn, and he was not the talkative type.

“Okay, I’ll say it one more time,” I said. “You have to stop following me. There are personal things I don’t want you involved in. Business things that, yes, would get me kicked off the board running Beckstrom Enterprises. These people don’t see you as just a Hound. They see you as a possible information leak. As someone who probably does drugs to kick the pain, and who wouldn’t take much to become desperate enough to sell what you know, what you’ve seen, for your next fix.”

Yes, I was lying. And even though I was pretty good at it, because some of what I was saying was true and I’d been working on a bulletproof explanation for some time now, I was also hoping he was in enough pain, or distracted enough, he wouldn’t scent the lie on me.

“Nice bunch of people you do business with,” he said. His voice was a little stronger and he didn’t seem to be sweating quite so badly.

“Business isn’t about friendships. It isn’t about nice,” I said. “Everyone has their own interests to protect.”

“And you’re protecting your money.” He rolled his head forward to look out the front window. “Sweet of you.”

“No. I’m protecting the people I care about. Violet. My sibling. The Hounds. And that means you, Davy. But so help me, if you don’t smart up and listen to me this time, I am going to report you to the police for harassment, stalking, and anything else that will keep you from getting in trouble. Or getting me in trouble. Do you understand that?”

“I heard you,” he said. But from the set of his jaw, he wasn’t listening. Stubborn, angry young man.

“I should take you home.”

“Thought you had a job lined up with Stotts.”

When I didn’t say anything, he sighed. “You’re such a hypocrite. All Hounds need a backup. Those are your rules. Yours. I’m your backup tonight.”

“My backup can’t stand.”

“Since when do you need me to do jumping jacks?” he asked. “I just need to watch. I won’t get in the way. You know I’m good at that.”

I didn’t say anything.

“I want to see what happened to Bea. Want to know what I felt, if I really felt it.”

We were on the bridge now, and traffic was light, since it was pretty late and there weren’t any big games or concerts letting out.

“Please,” he said. “I need to know I’m not going insane. That magic . . . that it didn’t screw me up, permanently.” And the last bit was quiet, wrenched out of him like he was angry with himself for even saying it. Or just very, very afraid it might be true.

Magic in me pushed, warmed under my skin, and left a prickly itch behind. The lights on the bridge flickered for a moment, went dark. The magical backup generators for the lights did not kick on.

Davy felt the drop in magic too. He grunted. “What was that?”

Lights, regular electric lights,

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