Old Dog, New Tricks Read online

  “We heard.” I lowered my voice. “They can’t make it official until Mac gets here.”

  “Macsen has been upstairs for half an hour.” She linked her fingers. “I thought you knew.”

  “He’s slippery,” I told her. “Like an eel. Wonder if he has one of those skins.”

  Things with Mom must not have ended well if he beat us here on foot. Two legs or four. Demanding she fess up and admit she loved him? Huh. Who would have thought that could ever possibly go wrong?

  Parents.

  Shaking my head, I pushed those worries aside. “Where do you want us?”

  Mable twirled a finger. “Why don’t you two wait in your office?”

  “All right.” I dug in my messenger bag. “That we can do.”

  Her eyes followed the motion. “I’ll fetch you as soon as they’re ready.”

  From the depths of my bag I pulled a jar of pine honey I’d had imported from Turkey for a special occasion. Tonight was shaping up to be one, so I felt it required a commemorative token. That and if I didn’t make it back, I wanted her last gift from me to be the very best I had squirreled away for her.

  With a flourish, I presented the delicate brown glass jar to her. “This is for you.”

  She clapped with delight. “What is it?”

  “Pine honey.” I winked at her. “The only jar in Wink.”

  Maybe even the state of Texas. I had pulled strings to get a conclave outpost in Turkey to ship it here.

  “Pine honey,” she repeated. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

  I shooed Mable toward her desk where she kept her dainty tasting spoons. She walked in a daze with the jar held up to the light, studying its contents, and I laughed. “Let me know what you think of it, all right?”

  “I’ll do that.” She sat in her task chair and placed the jar on her desk. “You didn’t have to—”

  “I know.” I smiled. “We’ll see you in a bit.”

  I reached behind me and grabbed Shaw by the wrist, hauling him up a short flight of stairs to my office where I shut the door and locked it behind us.

  “This is moving too fast.” I pressed a hand into my gut. “How did Mac beat us here? And where the heck is Mom?”

  “Breathe.” Shaw gripped my upper arms. “She’s probably blowing off steam. Don’t get yourself worked up. We knew this day was coming.”

  I puffed out my cheeks. “They’re upstairs deciding our fate right now.”

  His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “They’ve been doing that for days.”

  “But now Mac is up there with them. They could flap their gums all they wanted, but the motion couldn’t pass without him being present and giving his formal vote, and he’s been with us, so I knew they were just blowing hot air. Politics, right? But if he’s up there, then it’s real. This is happening.”

  Shaw led me across the office toward the task chair where I seated visitors, and shoved down on my shoulder until I sat. Then he kept shoving until I bent forward and my head was between my knees.

  “Just breathe.” His wide palm stroked down my back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Tears gathered in my eyes. “I wanted to see Mom before we left.”

  “There’s still time,” he soothed.

  I turned my head and caught him playing with his cell. A few days ago I would have snapped a nasty comment about booking hookers, but we were past that. Or trying hard to get that way. I didn’t want to be the girlfriend who kept dredging up the past to poison the present, but it was hard. The old pain was sharp, and fear made it so much worse. Times like these I wanted to still be a little girl. I wanted Mom to pull me onto her lap and rock me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but I was an adult now. I was a marshal. I used to be a princess, and here I was about to reclaim my throne. A freaking crown I never wanted. A title I couldn’t care less about. But it was what it was.

  The doorknob wiggling made me jerk vertical, and blood rushed in my ears. I clutched at Shaw’s arm and stared at the door as though the frame was an archaic gateway into a future that terrified me.

  “Hel-to the-lo,” Mai sang. “I brought coffee and donuts.”

  I was on my feet with the door open and Mai in my arms in a heartbeat. “You got my message.”

  She lifted a finger. “Daddy only thinks he knows all the places a girl can hide her cellphone.”

  I burst out laughing, which almost covered the pained noise Shaw was making.

  “Um.” Her fair skin flushed red hot as she escaped me. “That didn’t come out how I meant it.”

  On her way past I plucked a cup of coffee from the paper tray she carried. “You’re the best.”

  “No argument here.” She passed Shaw a cup before setting the tray and donut box on my desk.

  While perusing the assorted pastries, I asked, “So the Hayashis are going on lockdown?”

  “No,” she grumbled. “The Hayashis are on lockdown. I was the last holdout.”

  I picked up a chocolate-covered candidate. “It sucks, but it will be the safest place for you.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” She pointed a finger between Shaw and me. “If this doesn’t work out, let me know. With that mentality, you and Dad could be a match made in heaven.”

  I snorted. “Heaven is exactly where we would end up too, if your mom caught wind of our torrid love affair.”

  “Good point.” She made a grouchy face. “Though I have to admit I’m a little disturbed you took it that far.”

  I shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

  Her gaze slid to a point behind me, and her eyes narrowed. “Why is your closet glowing like that?”

  “Glowing?” I turned around and froze. “Oh crap. It’s not supposed to do that.”

  Sultry red light pulsated in the crack between the door and the floor, flashed between the hinges and snaked through the wood grain to make eerie patterns that throbbed with an unsettling intensity.

  “I have some herbs in my bag.” Shaw eased forward, placing himself between the closet and me like it was a bomb waiting to explode. “I can cast a divining spell. See if someone tampered with the closet.”

  I stepped up beside him. “As in divine who caused the whatever-is-in-there to start glowing?”

  “Or divine what it does.” He grabbed my arm. “We don’t want to open the door and have it go boom.”

  “See, that’s the thing.” I laced my fingers. “I know what the closet does—did—and the door doesn’t open.”

  “What it does?” He turned me to face him. “Since when does your closet do anything?”

  “The Morrigan gave me a present, and I didn’t know what it was until she had done it.” I stuck a hand down the front of my T-shirt and pulled out the battered silver pendant marked with a triskele.

  Each marshal since the start of the program was gifted a medallion that would summon the Morrigan to accept tithes. Though I wasn’t sure what it entailed for other marshals, for me it meant when a case went bad and I exercised my right to use lethal force, the Morrigan collected the body once I had consumed the soul. Meat and bones were paid as a tithe to her in thanks for erasing our messes.

  After Balamohan, I was second-guessing what she gained from helping the conclave conceal the existence of fae from humanity. A free meal, yeah, but there had to be more to it. Obviously, she had no issues revealing fae to the human race seeing as how she planned to come out of the closet—no pun intended—in a genocidal way.

  Death magics were complex. Far more complex than I had realized, which was worrisome given that was the root of my power. The more I learned and the more Mac taught me, the more worried I got.

  When a fae or half-blood died, where did their magic go? Did it vanish in a puff of smoke? Was it absorbed into the ground or air and made clean by the earth? Or was it, as I was coming to believe, locked in the tissues of the fae themselves? Meaning each meal was a power snack in a literal sense.

  The worst scenario imaginable was the
magics stayed in the body and the Morrigan gained strength each time she ate fae flesh. Given its world-ending consequences, I was betting that was the case.

  “You know how these handy-dandy pendants used to summon the Morrigan? For tithe collection and all that?” I rolled my hand. “You know, before she went totally bonkers and took over Faerie?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “I think I can remember as far back as three days ago.”

  “Okay, well, mine also acts as an anchor for a portal.” I pointed toward the closet. “To there.”

  Muscle leapt in his jaw. “Portals are illegal.”

  Shame wormed through my gut. “I know.”

  He drew us back several steps from the door. “Do the magistrates know about it?”

  “No.” My shoulders slumped. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  Admitting moral weakness to Shaw hurt. It meant offering proof of my corruption by not giving up the pendant in the first place. I’d intended to collect the contents and turn the whole mess over to the magistrates. But I hadn’t. Something kept me holding on to the pendant, the secret, even after I was rescued and sent home to recover. For the first time in my life, I had Mac’s wealth of knowledge at my fingertips, and I hadn’t said a word to him or to Shaw or to Mai or to Mable. Not a single peep.

  Studying the pulsating glow, Shaw advanced. “What are you keeping in there?”

  “My skins.” I closed my hand over the pendant, my thumb sliding through the familiar groove in its center. “I needed a safe place to keep them after Faerie, and she knew that. I guess Rook mentioned it. Then I called her for pickup, and she did something to my necklace. She had already been here, anchored the portal in the closet and I just... I’m an idiot.”

  “This is serious.” A snarl entered his voice. “This is an anchor of power for the Morrigan in the heart of the marshal’s building, right below the magistrates’ office. This is dangerous for us—and for them. Did you consider you might not be the only one with access to it? To what you store inside of it? Or that the portal might not end here?”

  The blood rushed from my face, and I swayed on my feet. “We have to tell them.”

  Red light strobed under the door and exploded through the wood in an electric blast.

  Thrown against the wall, I collided head first with the baseboards, and the room went dark.

  Chapter Six

  Slashing pain woke me as fire burned my palm. Steel fingers clamped my wrist, and my left arm popped, yanked out of its socket. I gasped through the hurt, forcing my heavy eyes open on chaos.

  The closet door was gone. Inside what used to be a three-foot-square area, magic churned in red waves like a choppy sea after a storm. Shadows moved through the smoky light. Sharp teeth. Claws.

  My knee slammed into a bookshelf, and I yelped. The constant pressure on my arm lessened.

  A slim line of blood trickled down my right arm. Mine?

  “It is alive.” A grunt sounded unhappy about that. “The Morrigan wants a word with it.”

  I tilted my head back. A bulky troll was dragging me across the floor toward the closet—toward a freaking portal straight into Hell for all I knew. Movement to my right made me squint. Wide gold eyes blinked at me from between two filing cabinets. Mai. Thank God. Oh no. Shaw. Where was...?

  Two more trolls hunched over a mass in the corner. Boots. It wore black boots. No, no, no.

  “It will break,” one murmured.

  “It might,” the other agreed. “It’s tough. Not good eats.”

  A sour taste rose up the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and forced myself to soak in the damage caused by a portal mouth opening inside the closet and transporting a troll mini strike force.

  All my fault. This is all me. I can’t blame my magic this time. This is all my doing.

  “The other thing,” the one holding my arm said. “Find it. Furry thing. Might make good eats.”

  The other two grunted agreement.

  Mai. They were discussing her as a menu item. She must have been scared furry after the blast.

  How long had I been out? Not that long if they hadn’t caught her yet. Hadn’t dragged me through the portal. Long enough for Shaw to get hurt. He must have fought them. Stupid, stupid, brave incubus protecting his idiot mate from herself. If he was... I would kill them. All of them.

  My magic, always balanced on the sharp edge of hunger, driven to the brink of starvation by my exercises in control, shot from my left palm, through my glove, a powerful blast that bowed my spine.

  The troll holding on to me bellowed in agony. No stopping it. No saving him. He was toast.

  Magic slid underneath his skin, scalpel-sharp, cleaving flesh from muscle. Sliding deeper, into his chest, through his heart, a fist of magic grabbed the organ and squeezed it to pulp. Reaching wider, the fingers of power stabbed into the nugget of soul and ripped it free, devouring his essence before I gained control of myself. His body crumpled, landing in a heap beside my head. His skin landed in a fragile sheet half on top of me. When I breathed in, I inhaled flakes of skin and burnt hair.

  “What did it do?” one of the corner trolls yelled. “What did it do?”

  “It killed him,” the other barked. “It killed him with a touch of its hand. I saw it.”

  “I’ll kill it with my hand.” The first troll made a fist. “See how it likes that.”

  “It’s going to die,” the second troll sneered.

  Pushing upright, I twisted into lotus position. That was as far as I made it before they charged.

  The second troll palmed my entire head. I clamped a hand on to his thick wrist and used the fresh energy coursing through me to rip his soul through his chest with magic fingers. More in control this time, I reeled my power in like a lasso and flung it at the third troll as he landed a kick to my side. Gripping his ankle, I shoved more energy into him. His essence leaked from his heel to puddle underneath me like black sludge.

  When I released him, his body, balanced on one foot, teetered, hitting the floor and bouncing. The second troll loomed over me, dead fingers spearing my hair, until impact jostled him and he toppled, landing on top of the third one with a thud. Both were hard as the stone they became in daylight.

  Jaws stretched in primal screams. Eyes peeled open wide and blank. Their last breaths reeked of terror.

  Left hand raised high like a beacon, spilling light into the room, I scanned for more trolls.

  “Mai,” I called. She bounded to me, fur standing on end, thick tail swishing. “Where is Mac?”

  She pointed her nose toward the ceiling.

  “He’s still in the magistrates’ office? Are they hurt or—?”

  The fox leapt from my lap, hunkered down on the floor and covered her ears with her paws.

  “They’re hiding?”

  A growl.

  I took that as a negative. “They can’t hear us?”

  A yip.

  As I stood, it hit me. “They activated a privacy spell so they wouldn’t be disturbed.”

  Mai nodded, the gesture looking too human on a fox.

  Leaving her where she sat, I crossed to Shaw and fell to my knees at his side. “Oh, Jackson.”

  He groaned at the sound of his name and turned his head toward me. His face was ruined. Blood covered him from scalp to collarbone, and when he parted his lips, I counted missing teeth. Potent anger ignited in my gut. All that remained of my glove was a charred scrap of fabric that I tore away.

  Clasping hands with him, I trusted Mai to watch my back while I gently pushed a portion of the energy I had consumed into him. Healing worked best with several slow transfusions of magic. That was a luxury we didn’t have, but I couldn’t pump him full of juice. Not when he had been eating light for days. Instead I fed him a trickle until some of the swelling left his cheeks and the skin crept over exposed bone, reknitting the split halves of his face together. Lids regenerated over his eyes, which cracked open a fraction to stare up at me.

  “I need to ge
t my father,” I said softly. “I’m going to leave Mai here with you.”

  Slight pressure on my fingers told me he heard and understood.

  Shoving to my feet, I whirled on Mai. “Bark if anything moves. I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

  I took the stairs three at a time, reached the door of the magistrates’ office and pounded on the gleaming silver wood panels with my fists. “Hey,” I called. “Open up. There’s a situation out here.”

  No one answered. No one flung open the doors. No one ran to my rescue.

  A sick, sick feeling curdled my stomach.

  How long had I been out? What else had strolled through the portal? Where was my father? Had the magistrates been captured? Killed? Mable. Oh, God. What if she had been hurt? What if Mom...

  No. Shut down the fear. Twenty questions had to wait. This wasn’t a drill. This was real.

  Faerie had brought the war here. And I had helped.

  Exhaling slowly between my lips, I shoved the memory of Shaw’s battered face out of my mind and grasped the fraying sense of calm Mac had struggled to teach me. From there I summoned magic into my runes and flattened my palm against the door. Through that link, I sensed a heavy enchantment as thick as cotton batting shrouding the room. I couldn’t hear a peep through it, and I bet they couldn’t either. Great. On the upside, this meant the threshold remained unbroken. That was a good sign.

  If the fighting downstairs hadn’t punctured the spell, how was I going to manage the job?

  My bag of supplies was in my office, probably, unless the trolls had taken it. But this was out of my league. I didn’t have Shaw’s experience or knack for cracking enchantments. Dragging him here for this wasn’t an option. Not unless I spent more time healing him first. By then it might be too late.

  Sizzling noises drew my gaze to where red liquid popped and bubbled on the floor.

  A thin cut severed my palm, and blood dripped from my hand. Weird. Had I been bleeding all this time? I flexed my fingers, waiting for the wound to knit closed, but it didn’t. It kept weeping in a slow but steady drip. Kneeling by the hissing blood splotches, I wiped my finger through them, and a pulse of magic raced up my arm. Again I called magic into my hand, hotter and faster this time. I let it build, pressed my runes and the sore against the door simultaneously, and a pop unblocked my ears.