Magic for a Price by Devon Monk

Author:Devon Monk [Monk, Devon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780451464866
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA)
Published: 2012-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“How many do you see?” Zayvion asked.

“What’s more than a swarm?” Shame said.

“A mob?” Terric suggested.

“No, like if a girl mob met a boy mob and then they decided to repopulate the earth with billions of baby mobs, how many is that?”

“Too many,” Zay said. “Are we talking thousands?”

There was a pause, then from Shame, “Yes.” And that was his serious voice.

“We go in anyway,” Zay said.

“Not without a plan we don’t.”

“Damn,” Terric said.

“What?”

“You, Flynn? Planning? Now I believe it’s the end of the world.”

“We could always tell Collins to stroll out there and crank up his gate-making gizmo. See what happens,” Shame said. “I bet they would find it very interesting.”

“He is not expendable,” Zay said. “Yet. And Davy and Sunny would be injured.”

“Well, we could warn them,” Shame said.

“I just don’t see how, Zayvion,” Terric said.

“Maybe a Grounding spell?” Zay suggested.

“For that many?” Terric paused a second. “No. At best you’d knock yourself out.”

Okay, that was enough of that. I had no idea what they were talking about. And since they were also talking too loudly for me to ignore, I opened my eyes.

I was in the van, in the same position I’d fallen asleep in, the cookie clutched tightly in my hand.

The engine was not running. Hadn’t we left yet?

“What are you talking about?” I muttered.

“Veiled,” Shame supplied. “A fuckload of them.”

“Fuckload is good,” Terric said.

“Shame says the grounds are covered in Veiled,” Zay said.

“What grounds? Tell me someone has coffee.”

“We did not take the time to stop for your latte, your highness,” Shame said. “And we’re at the cemetery.”

I sat up, glanced out the window. It was still night. We were outside the cemetery and inside the van for good reason. There was a fuckload of Veiled beyond that iron-fenced gate.

“It’s kind of pretty,” I said, wolfing down the rest of my cookie.

Shame was sitting behind me. He leaned forward. “Dead people are pretty? Well, that explains your attraction to the emotionless, stoic types.”

Zay, in the front seat, just shook his head.

“Maybe you don’t see them the way I do,” I said. Then, “Wait. You see them, Shame? Without a Sight spell?”

He inhaled. Thought better of whatever he was going to say, and just said, “Yes.”

It must be a side effect of what Death magic had done to him. Of whatever it was he had become.

“Do you see them, Terric?”

“No. Only Shame and you see them. We’ve agreed it’s not worth drawing their attention by casting a Sight spell.”

“Good choice,” I said. The Veiled were always hungry for magic. We’d closed down every network, every cistern, and almost every well. It only made sense that they’d be here, swarming around the crypt, drinking from the last resource in Portland.

“Do you see thousands?” Terric asked.

“At least a thousand,” I said. “It’s hard to tell. They’re…well, I see them as sort of water-colored people shapes. Kind of ghostly, but with holes where their eyes should be and serrated teeth in their mouths.”

“Pretty much dead on,” Shame said.

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