Magic In the Blood by Devon Monk

Author:Devon Monk [Monk, Devon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-17T08:50:38+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The wind whipped up off of the river and blustered hard enough to rock Stotts’ car and throw rain that sounded like rocks against the windows. It was going to be miserable out there.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance the girls were last seen indoors?” I asked.

“One of them,” Stotts said. “They all disappeared from the same general area—about a four-block radius. There are two places that are still hot. One’s on the street; the other is in a parking garage.”

“Well, at least one’s out of the rain.” I drank my coffee, letting the warmth and caffeine bolster my confidence and clear my mind. I could do this. I could go stand out in the rain with a cursed magic cop, Hound an old hit and not lose control of magic, and keep a lookout for Trager’s thugs. Oh, and Davy.

I’m sure it was all going to go just fine. I mean, nothing weird had happened to me all day, right?

“We’ll go to the parking garage first. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a break in the rain before you Hound the hit on the street.”

The neighborhood shifted from office buildings and fast food joints to tumbling down apartments and warehouses, mostly concrete fitted with the older, heavier iron pipes with almost no glass showing. Crouched beneath a blackened sky in the driving rain, the neighborhood gave off a dark, wary vibe. Here and there a few houses huddled amongst the industrial-looking buildings, less than half the windows lit with yellow light. Even in the rain, people moved on the street, or sat smoking beneath edges of roofs, or leaned under eves. A lot of those people seemed very interested in our car as we cruised by.

“You come out here a lot?” I asked. I didn’t think the northeast had more magic crime than anywhere else in Portland, but I might be wrong.

“Sometimes. I have family here.”

“Family, as in mob connections, or family, as in crazy uncles who drink too much?”

“There’s a difference?” He smiled. “I’m kidding you. I got Latino roots, not Italian.”

I noted that he didn’t really answer my question. “How long have you been a police officer?”

“About ten years now. Specialized in magic crimes and been part of MERC for eight. This is it.” He turned the car into a parking garage that looked like it had been built in the seventies. He did something to the tollbooth with a card, and the bar lifted and let us in.

Lights hung in cages bolted to the concrete beamed ceilings. Every other light had been busted out, creating pools of darkness and not nearly enough light. I was feeling pretty good right now about being in the company of a police officer who knew the neighborhood and carried a gun.

Magic shifted inside of me, stirring, pushing to be released. That headache that had been nothing but a tightness now shot pain along my temples and jaw. Apparently the aspirin had worn off. Great. I rubbed at my temples and wished I’d taken more painkillers before leaving my apartment.

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