Magic in the Shadows

The Mum has the temper of a demon with a diaper rash. (Shamus)

... he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing. Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.

... he was sunset against the mountains, strong, vibrant, dangerous, and yet somehow sheltering, protective. And married. Picnic, meet rain.

Shamus ordered half a cup of house brew. Then he proceeded to fill the cup up the rest of the way with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. “Sure you got enough milk in your sugar?” I asked as we strolled out of the shop and headed south. He flipped me off. “You drink your coffee your way, and I’ll drink my coffee the right way.

…I noticed you don’t have any self-defense training…” “…I can handle myself just fine.” She stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, “In the very short time I’ve known you, you have been chased, shot, robbed, stabbed, drugged, and attacked by magic.” “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?

I resisted the urge to pour mouthwash in my brain.

Maybe in the morning, sunlight would to turn him back into a statue; then I could take Stone out to the forest where he could frolic among the ferns, gurgle at streams, and make friends with the other interesting rocks.

Since I didn't have a spork handy, I leaned over the sink and scooped up a palmful of cold water and pressed it against my face. There had to be a better option than a violent sporking. There had to be a way to get rid of my dad.

…Keep your magic to yourself, missy.” “Like I’d want my magic mixing with yours anyway.

Sex everywhere, all the time…One time during training, I actually had to carry bags of ice around and lob them at the two of them to keep them from spontaneously f*cking.

The pink rose Zayvion had given me looked a little worse for the wear, but it wasn't dead yet. Tough flowers, roses.

My voice rose up and up with each question, even though I didn’t want it to. It’s called panic. I’m good at it.

Aspirin?” I asked. It came out sounding a lot like ass spoon, but Zayvion seemed fluent in mumbleze.

Shamus shrugged. “It’s all about energy exchange. It could always go the other way, me feeding a plant instead of drawing the life out of it.” “Do that often?” Shamus looked at me over his shoulder. “No.” “Why not? Have something against plants?” “No, but I haven’t met a vegetable good enough to sacrifice a year of my life for.

I did win, you know,” I said. “No, you didn’t.” “Yes, I did. I knocked you out.” “Stunned me. I wasn’t unconscious.” “Oh, please, save it for the preacher. You were out cold.

Listen,” I said, cool as a 911 operator talking someone down from a ledge, “you’re dead. I’m sorry about that, but I am not going to let you possess me. So follow the light, or go to the other side, or hang around your own house and haunt your accounting ledgers or something. You do not get to stay in my head.

Let go of the past, of the things I wanted, of the people I loved, and move forward.

Zayvion swore, and I mean he pulled out a raft of curses that made me rethink his upbringing.

I opened the door as quickly as I could—speedy as a snail in glue. My fine-motor coordination was set on suck mode.

Cody?” I said. “Why are you dead?” Tact. I got it.

Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty. Not a single one of which was among my strong points.

He'd already put a shirt on each leg and had stacked every shoe I owned into a precarious pyramid. The room looked like a small, overly curious tornado had torn it apart. "You have got to be kidding me," I said. "Maybe I should give you to Shamus.

We didn’t like each other when you were alive,” I muttered to my father. “You think living in my head is going to change that?

But even in the unglamorous warp of the peephole, she looked like a million sunny days to me.

But it was getting pretty hard to grieve someone who wouldn’t just get on with the dying.

Don’t tell me there are more things like that on the streets.” “Okay,” he said.

Should I take anything?” I asked, as Shamus slammed the trunk shut. “A healthy sense of self-preservation would be good,” he said.

The price for using dark magic is death, so that goes a long way toward deterring users.

My feet hurt, my back hurt, and I really needed to pee. Yeah, I was feeling really powerful.

Or, if you don't like the buildings, you can head to FOrest Park. That place is so big, they'd never find you in there. Just think of it: you could start up some big foot sightings.