Read Online Magic to the Bone by Devon Monk - Free Book Online Page B

I’d be sorry and probably asleep if I ate too much too quickly. I split the bread in two, handed half to Zayvion, and got busy buttering my portion.
     
     
    ‘‘Why did my dad hire you?’’ I asked. ‘‘What did he want you to find out about me?’’
     
     
    Zayvion had finished his soup and sat back, coffee in his hand. I watched him change from a flirty sourdough aficionado into a calm, expressionless man. Interesting. So the Zen bit was his professional mode. It made me wonder what line of business—besides poker—required that strong a poker face.
     
     
    I took the last chunk of bread and ran it around the inside of the bowl to get any bits of soup I’d missed, sopped up the broth at the bottom, then popped the bite in my mouth.
     
     
    The deli was getting crowded, full of lunchgoers content to stand and eat if it meant dodging the rain. With the growing noise and heat, my head and body aches were coming back.
     
     
    Zayvion sipped coffee and watched me with that cool expression. I planted my elbows on either side of my bowl and laced my fingers under my chin. ‘‘What?’’ I said, pitching my voice so he alone could hear me over the crowd. ‘‘No quick answers? Talk to me, Zayvion Jones.’’
     
     
    ‘‘About what? Weren’t you the one who was telling me business matters are confidential? How would breaking that confidence be good for my reputation?’’
     
     
    ‘‘You have a reputation?’’
     
     
    He shrugged one shoulder. ‘‘I make a living.’’
     
     
    ‘‘Stalking?’’
     
     
    ‘‘Not much money in stalking.’’
     
     
    ‘‘So you’re what, a detective? An economic spy? Why would my father hire an economic spy?’’
     
     
    ‘‘The only reason your father had one of his men approach me was because I know the neighborhoods in North Portland and he knew you had done some Hounding jobs there.’’ He went back to staring out the window and drinking coffee.
     
     
    He was lying. I could smell the sour tang of it on his skin. Plus, I knew my dad wouldn’t do anything, not in his personal life, not in his business life, not in any other part of his life, so haphazardly. He didn’t even choose his socks so casually.
     
     
    Any sane woman would have cut her losses and called it a day. But it intrigued me that he would tell such an obvious lie, and then look away like he was sort of sorry when he did it. He didn’t strike me as a stupid man. As a matter of fact, I was sure the harmless-tramp bit was a ruse. He had to know I was familiar with my father’s fastidious attention to detail in all matters of business. So why lie?
     
     
    ‘‘How many years have you been working for him?’’
     
     
    Zayvion did me the favor of eye contact. Then, quietly, ‘‘Four.’’
     
     
    That smelled closer to the truth. I nodded. ‘‘Just me?’’
     
     
    He shook his head.
     
     
    ‘‘Gonna tell me who else you tailed?’’
     
     
    He took a drink of coffee. ‘‘Buy you dessert?’’
     
     
    Back to avoidance mode. ‘‘How sweet. Tell me about the hit on Boy.’’
     
     
    ‘‘What makes you think I know anything about Boy? You Hounded the hit. You tell me.’’ Those eyes were all brown and fool’s gold, and my stomach flipped.
     
     
    Sweet loves, he was good-looking.
     
     
    It would be so easy to put some Influence behind my questions and pry the truth out of him. Well, except I hurt, and was fatigued from using magic. I’d probably blow a vein if I tried to use any kind of magic, even the easy stuff that was most natural for me.
     
     
    I rubbed my hand over my lips, which were still swollen.
     
     
    ‘‘Listen,’’ I said, changing tactics. ‘‘I’m tired. I want to go home and get some sleep. I’m not going to be able to do that knowing that a five-year-old child is dying because my father decided to Offload magic on the poor kid. You’ve been following me around. If you’re any good at what you do, you know I think Mama