Free Magic on the Line by Devon Monk

your chest?” I asked.
    He nodded. “It’s there. I’d show you, but it’s too damn cold in this car.”
    It wasn’t cold at all in the car, but I was nice enough not to point that out.
    “This is it,” Zay said.
    He drove between the brick columns of the gate and then up to a mortuary at the top of a hill. He parked between the other cars already there.
    “We have to walk?” Shame whined.
    “Yes.” Zay got out and so did I. Shame followed a moment or two later. Zay opened the trunk of the car and reached into it for something.
    The graveyard was beautiful in its own way, trees and bushes bursting with leaves, flowering cherry trees fluffy and pink above marble gravestones and concrete crypts. Birch trees, maples, massive oaks and cedars and cinnamon-barked madronas stood at attention among the crooked headstones.
    The cemetery was built on rolling hills with just enough height to give a view of the blue horizon and the western hills that eventually lead to the Coast Range.
    Zay closed the trunk. He started walking down a concrete path toward the north side of the graveyard, carrying a handful of daffodils tied with a red velvet ribbon. Shame paused next to me and just stared at Zayvion’s back. “You okay?” he asked me.
    Funny, I’d been thinking I should ask him the same thing. I shrugged. “I think so. Just worried about him. And you.”
    “That’s one of the things I like so much about you, Beckstrom. You worry about everyone.”
    “Trust me,” I said, “I don’t.” We started walking and I set my pace to Shame’s. His nap seemed to have done him some good, and we made respectable progress, keeping up with Zayvion. The road narrowed to a single-file path for a bit and Shame walked to my left over the edge of well-tended grass. With each step, the grass beneath Shame’s feet lost its vibrant spring green and withered as if it had been burned, or suddenly died.
    Was he pulling that much life energy out of the things around him? Or maybe he was drawing that much energy out of living things as a side effect of being possessed by a dead and very powerful Death magic user. I didn’t have a chance to ask him.
    The path opened up again and Shame joined me on it.
    “So does the Authority always gather like this?” I asked. “I don’t remember a ceremony for Liddy.”
    “It depends. Chase had her burial all set up—most of us do. But I think Zayvion’s the one who called for this.”
    “Really?” I peered at Zayvion’s back. He hadn’t told me he was behind this get-together. As a matter of fact, he’d told me Maeve set it up.
    “Didn’t tell you, did he?” Shame was quiet for a bit. “If he hasn’t said it, her death really tore him up.”
    “I know,” I said. And I did. What I didn’t know was why he wouldn’t have talked to me about it. I would have helped, would have at least been there to talk over the details.
    Zayvion had been pulling away. I’d just passed it off as him needing time to think, or time to deal with the new boss in town. But he’d been coming home late most nights, and though we’d certainly been together, I’d known for a while that he was holding a part of himself separate from me.
    “Did he tell you anything else?” I asked.
    “Zayvion doesn’t usually talk about these things,” Shame said softly, like he was afraid he would hear us. “He’s private. I thought he might have talked to you about it. But you know how it is.” He shrugged as if that was all that needed saying.
    I didn’t know what else to say, so we strolled along. Shame held his breath for a moment, like he’d just caught sight of something surprising. Then he let it out slowly. Pretty soon I heard footsteps behind us. I glanced back.
    Terric was striding toward us, his white hair a flash of moonlight in the middle of the sunny spring day. He wore a tailored gray trench coat, slacks, and shiny shoes. I glimpsed a tie at his collar. In his hand was a small bouquet of bright orange