Free Magic at the Gate by Devon Monk

happened only in legends. Chase, Zay’s ex-girlfriend, and her Soul Complement, Greyson, weren’t exactly sane anymore. A vision of Chase flashed behind my eyes—of her reaching out to give magic to the man-beast that Greyson had become as they fought magic users, fought my friends, killing them, killing the people they had once cared for.
    I couldn’t become that. Wouldn’t lose who Zayvion and I were apart, just for us to be together. I was trying too hard to keep us alive.
    “No. I can’t let him in me.”
    “Then let Stone carry his soul,” New Dad said.
    “He can do that?”
    “It is possible,” New Dad said. “The Animate holds magic.” He paused, stared at Stone as if he could see his inner workings. “There is magic in him. And room for more.”
    “Will it hurt him? Hurt Zayvion?”
    “I do not think so. It will need to be a short transfer, though. The Animate wasn’t made to carry the weight of a soul for long. Zayvion will need to be returned to his body within thirty minutes. Perhaps less.”
    “Has anyone ever tested this?” See? Even confused and worried, I could ask good questions.
    “There are histories of experiments where Animates have held souls,” he said, “albeit only briefly.”
    “Tell me Zayvion will survive. Tell me his soul will survive.” I needed to hear it. Those words, from that man.
    “If he has the willpower and stamina. Yes.”
    I didn’t need to hear any more.
    “Do it. Let’s do it.” My mind was swirling with questions. How close to his body could they open the gate? How much stamina did Zayvion have left after all this time in death? How many ways could this go wrong?
    Thousands.
    Dad—Old Dad—spoke. “I will need to be in your mind to free Zayvion.”
    Thousands plus one. I just couldn’t catch a break.
    I locked gazes with Old Dad. He wanted back in my head, wanted to possess me again. I knew he’d try to work this to his own benefit. He never did anything, not one single thing, without thinking it through and meticulously securing the avenues to his own success.
    Giving up my magic wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to ride me, force himself into me, use me.
    “No.” I didn’t have a lot of air, but I had plenty enough for that word.
    “Time,” Mikhail said, “is nearly gone.”
    What, did the guy have an hourglass somewhere around here sifting out the last grains of my life or something?
    Stone clacked, sounding more like a watch winding down than my happy singing vacuum cleaner. He nudged my hand, and I realize I’d been leaning pretty hard on him. Okay, maybe time was running out.
    New Dad walked over, his hands extended and open, palms up.
    “Once magic is finally put right, I will leave you and your mind forever. Until then, please do the right thing.”
    I opened my mouth to add hell no to my reply.
    Too late. Surgeon-quick, he stuck his hand in my head and did something fiddly that felt like fingertips pressing a key code on the inside of my skull. I tried to step back, to jerk away, but was frozen. Not even Stone moved.
    And then Old Dad was no longer standing across the room from me.
    Old Dad was back in my head, a familiar, scratching weight I could not shove away.
    I still had the katana. Almost got it through New Dad, but New Dad backed away fast.
    I wasn’t as good with the sword one-handed and half-dead.
    “You bastard,” I whispered. “Get the hell out of my head.”
    New Dad gave me a blank stare. “I can’t.” New or not, he was my father, through and through.
    A moan, low, soft, turned me to Zayvion. Mikhail was near him finishing a spell that left a fine mist in the shape of a Canceling glyph hovering in the air around Zay. The silver glyphs against Zay’s skin were no longer stretched and nailed to the floor. He was free.
    Zay blinked, moved his hands, fingers posed in a Ward spell.
    Got to love a man whose first instinct is to fight.
    “Go to him,” Mikhail said.
    I was already on my way. I sheathed the sword,