Chapter Six
Kavon parked in thefirst spot he found. Parking in downtown DC was a nightmare.
“We have about a two-block walk that way.” Darren didn’t look up from his phone as he pointed east. “If our durance left behind the power sink, he must be throwing around some serious magic.”
Durance. Kavon hated that name. However, he could appreciate Les’s concerns “Possibly. We can’t make assumptions. In fact, this could be a trap designed to lure us in.”
“The docent, you mean,” Darren said.
And there was the other word Kavon disliked, although this term had some logic behind it. Kavon got out of the SUV and locked it. The autumn air was brisk and the trees showed off their brilliant colors. Nothing on the street hinted at a coming war, but Kavon felt the tension in his shoulders.
He wished his bull or Darren’s Bennu would show up. Their absence made him suspect that the fight had started somewhere else, an idea Kavon hated.
As they walked down the street, Darren stood out in his jeans and a sweatshirt. Thousand-dollar suits and counterfeit knockoffs dominated this part of town, and Darren dressed like a college student who had ditched class for the day. As a black man, if Kavon let himself go, someone would call him a thug. Kavon did not want to deal with that. The suit was his armor against that possibility.
They walked to the corner in silence before Darren asked, “What about the Monarch hotel? It’s right around the corner, and if I were returning from exile, I might want to go to the fanciest hotel in the city.”
“I don't think our suspects are concerned about room service.”
“No, but they might be concerned about people who are concerned about room service,” Darren countered. “Other than Congress or the White House, I can't imagine one place where you're going to have more power gathering under one roof,” Darren said. “Do you remember the case with the dead maid?”
That had been a nightmare of offended lawyers, diplomatic immunity, and blackmail. He sincerely hoped that Darren wasn’t implying that the evil ifrit might have joined with a diplomat. Shamans targeting a duly elected official of the government was step one in any war between the mundanes and those with Talent.
Darren walked with his nose in his phone. “Social media says a rock star is staying here this weekend. That might be interesting and exciting.”
“Maybe, but if your rock stars are only here for the weekend, that wouldn't explain how there was a magical spill a week ago.” Kavon knew they were getting close when he spotted the broken ground and bare earth in the planting strip between the sidewalk and road. Magic users had stolen rocks, vegetation, and anything else they could carry away to power their own spells. In doing so, they’d left a hole a few feet deep, and some city worker had put a construction sawhorse over it.
The damage stopped just short of an oak . As a shaman, Kavon had no sense of the dead power left behind after magic had separated from guides, but Coretta had once told him that trees were good at soaking up magic. She suspected that was why wands had come to be associated with magic users—the wood absorbed magic and the user could draw it back out to power spells.
Luckily for this particular one , it was difficult to chop down a tree in downtown DC without getting caught. However, it had lost several lower limbs and a chunk of bark. It might die from the abuse.
“Someone wanted a souvenir,” Darren commented.
Kavon snorted while keeping a close eye on the passing pedestrians. The art deco façade of the Monarch hotel contrasted with its two modern neighbors, and Kavon let his gaze slip free of the real world. People became bundles of dully glowing wires floating past, each leaving a ghost image behind. A car passed, trailing a brilliant streak of red as another shaman sped through Kavon’s spirit sight.
Darren put his hand on Kavon’s arm, a tether that allowed Kavon to sink farther into the magic. His heart pounded so hard that it drowned the sound of traffic. A few dull stains superimposed over the hotel suggested either weak shamans or adepts were staying in the building.
Kavon blinked away the otherworldly images, and for a second the physical world appeared disjointed and unpleasantly angular. That sense of alien wrongness faded.
Darren leaned close. “Anything?”
Kavon shook his head. A man standing near the crosswalk pursed his lips and glared at Kavon. When Kavon used his magic, the power made his faint freckles glow, so the asshole probably didn’t like seeing magic used on the street. Either that or he was an old-fashioned homophobe. Kavon didn’t give a shit. “You know how some people can make themselves hard to find.” Kavon had never been able to track Bennu with his sight, and there was a chance all the ifrit could mask their magical signature.
Darren nodded.
“Let’s check out the lobby,” Kavon said. They passed a couple who couldn’t stop fighting long enough to get through the door, but Kavon focused on the rest of the lobby. Several people in suits stood in small clusters, and Kavon almost groaned when he spotted the bright red NCCP button one of the men wore.
The New Christian Conservative Party. This group was so anti-Talent that even the First Purity Church had broken ties with it. They openly advocated for the sterilization of anyone with Talent. They claimed that was a more humane solution than violence, but every time one of them appeared on the news, they made it clear they would not be opposed to violence. They even turned on churches who had the blood-of-Jesus shamans, and they demonized all Catholics.
“Is that...” Darren stopped.
“Yep,” Kavon said in disgust. He had no idea how an ifrit might react to anti-Talent bigotry. If the evil ifrit decided to wipe the NCCP off the planet, Kavon wouldn’t mourn them. He walked over to the public computer screen next to the check-in desk and waited as the various announcements scrolled past. NCCP Policy and Position Meeting, NCCP Lobbying Training, NCCP Lawmaker Luncheon. The hotel was having a damn convention.
Darren blew out a breath. “Oh boy. This didn’t show up on the Internet.”
“Uh huh.” Kavon probed his magical reserves. He’d grown used to the presence of his bull in the corner of his room and the quick and ready help from Bennu, who always wanted to find a way to share his power. Nothing made Bennu happier.
Without the two guides, Kavon had to hoard his magic. He’d gotten out of the habit. Worse, Darren could only hold a thimbleful. His capacity to carry magic had grown over the past year or so, but without Bennu, he was still helpless in ways that made Kavon deeply uncomfortable.
