Mysterious Ways

by Christine Pope

  Knowing Simon, he’d come up with something. But since he obviously had no further ritual use for me tonight, I pulled that stupid robe over my head and tossed it onto the room’s single side chair. That felt a bit better.

  The clock on the bedside table said it was 3:48. It didn’t feel that late, but clearly more time had passed while we were down in the basement than I’d thought. The sensible thing to do would be to try to sleep, although I didn’t know if I could manage to do so. It would be hard to relax, knowing Simon was downstairs, still seething over my apparent incompetence.

  Then again, since I had no idea what the next day might bring, it was probably smarter to get some rest. I was on edge enough that just about any stray sound would be enough to rouse me from slumber, so I wasn’t too afraid of Simon sneaking up on me in my sleep.

  That seemed to decide the situation. I was already basically wearing the same things that had been packed in my duffle to sleep in, which meant all I had to do was climb under the covers and close my eyes. Light from the nearly full moon was enough to illuminate the room, and so I didn’t bother to leave on the bedside lamp.

  I closed my eyes, and was gone.

  When I woke up the next morning, the sun was high in the sky. I looked over at the clock next to the bed, saw it was almost ten, and blinked. I rarely slept in that late. Then again, I usually didn’t stay up until four in the morning, either.

  The good part was that it seemed Simon had decided to let me sleep — or possibly he was occupied enough with other matters that he’d left me alone. That thought wasn’t too reassuring, since I could only imagine what Simon might be busy with right now.

  I got up from the bed and went to the door, then tried to turn the knob. It wouldn’t budge. Cursing under my breath — I really needed to go to the bathroom — I rattled the knob again, this time using the simple magic that had been mine even before far greater powers had awoken in me.

  Still nothing. As far as I could tell, Simon had put some kind of locking spell on the door, one I didn’t seem able to break.

  Fine.

  “Simon!” I called out. “Let me out of this goddamn room — I need to pee!”

  No reply.

  Was this his way of torturing me? It was certainly the kind of petty revenge he would take pleasure in, especially after my performance of the night before.

  Asshole.

  “Simon!”

  At last I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then in the hallway outside my door. When it opened, Simon stood there, smirking at me. He was dressed, and looked like he’d showered and shaved, which meant he must have been up for a while. “Nature calls?”

  “Yes,” I replied, refusing to be embarrassed. “Can you please let me out?”

  “Sure,” he said, and stepped out of the way. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up. Trying to sleep away the guilt from the way you fucked up last night?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. I just couldn’t bear to face you and be reminded of my incompetence.”

  The smirk he’d been wearing disappeared, replaced by the same angry glower I’d seen the night before. “It’s not funny, Miranda,” he said. “Do you have any idea how badly you screwed up?”

  “Not really, but I’m sure you’ll keep reminding me about it until I have it figured out.” I lifted an eyebrow at him. “But can we hold off on all that until I go to the bathroom? If you keep me talking here, I’m going to end up peeing on your shoe.”

  His mouth pressed down into a flat line. “Funny. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do. Meet me downstairs afterward — there’s still some coffee left.”

  I nodded and dashed into the bathroom. From the way the floor in the hallway creaked, I guessed that he had turned and headed back downstairs. Good.

  Since I’d taken that “ritual” bath late the night before, I didn’t bother with a shower. I took care of business, washed my face, put on some mascara and lip gloss, brushed my hair. Then it was back across the hallway to get on some real clothes. Not that I was terribly eager to go down to the kitchen and be subjected to more haranguing, but I knew I needed some coffee — and food, too, for exactly the same reason I’d done my best to get a good night’s sleep. I had to be prepared to face whatever Simon planned to dish out.

  Thus prepped for the day, I went downstairs. As I’d thought, Simon was loitering in the kitchen, staring moodily out at the bare yard through the large picture window over the sink. As soon as I entered the room, however, he turned toward me and said shortly, “The coffee mugs are in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”

  I nodded, then went over and got a mug from the indicated cupboard and poured myself some coffee. Since it had been sitting around for a while, it wasn’t exactly at its peak of freshness, but I didn’t care. Even though I’d gotten nearly six hours of sleep, I still felt far more tired than I should.

  Probably just the influence of Simon’s scintillating presence.

  Neither of us spoke for a moment, which was fine by me. I kept concentrating on sipping my coffee and doing my best to avoid his gaze, which felt like a pair of lasers trying to bore their way into the side of my head.

  At last he said, “I’m going to try again.”

  This statement made me look up from the coffee mug I held. “Try what again?”

  He gave me a pained look. Clearly, he was getting tired of my deliberate obtuseness. “Getting the Lord of Chaos back here. He’s already on this plane, which means the summoning shouldn’t be as difficult.”

  “You sure that’s such a good idea?” I asked. I was about to add that it sounded as though his lordship had business of his own he wanted to conduct, but then I recalled how our conversation had been entirely telepathic. Simon hadn’t heard any of what the two of us had said to each other, and so he didn’t know that the demon he’d summoned might not be too keen on getting called back here to be his lackey. I wondered why Simon hadn’t been able to hear any of my exchange with the Lord of Chaos. The best explanation seemed to be that the demon lord had wanted it that way, and who was I to argue?

  “It will work,” he said, deliberately ignoring my question. “And because he’s on this plane, the spell will not require as much energy…which means I won’t have to rely on your questionable help.”

  “I said I was sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed for a second, sooty lashes nearly obscuring his coal-black eyes. Funny how once I’d thought Simon was fairly good-looking, although not as model-handsome as Rafe. Now, though, all I could see was the evil behind those eyes, the ruthless determination overlaid on his sharp features. “Not good enough,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll forgive you…if I can get the spell to work a second time.”

  I wanted to tell him that I didn’t give a crap about his forgiveness, but again, I managed to hold my tongue before any ill-considered words slipped out. Although I highly doubted that he thought I would fall into his arms anytime soon, I guessed he still had plans for me, still wanted me at his side — if for no other reason than I was the most powerful witch he’d ever met. To his twisted way of thinking, that was enough to indicate that we should be together. Never mind love or affection or caring. For Simon Escobar, those concerns only betrayed weakness.

  After taking another sip of coffee, I smiled sweetly at him and said, “Then I hope the spell works. When are you going to try? Tonight again?”

  “No,” he replied after a slight pause, as though trying to gauge whether my comment required a pithy response. “I’ll do it at three this afternoon. It’s not as strong a time as three in the morning, but the number has a power of its own, one that should help with the summoning.”

  “Okay.” I hesitated for a moment, then asked, “And what am I going to do during all this? Are you going to lock me up in my room to make sure I don’t screw up your summoning again?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but it’s probably better to keep you where I can see you. That said, I’m going to tie you to a chair
so you can’t possibly interfere with what I’m doing.”

  “Seriously…a chair?” Not that I would put that sort of act past Simon — he’d done far worse already — but it seemed almost amusingly old school, the sort of thing a villain in an old black and white movie might have done to the heroine.

  “Yes, a chair. You won’t try to fight me on this, will you, Miranda?”

  The threat was clear in his voice — I’d better cooperate, or he’d surely find a way to take out his anger on the Castillo family. “No, I won’t fight you.”

  To tell the truth, I wanted to make sure I was an audience to that summoning. I had a feeling the Lord of Chaos wasn’t going to appreciate being called back to this house like he was Simon’s errand boy or something.

  “Good.” But even though Simon sounded satisfied enough with my response, from the way he continued to watch me narrowly, I could tell he had guessed there was something motivating me beyond fear of retaliation against the Castillos.

  However, all I did was stand there with my coffee, staring back at him with as bland an expression as I could manage. After a moment, he gave the tiniest lift of his shoulders, then said, “What do you want for breakfast?”

  And I knew he wasn’t going to question me further.

  It was a long and strange day. Simon disappeared into the garage, saying he needed to prepare for the ritual. However, he’d fixed me with a flat stare as he made that announcement, clearly letting me know that just because he wasn’t within eyeshot didn’t mean he wasn’t still keeping tabs on my presence. For all I knew, the house had a video surveillance setup, even if I didn’t see much evidence of one. Cameras these days could be smaller than my pinkie fingernail, and hidden inside a light fixture or an air conditioning vent.

  I only told him I planned to watch TV while he was working, if that was okay, and he seemed to relax a little. No way was I going to take off now; I wanted to see what happened when the Lord of Chaos returned.

  In the meantime, I watched some shows off the satellite feed, went and made myself a sandwich when I got hungry. During all this time, Simon didn’t make an appearance. Maybe he was fasting, but since I wouldn’t be taking part in the demon-calling ceremony, it didn’t really matter whether I stuffed myself full of pastrami. I figured if he was having to redraw all those summoning circles and sigils to accommodate this new ritual, it might take hours and hours, which was fine by me. If he was occupied with that particular task, then he wouldn’t be up here, giving me more grief over the way I’d botched the first ritual the night before.

  Eventually, though, he reappeared, looking tired but determined. Once again, he was wearing the long black robe, although he hadn’t yet pulled up the hood. I paused the television, noting that it was ten minutes until three. “Is it time?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Do I need mine?” I pointed at the robe he wore. “Because it’s still up in my bedroom.”

  “No, you’re not actually taking part in the ceremony, so it’s not necessary. Come on.”

  Dutifully, I shut off the TV and put the remote on the coffee table, then got up from the sofa. Even though I was curious to find out what was going to happen, I still didn’t much like the idea of being tied up to a chair. Well, nothing ventured and all that.

  Simon led me out of the family room and down to the basement ritual chamber. Once again candles flickered, and it still felt very cold in here, almost colder than it had the night before. Maybe the silk robe had provided more insulation than I’d thought.

  Chalk markings again covered most of the floor, although the patterns looked subtly different this time. It was hard for me to say for sure, since I had no experience with this kind of magic and couldn’t begin to guess what all those symbols and arcane letters even meant. I didn’t like looking at them for very long, even though I now understood their purpose, because I knew there was a damn good reason why this magic had been forbidden.

  The main difference in the room this time was the hard-backed chair that sat off to one side. “Over there?” I asked, pointing at it.

  “Yes. Go ahead and sit down.”

  Even though I’d been expecting this, I couldn’t quite hold back a sigh as I walked carefully around the perimeter of the chamber and then sat demurely down in the chair, which was narrow and uncomfortable, with a hard seat. At least it was a lot easier to avoid smudging the pattern this time, since I had on jeans and boots and not that stupid too-long robe. Once I was seated, Simon came over, several lengths of rope in his hands. At least it was the silky synthetic kind, something that felt soft enough against my wrists as he bound my arms behind me. Once he was done with that, he knelt and tied my ankles to the legs of the chair. During all this, I didn’t try to struggle, only stared straight ahead.

  Once he was done, he straightened up and surveyed his handiwork. The smirk was back, along with a glint in his black eyes that I didn’t much like. Still wearing that unpleasant smile, he said, “You know, I think I like you like this.”

  “Oh, really?” I returned, which as rejoinders go was pretty weak. But even though I’d agreed to being tied up, I realized I really didn’t like being so much at his mercy.

  “Yes, really.”

  In the next second, he bent toward me, pressed his lips against mine. I wanted to pull away, but since I couldn’t move, there wasn’t much I could do except try to turn my head to escape the unwanted kiss.

  At once his fingers were gripping my jaw, holding me in place as he forced my mouth open with his tongue. He didn’t taste bad — if anything, he tasted of mint, as though he’d brushed his teeth right before he came to get me — but it was still foul to have him violating me in that way, to know there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him with my arms and legs bound as they were. All right, I supposed I could have bitten down on his tongue, but I knew if I pulled a trick like that, he’d only be that much angrier with me, and would retaliate in some sort of unspeakable way. Teleporting wasn’t an option, not if I wanted to keep him from going after the Castillos the way he’d threatened.

  After a moment, he pulled away from me and stepped back. “Very nice,” he said. “I think I’ve already begun to forgive you, Miranda. You’re just too sweet to stay angry at for very long.”

  The sandwich I’d eaten was roiling in my stomach, but somehow I managed to reply, “I’m glad to hear it. You know, you’re a pretty good kisser.”

  The glint was back in his eyes. “You liked it like that…being forced?”

  Think fast, Miranda! “You know, I think I did. It was sort of kinky.”

  He grinned then, clearly pleased by my reply. “Well, I guess we’ll need to explore that later. For now, I’ve got work to do.”

  I smiled back at him in what I hoped was a lascivious way. Really, what I wanted to do was tear myself out of that chair and find the nearest bottle of mouthwash. Since that wasn’t an immediate possibility, I settled myself into the most comfortable position I could manage, thanks to having my arms tied behind me, and watched Simon as he turned away and took his place at the far side of the circle he’d drawn.

  Once more he recited some kind of spell in that strange harsh language, arms held theatrically out to either side. This time, though, I wasn’t nearly as frightened as I had been the night before. I’d met the Lord of Chaos, after all, and he wasn’t nearly as fearsome as I’d thought he would be. Oh, to look at — absolutely. But otherwise, I’d have to say the demon lord was…kind of cool.

  This time it wasn’t so much a wind that came out of nowhere as a boom as harsh and loud as a thunderclap going off nearby. I winced and wished I could put my hands up to cover my ears. Almost as soon as it had come, though, the sound was gone, and standing in the basement was the Lord of Chaos.

  However, he wasn’t standing in the middle of the circle, which was where Simon had meant him to show up. Only if he was trapped in the circle could he be commanded. Standing off to one side, as he was now — I could tell that wa
sn’t supposed to happen.

  Even in the candlelight, I saw the way Simon went pale.

  “Are you bothering me again, boy?” the demon demanded.

  “I — ” Simon broke off there, then seemed to recover himself. Standing a bit more upright — although I didn’t see how that could do much good against someone a good two feet taller than he was — he said, “You have been summoned to the circle, demon lord. I — ”

  “No, I haven’t,” the Lord of Chaos said. With one taloned finger, he pointed at the chalk circle on the ground. “Considering it is over there, and I am over here.”

  “But you are here, which means you came in response to my summons.”

  “I came because I was curious what you were up to.” The red-eyed gaze moved from Simon to me, and once again I heard the demon lord’s deep voice in my mind. It seems you are in an awkward position, young woman. Would you like to be free?

  Oh, yes, I told the demon, sending my thoughts to him. Could you take me to Rafe?

  Who is Rafe?

  Apparently this Lord of Chaos was powerful, but not all-seeing. I found that vaguely reassuring. He’s — he’s my fiancé. Concentrating as hard as I could, I sent the demon a mental image of Rafe as I’d last seen him, standing in the church with his hands clenched at his sides, face taut with worry and anger. He has to be someplace in Santa Fe, although I’m not sure exactly where.

  A pause, and then, Ah, yes. I know where he is.

  I wanted to sag with relief, but I really couldn’t because of the way I was tied to the chair. As I watched, the demon deliberately skirted the circle drawn on the ground, then came and paused next to me. It was hard not to flinch, having him that close, but I held myself still as he touched a finger to the ropes binding my legs, and then my arms. Each time his finger rested on its surface, the rope in that spot turned to dust.