by Kim Harrison
Not the ever-after. Not with Algaliarept.
Algaliarept’s canine grin was pleased. “Rachel Mariana Morgan as payment? Mmmm, I agree.” The Egyptian god clenched its hands and took a step forward, halting at the edge of the circle. Its jackal ears pricked and its doggy eyebrows rose.
“You can’t do that!” I protested, heart pounding. I looked at Piscary. “You can’t do that. I don’t agree.” I turned to Algaliarept. “He doesn’t own my soul. He can’t give it to you!”
The demon spared me a glance. “He has your body. Control the body, control the soul.”
“That’s not fair!” I shouted, ignored.
Piscary came close to the circle. He put his hands upon his hips, taking an aggressive stance. “You will,” he intoned, “not attempt to kill or touch me in any fashion. And when I say, you will leave and return directly to the ever-after.”
“Agreed,” the jackal head said. A drop of saliva fell from a fang, hissing as it flowed down the ever-after between them.
Never dropping the demon’s gaze, Piscary rubbed his big toe over the circle to break it.
Algaliarept lunged out of the circle.
Gasping, I backpedaled. A powerful hand reached out and grasped my throat.
“Stop!” Piscary shouted.
My breath choked and I pried at the golden fingers. It had three rings with blue stones, all pinching my skin. I swung to kick it, and Algaliarept shifted me higher to avoid my strike. A wet sound escaped me.
“Drop her!” Piscary demanded. “You can’t have her until I get what I want!”
“I’ll get your information some other way,” the jackal said, the rumble of its words joining the rushing sound of my blood. My head felt as if it was going to explode.
“I called you to get information from her,” Piscary said. “If you kill her now, you violate your summoning. I want it now, not next week or next year.”
The fingers around my throat dissolved. I dropped to the carpet, gasping. Its sandals were made of leather and thick ribbons. Slowly I pulled my head up, feeling my throat.
“A reprieve only, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” the jackal head said, its tongue moving in fantastic patterns as it spoke. “You will be warming my bed tonight.”
I knelt before it, sucking in air as I tried not to figure out how I could be warming its bed if I was dead. “You know,” I wheezed, “I’m really getting tired of this.” Heart pounding, I got to my feet. It had agreed to a task. It was susceptible to being summoned again. “Algaliarept,” I said clearly. “I call you, you dog-faced, murdering son of a bitch.”
Piscary’s face went slack in surprise, and I swear Algaliarept winked at me. “Oh, let me be the one in leather?” the jackal head said. “Be afraid of him. I like being him.”
“Sure, whatever,” I said, knees shaking.
Black leather driving gloves slit into existence over the amber-skinned hands, and the jackal-headed Egyptian god’s stance melted from a ramrod stiffness into a confidant slouch. Kisten took shape, wearing head-to-toe leather and thick-heeled black boots. There was a jingle of chain and a whiff of gasoline. “This is good,” the demon said, showing a glint of fang as it slicked its blond hair back, its passing hand leaving it shower-wet and smelling of shampoo.
I thought it looked good, too. Unfortunately.
Exhaling slowly, the image of Kist bit its lower lip to make it redden, a tongue slipping out to leave it with a wet shine. A shudder went through me as I recalled how soft Kist’s lips were. As if reading my mind, the demon sighed, strong fingers reaching down its leather pants to draw my eyes to it. A scratch melted into existence over its eye, mirroring Kist’s new wound.
“Damn vamp pheromones,” I whispered, pushing the memory of the elevator away.
“Not this time,” Algaliarept said, smirking.
Piscary was staring in confusion. “I summoned you. You do what I say!”
The image of Kisten turned to Piscary, belligerently flipping him off. “And Rachel Mariana Morgan summoned me, too. The witch and I have a preexisting debt to settle. And if she has enough guile to win a circleless summoning from me, then I will hold to it.”
Piscary’s teeth ground together. He lunged at us.
I gasped, lurching back. There was a wrenching sensation, and I stared as Piscary slammed into a wall of everafter, falling in a shocked tangle of arms and legs. I went cold as I realized Algaliarept had put us in a circle of its own construction.
The thick haze of red pulsed and hummed, pressing down against my skin though I was two feet away. As Piscary got to his feet and adjusted his robe, I extended a finger and touched the barrier. A sliver of ice shivered through me as the surface rippled. It was the strongest, thickest sheet of ever-after I’d ever witnessed. Feeling Algaliarept’s eyes on me, I pulled my hand back and wiped it on my jeans.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” I said, and it chuckled. In hindsight it made sense. It was a demon. It existed in the ever-after. Of course it would know how.
“And I’m willing to teach you how to survive manipulating as much ever-after, too, Rachel Mariana Morgan,” it said as if reading my mind. “For a price.”
I shook my head.
“Later, perhaps?”
With a cry of frustrated rage, Piscary took a wire-weave chair and slammed it against the barrier. I jumped, my mouth going dry.
Algaliarept gave the incensed vampire a sideways glance as Piscary ripped the leg off the chair and tried to pierce the barrier like a sword. The demon took a belligerent stance at the edge of the circle, showing me its tight butt in leather pants. “Bugger off, old man,” it mocked in Kist’s fake accent, infuriating Piscary all the more. “The sun will be up soon. You’ll have another chance at her in about three minutes.”
My head came up. Three minutes? Was the sun that close to rising?
Furious, Piscary threw the bar, which skittered and rolled across the carpet. His eyes black pits, he began to make slow, sedate circles about us in anticipation.
But for the moment I was safe in Algaliarept’s circle. What’s wrong with this picture?
Forcing my arms down from the tight grip around myself, I glanced at Piscary’s fake window, seeing the glint of sun on the highest buildings. Three minutes. I pushed my finger-tips into my forehead. “If I ask you to kill Piscary, will you call us even?” I asked as I looked up.
It struck a sideways pose. “No. Even though killing Ptah Ammon Fineas Horton Madison Parker Piscary is on my to-do list, it is still a request and would cost you, not absolve your debt. Besides, if you send me after him, he will likely summon me again as you did and you’d be right back where you started. The only reason he can’t summon me now is because we haven’t agreed on anything and we’re in summoning limbo, so to speak.”
It grinned, and I looked away. Piscary stood and listened, clearly thinking.
“Can you get me out of here?” I asked, thinking of escape.
“Through a ley line, yes. But this time, it will cost you your soul.” It licked its lips. “And then, you’re mine.”
Happy, happy choices. “Can you give me something to protect myself from him?” I pleaded, getting desperate.
“Just as expensive …” It tugged its gloves tighter to its fingers. “And you already have what you need. Tick-tock, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Anything that will save your life will require your soul.”
Piscary was grinning, and my stomach turned as he came to a standstill eight feet away. My eyes darted to my bag with the vial Kist had given me. It was out of reach on the wrong side of the barrier. “What should I ask for?” I cried desperately.
“If I answer that, you won’t have enough left to pay for it, love,” it breathed, bending close and sending my curls drifting. I jerked back as I smelled Brimstone. “And you’re a resourceful witch,” it added. “Anyone who can ring the city’s bells can survive a vampire. Even one as old as Ptah Ammon Fineas Horton Madison Parker Piscary.”
“But I’m three
stories down!” I protested. “I can’t reach a ley line through that.”
Leather creaked as it circled me, hands laced behind its back. “What will you do?”
I swore under my breath. Past our circle, Piscary waited. Even if I managed to escape, Piscary would walk. It wasn’t as if I could ask Algaliarept to testify.
Eyes widening, I looked up. “Time?” I asked.
The vision of Kist looked at its wrist, and a watch twin to the one I had smashed with my meat tenderizer appeared about it. “One minute, thirty.”
My face went cold. “What do you want for you to testify in an I.S. or FIB courtroom that Piscary is the witch serial killer?”
Algaliarept grinned. “I like the way you think, Rachel Mariana Morgan.”
“How much?” I shouted, looking at the sun creeping down the side of the buildings.
“My price hasn’t changed. I need a new familiar, and it’s taking too long to get Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos’s soul.”
My soul. I couldn’t do it, even if it would satisfy Algaliarept and ultimately save Nick from losing his soul and being pulled into the ever-after to be the demon’s familiar. My face went slack and I stared at Algaliarept so intently that it blinked in surprise. I had an idea. It was foolish and risky, but maybe it was crazy enough to work.
“I’ll voluntarily be your familiar,” I whispered, not knowing if I could survive the energy it might pull through me or force me to hold for it. “I’ll freely be your familiar, but I get to keep my soul.” Maybe if I retained my soul, it couldn’t pull me into the ever-after. I could stay on this side of the ley lines. It could use me only when the sun was down. Maybe. The question was, would Algaliarept take the time to think it through? “And I want you to testify before my end of the agreement becomes enforceable,” I added in case I managed to survive.
“Voluntarily?” it said, its form blurring at the edges. Even Piscary looked shocked. “That’s not how it works. No one has ever willingly been a familiar before. I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’m your damn familiar!” I shouted, knowing that if it thought about it, it would realize it was only getting half of me. “You say yes now, or in thirty seconds either I or Piscary is going to be dead, and you will have nothing. Nothing! Do we have a deal or not?”
The vision of Kist leaned forward and I shirked away. It looked at its watch. “Voluntarily?” Its eyes were wide in wonder and avarice.
In a wash of panic, I nodded. I’d worry about it later. If I had a later.
“Done,” it said, so quickly I thought for sure I’d made a mistake. Relief filled me, then reality hit with a soul-shaking slap. God help me. I was going to be a demon’s familiar.
I jerked back as it reached for my wrist.
“We agreed,” it said, snatching my arm with a vamp quickness.
I kicked it square in the stomach. It did nothing, rocking back with the transfer of momentum but otherwise unmoved. A gasp slipped from me as it scratched a line across my demon mark. Blood flowed. I jerked back, and making shushing noises, the demon bent its head over my wrist and blew on it.
I tried to pull away, but it was stronger than me. I was sick of the blood, of everything. It let me go and I fell back, sliding down the arch of its barrier, feeling my back tingle. Immediately I looked at my wrist. There were two lines where one had once been. The new one looked as old as the first. “It didn’t hurt this time,” I said, too strung-out to be shocked.
“It wouldn’t have hurt the first time had you not tried to stitch it up. What you felt was the fiber burning away. I’m a demon, not a sadist.”
“Algaliarept!” Piscary shouted as our agreement was sealed.
“Too late,” the grinning demon said, and disappeared.
I fell backward as its barrier vanished from behind me, shrieking as Piscary lunged. Bracing myself against the floor, I brought my legs up into him, flipping him over me. I scrambled for my bag and the vial. My hand dove into my bag, and Piscary jerked me back.
“Witch,” he hissed, gripping my shoulder. “I’ll have what I want. And then you’ll die.”
“Go to hell, Piscary,” I snarled, thumbing the vial open with a soft pop and throwing it into his face.
Crying out, Piscary violently pushed away from me. From the floor, I watched him lurch away, wiping at his face with frantic motions.
Heart in my throat, I waited for him to fall, waited for him to pass out. He did neither.
My gut tightened in fear as Piscary wiped his face, bringing his fingers to his nose. “Kisten,” he said, his disgust melting into a weary disappointment. “Oh, Kisten. Not you?”
I swallowed hard. “It’s harmless, isn’t it.”
He met my eyes. “You don’t think I survived this long by telling my children what can really kill me, do you?”
I had nothing left. For three heartbeats I stared. His lips curved into an eager smile.
I jerked into motion. Piscary casually reached out and grabbed my ankle as I tried to rise. I fell, kicking out, managing to hit his face twice before he pulled me to him and immobilized me under his weight.
The scar on my neck gave a pulse, and fear surged through it, making a nauseating mix.
“No,” Piscary said softly, pinning me to the carpet. “You will be in pain for this.”
His fangs were bared. Saliva dripped from them.
I struggled for air, trying to get out from under him. He shifted, holding my left arm over my head. My right arm was free. Teeth gritted, I went for his eyes.
Piscary jerked back. With a vamp strength, he grasped my right arm and snapped it.
My scream echoed against the high ceilings. My back arched and I gasped for air.
Piscary’s eyes flashed black. “Tell me if Kalamack has a viable sample,” he demanded.
Lungs heaving, I tried to breathe. The wave of misery thrummed from my arm and echoed in my head. “Go to hell …” I rasped.
Still pinning me to the carpet, he squeezed my broken arm.
I writhed as agony sang through me. Every nerve ending pulsed into a burn. A guttural sound escaped me, pain and determination. I wouldn’t tell him. I didn’t even know the answer.
He leaned his weight onto my arm, and I screamed again so I wouldn’t go insane. Fear made my skull hurt as Piscary’s eyes flashed into hunger. His instinctive need had risen high, triggered by my struggles. The black of his eyes swelled. I heard my sounds of pain as if outside my head. Silver sparkles from shock started between me and Piscary’s eyes, and my cries turned to relief. I was going to pass out. Thank you, God.
Piscary saw it, too. “No,” he whispered, his tongue making a quick pass over his teeth to catch the saliva before it fell. “I’m better than that.” He took his weight from my arm. A groan came from me as the agony dulled to a throb.
He leaned to put his face inches from mine, watching my pupils with a cool detachment as the sparkles disappeared and my focus returned. Under his impassivity was a growing excitement. If he hadn’t already sated his hunger with Ivy, he wouldn’t have been able to keep from draining me. He knew the instant my will returned, smiling in anticipation.
Taking a breath, I spit in his face, tears mixing with my saliva.
Piscary closed his eyes, his expression showing a tired irritation. He let go of my left wrist to wipe his face.
I swung the heel of my hand up to smash it into his nose.
He caught my wrist before it hit. Fangs glinting, he held my arm. My eyes traveled down the scratch he had cut in me to invoke the amulet. My heart gave a hard pound. A ribbon of blood trailed slowly to my elbow. A drop of red swelled, quivered, and fell to land upon my chest, warm and soft.
My breath was shaking. I stared, waiting. His tension rose, his muscles tightening as he lay atop me. His gaze was fixed to my wrist. Another drop fell, feeling heavy against me.
“No!” I shrieked as a carnal groan slipped from him.
“I see now,” he said, his voice terrifyingl
y soft, harnessed need pulsing under it. “No wonder Algaliarept took so long finding out what frightens you.” Pinning my arm to the floor, he leaned closer until our noses lay side by side. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. “You’re afraid of desire,” he whispered. “Tell me, little witch, what I want to know or I will slice you open, filling your veins with me, making you my plaything. But I will let you remember your freedom—mine forever.”
“Go to hell ….” I said, terrified.
He eased back to see my face. It was hot where his robe had shifted and his skin touched mine. “I will start here,” he said, pulling my dripping arm to where I could see it.
“No …” I protested. My voice was soft and frightened. I couldn’t help it. I tried to bring my arm closer, but Piscary had it tight. He pulled my arm in a slow controlled motion as I fought to keep it unmoving. My broken arm sent surges of nausea through me as I tried to use it, pushing at him with the strength of a kitten.
“God no, God no!” I screamed, redoubling my struggles as he tilted his head and sent his tongue across my elbow, moaning as he cleaned it, his tongue moving slowly to where the blood flowed freely. If his saliva reached my veins, I would be his. Forever.
I wiggled. I thrashed. The warm wetness of his tongue was replaced with the cool sharpness of teeth, grazing but not piercing.
“Tell me,” he whispered, tilting his head so he could see my eyes, “and I’ll kill you now instead of in a hundred years.”
Nausea bubbled up, mixing with the darkness of insanity. I bucked under him. The fingers of my broken arm found his ear. I tore at them, reaching for his eyes. I fought like an animal, instinct a hazy mist between me and madness.
Piscary’s breath came in a harsh pant as my struggles and pain whipped him into a frenzy of restraint I’d seen in Ivy far too often. “Oh, the hell with it,” he said, his flowing voice cutting through me. “I’m going to drain you. I can find out some other way. I may be dead, but I’m still a man.”