White Witch, Black Curse

by Kim Harrison

  “Jenks. Listen to me. Pierce is not an old boyfriend,” I said, exasperated, as I followed them. “I only knew him one night. And he was dead when I found him.”

  Ivy chuckled. “You could fall in love in an afternoon when we worked at the I.S.,” she said, then added, “But he’s dead?”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying!” Jenks shouted, flitting from me to her. “Tink’s little green panties! You got fairy dust in your ears?”

  I entered the kitchen through a sheet of glittering sparkles. The room was a mess, and I flushed when Ivy stopped short and stared. My spelling cupboards were all open, stuff strewn across the counters, evidence of me cooking up the locator amulets. I should have just used the demon curse and been done with it, ’cause the last two hours had been a big waste of time. I hadn’t even bothered invoking the last six potions, lined up at the back of the counter.

  Ford looked up from the far corner where he had put himself to talk to Pierce. Beside him was the makeshift Ouija board and a pocket-size notebook with Ford’s messy scrawl filling a page. Seeing us, the man brushed cookie crumbs from himself and leaned back. I wondered if I should say hi to Pierce. He was in here…somewhere.

  “I’ll tell her,” Ford said softly when Rex jingled in and twined around his feet. The psychiatrist clearly wasn’t talking to us, and his amulet turned a thankful blue, rich and deep.

  Jenks darted about like a hummingbird on steroids. “Tell her what? What did the ghost say?” he asked, and I glared. His paranoia was getting old.

  Her eyes still wide and questioning, Ivy delicately nudged a mesh sack of herbs down the counter to make room for her sword. “Doing a little cooking?” she asked mildly.

  “Uh, a locator amulet to find Mia,” I said, not wanting to admit that my first attempt hadn’t worked. Shifting my shoulders, I started to put things away.

  “If you’d let me organize your stuff, you wouldn’t make such a mess,” she said, and after pushing a box of candles to the back of the counter, she shifted the toaster forward. “Hi, Ford,” she added, sashaying to the fridge, then coming out with the bagels. “Rachel giving you problems?”

  Ford chuckled. “It wouldn’t be Rachel if she wasn’t.”

  I took in a breath to complain, catching it when Jenks unexpectedly dropped in front of me, hands on his hips. His green shirt had a tear in it, which was unusual for the usually meticulous pixy. “Tell her what you’re trying to do,” he demanded, putting his arms down to hide the small rip when I noticed it. “Tell her!”

  Rolling my eyes, I turned to Ivy. “If I can find it, I’m going to spell Pierce a temporary body so I can talk to him.”

  Ivy paused with the sliced bagel in one hand, my ceremonial ley line knife in the other. The ornate handle looked odd in her fingers, and her expression was amused. “That’s the ghost, right?”

  A burst of light came from Jenks. “He’s been spying on us!” he yelled, and I wondered why he was freaking out. Ivy and Ford weren’t. “Tink’s titties! Doesn’t anyone see a problem with this? He’s been here a year, listening to everything! Do you have any idea the crap we’ve been through in the last twelve months? And you want to give this guy a voice?”

  My brow furrowed as I realized Jenks had a point. Secrets. They were what kept me alive: Trent being an elf, me being a proto-demon, my arrangement with Al. Crap, Pierce probably knew Al’s summoning name. Mine, too. Everything.

  “Pierce wouldn’t say anything,” I said, but Jenks took my soft voice for insecurity, and he flew triumphantly to Ivy.

  Ignoring him, Ivy shoved the bread in the toaster. “You can do that?” she said, still facing away. “Give a ghost a body…?”

  Her voice cut off, and she turned. The hint of hope was like thin ice, rimming her eyes, fragile. It hurt to see it there. I knew where her thoughts had gone. Kisten was dead. Seeing her hope as well, Jenks lost some of his vim.

  I shook my head, and the skin around her eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. “It’s a temporary spell,” I said reluctantly. “It only works if a person’s sprit is stuck in purgatory. And only if you have a huge amount of communal energy to work it. I’m going to have to wait until New Year’s before I can even try. I’m sorry, but it can’t bring Kisten back even for a night.” I took a careful breath. “If Kisten were in purgatory, we’d have known it by now.”

  She nodded as if she didn’t care, but her face was sad when she reached for a plate. “I didn’t know you could talk to the dead,” she said in an even voice to Ford. “Don’t tell anyone, or they’ll make you an Inderlander and the I.S. will put you to work.”

  Ford shifted uneasily on his chair, her depression probably getting to him. “I can’t talk to the dead,” he admitted. “But this guy?” Smiling faintly, he pointed to where Rex was now sitting in the threshold, staring at me like the creepy little cat she was. “He’s unusually coherent. I’ve never run into a ghost who knows he or she is dead and is open to communication. Most are stuck in a pattern of compulsive behavior, trapped in their own personal hell.”

  Kneeling, I stacked the still-clean copper spelling pots under the counter with my cherry red loaded splat gun nestled in the smallest. I kept it at crawling height for good reason. But when Ivy gasped, I popped back up.

  “This is mine!” she exclaimed, waving the map of the conservatory I had scribbled the alphabet on. Ford was scrunched back in his chair, and her eyes were going black.

  “Sorry,” Ford offered, shrinking back while trying not to look as if he was.

  Jenks took flight, and I brushed the salt from my knees. “I did it,” I said. “I didn’t know it was important. Sorry. I’ll erase it.”

  Ivy stopped short and fumed, her short black hair with the gold tips swinging as Jenks landed protectively on Ford’s shoulder. The man winced at the close contact, but he didn’t move as Ivy seemed to catch herself. “Don’t bother,” she said stiffly, and when her bagel jumped in the toaster, she smacked the paper back down on the table in front of Ford.

  Wincing, I wiped the crumbs from my ceremonial knife and slid her a table knife instead. Leave it to a vamp to slice her bagel with a ceremonial device designed for black magic. Ivy slowly lost her stiff posture as she layered a thick swath of cream cheese on the bagel. She glanced at the drawer where I had stashed my knife, and with what I thought was a huge concession on her part, she broke the silence with a terse “It’s not a big deal.”

  Ford tucked his amulet away as if getting ready to leave. “Going out, Ivy?” he asked.

  She turned with her bagel on a plate, and leaned against the far counter. “Just chatting with a few people,” she said, flashing her sharp canines as she took a careful bite. “I’ve been out to the boat,” she said around her chews. “Thanks for waiting. I appreciate that.”

  The man bobbed his head, and the tension in the room eased. “Find anything?”

  I already knew the answer, and I dipped below the level of the counter to shove my twenty-pound bag of sea salt into a back cupboard. The deep-fat fryer went in front of it, and I shut the door with a hard thump, thinking the last couple of hours had been a real waste. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d worked a charm and gotten no result. Maybe I could ask my mom. She was good at earth charms. It might be an excuse to get into the attic, too.

  “An undead vampire killed Kisten,” Ivy said, her gray-silk voice holding so much repressed fury it chilled me. “But we knew that already. He smells familiar,” she added, and I turned with a stack of ceramic spelling spoons in hand. Her eyes were going black, but I didn’t think it was from my rising pulse.

  “Which is good,” she said, her voice almost husky. “He’s probably a Cincy vamp and still here, as Rynn Cormel suggested. I know I’ve smelled him before. I just can’t place him. Maybe I ran into him in a blood house once. It’d be easier if the scent wasn’t six months old.”

  That last was more than slightly accusing, and I quietly returned to putting things away. I was glad I hadn’t been there
to watch Ivy discover she knew the vampire who had killed Kisten. It had to be someone outside the camarilla, or she would have noticed his scent the morning we’d found Kisten.

  “This wouldn’t have been a problem if someone hadn’t dosed me with a forget spell,” I said dryly, and Jenks lit up in a burst of white.

  “I said I was sorry about that!” he shouted. His kids scattered, and Ford’s head jerked up. “You were going to try to stake the bastard, Rachel, and I had to stop you before you killed yourself. Ivy wasn’t here, and I’m too damned small!”

  Shocked, I reached after him as he flew out. “Jenks?” I called. “Jenks, I’m sorry. That’s not the way I wanted it to sound.”

  Depressed, I turned to Ford and Ivy. I was acting like an insensitive jerk. No wonder Jenks was in a bad mood. Here Ivy and I were trying to find Kisten’s killer, and Jenks was the one who had destroyed the easy answer. “Sorry,” I said, and Ford met my guilty gaze. “That was thoughtless.”

  Ford pulled his legs back under him. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’re not the only one who makes quick decisions that come back to bite them. Jenks has a few guilt issues he needs to work out is all.”

  Ivy snorted as she turned her bagel to get a better grip on it. “Is that your professional opinion?”

  Ford chuckled. “You’re the last person to be throwing stones,” he said. “Ignoring a lead for six months because you felt guilty that you weren’t there to save the two people you love the most.”

  Surprised, I turned to Ivy. Her first startled look turned into a one-shouldered, embarrassed shrug. “Ivy,” I said as I leaned against the counter, “Kisten’s death is not your fault. You weren’t even there.”

  “But if I had been, it might not have happened,” she said softly.

  Ford cleared his throat, looking at the archway as Jenks buzzed back in, sullen. Matalina was hovering at the lintel, her arms crossed and a severe expression on her face. Apparently the wise pixy woman was doing a bit of psychoanalyzing herself and didn’t want Jenks sulking in the desk.

  “Sorry, Rache,” he said as he lit on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have flown out like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I murmured. “I only said what I did because I was so far from putting blame on you that what I sounded like never occurred to me. You saved my life. And we’ll get my memory back. You did okay. I just want to know what happened.”

  Ford leaned back and tucked his pencil away. “You will. It’s starting to surface.”

  “Can we get back to the ghost?” Jenks said, his wings making my hair fly, and the wan-looking human smiled.

  “He says thank you, by the way,” Ford said, glancing at his notebook. “He didn’t find his rest, much to his shame, but he wouldn’t be allowed to walk as he is if it hadn’t been for Al freeing him.”

  “Al!” I exclaimed, squinting to see Ford’s smile through the cloud of sparkles Jenks had made, hovering in midair, in shock. Even Ivy paused, bagel halfway to her mouth. “What does Al have to do with this?” I stammered as Jenks made self-congratulatory sounds.

  “I knew it!” he crowed. “I knew it all along!”

  But Ford was still smiling, the faint wrinkles around his eyes making him look tired. “Nothing intentionally, I’m sure. Remember that tombstone your demon cracked?”

  I shook my head, biting back my ire at his use of the term “your demon.” Then I changed the motion into a nod. “The night I rescued Ceri?” I said, then blinked. “My God. Pierce is buried here? In our backyard?”

  If pixies could have coronaries, Jenks was having one. Sputtering, he hovered, his face frightened and a steady stream of black sparkles puddling on the center counter to spill over and eddy about my stocking feet. “You’re talking about the one with the weird-ass statue of the angel?” he managed, and Ford nodded.

  No way! I thought, wondering if I had enough time to find my flashlight and go out and look at it before Marshal got here.

  “The name was scratched off!” Jenks shrilled, and Rex stretched, going to twine about my feet as she tried to get closer to her tiny master.

  “Take a chill pill, Jenks,” I said, “before you set your dust on fire.”

  “You shut up!” he shouted, then flew to Ivy. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you? You don’t chisel off someone’s name unless…” His eyes widened. “And he’s in unsanctified ground!” he squeaked. “Rachel, he’s trouble. And he’s dead! Doesn’t it bother you that he’s dead? How come he’s dead!”

  Ivy’s dark eyes went from me to Jenks, and then to Ford, who was sitting back and watching it all in a rather clinical way.

  “He was dead when I met him,” I said dryly, “and he was nice enough then. Besides, a good slice of Cincy’s population is dead.”

  “Yeah, but they aren’t lurking in our church, spying on us!” he yelled, getting right in my face. “Why are you trying to make him real!”

  I had endured just about enough. Slamming a cupboard door shut, I stepped forward to push him back. “He’s been trying to make contact,” I said, eyes narrowed and inches from him. “Making him solid is the only way I can talk to him without a frickin’ Ouija board. If you have to know, he was cemented into the ground because he was accused of being a witch in the 1800s. He’s probably trying to find a way to get out of purgatory and just die, so lighten up!”

  Ivy cleared her throat, her bagel perched on her fingertips. “He was accused of being a witch?” she asked. “I thought you guys were really careful before the Turn.”

  I backed off from Jenks and took a cleansing breath. “The vamp he tagged as a blood pedophile ratted on him,” I said. “Told everyone he was a witch. The ignorant SOBs cemented him into the ground alive. He’s not a black witch any more than I am.”

  Ford’s chair scraped as he rose. Grabbing his coat, he came forward as he shuffled into it. “I have to go,” he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can set up a time to do the hypnosis.”

  “Sure,” I said absently, glaring at Jenks, glowing fiercely by the fridge.

  “Pierce wanted me to tell you that he’s been here since Al cracked his stone. It made a path a willing spirit could use, and he followed his thoughts back to you.” Ford was smiling at me as if it was good news, but I couldn’t smile back. Damn it, I had been in such a great mood, and now it was gone. First the thing with the failed earth charms, and now Jenks thought Pierce was a demon spy.

  “This is bad, Ivy,” Jenks said, lighting on her shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

  My anger flared. I wanted him to shut up. “I don’t care if you like it or not,” I snapped. “Pierce is the first person I helped. The first person who needed me. And if he needs my help again, I’m going to give it.” Frustrated, I threw a handful of ley line stuff in a drawer and shut it so hard Rex darted away.

  Ford shifted from foot to foot. “I have to go.”

  No doubt, after my little show of temper. Jenks got in his way, and the man hesitated. “Ford,” he said, sounding desperate. “Tell Rachel this is a bad idea. You don’t bring back the dead. Not ever.”

  My heart seemed to clench, but Ford raised a placating hand. “I think it’s a great idea. Pierce is not malevolent, and what harm can she do to him in one night?”

  Jenks’s wings hit an unreal pitch, and his sparkles sifted to gray. “I don’t think you grasp the situation here,” he said. “We don’t know this guy from Tink! So Rachel feels sorry for him and brings him back for a night. He was buried alive in blasphemed ground. We don’t know the way to bring him all the way back from the dead, but I bet a demon does. And what’s to stop this guy from whispering in some demon’s ear, exchanging our secrets for a new life!”

  “That’s enough!” I shouted. “Jenks, you need to apologize to Pierce. Right now!”

  Trailing a ribbon of sparkles like a wayward sunbeam, Jenks flew to me. “I will not!” he said vehemently. “Don’t do this, Rachel. You can’t risk it. None of us can.”

/>   Jenks hovered before me, tense and determined. Behind him, Ivy looked at me. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. I’d met Pierce, saved a little girl with him, but had I been looking at him through innocent, eighteen-year-old eyes, easily misled and hoodwinked?

  “Jenks,” Ford said, looking pained by my sudden doubt.

  The small pixy darted up, his frustration obvious. “Can I talk to you in private?” he said, looking angry enough to pix the man.

  Head down, Ford nodded, angling to leave the kitchen. “Let me know if you can’t find the spell, Rachel, and I’ll come over and you can talk to Pierce some more.”

  “Sure.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter. “I’d appreciate that.” My jaw was clenched, and I was getting a headache. Rex followed Jenks and Ford out, and I wondered if the cat was following them, or Pierce. The sound of Ford’s feet faded, and then a soft, one-sided conversation started up from the sanctuary. Ivy could probably hear Ford clearly enough to make out the words, but I couldn’t, and that’s all Jenks was after.

  Forcing my teeth apart, I looked at Ivy across the long length of the kitchen. She had gotten out another small plate, and as I nodded sourly, she put the other half of her dinner on it and handed it to me. I stiffly took it. “You don’t think this is a bad idea, do you?” I asked, and Ivy sighed, staring at nothing.

  “Is it a demon curse?” she asked. “The one to give Pierce a temporary body, I mean.”

  My head moved back and forth, and I took a bite of bagel. “No. It’s simply hard.”

  Her dark eyes focused on me and she lifted a thin shoulder. “Good,” she said. “I think you should do it. Jenks is a paranoid old man.”

  Relief brought my shoulders down and I managed a thin smile. Turning my bagel to get to the side with the most cream cheese, I took a bite, and the tart tang of cheese hit my tongue. “Pierce isn’t up to anything,” I said as I chewed. “I just want to help him if I can. He helped me realize what I wanted to do with my life, and I sort of owe him.” I looked at her, seeing her eyes distant in thought. “You know what I mean? Owing someone for changing your life in a good way?”