by Kim Harrison
“No,” Ford breathed, and my finger, tightening on the trigger, jerked loose. He’s okay?
We all stared as Ford hunched around Holly, shaking in a spasm before he took a deep breath. “It’s gone,” he moaned, the words almost a sob. Oblivious to us, the tears ran down his tired, lined face. “Not that one, Holly,” he whispered, sounding exhausted. “That’s mine. Take the rest. You’re an angel. You’re a beautiful, innocent angel.”
My pulse hammered. Mia stared at Ford in stark, shocked wonder. The little girl was patting his face, feeling the beginnings of his six o’clock shadow and babbling. She wasn’t killing him. She was…I didn’t know what she was doing, but Ford’s tears were in relief, not pain.
“What the hell is going on?” Tom said, and I felt him tap a line.
Damn it, I couldn’t tap a line. I was playing patty-cake with a black arts witch, and all I had was a sleepy-time charm?
“I don’t know.” I shifted my attention to Mia. “Maybe she’s gotten control of herself.”
Mia’s lips parted. Clearly the woman was stunned to see another man holding her child. “It’s too soon,” she breathed. Her feet scuffed as she turned to them. “Holly?”
Holly babbled in Ford’s arms, the purity of the sound echoing against the curved, cold ceilings far overhead.
“Then I guess I don’t need you anymore, do I?” Tom said suddenly.
I felt a drop in the ley line. Instinct kicked in. I swung my gun around and pulled the trigger. A little blue ball hit Tom squarely in the chest, but it was too late. A nasty green ball of something was already in the air.
“Down!” I shouted, then dropped to the hard cement as an explosion of green sparkles pushed my hair back. My ears hurt, and I looked to see Mia picking herself up off the floor. Ford was out cold, a shimmering green haze marking his aura. Tom’s spell apparently. Tom wasn’t moving either. Tag, you’re it.
Pushing myself up, I went for Mia, landing a side kick squarely in her gut. I fell from the impact, and the woman was shoved into the wall. Her head hit the cement, and she collapsed. Whoops. My bad. But damn, that had felt good.
I turned to Ford to see that the green shimmer was gone and that Holly was crying beside him, in the curve of his body. Ford shifted his face off the cement and relief spilled into me. He was alive. Thank you, God. I got to my feet and tugged my coat straight, rubbing my sore hand where a new scrape and probably another bruise would run come morning. But it was done. All that was left was the mopping up.
He was going to snatch her baby? I thought, shivering as I turned Mia over with a foot. Glancing at the gun in my hand, I debated hitting her with one of my few remaining sleepy-time potions since I couldn’t make a circle to contain her. But if I’d given her a concussion, the charm might send her into a coma. I’d just have to watch her like the predator she was until the FIB caught up with me. And Mia was a predator. A freaking tiger. A crocodile shedding crocodile tears.
“Stay there, sweetheart,” I whispered to Holly when she crawled to pat at her mother’s face and cry baby tears. I couldn’t help her. God help me, why did I feel like such a bad guy?
The soft scrape of wood on cement whispered, and I spun, gun pointed. Not only was Tom awake, but he was moving, and I gaped at him as he scooped his wand up from the floor with his bandaged hand and looked at me from under his raggedy bangs, hatred in his every motion. I’d hit him. I knew I’d hit him! This wasn’t fair!
“Anticharm gear,” he explained, rubbing his nose and wiping away the blood. “You think I’d come against you without something to defuse your infamous little blue sleepy-time charms? You need to diversify, Rachel.”
My eyes narrowed, and my grip shifted. “It will probably hurt if I hit you in the eye,” I threatened.
“Don’t. Move,” he said, and I froze. That wand was a lot more dangerous. Seeing Holly unattended, his eyes took on a satisfied glint.
“Tom,” I said, shaking my head in warning. “Don’t be stupid. You give Holly to Walker, and Mia will freaking kill you.”
“I think she’ll be more angry at you than me,” he said, twirling the wand dexterously. “Or at least she will be when I get done with her. Back up. Get away from the kid.”
I had nothing. Well, I could talk him to death, maybe. “This is a bad idea,” I said as I edged away while he moved closer, pushing me from Holly with his presence. “Think about this. You’re not going to walk away from it, and if you do, you won’t be alive for long.”
“Like you know a bad idea from a good one,” he said, motioning with his wand for me to keep moving back. “If a human can touch the kid, then I can, too,” he added as he scooped her up.
“Tom, don’t!” I exclaimed, and Holly keened, an eerie coo of pleasure and delight that chilled me to my core. The man stiffened. His eyes bulged, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He fell to his knees, and I tensed to knock the child from him, only to fall back and cower as a wave of bright force burst from him. I couldn’t see it—my eyes were blind to it—but it was there. I could feel it, and my skin tingled, as if a thousand summers were pressing on me in the smothering dark of the sunken room.
Tom’s cry of pain echoed against the curved ceiling and came again a thousand times. Back arched, he hung poised as Holly pressed her hand to his cheek, rapture infusing her.
“Holly, no!” Remembering my gun, I aimed at Holly and pulled the trigger. The ball went wild when someone hit my arm.
Shocked, I dropped back when I saw Al. Pierce was behind him, looking afraid, and that chilled me to my core. “What are you doing?” I asked, shocked.
But the demon, in his green velvet and with his reddish complexion, only smiled. “Celero inanio,” he whispered, and I yelped, dropping my suddenly hot gun.
“Damn it, Al,” I said, frustrated as I shook my hand. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you alive, itchy witch.” He held a warning hand out behind him at Pierce, and the man rocked back. “Stay put, or the deal is off and you’re really dead.”
Deal?
Tom moaned in pain. I didn’t care if he was a black witch. No one should die like that. Giving up on any help from Al or Pierce, I ran to help him, only to fall when Al tripped me. Gasping, I fell, and pain whitened the world as my cheek scraped the cement when I didn’t turn my head fast enough. I looked up, shocked into stillness.
It’s Tom’s life, I thought in despair as I shook the hair from my eyes. Holly was taking him, like she had tried to take me. The room pulsed with the force of Tom’s soul, a hidden heartbeat of intent that measured his life. I could feel it as his aura was sucked away and nothing was left to hold his soul to his will. And it was fading.
A soft scuff behind me was my only warning, and I yelped again when Al roughly pulled me up. He grinned, his flat blocky teeth glinting in the light from Mia’s lantern. “Too late,” he said, smiling as he watched in macabre rapture, almost salivating at the death of the black witch and making me wonder if Al was here to collect on a debt. “Too late and perfect timing.”
Ford was out cold, the emotions of the room having brought him to his knees. The air pounded with white-light thoughts, a lifetime of whispered conversations at the edge of my awareness. But they were fading. Holly made a delighted squeal of surprise when Tom completely collapsed. The black pulse echoing in my head was sucked into oblivion, and I staggered, unwittingly pushing back into Al. The small child awkwardly got to her feet and wobbled to her kneeling mother, now smiling and holding out her arms to her. God help us. Tom was dead. Mia was awake. And Holly was walking.
“Let me go, Al. I have to…get her,” I finished lamely. But with what? The heat had probably popped the sleepy-time charms in my gun.
The demon’s grip on my arm tightened when I tried to pull away. “Not yet,” he said, and pain shot up my arm as I twisted in his grip. “I need something.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Need what?”
“This.”
He un
expectedly swung at me, and my head rocked back. My ears rang, and I staggered. Pierce protested, but it was the smooth, clean touch of velvet against my neck that caught and cradled me as I fell. “So sorry, itchy witch,” Al said as he gently eased me to the floor. The scent of burnt amber and mold made me ill, and I tried to focus. Dizzy, I was dizzy.
The cold seeped up through my back, my coat doing little to keep me warm. I felt a moment of panic when I saw the shiny gold knife in Al’s hand as he knelt by me, but I was helpless. Al gave me a little pat on the cheek that stung, and I pushed ineffectively at him.
“You are a font of opportunity,” he said, in a wonderful mood as he caught my wrist. “Never would I have been able to plan this, itchy witch, but good things just seem to follow you like a puppy.”
Good? I wondered. Was he crazy? “What are you doing…,” I panted, trying to pull my arm from his grip.
Temporarily putting the knife between his teeth, Al pulled from his coat pocket the black potion bottle he’d taken from me. “I need a wee bit of your blood, love,” he said when he took the knife from his mouth. “Something to invoke the excellent charm you cooked up for me.”
Pierce’s charm? Panic slid through me when he set the potion aside and took the knife. Behind him, Pierce stood with his hands fisted, clearly upset but not going to do a thing. “S-stop,” I said, then jerked at the icy pain of the blade. “Al, stop!” I cried, trying to pull my wrist from him.
Al stood. I tried to follow, but he put a booted foot across my throat, and my upward surge ended in a gurgle and a thrashing of legs.
“Master’s prerogative,” he said as he swirled the potion with the three drops of blood in it. “I can claim any spell you make. We’ve been over this before.” Tilting his head, he looked at me from over his smoked glasses. As if in a toast, he held up the potion. “Mine.”
His foot lifted, and I gasped, putting a hand to my throat and sitting up. My finger throbbed, and I looked, seeing that he had cut right across the closed loop of my fingerprint. He wasn’t doing the charm right. It should be spilled into a hollowed-out stone and allowed to disperse. He was using my potion, but for what?
“What are you doing?” I said, truly horrified when he yanked Tom’s body up and dumped the potion into the corpse’s mouth. Was he trying to resurrect him?
Al dropped the body and turned in a jaunty motion. “I can’t have a corpse for a familiar. How gauche would that be? People would talk. And with you idling your time away, I need a real familiar. Thanks, love. This will do fine. Enjoy the rest of your night. This one is mine. Preexisting agreement, you see. It’s not a snatch, itchy witch.” And he laughed.
I scrambled upright with a hand to my stomach. Al was using my potion, but for what?
“Ta, love,” he said, and with a wicked smile, he yanked Tom to him and vanished.
He took Tom. Holy crap, he took Tom! And I think he used my potion to keep him from dying. “Al!” I cried, panicked that it had been my charm to do it. This was not my fault! You play with black magic, you pay the cost.
The light shifted, and I turned to find that I was alone down here with an unconscious FIB agent and one extremely pissed banshee. Pierce was gone. A pile of clothes and the stolen coat marked where he had been, and I cursed Al, thinking he had snagged both witches and left, Tom, apparently, being more important than keeping his word.
Mia had Holly on her hip, and the child watched me with eyes as black as her mother’s, as innocent and unforgiving as death itself. Backing up, I looked at my now-useless splat gun. I couldn’t make a circle, and running after a banshee without backup—or better yet, angry—was going to bite me on the ass. But I’d gone out tonight intent on talking Al into agreeing to stop snatching people, not to rescue the world from a banshee having a bad day.
“You will die for your part in this,” the woman snarled.
“I tried to help,” I said, grabbing the back of Ford’s shirt and dragging him out of her reach. He was conscious, but not going to be of any help, unable to sit under his own power yet.
“You are alone,” the woman said, letting Holly slip from her.
“So?” I said stupidly, then gasped and backpedaled when the woman lunged forward, hands grasping.
“Rachel!” Ford called with a slurred shout, and I stumbled, tripping over his legs.
I went down, Mia on top of me.
We hit the floor. My breath whooshed out, and I tapped a line, frantic. Pain hit me as the heat of the ley line suddenly burned across my unprotected neurons and synapses, and when her hands touched my face, I screamed as my aura pulled through my soul. “You think you can kill me!” I screamed defiantly. “Go ahead,” I panted. “Make my freaking…day.”
Her teeth bared, inches from me. Her breath came in a pant, her gaze wild, fevered with savage instinct. But I had fought off Ivy, and this didn’t scare me. The line was humming through me, and I let her have it. I let her have it all.
Mia screamed. Her fingernails dug into my jaw, her agony reverberating through me like her voice echoing against the curved ceilings of stone over us. She screamed again, and I clenched my teeth, refusing to let go of the line even as it burned me. Power flowed into her, burning her mind and body, but she wouldn’t let go. The scent of cold dust and forgotten air filled me, and then her eyes opened against the torment.
Blacker than the sin of betrayal, she fixed her gaze on mine, panting from the agony. “If it was that easy,” she said, clearly hurting, “I would have died before my twenties.”
I had a second of doubt, and feeling it, she attacked.
It was as if the world flipped over. With a curious twist of vertigo, she ripped my thin aura from me. Pain lit through me as the ley line I was pulling on hit me, completely raw and unfiltered. I jerked, instinct shoving her away, but she had me and pinned me to the floor. The line still flowed, but I wouldn’t let go as it was clearly hurting her, too. Pain was etched on her forehead and sweat beaded up. Her breath came in a pant, and she held it. Behind her pain, I could see my soul slipping into her, my strength going with it. If I couldn’t stop her from taking my soul, she would freaking kill me, line or no.
“Rachel…,” I heard from behind the roaring in my ears, and then someone knocked us apart. Mia’s grip tore away as she fell back. The cool air of the tunnel hit me, and I groaned as the strength of the line boomeranged back into me. Unable to breathe, I curled into myself and rolled to my stomach, clenching in hurt. My face rubbed into the dusty cement, and I sucked in the air as if it would help me find my soul. I still had it. I still had some of my aura, or I’d be dead. I didn’t think I was dead. I hurt too much.
Only now did I let go of the line. A pained sob escaped me as the incoming force ceased and I pushed enough out of me so I could think, but even so, it hurt. Power leaked from my muscles, cramping them when I tried to move. In the distance, I could hear Holly crying. Or maybe it was me.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” Ford was saying faintly as I tried to breathe without taking in the dust. “You’ve had all the chances I can give a person. Holly will be fine. She’s—”
“Give her to me!” Mia screamed, her raw voice scraping my awareness. I turned my head and cracked my eyes. It hurt. God, it hurt to do even that little bit, but I found them. Ford was holding Holly, the young girl blinking at her raging mother but not upset. Ford had my splat gun and was holding Mia off. The charms must not have popped, or he would have knocked himself out picking up the gun. How he could hold the baby and Tom couldn’t was beyond me.
“Holly, take him!” the banshee shouted, and Ford shifted her higher on his hip.
“She is,” the man said, his face screwing up with emotion, and then he forced his expression to calm. “She’s taking everything from me but what is mine. There are no thoughts in me but my own. And, Mia, you are a criminal. You helped make our society, and you will live by our rules.”
“No!” she howled, then lunged. The flash of the lantern was red against my eyes as i
t fell over. My sight went gray as the pain in my head almost made me black out. It was either that or the light was busted. Groaning, I didn’t see but heard the puff of my splat-ball gun and the thump of someone hitting the floor.
“It’s okay,” I heard Ford whisper, his voice pitched high to tell me he was talking to Holly. “Your mommy is okay. She’s going to sleep for a while. And you’ll see her every day, Holly. I promise. Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt so bad.
“Rachel. Are you okay?” Ford said, his voice heavy with heartache, and I felt him turn me over, lifting my head from the cold cement. Masculine fingers traced my face, but I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or not. I was so cold, and I shivered violently, making the pain worse.
The dust on his hands turned to damp grit as he wiped my tears away, and the scent of wet cement rose higher. It trickled through my thoughts, mixing with my pain in a slurry of confusion. I breathed, not knowing if I was in my past or my present. I was going unconscious. I could feel everything shutting down. The light was gone, and I couldn’t see. But someone held me, and he smelled like cold cement.
“Kisten?” I forced my lungs to work. Someone in Kisten’s boat had smelled like this. Like old, abandoned cement. I struggled and he pulled me closer, holding my wrists when I tried to fight him. “We have to go!” I sobbed, but he only pressed me into his chest as he cried with me, telling me to remember, that he had me, and that he wouldn’t let me remember alone. That he would bring me back.
The stink of cement filled me, pulling a memory into existence. It trickled painfully through me, drawn by the scent of wet stone and dust. And I panicked.
We had to get away! The vampire was coming, and we had to go now. I struggled to break from Kisten but he held me close, his voice mixing with my frustration as he wiped my tears. I jerked when a memory surfaced. Kisten had wiped my tears away. He wouldn’t leave with me, and then it was too late.