Black Magic Sanction th-8

by Kim Harrison

  "Hell's bells, where are we?" Bis whispered, and I realized it wasn't Al's hand on my shoulder but Bis, his tail wrapped around my neck and the faint scent of iron lifting from him.

  I cracked an eyelid, finding only rich browns, golds, and reds in a low-ceilinged room, no Al. I was standing on a raised circular area, my running shoes on thick carpet. The lighting was dim, a small puddle of light glowing on the arrangement of two tall chairs and a couch bracketing a coffee table before a stone fireplace. It was built into the curving wall, and a thick layer of coals radiated heat. 'Opulent' would be the word. There wasn't a circle in sight, making me think this was a spot of privacy where you would never need one.

  "I've never been here," I told Bis as I looked behind us into a lowered, large circular room filled with books. Lots and lots of books. My shoulders eased, and I reached to touch Bis's clawed feet, wishing he wouldn't pinch so hard. "You okay?"

  Someone breathed behind me, and I spun. The snap of Bis's wings brushed my ears as he found his balance. It was Al, and he ignored me as he stood before the fireplace and took off his green velvet coat and draped it over a nearby wing-back chair. Heart pounding, I dropped my hand from Bis, watching Al's considerable muscle moving under the thin white silk.

  "This is my library," he said, his voice preoccupied as he shifted his shoulders in the new freedom. "I recently got it back." He turned his head and smiled. "Isn't it pleasant?"

  I didn't like his mood, both satisfied and evil. "Where's Brooke?" I asked, wedging a finger between my neck and Bis's tail.

  Al took off his glasses and set them on the long table. His gloves landed beside them. "I told you," he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "I got my library back. Nothing is free, itchy witch, especially in the ever-after."

  Crap, he'd sold Brooke. In the time it took for me to catch my breath and turn around, he had sold her. I was going to get blamed for this. "I thought you had to wait until sunset to sell someone," I said, and he eyed me.

  "Private sale. Prearranged." Seeing me on edge, he smiled, worrying me more.

  "You snagging Brooke is not going to help my situation," I said, watching him move to the fireplace and crouch before it.

  "It's helped mine." Al dropped a piece of wood onto the flame, making sparks fly. A lick of flame rose, and the wood caught. "This is what I do, Rachel. You need to worry about yourself, love. I want my conservatory next, and living things are always more expensive."

  My face blanched when he stood and turned. If he was calling me love, I was still in trouble. Brooke could wait. "I didn't give Pierce my gun," I said, moving to put one of those tall wing-back chairs between us. "It's not my fault you didn't search him. I forgot he had it."

  Looking totally different without his coat, glasses, and gloves, Al rummaged in a basket beside the hearth. "Make yourself at home. You and your gargoyle, Bis. Would you like something to eat?" His eyes met mine and I stifled a shiver. "I'll make cake."

  I didn't trust this at all. His show of congeniality was more disturbing than if he were howling at me. But if I sat down, I might be able to get Bis off my shoulder.

  Watching him, I went to sit. I didn't want to get smacked by sitting in his chair, but they both looked alike. The fireplace was to my right, and the dim library spilling out and down to my left. "You okay, Bis?" I said, hoping he'd move, but the kid was terrified and only nodded.

  "No cake?" Al murmured with forced idleness—scaring the crap out of me. I'd gone to him for help, but now...

  "I can't say how pleased I am that you're accepting your place," he said as he filled a kettle from a pitcher and set it over the fire. Coming close, he seated himself on the adjacent couch facing the fire, his knee almost touching mine and his burnt amber scent pinching my nose. "First a new vanity curse to hide your bite, and now asking for a curse when an earth charm exists. Bravo."

  I put a hand to my neck, glad that he couldn't see my hairy legs.

  "Don't hide it," he said, ignoring Bis's hissing as he took my hand and pulled it to him. "Your skin is beautiful. None of those lowbrow vampire marks anymore. You're worth more than vampire teeth, itchy witch."

  Worry tightened my gut even as I nudged Bis to be quiet or get off my shoulder. "I can't invoke a locator charm made from earth magic," I said, remembering last winter when I'd stirred a batch to find a banshee, only to learn that my blood wouldn't invoke it. Marshal had done it. Seemed the more complex the magic, the more the subtle difference in my blood mattered.

  "Neither can I," Al admitted lightly. "Welcome to the club."

  "I'm not a witch," I admitted, scooting into the cushions to get some space between us.

  "You're not really a demon either." Al's eyebrows rose.

  Forcing my jaw to unclench, I blurted out, "I didn't give Pierce my gun. He took it when I was hopped up on that drug. I thought he had it to keep you from taking Lee or Ivy."

  "Which is why you're here, itchy witch, and not screaming in my bedroom."

  Fear came out as anger. "Knock it off, will you? That doesn't work anymore."

  I had time for a breath, nothing more. Al was on me, pushing me into my chair, his face inches from mine, his arm under my chin. Bis fell back, wings flailing as he left my shoulder.

  "I need to work harder at it, then," the demon said, his words clipped.

  I could feel my pulse lifting my skin to touch him. His heavy weight pressed into me, and my breathless reflection was in his red, goat-slitted eyes. "Get off," I panted.

  Bis hissed, and I saw a flash of reaching claws.

  "You need to learn your place, goyle," Al said, and I jerked when his eye twitched and Bis thumped to the carpet, unseen but wheezing in what had to be shock and pain.

  "Hey!" I shouted, squirming to get out from under Al.

  The demon leaned into me harder, and my breath whooshed out. "And you need to develop some manners. Or is it respect?"

  A part of my brain realized he wasn't using magic, and I struggled to move. My hand got free, and he shifted to grab my wrist, bringing it to his nose as he breathed deeply. Sensation spilled down, and I realized he had the wrist that carried his mark. Damn.

  Behind me, Bis mewled, "It's gone. It's gone. I can't hear them."

  Double damn, I was in trouble, and I tried to see Bis, failing.

  "That runt of yours tried to drop me with your charms, Rachel."

  My eyes flicked back to Al's.

  "Lie to me," he coached. "Tell me you had nothing to do with it or you will fund my mansion. I don't care if your brats will be demons or not."

  "What are you doing to him!" I exclaimed as Bis mewed. "Bis, go home!" I added, knowing a circle couldn't hold him.

  "I can't," the kid panted. "I can't feel the lines. Rachel, I can't see them!"

  Holy crap, what had Al done?

  Al pressed my wrist against my chest, his fingers against me. "Pierce could have killed me. Me, who has survived... everything!"

  Teeth clenched, I grunted, "Let Bis go."

  "I'd be more concerned about yourself, itchy witch. Bis is simply existing without contact with a ley line. It hurts the mind. Deprivation." He eased up a little, and I got a good breath of air. "The sooner I'm happy, the sooner I'll stop blocking his contact. Is killing you going to make me happy, Rachel?"

  Burnt amber coated me, and I could feel myself start to sweat. "Pierce took my gun," I said again, hoping he believed me this time. "I didn't know he had it when he followed me. I forgot, I mean. I really did. Go ahead, search my thoughts. I'm telling the truth. Why would I want Pierce to kill you?"

  Shock flickered in the back of his goat-slitted eyes. He let go of my wrist and pushed himself to a stand. It was too fast for me to get in a parting shot. Shaking, I straightened in my chair. Bis's whimpering took on a shade of relief, and I looked for him, finding him curled into a ball beside my chair. My hand dropped to touch him, and he clenched into himself. "Bis, go home," I said, and he looked up, his ears pi
nned to his skull, making his eyes look even bigger.

  "Not again," he said, tail uncurling from his feet as he shook. "I won't run away again."

  We both jumped when Al looked at the ceiling and bellowed, "Treble!"

  His gargoyle? I thought, excitement mixing with my fear and spent adrenaline to make me feel ill. Was he going to teach me now so I didn't try again and kill myself? It would almost be worth the pain of pushing myself out of that line.

  Bis shivered, and Al put his glasses on and turned to the lit fireplace as a gargoyle three times Bis's size scraped from the flue, wings spreading submissively as she hopped to the hearth.

  Treble had black tufts on her ears, long and flowing, where Bis had white. The lion tuft on the end was black, too, and her entire tail looked shorter in proportion than Bis's. Stubby horns like an antelope's were between her ears, and when her golden eyes landed on Bis, she hissed, wings spreading aggressively and black teeth bared.

  "Manners, Treble," Al said lightly as he rummaged in a chest to bring out a tin and a coffee press. "Bis is a guest."

  Bis hugged my leg, and I extended my hand, helping him up to sit on the arm of my chair, putting him even with the larger gargoyle. His ears were pinned, and his red eyes wild as he shook, his tail wrapped around my wrist like he was holding my hand.

  Al's posture was again his completely proper British nobleman, and I wondered if I'd been seeing him as himself earlier—which just made me wonder all the more. The tin opened, and the smell of burned coffee drifted out. Al's back to us, he measured a portion of the grounds and tapped them into a dry coffee press.

  "Bis, this is Treble," he said, and the large gargoyle hissed all the louder. "When you're older, she's going to teach you how to properly jump the lines. Until then, you stay out."

  "Why not now?" I asked, feeling betrayed and disappointed.

  "Teach him? Never, never!" Treble protested, tail whipping almost into the fire. Her Voice had that same deep resonance that Bis's did, but was more musical. Glaring at Bis, she spread her wings and hissed, her long, forked tongue raised aggressively.

  The air seemed to crack, and my mouth dropped open when ever-after cascaded over Al to turn him clawed, winged, and blacker than sin. Treble cowered, abasing herself and going utterly white. I pressed back into the chair with Bis, horrified.

  Like Dante's demon, Al stood over her, wearing nothing and his well-endowed privates not so private anymore. The hint of hard muscle I'd seen under his shirt was like sheets of obsidian, throwing back the firelight in gleams of red. He blinked, his red, goat-slitted monstrosities chilling me. Was this what he really looked like, or was it simply what scared Treble the most? On my wrist, Bis shivered, stinking like cold iron.

  "You refuse?" Al hissed, his new forked tail shifting like it had a mind of its own, curling about to tuck under Treble's chin and lift it. "Why do you think I let you live this long?"

  "Oh God, no," Treble whispered, her wings spread so the tips came to a point past her bowed head. "If I teach the young buck, you'll kill me!" she added, squirming to get out from under him, her skin a pale white. "Like you did my mother and brothers!"

  "Kill you?" Al said, his voice like gravel and his tail whipping back around himself. "No. I want you to teach Bis so he can teach her. Look at them. Tell me I lie."

  I shrank back even deeper into the burnt-amber-smelling cushions as Treble sent her golden eyes over me. They flicked to Bis, and her lips pulled back from her pushed-in face, and she smiled wickedly. "Fortunate, fortunate witch," she said slyly. "But teach him? Why? The little gravel pit has no finesse, he's tearing holes every time he jumps." She turned her gaze on Bis, her skin darkening. "Don't think we can't hear what you're doing, stumbling into lines, breaking songs and rhythms, making everyone else step to your stumbles!"

  Bis lowered his ears, and I put a hand on his shoulder. God, Al looked scary. Hung like a horse. No way was he getting anywhere near me.

  "That's why you're going to teach him... Treble," Al said, his voice precise and so low that it was almost hard to hear. "We can't have a repeat of this evening." Looking like the devil, he turned his goat-slitted eyes to Bis in recrimination, and Bis's breath caught.

  "Don't worry, Bis," I said, putting a hand on his clawed foot. "You can't know how to do it right unless someone shows you properly," I said pointedly. Clearly Pierce hadn't.

  His gaze fixed on Al, Bis crawled up to my shoulder and wrapped his tail around my neck. Treble gave him a yellow-eyed stare, and I almost choked when his grip tightened.

  "The lines are still ringing from his latest jump," Treble said caustically. "He's thicker than a rock. And too young. Can't even stay awake when the sun is up. I wouldn't teach that pebble if he was the last living 'goyle in either plane," she said disdainfully, then glanced at Al. "Unless I was told to."

  "Well, I'm telling you," Al said, his features melting into his familiar vision of himself in lace, clothed once more. "You weren't any older when I stole you from your mother."

  My shoulders dropped, and I exhaled, surprised that the crushed green velvet and lace that had once terrified me had become not only familiar but welcome. And yet, if I squinted, there was a hint of that black monstrosity in the curve of his shoulders, the depth of his chest.

  Treble crouched, her skin darkening. "Right before you killed her. Bastard."

  Treble's words were harsh, but her tone was bland, like a response in a play that has run too long. Al wasn't really listening either as he took the steaming kettle from the fire and poured the boiling water over the grounds. Even Bis had relaxed his death grip on my throat.

  "So you'll teach him?" Al asked, the hidden threat obvious.

  "I'll teach him. I'll teach him for her." Laughing at the pair of us, Treble did a little half hop toward the table. I could smell coffee, and my head started to hurt. "If anyone can teach him, I can. I know the taste of all lines on this continent," the gargoyle said in pride, her claws going silent on the carpet. "Even the shattered badlands where the great wars were fought."

  Bis was listening intently, but Al wasn't, his thick fingers pressing the plunger on the coffee press to make swirls of denser brew rise and fall, unvoiced thoughts making him grim. Still silent, he poured two cups of coffee into twin, tiny white cups he took out of the cabinet. His mood was guarded, but it seemed he'd forgiven Treble as he placed a cup and saucer before me, then slid the soggy coffee press to Treble. "I think we should have Dali look at you, Rachel. Just to be sure you're not damaged after sliding into reality like that."

  Dali? My fingers reaching for the cup drew back. "I'm fine. It just hurt is all."

  Bis twitched his tail. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

  Grimacing, I touched his flank. "Neither of us knew what we were doing. Don't worry about it." But we'd done it.

  "Still... " Al exhaled as he sat in the chair across from me. His shirt was open, showing a sliver of smooth flesh. "Pushing through a line is like scraping your bike on the pavement."

  Treble had a thick claw delicately in the coffee press as she plucked out a tablespoon of the wet grounds and ate it. "I'll say. She made one hell of a ley line, dragging her sorry existence a full twenty feet as the earth turned under her until she got out."

  I made a what?

  Al choked, setting his coffee down and dabbing at his lips. "Treble, leave."

  She glared at Bis. "And you left her there!" she berated him, making his ears droop even more. "Ignorant pebble. Stay out of the lines until you're taught, or I'll stone you myself!"

  Bis was trembling, unable to look up, and I had my hand atop his back. I'd made a ley line? No freaking way! "You need to lighten up," I said, and she hissed, her tail lashing as she started jamming coffee grounds into her mouth as if she'd never see them again.

  "Rachel, don't threaten the gargoyle; they bite," Al said, his furrowed brow giving me the impression the gargoyle had let slip something Al hadn't wanted me to know. "Treble, leave."

  "Well, she did!
" Treble protested, grounds spilling from her mouth.

  Al's skin tone went black, and I swear, a hint of horns appeared. He was halfway between himself and that vision of a demon god. "Leave."

  Sullen, the gargoyle hopped to the fireplace, hanging by the mantel with her wings wide to block the heat. Folding them, she scuttled up the flue, making bits of mortar fall into the fire. Bis's claws relaxed, and I yelped when they dug into me again when Al said, "You as well, Bis. Let me jump you home. No need to make any more holes, yes? I want to talk to Rachel."

  "Uh," I stammered, trying to get Bis's claws out of me as my thoughts flashed back to the vision of Al naked before the fireplace as a black-skinned devil.

  Al smiled at Bis, playing the good cop as his skin lightened again to its usual color. The demon appeared relaxed, resting easy in his chair in a soft white shirt and with a tiny cup of coffee. "You should tell Ivy and Jenks that Rachel is okay. I'm sure they're worried."

  Since when was Al concerned about Ivy and Jenks? Bis shook his head, but scary visions of a naked big Al aside, I wanted him out of here so I could hear about the ley line I'd made. No. Way. "Go on, Bis," I said, unwinding his tail from me. "If I'm not back by sunrise, have Ivy summon me home."

  Al grunted, a ripple on his cup giving away his surprise. Clearly he'd forgotten about that. 'Course, he could summon me back. He'd had my name for almost six months.

  Bis eyed me with big, sorrowful red eyes. "I'm sorry," he said for the umpteenth time, and after nodding to Al, he vanished with a soft whisper of collapsing air.

  A sigh slipped from Al, and he pinched the bridge of his nose again. I figured it was an act to lull me into a relaxed state, but he'd pinned me to my chair not five minutes ago and I wasn't buying it.

  "You're lucky, you know," he said as I sipped my coffee only to spit it back out. My God, it was awful. The taste of burnt amber made it rancid.

  "I'm like a freaking rabbit's foot on fire," I said dryly, setting the cup down.

  He looked at the cup, then me. "Very few demons can survive getting out of a line when they've not been taught."