by Kim Harrison
“Just give me a second . . .” I said again, still not able to look at him. He was there in my thoughts, and not in a good way. I could sense nothing of his emotions, just a theoretical fingertip on my chi, ready to rip what he wanted from it. And I couldn’t stop him. It wasn’t like Al’s rings at all, where both parties had equal access. These were slavers, and I swallowed hard, trying to get used to it.
The ring around my finger glinted. Al had endured this for how long? Slowly I straightened.
“Are you okay?”
My stomach hurt. Nodding, I looked up to the dark skies. “Let’s do it.”
“Trent was right about you,” Quen said, clearly uncomfortable as our strengths became one and our will his alone. “You are . . . strong.”
Swell. Eyes down, I wavered, my heart seeming to stutter. Wanting to see the line better, I opened my second sight. Quen’s aura shimmered, becoming oppressively clear.
“That is incredible,” Quen said as he reached for the retaining wall, a haunted look in his eyes. I wasn’t feeling so good, though, and either seeing my fear in my face or reading it in his mind, Quen pushed from the wall. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his hand gripping my arms to steady me in the dark.
It was getting easier to tolerate his touch, and I nodded, head still down. “Yes,” I said, spinning the ring on my finger to try to make it feel right. “I can’t feel the line. Is there any way you can ease up on your grip?”
“Ah, sorry. How’s that?” he said, and I blinked as suddenly the discordant jangle of a hundred imbalances in the line hit me.
“That’s better,” I said, wincing. Now I could really see. The purple line was extruding a bone-chilling cold, even as the event horizon pulled in energy, the atoms and molecules screaming as they were ripped apart. Even the purple of Ku’Sox’s aura shredded to a pale red under its influence. Turning, I looked up at the castle.
“Ready?” I shouted and got a raised wingtip and a rumble in return. “I think that’s a yes,” I muttered, placing my feet and facing the line squarely. “If this doesn’t get Ku’Sox’s attention, I don’t know what will.”
I winced, one eye screwed shut as I pulled the line into my awareness fully and blocked everything else out. The multitude of the imbalances screamed at me, and I tried to gather them up, but they slipped through my thoughts like butterflies. “It’s not working,” I said, eyes opening up to find Quen hovering close and worried.
“Ah, it might be because of the rings,” he said. “We’re linked, and I’m not doing anything. I know the general idea, but . . .”
“Oh.” Feeling foolish, I faced him, then awkwardly reached out and took his hand. His fingers in mine felt funny, but as I held on, a warm feeling suffused me as his awareness surrounded mine. He didn’t mean to be domineering, but he hadn’t had much practice sharing.
His breath quickened as he tapped into the line, and together we hesitated, taking in the discordant jangle. Bubble the line, I thought, getting no response, then becoming concerned when I wasn’t able to do it myself. Either he had a wall up, or the rings only worked one way.
“Quen, can you lighten up? I’m having a hard time holding on to anything,” I said, spinning the ring on my finger. There was a little notch in the metal. If I hooked my thumbnail in it just right, I could spin it almost entirely around my finger and catch it again. Horrified, I stopped, somehow knowing that I wasn’t the first to spin it like that, around and around.
His fingers spasmed in mine. “My apologies. Try again.”
As fast as that, a sensation of the line spiraled through me, heady and strong. I snatched at it, pulling it to me. The howling of the imbalance scraped across my nerves, and realizing just how much Quen had been shielding me from it, I gritted my teeth and sifted through the noise to find a bright gold thread in my mind’s eye, a tinge of smut making it almost bearable. This was my original imbalance, and gathering everything up but that, I tuned my aura surrounding it to the imbalance in Newt’s line in my garden.
“Sweet mother of God!” Quen exclaimed as the ache in the line and in my head evaporated. I jumped, startled as the bubble of imbalance suddenly vanished. I felt a pull, and I dug my awareness into the present to keep us from sliding to join it. There was a sliding ping, and then . . . nothing. The event horizon was gone.
“We did it!” I exclaimed, the pure tone of my line singing through me like icing. I was almost dancing. “Quen, we did it!” I shouted again, and Quen let go of my hand, beaming. Before us, the purple sludge was gone from the line. It was humming, in tune with reality—apart from the original imbalance, that is.
The wind from Etude’s wings sent my hair flying as he landed behind us on the upraised half of the garden. “The imbalance is at the small line in the churchyard,” he said, his deep voice rumbling and his ears slanted parallel with the ground to look like a peeved horse. “I can feel it there, but only because I know where to look.”
My elation vanished. We had done it, but it was only half over, and the gargoyles were suffering. They were suffering as I reveled in our accomplishments. “Ku’Sox is going to be pissed.”
“That’s not the half of it,” Ku’Sox’s voice said, and I spun. Behind me, Etude began to hiss, sounding like a train making long, powerful huffs. Quen stiffened, stepping before me.
“Congratulations . . .” the demon drawled, taking in my pale clothes and Quen’s black attire. “Now you’re dead.”
“Down!” I cried, pulling on the clean purity of the line before me.
Ku’Sox’s black spell raced toward us, shedding silver sparkles. The line in my mental grip slipped through my fingers like silk, and I scrambled for it, my mouth gaping. I could do nothing. What in hell?
Quen’s circle saved us, and both of us fell to our knees as Ku’Sox’s spell imploded on its surface, lighting the area in a flash of lightning.
The line! I thought, unable to find it in my light-stunned vision, and then my panic turned to anger. It was Quen. “Quit hogging the line!” I shouted, ignoring Quen’s offered hand as he tried to help me up. Etude had jumped between us and Ku’Sox, stalking back and forth with his wings half open. He looked far more menacing than when Bis did it.
Ku’Sox hesitated, his features pressed as he reassessed everything while I got to my feet. Quen stood staunchly beside me, tall and unbowed and smelling of crushed grass and wine.
“An unbound gargoyle?” Ku’Sox said, the disgust in his voice obvious as he watched Etude. “What do you hope to accomplish there?”
“You kidnapped his son!” I said, then elbowed Quen in the ribs. The line had gone slippery. “Let go of the line, damn it,” I muttered, then I filled my chi when he did. “We need to work on this sharing thing,” I said, and he grimaced.
I dared a look at the line humming clean behind Ku’Sox. “Your sludge is out of the line,” I said boldly. “It was your aura signature on the curse that broke it. Give me Bis and Trent, and I might not press charges.”
Ku’Sox smiled, and I couldn’t help my shiver. “In a moment,” he said, smile fading as Etude paced between us. “It looks clean, and I don’t sense any . . . trickery. What have you done, Rachel? You can’t have fixed it. You moved it, but where? Curious.”
I stiffened as he looked to the sky then took one sharply angled step sideways into my line like it was a river. “You lose!” I shouted, adrenaline pouring into me, and Quen caught my shoulder to keep me from striding forward. “I’m calling Dali. Your ass is mine, and you will admit you broke it!”
“I . . . don’t think . . . so.” Ku’Sox was in the line, tasting it, almost, making sure it was truly clean. It was. I could guarantee it.
“Your aura signature is at the bottom of that sludge line!” I asserted, and Ku’Sox laughed.
“Perhaps, but I don’t see a sludge line.”
“That’s because I got rid of it!” I shouted, and then I fell back, my folly falling on me. I’d moved all the imbalance, yes, and his curse wit
h it. Until I got all the imbalances where they belonged, no one would be able to see his curse. Damn it! Couldn’t I catch a single Turn-blessed break?
“Tell me how you did it,” Ku’Sox said, seeming to be genuinely curious. “You couldn’t have destroyed it. You put it somewhere, holding it in your chi perhaps? Is that why you stole a pair of elven rings?” He simpered at Quen. “Needed some help holding that much slop?”
My head hurt, and I lifted my chin. I didn’t think he knew which rings we had, or he would be more aggressive. That I hadn’t proved he was responsible for the event horizon was infuriating, but if we couldn’t prove we were stronger than him, it wouldn’t matter. Cowards! Why am I helping them?
“I wonder,” Ku’Sox said, standing in my line and soaking it in, bathing in energy. “Can you defend yourself while hiding all that imbalance?”
Etude’s ears pricked in alarm, and I stiffened, imagining a circle around Quen and me. Ku’Sox shifted, and my eyes widened. I reached for the ley line, shouting “Rhombus!” only to fall to a knee, fumbling for the line running through my fingers like sand.
Quen pushed out, and I ducked as the sparkles of his thrown energy lit the dark. I could feel the line flowing through me, running into him. I was adding to Quen’s defense, but I might as well have been a cat with the help I was being.
Etude roared, his hands grasping as he lunged at Ku’Sox. “No!” I cried out, but Ku’Sox shouted a satisfied-sounding word, and Etude was flung back, flipping head over tail, headed for . . . us.
“Rachel!” Quen cried, jerking me out of the way as Etude crashed into the retaining wall. Rocks and dirt sifted down over him. I shook off Quen’s hand and ran to him, brushing the dirt from his huge, pushed-in face. The gargoyle was breathing, but out cold.
“Quen?” I stammered, looking up at him. His lips were pressed together hard, but his anger wasn’t at me as he helped me up. I didn’t think it was directed at Ku’Sox, either, who was advancing slowly. We were up shit creek, and I didn’t even see the “if” that got us there. The rings were not working well. Quen was way outclassed.
“You’re not holding the imbalance,” Ku’Sox said, curious now. It was the only thing keeping him from hammering us into the ground. “Who is? Is it Newt?”
I am wearing a slave ring . . . echoed in my head, and I looked at my hand in horror. What have I done to myself?
“No, not Newt,” Ku’Sox mocked, misunderstanding the look of terror I knew I was now wearing. “You’re all alone at last, Rachel. It took me longer than I thought to get you isolated. Everyone likes you.”
I am wearing a slave ring!
Ku’Sox threw something at us, and Quen knocked it away. I hid behind him, unable to think, to comprehend. I had to get this thing off!
“She’s not alone,” Quen said, and Ku’Sox laughed.
“You?” Ku’Sox stopped eight feet back, not trusting my fear, I think. “You don’t count,” he said lightly, looking at his nails. “They’re letting us fight it out, even if they do like her best. Isn’t that nice? They want the strongest parent possible for the next generation.” He smoothed his clothes in satisfaction. “That would be me.”
Letting us fight it out? Yeah, that sounded about right. We were making enough noise in the ley lines to pique the interest of the most sedentary demon, and the chicken squirts hadn’t shown up yet. That didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I couldn’t get the ring off my pinkie. Scared, I leaned to Quen’s ear. “I want the ring off.”
“I know. You can’t tap a line worth the salt in your veins. I’m sorry,” he said, and then I cowered as I felt a huge tug on me and Quen’s bubble flashed into existence, glittering a fabulous green before it faded. “If we take them off now, we will die. The only reason my circle is holding him is because it’s made with both our strengths.”
Crap on toast, he was right, and I stood beside him, not knowing what I could do to make this better. I knew the demons were watching. Why didn’t they help us? “You’re insane!” I shouted, knowing they were listening. Besides, Etude was stirring, and I didn’t want him taken out before he recovered.
“My state of mind is not the issue here!” Ku’Sox shouted, his face red even in the faint light. “It is about strength!”
“It’s about adaptability and resources, and all you are is psychotic! You can’t fix psychotic!” I yelled back as Etude staggered to his feet, a low rumble of his anger flowing about me as his wings opened and funneled the sound forward. His growl resonated through me, and I swallowed hard.
With a crack of stone, Etude pulled a chunk of wall away and threw it over our heads. Ku’Sox swore, deflecting it to thud into the thick grass.
“Quen, take my ring off!” I exclaimed, tugging at Quen’s coat as I felt a huge pull through me. It was Quen, prepping a spell, and I let it flow, knowing I could do nothing wearing this stupid band of silver.
Looking magnificent, Quen threw a ball of black-hazed energy at Ku’Sox. The harried demon deflected it within a breath of contact, and it went whizzing into the river, lighting the bottom of the trees in an eerie glow. Etude was tossing great clods of earth at Ku’Sox, darting from the ground to the air to make a difficult target.
“Quen!” I shouted as the man ran for Ku’Sox, his fist swollen with a green haze. “No!” I shouted as Etude and Quen descended upon Ku’Sox together. Etude’s rock fell harmlessly to the side as Ku’Sox sidestepped it, but Quen’s blow landed, the man’s fist plowing into Ku’Sox’s face to make the demon scream and fall back.
Teeth clenched, I lunged forward to pull Quen away before Ku’Sox could retaliate. Fire licked the soles of my feet as we ran, and we were both picked up and flung into the grass, the distance muting Ku’Sox’s last curse. My face planted into the clover, and I sat up fast, spitting dirt. Nearby, Etude was shaking his head, a tear in one wing bleeding slowly. Beside me, Quen slowly sat up, his hand touching his lip. “Damn.” Quen licked his bleeding lip, almost smiling as he looked back at Ku’Sox, lost under a thick black sheet of ever-after. “Think he gave up?”
“No! He’s turning into a bird to eat us!” I shoved my hand into Quen’s face. “Take the ring off. Take it off now!”
Quen’s face was guilty. “I can’t,” he said flatly as he got up.
“The hell you can’t!” I tugged him around to look at me. “I can’t tap a line worth crap. You admitted it yourself. And I can’t get the ring off!” Oh God. Had Al been right?
“I told you, the only reason we are doing so well is because of your strength and my skill. If I take it off, your strength won’t keep us alive.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice,” I said, pointing to the cocoon Ku’Sox was in, “but we’re not doing so hot right now!”
Quen’s jaw clenched. The misshapen form inside was growing larger, and like watching a chick develop, I saw Ku’Sox’s legs thin and lengthen, his arms grow into wings, his head mutate until a wicked, long beak formed.
“Etude, go!” I shouted, waving him off as Ku’Sox punched through the shell of ever-after, screaming a harsh, ugly call that echoed against the trees. “He’s going to eat you!” I exclaimed, heartsick when the gargoyle beat heavily into the air, his silhouette a darker blackness against the night sky. Ku’Sox was already his size and still growing.
“My God, Trent was right,” Quen said in awe, and I rounded on him.
“Yeah, he’s a big badass stork that eats people. Quen, we have a problem!”
Awestruck, Quen watched Ku’Sox flap his wings and croak, daring Etude to attack. “We can circle him. Now’s our chance.”
“Circle him? It won’t stand,” I started, and Quen’s attention came back to me.
“It will if we work together.”
I could not believe this. “We tried that,” I said, hunching when the breeze from Ku’Sox’s wings flattened my hair. “I want the ring off, and I want it off now!” I reached for his hand to take his ring and use it to take mine off, and Quen jerked away from me.
Shocked, I stared, three feet between us. No. Not Quen.
Above us, Etude and Ku’Sox met in a clash of talons and wings. Jerking, I watched as Etude tried to bite the back of Ku’Sox’s neck, and they fell, wings beating madly. Descending slowly, they crashed into the trees at the far end of the clearing. They were down.
My heart was pounding as I looked at Quen, hand extended. “Give me your ring.”
Taking my shoulders, he spun me around to the fight. “We can do this.”
Distrust blossomed in me. Do this, and I give you your freedom. I’d seen that in the history books before. Ku’Sox screamed, his black shadow rising up from the trees. Etude was bellowing from the woods, so he was still alive. Ku’Sox was coming right for us, his wings making the air shake, and yet Quen still stood, a green haze about his closed fist.
“Get down!” I shouted, ducking to crouch next to the retaining wall as Ku’Sox swooped over us, his huge claws reaching. The memory of seeing pixies slip down his throat rose up, and I cowered, the wall pressing into me. Fire lanced my shoulder, and I screamed.
“Immuluate!” Quen shouted, and I choked as the line raced through me, making the new rip in my shoulder burn like lava.
And then Ku’Sox was gone, swinging around for another strike. Hand clasped to my shoulder, I stood, watching his dark shape against the sky. He was playing with us.
“Rachel! Are you okay?”
I looked at Quen sourly as his enthusiasm paled. It was all I could do to not yell at him that no, I was not okay. “Fine,” I said, pushing at the edges of the cut and seeing very little blood.
“Maybe you’re right,” Quen said as we watched Ku’Sox turn and come back like a deadly pendulum. And then he brightened. “The line!” he said suddenly. “You can jump them. At least to the one in the garden. You can jump us both.”
My eyebrows rose. “You want me to jump a line? Carrying you? That’s what got us into this in the first place.”