by Kim Harrison
Chapter 6~7
Chapter Six
I thunked the sauce off the spoon when I heard the front door open and Ceri's voice, soft in conversation. Jenks had gone to get her, having come in when Ivy and Skimmer left. He didn't like the thin blond vampire and had made himself scarce. It was after sunset and time to call Minias. I didn't like the idea of kicking sleeping demons, but I needed to reduce the confusion in my life, and calling him was the easiest way to do that.
Damn it, what am I doing, calling a demon? And what kind of a life do I have when calling one is at the top of my to-do list?
Ceri's steps were soft in the hallway, and I turned to her smile when her pleasant laughter at something Jenks said filled the kitchen. She was wearing a summery linen dress in three shades of purple, a matching ribbon holding her long, almost-transparent hair up off her neck against the moist heat. Jenks was on her shoulder to look like he belonged there, and Rex, Jenks's cat, was in her arms. The orange kitten was purring, her eyes closed and her paws wet with rain.
"Hello, Rachel," the young-seeming woman said, her voice carrying the slow relaxation of a damp summer night. "Jenks said you needed some company. Mmmm, is that herb bread?"
"Ivy and Skimmer were going to have lunch with me," I said, turning to get two wineglasses. "Ah. . . " I hedged, suddenly embarrassed and wondering if she had heard Skimmer and me. . . discussing things. "It fell through, and now I've got a ton of food with only me to eat it. "
Ceri's green eyes pinched in worry, telling me she had. "Nothing serious?"
I shook my head, thinking it could turn real serious real fast if Skimmer worked at it.
At that, the lithe elf smiled, sashaying to the cupboard for two plates as if it were her kitchen. "I'd love to eat lunch with you. Keasley would be happy with fish sandwiches every night, but honestly, the man wouldn't know fine food if I put it on his tongue and chewed it for him. "
The chatter about nothing lured me into a better mood, and, relaxing, I fixed two plates of pasta in white sauce while Ceri made herself tea with the special leaf she kept over here. Jenks sat on her shoulder the entire time, and, watching them together, I remembered how Jih, his eldest daughter, had taken to Ceri. I couldn't help but wonder if elves and pixies had a history of coexistence. I'd always thought it odd that Trent went to such great lengths to keep pixies and fairies out of his personal gardens. Almost like an addict removing the source of temptation, rather than my first guess, that he simply feared they might literally smell him out as an elf.
It was with a restored calm that I followed Ceri to the sanctuary with my wineglass and plate to take advantage of the cooler space. Her tea was already on the coffee table between the suede couch and matching pair of armchairs in the corner. I didn't know how she could stand the stuff when it was hot, but, seeing her in her lightweight dress, I had to admit she looked cooler than I was in my shorts and chemise, even though I had more skin showing. Must be an elf thing. The cold didn't seem to bother her either. I was starting to think it grossly unfair.
Set to the side was my scrying mirror to etch the calling pentagram on, my last stick of magnetic chalk, more of that yew, a ceremonial knife, my silver snips, a little white bag of sea salt, and a rude sketch Ceri had earlier drawn using Ivy's colored pencils. Ceri had brought out the bucket from the pantry, too. I didn't want to know. I really didn't want to know. The circle was going to be different from the one she had drawn on the floor just this morning: a permanent connection I wouldn't have to invoke with my blood every time I wanted to answer it.
Most of the stuff on the table was meant to get the curse to stick to the glass.
The soft clatter of our plates was pleasant as we arranged ourselves, and I collapsed into one of the cushy chairs, wanting to pretend for a few moments longer that this was just three friends getting together for lunch on a rainy summer's night. Minias could wait. I slid my plate onto my lap and picked up my fork, enjoying the quiet.
Setting the entire bottle of untouched red wine on the table beside her, Ceri took her teacup in her bandaged fingers and sipped graciously. Nervousness started to tickle and wind its way through my spine, ruining my appetite. Jenks was heading to the honey Ceri had put in her tea, and the woman capped it, putting it firmly out of his reach. Grumbling, Jenks flitted to the plants on my desk to sulk.
"You sure this is safe?" I asked, gaze flicking to the paraphernalia. I didn't understand ley line magic and therefore distrusted it.
Ceri's eyebrows rose as she tore a chunk from her herbed bread - a strand of her hair drifting in the breeze from the open transom windows above the fixed stained glass, dark with night. "It's never safe to ask for a demon's attention, but you don't want this unsettled. "
My head bobbed, and I wrangled another blob of pasta on my fork. It tasted flat, and I set my fork down. "You think Newt will come with him?"
A soft flush showed on her. "No. In all likelihood she doesn't remember you, and Minias won't allow anyone to remind her. He's reprimanded when she strays. "
I wondered what Newt knew that was so terrible she had to forget it to stay halfway sane. "She took your circle. I didn't think that was possible. "
Ceri delicately dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin to hide her fear. "Newt does what she wants because no one is strong enough to hold her accountable," she said. My anxiety must have shown, for she added, "It's skill in this case. Newt knows everything. It's just a matter of her remembering it long enough to teach someone. "
Maybe that was why Minias stuck with her despite the dangers. He was picking things up, bit by bit.
Ceri reached for the remote and pointed it at the stereo. It was a very modern gesture for such an old personality, and I smiled. If you didn't know she'd spent a thousand years imaging as a demon's familiar, you might think she was a set-in-her-ways thirty-something.
The soft jazz lifting through the air cut off. "The sun is down. You should rescribe the calling circle before midnight," she said brightly, and my stomach twisted. "Do you remember the figures from this morning? They are the same. "
I stared at her, trying not to look stupid. "Uh, no. "
Ceri nodded, then made five distinct motions with her right hand. "Remember?"
"Uh, no," I repeated, having no idea what the connection was between the sketched figures and her hand motions. "And I thought you would do it. Scribe it, I mean. "
Ceri's breath escaped her in a long sound of exasperation. "It's mostly ley-line magic," she said. "Heavy on symbolism and intent. If you don't draw it from start to finish, then I'll be the one who gets all the incoming calls - and, Rachel, I like you, but I'm not going to do that. "
I winced. "Sorry. "
She smiled, but I caught a grimace when she didn't realize I was watching. Ceri was the nicest person I knew, giving treats to children and squirrels and being polite to door-to-door solicitors, but she had little patience when it came to teaching. Her abrupt temper didn't mix well with my scattered concentration and haphazard study habits.
Flushing, I set my plate aside and slid the cool, sinking-into-my-legs feeling of my scrying mirror onto, my lap. I wasn't hungry anymore, and Ceri's impatience was making me feel stupid. I reached for my magnetic chalk, nervous. "I'm not very good at this," I muttered.
"Which is why you're doing it in chalk, then etching it in," she said. "Go on, let's see it. "
I hesitated, looking at the big blank expanse of glass. Crap.
"Come on, Rache!" Jenks coaxed, dropping down to land on the mirror. "Just follow me. " Wings going full tilt, he started to pace in a wide circle.
I arranged myself to follow his lead, and Ceri said, "Pentagram first. "
I jerked my hand from the glass. "Right. "
Jenks looked up at me as if in direction, and I felt a sinking sensation.
Ceri set her plate down, her disgust obvious. "You don't know a thing about this, do you?"
"Jeez, Ceri," I complained,
watching Jenks flit furtively to steal the smear of honey on Ceri's spoon. "I haven't actually finished any ley-line classes. I know my pentagrams suck dishwater, and I have no idea what those symbols mean or how to draw them. " Feeling dumb, I grabbed my wineglass - the white wine, not the red Ceri had brought out - and took a sip.
"You shouldn't drink when you work magic," Ceri said.
Frustrated, I set the glass down almost hard enough to spill. "Then why is it out here?" I said, a shade too loudly.
Jenks eyed me in warning, and I puffed my air out. I didn't like feeling stupid.
"Rachel," the woman said softly, and I grimaced at the chagrin in her voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't expect you to have the skills of a master when you're only starting out. It's just. . . "
". . . a stupid pentagram," I finished for her, trying to find the humor in it.
She reddened. "Actually, it's merely that I wanted to get this done tonight. "
"Oh. " Embarrassed, I looked at the blank mirror, my reflection a gray shadow peering back at me. It was going to look like crap. I knew it.
"The wine is a carrier for the invocation blood, also washing the salt off the mirror when you're done," Ceri said, and my gaze went to the bucket, now understanding why she'd brought it out. "The salt acts as a leveler, removing the excess intent in the lines you scribe in the glass as well as bringing the acidic content of the yew back to a neutral state. "
"Yew is toxic, not acidic," I said, and she nodded apologetically.
"But it will etch the glass once you coat it in your aura. "
Euwie. It was one of those curses. Great. "I'm sorry for barking at you," I said softly, my gaze flicking to her and away. "I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't like it. "
She smiled and leaned across the table between us. "Would you like to know the meaning behind the symbols?"
I nodded, feeling my tension ease. If I was going to do this, I really ought to.
"They are pictorial representations of ley line gestures," she said, her hand moving as if signing in American Sign Language. "See?"
She made a fist, her thumb tight to her curled index finger, angling her hand so that her thumb pointed to the ceiling. "This is the first one," she added, then pointed to the first symbol on the cheat sheet lying on the table. It was a circle bisected by a vertical line. "The thumb's position is indicated by the line," she added.
I looked from the figure to my fist, turning my hand until they matched. Okay.
"This is the second one," she said, making the "okay" sign, angling her hand so the back of it was parallel with the floor.
I mimicked her, feeling a stirring of understanding as I looked at the circle with three lines coming out the right side. My thumb and index finger made a circle, my three fingers stretching out like the lines fanned out from the figure's right side. I glanced at the next figure of a circle with a horizontal line, and before she could shift her fingers, I made a fist, turning my hand so my thumb was parallel to the floor.
"Yes!" Ceri said, following the gesture with her own. "And the next would be. . . ?"
Thinking, I compressed my lips and stared at the symbol. It looked like the previous one, with a finger coming out one side. "Index finger?" I guessed, and when she nodded, I stuck a finger out, earning a smile.
"Exactly. Try making the gesture with your pinkie, and you can see how wrong it feels. "
I tucked my index finger back and stuck out my pinkie. It did feel wrong, so I went back to the proper gesture. "And this one?" I asked as I looked at the figure in the last space. There was a circle, so I knew that something was touching my thumb, but which finger?
"Middle one," Ceri offered, and I made the gesture, grinning.
She leaned back, still smiling. "Let's see them. "
More confident now, I made the five gestures, reading them as I traveled around the pentagram clockwise. This wasn't so hard.
"And this middle figure?" I asked, looking at the long baseline with three rays coming up from the center equidistant from each other. It was where my hand had been when I contacted Minias earlier, and by the looks of it, my fingertips would hit the ends of the lines.
"That's the symbol for an open connection," she said. "As if an open hand. The inner circle touching the pentagram is our reality, and the outer circle is the ever-after. You're bridging the gap with your open hand. There is an alternate pattern with a series of symbols scribed between the two circles that will hide your location and identity, but it's more difficult. "
Jenks snickered, still trying to scrape honey off Ceri's spoon. "I bet it's harder, too," he said. "And we do want to finish before the sun comes up. "
I ignored him, feeling like I might be starting to understand this.
"And the pentagram is simply to give structure to the curse," Ceri added, trashing my good mood. Oh, yeah. I forgot it was a curse. Mmmm, goody.
Seeing my grimace, Ceri leaned over the table and touched my arm. "It is a very small curse," she said, her attempt to console me making things worse. "It's not evil. You're disturbing reality, and it leaves a mark, but truly, Rachel, this is a small thing. "
It's going to lead to worse, I thought, then forced a smile. Ceri didn't have to help me with this. I should be thankful. "Okay, pentagram first. "
Wings clattering, Jenks landed on the glass, shivering once before he put his hands on his hips and peered up at me. "Start here," he said, walking away, "and just follow me. "
I looked at Ceri to see if this was allowed, and she nodded. My shoulders eased, then tightened. The chalk felt almost slippery as it skated over the mirror, like a wax pencil on hot stone. I held my breath waiting for a tingling of rising power, but there was nothing.
"Now over here," Jenks said when he lifted into the air and dropped down at a new spot.
I played connect the dots, my lip finding its way between my teeth until a pentagram took up nearly the entire mirror. My back was feeling the strain, and I straightened. "Thanks, Jenks," I said, and he lifted up, his complexion red.
"No prob," he said as he went to sit on Ceri's shoulder.
"Now the symbols," Ceri prompted, and I reached for the top triangle, being careful not to smear my other lines. "Not that one!" she exclaimed before the chalk could touch the glass, and I jumped. "The lower left," she added, smiling to soften her voice. "When you scribe, you want to rise clockwise. " She made a fist, her eyes going to the cheat sheet. "This one first. "
I glanced at the diagram, then the pentagram. Taking a breath, I held the chalk tighter.
"Just draw it, Rache," Jenks complained, and as the hush of cars shushing against wet pavement soothed me, I sketched them all, my hand becoming more sure with each figure.
"As good as I," Ceri praised, and I leaned back and let my breath slip from me.
Setting the chalk down, I shook out my hand. It was only a few figures, but my hand was starting to ache. I glanced at the yew, and Ceri nodded once. "It should etch the glass if you tap aline and let your aura slip into the glass," she said, and my face scrunched up.
"Do I have to?" I asked, remembering the sinking, uncomfortable feeling of my aura stripping away. Then I looked over the church. "Shouldn't I be in a circle?"
Ceri's hair floated when she leaned to stack our plates up. "No. The mirror isn't going to take it all, just a slip of it. No harm in that. "
She seemed confident, but still. . . I didn't like losing any of my aura. And what if Minias showed up or called in the meantime?
"Oh, for the love of little green apples," Ceri said darkly. "If it will make this any faster. "
I winced, feeling like a chicken, then jumped when she tapped the line out back and, with a word of muttered Latin, set a loose circle. Jenks's wings hit a still-higher pitch when the large bubble of black-coated ever-after shimmered into existence around us. Ceri was at the exact center, as was the way with undrawn circles, and I could feel the pressure of
ever-after against my back. I scooted forward, and Jenks's wings hit a still-higher pitch. He finally settled himself on the table by the salt. I knew he didn't like being trapped, but after seeing Ceri's impatience, I decided Jenks was a big boy and could ask to be let out himself if it bothered him that much.
Ceri's circle was held with only her will, completely undrawn and entirely from her imagination. It wouldn't hold a demon, but all I wanted was something to keep nebulous influences out while my aura was not protecting my soul. Why ask for trouble? And with that in mind, I earned a huff of indignation when I picked up the phone and took out the batteries. An incoming call could open an opportunistic path.
"You're not going to lose all your aura," she said, moving our stacked plates aside.
Yeah, well, I felt better, and as much as I liked Ceri and respected her knowledge, I was going to fall back on my dad's admonishment never to practice high magic without a protection circle around you. Demon curses probably fell under that umbrella.
So it was with a lot more confidence that I plucked the makeshift stylus of yew from the table and tapped a line through Ceri's circle. The energy spilled in - warm, comforting, and a little too fast for my liking - and I tilted my head and cracked my neck to hide my unease. My chi seemed to hum, and my fingers about the yew cramped briefly. I flexed them, and a tingling ran from my center to my fingertips. I'd never felt anything like it before while spelling, but then I was drawing a curse.
"You okay?" Jenks asked, and I blinked, brushing my hair from my eyes and nodding.
"The line seems warm tonight," I said, and Ceri's face went empty.
"Warm?" she questioned, and I shrugged. Her eyes grew distant in thought for a moment, and then she gestured to the chalk-marked scrying mirror.
My eyes fixed on the chalklines, and with no hesitation I reached for the pentagram.
The stick of yew touched the glass resting on my lap, and with a shudder my aura pooled out of me like icy water. I gasped at the sensation, my head jerking up, finding Ceri's.
"Ceri!" Jenks shouted. "She's losing it! The damn thing just left her!"
The elf caught her alarm fast, but not so fast I didn't see it. "She's fine," she said, getting up and fumbling for the chalk on the table. "Rachel, you're fine. Just sit tight. Don't move. "
Frightened, I did exactly that, listening to my heart pound as she drew a circle inside her original one and invoked the more secure barrier immediately. My smut-damaged aura had colored my reflection, and I tried not to look at it. The click of the chalk hitting the table was loud, and Ceri sat across from me, her legs tucked under her and her back straight. "Continue," she said, and I hesitated.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," I said, and she met my eyes, a hint of shame in them.
"You're fine," she said, looking away. "When I did this so I might screen Al's calls, I wasn't making such a deep connection. I erred in not making a secure circle. I'm sorry. "
It was hard for the proud elf to apologize, and, knowing that, I accepted it with no lingering feelings of "I told you so. " I didn't know what in hell I was doing, so it wasn't as if I could expect her to get it all right. But I was glad I had insisted on a circle. Very glad.
I turned my gaze back to the mirror, trying to keep my focus shallow so I wouldn't look at my reflection. I felt dizzy without my aura, unreal, and my stomach was knotting. The scent of burnt amber rose to tickle my nose as I drew the lines of containment, and I squinted, seeing the faint haze of smoke on both sides of the glass where the yew was burning the mirror. "It's supposed to do that, right?" I asked, and Ceri murmured something positive-sounding.
The red curtain of my loose hair blocked my view, but I heard her whisper something to Jenks, and the pixy flew to her. I shivered, feeling naked without my aura. I kept trying not to glance into the mirror as I scribed, the haze of my aura looking like a mist or glow around my dark shadow of a reflection. The once-cheerful pure gold color of my aura had been tainted with an overlaying black of demon smut. Actually, I thought as I finished the pentagram and started on the first of the symbols, the black gives it more depth, almost like an aged patina. Yeah, sure.
A rising of tingles cramped my hand as I finished the last symbol. Exhaling, I started on the inner circle, relying on the points of the pentagram to guide me. The haze of burning glass grew thicker, distorting my vision, but I knew the instant my starting point and ending point met.
My shoulders twisted when I felt a vibration chime through me, first in my extended aura in the mirror and then in me. The inner circle had been set, and it seemed to have been etched onto my aura by way of marking the glass.
Pulse quickening, I started on the second circle. This one, too, resonated upon completion, and I shivered when my aura started to leave the scrying mirror, pulling the entire figure into me and carrying the curse with it.
"Salt it, Rachel. Before it burns you," Ceri said urgently, and the white drawstring bag of my sea salt edged into my tunnel vision.
My fingers fumbled at the ties, and I finally closed my eyes to make better progress that way. I felt disconnected. My aura was coming back painfully slowly, seeming to crawl over my skin and soak in layer by layer, burning. I had a feeling that if I didn't finish this before my aura came entirely back, it was really going to hurt.
The salt made a soft hush as it hit the glass, and I flinched at the feeling of unseen cold sand rasping against my skin. Not bothering to tracing the patterns, I dumped it all, my heart pounding as the weight of it hitting the mirror seemed to make my chest heavy.
The bucket appeared at my feet and the wine at my knee - silently, unobtrusively. Hands shaking, I scrabbled for my big-ass symbolic knife, pricking my thumb and dropping three plops of red into the wine as Ceri's voice hovered at the edge of my awareness and told me what to do: whispering, guiding, instructing me how to move my hands, how to finish this thing before I passed out from the sensations.
The wine cascaded over the mirror, and a moan of relief slipped from me. It was as if I could feel the salt dissolve into the glass, bonding to it, sealing the power of the curse and quieting it. My entire body hummed, the salt in my blood echoing with the power, settling into new channels and going somnolent.
My fingers and soul were cold from the wine, and I shifted them, feeling the last of the gritty salt wash away. "Ita prorsus," I said, repeating the words of invocation as Ceri gave them to me, but it wasn't until I touched my wine-wet finger to my tongue that it actually invoked.
The wave of demon smut rose from my work. Hell, I could see it looking like a black haze. Bowing my head, I took it - I didn't fight it, I took it - accepting it with a feeling of inevitability. It was as if a part of me had died, accepting that I couldn't be who I wanted, so I had to work at making who I was someone I could live with. My pulse jumped, then settled.
The air pressure shifted, and I felt Ceri's bubbles go down. From above us came the hint of a bell resonating in the belfry. The unheard vibrations pressed against my skin, and it was as if I could feel the curse imprinting itself on me in smaller, gentler waves, pushed by sound waves so low they could only be felt. And then it was done, and the sensation was gone.
Inhaling, I focused on the wine-damp mirror in my hands. A glistening drop of red hung, then fell to echo in the salted wine inside the bucket. The mirror now reflected the world in a dark, wine-red hue, but that paled next to the double-circled pentagram before me, etched in a stunning crystalline perfection. It was absolutely beautiful, catching and reflecting the light in shades of crimson and silver, all glittery and faceted. "I did this?" I said in surprise, and looked up.
I blanched. Ceri was staring at me with her hands on her lap, Jenks on her shoulder. It wasn't that she looked scared, just really, really worried. I shifted my shoulders, feeling a light connection from my mind to my aura that hadn't been there before. Or perhaps I was more sensitive to it. "Does it get better?" I said, concerned b
y Ceri's lack of response.
"What?" she asked, and Jenks's wings blurred, sending a strand of her hair flying.
I glanced at the bucket of salted wine next to me - hardly remembering pouring it on the mirror - then set the glass on the table. My fingers parted from it, but it was as if I still felt it with me. "The feeling of connection?" I said uncomfortably.
"You can feel it?" Jenks squeaked, and Ceri shushed him, her eyebrows knitting together.
"I shouldn't?" I asked as I wiped my hands on a napkin, and Ceri looked away.
"I don't know," she said softly, clearly thinking of something else. "Al never said. "
I was starting to feel more like myself. Jenks came forward, and I kept wiping my hands, dabbing the damp off. "You okay?" he asked, and I nodded, discarding the napkin and pulling my legs up to sit cross-legged. I tugged the mirror to sit atop my lap. It made me feel like I was in high school, playing with a Ouija board in someone's basement.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to ignore the fact that I thought the white crystalline pattern I had made on the glass was absolutely beautiful. "Let's do this. I want to be able to sleep tonight. "
Ceri stirred, drawing my attention to her. Her angular features were drawn, and she looked frightened by a sudden thought. "Ah, Rachel," she stammered, standing up. "Would you mind if we waited? Just until tomorrow?"
Oh, God. I did it wrong. "What did I do?" I blurted, reddening.
"Nothing," she rushed, reaching out but not touching me. "You're fine. But you just readjusted your aura, and you probably ought to go through an entire sun cycle to settle yourself before trying to use it. The calling circle, I mean. "
I looked at the mirror, then her. Ceri's face was unreadable. She was hiding her emotions, and doing a damn fine job of it. I'd done it wrong, and she was mad. She hadn't expected all my aura to slid off, but it had. "Crap," I said, disgusted. "I did it wrong, didn't I?"
She shook her head, but she was gathering her stuff up to leave. "You did it correctly. I have to go. I have to check on something. "
I hurried to get up, knocking the table and almost spilling my glass of white wine when I set the mirror down. "Ceri, I'll do better next time. Really, I'm getting better at this. You've helped me so much already," I said, but she stepped out of my reach, disguising it as swooping forward for her slippers. I froze, scared. She didn't want me to touch her. "What did I do?"
Slowly she halted, still not looking at me. Jenks hovered between us. Outside, I could hear the neighbors yelling friendly good-byes and a horn beeping. Reluctantly her eyes met mine. "Nothing," she said. "I'm sure the reason your aura all spilled out was because your blood invoked it and not another demon's, as was in my case when I was bound to Al's account to field his calls for him. You need to let your aura settle in firmly before using the curse, is all. A day at least. Tomorrow night. "
I took in Jenks's worry. He had heard the lie in her voice, too. Either she was making up the reason my aura pooled out or she was lying about the need to wait to call Minias. One scared the crap out of me, and the other was just bewildering. She doesn't want to touch me?
She turned to go, and I glanced at the calling circle, beautiful and innocent-looking on my coffee table, reflecting the world in a wine-stained hue. "Wait, Ceri. What if he calls tonight?"
Ceri stopped. Head bowed, she came back, put her hand atop the middle figure with fingers spread wide, and murmured a word of Latin. "There," she said, glancing hesitantly at me. "I've put a 'do not disturb' notation on it. It will expire at sunup. " She took a deep breath, seeming to make a decision. "This was necessary," she said, as if convincing herself, but when I nodded agreement, her features pinched in what looked like fear.
"Thank you, Ceri," I said, bewildered, and she slipped out the front door and closed it without a sound. I heard her feet slap the wet pavement as she ran, then nothing. I turned to Jenks, still hovering. "What was that all about?" I asked, feeling very unsure.
"Maybe she can't admit she doesn't know why your aura pooled out," he said, coming to sit on my knee when I flopped back into the couch and propped my arches on the edge of the table. "Or maybe she's mad at herself for almost exposing you without your aura. " He hesitated, then said, "You didn't get a hug good-bye. "
I reached for my glass and took a sip, feeling a tingling rise up through my wine-stained aura, almost as if responding to what I'd just drank. Slowly the sensation faded. I thought back to Ceri's circle dropping and the feeling of the bell resonating through me when the curse had invoked. It had felt good. Satisfying. That was okay, wasn't it?
"Jenks," I said wearily, "I wish someone would tell me what in hell is going on. "
Chapter Seven
The afternoon sun was warm on my shoulders, bare but for the straps of my chemise. Last night's rain had left the ground soft, and the moist heat hovering an inch or so over the disturbed earth was comforting. I was taking advantage of it by tending my yew plant, having an idea that I might make up some forget potions in case Newt showed again. All I needed now was the fermented lilac pressings. It wasn't illegal to make forget charms, just use them, and who would fault me for using one on a demon?
The soft plunk of a cut tip dropping into one of my smaller spell pots was loud, and with my face turned to the earth, I knelt before the tombstone it was growing out of and sent my fingers lightly among the branches, harvesting the ones growing inward to the center of the plant.
Ceri's reaction to my aura's pooling out last night had left me very uneasy, but the sun felt good, and I took strength from that. I might have made a strong connection to the ever-after, but nothing had changed. And Ceri was right. I needed a way for Minias to contact me without having to show up. This was safer. Easier.
A grimace crossed my face, and I turned my attention from pruning to pulling weeds to widen the circle of cleared earth. Easy like a wish. And wishes always came back to bite you.
Glancing at the angle of the sun, I decided I ought to call it good and get cleaned up before Kisten came over to take me to my driver's-ed class. I stood, slapping the dirt from my jeans and gathering my tools. My gaze expanded from the singular vision of the pollution-stained grave marker to the wider expanse of my walled graveyard, the domestic Hollows beyond that, and, even farther, the tallest buildings of Cincinnati across the river. I loved it here, a spot of stillness surrounded by life, humming like a thousand bees.
I headed for the church, smiling and touching the stones as I passed, recognizing them like old friends and wondering what the people they guarded had been like. There was a small flurry of pixies by the back door to the church, and I picked my way to it, curious as to what was up. My faint smile widened when the snap of dragonfly wings turned into Jenks. The pixy circled me, looking good in his casual gardening clothes.
"Hey, Rachel, are you done over there?" he said by way of greeting. "My kids are dying to check out your gardening. "
Skirting the circle of blasphemed ground encompassing the grave marker of a weeping angel, I squinted at him. "Sure. Just tell them to watch the oozing tips. That stuff is toxic. "
He nodded, his wings a gossamer blur as he went to my other side so I wasn't looking into the sun. "They know. " He hesitated, then with a quickness that said he was embarrassed, blurted, "Are you going to need me today?"
I looked up from my uneven footing, then back down. "No. What's up?"
A smile full of parental pride came over him, and a faint sparkle of gold fell as he let some dust slip. "It's Jih," he said in satisfaction.
My pace faltered. Jih was his eldest daughter, now living across the street with Ceri to build up a garden to support her and a future family. Seeing my worry, Jenks laughed. "She's fine! But she's got three pixy bucks circling her and her garden and wants me to build something with them so she can see how they work, then make her decision from that. "
"Three!" I adjusted my grip on my spell pot. "Good Lord. Matalina must be
tickled. "
Jenks dropped to my shoulder. "I suppose," he grumbled. "Jih is beside herself. She likes them all. I just stole Matalina and didn't bother with the traditional, season-long supervised courtship. Jih wants to make a dragonfly hut. Poor guy who wins is going to need it. "
I wanted to look at him, but he was too close. "You stole Matalina? "
"Yup. If we had jumped through all the hoops, we never would have gotten the front entry way gardens or the flower boxes. "
My eyes went to my feet, and I picked my path so I wouldn't jar him. He had dropped tradition to gain a six-by-eight swath of garden and some flower boxes. Now he had a walled garden of four city lots. Jenks was doing well. Well enough that his children could take time from their life for the rituals that marked it. "It's nice that Jih has you to help her," I said.
"I suppose," he muttered, but I could tell he was eager for the chance to guide his daughter in making a good decision in whom to spend her life with. Maybe that's why I keep making such stellar decisions in my own love life, I thought, smirking at the idea of Jenks coming out on a first date with me and grilling the poor guy. Then I blinked. He had warned Kisten to behave himself when I went out with him that first time. Damn, had Kisten gotten Jenks's stamp of approval?
The gust from Jenks's wings cooled the sweat on my neck. "Hey, I gotta go. She's waiting. I'll see you tonight. "
"Sure," I said, and he rose up. "Tell her I said Congrats!"
He gave me a salute and darted off. I watched him for a moment, then continued to the back door, imaging the grief he was going to put the three young pixy bucks through. The heavenly scent of baking muffins was slipping out the kitchen window, and, breathing deeply, I climbed up the few stairs. I checked the bottoms of my sneakers, stomped my feet, and entered the torn-apart living room. Three Guys and a Toolbox had yet to show up, and the smell of splintered wood mixed with the scent of baking. My stomach rumbled, so I headed into the kitchen. It was empty but for the muffins cooling on the stove, and after dropping my cuttings by the sink, I washed my hands and eyed the cooling bread. Apparently Ivy was up and in the mood to bake. Unusual, but I was going to take advantage of it.
Juggling a muffin and the fish food, I fed myself and Mr. Fish both, then pulled a dark green T-shirt on over my chemise and collapsed into my chair, happy with the world. I startled at the sudden skittering of claws, and an orange ball of feline terror streaked into the kitchen and under my chair. Pixies spilled in, a swirling storm of high-pitched screeching and whistles that made my skull hurt.
"Out!" I shouted, standing. "Get out! The church is her safe place, so get out!"
Pixy dust thickened to make my eyes water, but after the loud complaints and muttered disappointment, the Disney nightmare subsided as quickly as it had come. Smirking, I peered under my chair. Rex was huddled, her eyes black and her tail fluffed, the picture of fear incarnate. Jenks must already be at Jih's, since his kids knew he'd bend their wings backward till they slipped dust if he caught them teasing his cat.
"What's the matter, sweet pea?" I crooned, knowing better than to try to pet her. "Did those nasty pixies bother you?"
Eyes averted, she hunched down, content to stay where she was. Snorting, I carefully settled back, feeling like the great protector. Rex never sought me out for attention, but when danger threatened, I was where she ended up. Ivy said it was a cat thing. Whatever.
I reached for my nail polish, taking careful bites of breakfast between touch-up swipes. A soft scuffing in the hallway brought my attention up as Ivy came in, and I smiled. She was dressed in her exercise tights and had a light sheen of sweat on her. "What was all that about?" she asked, going to the stove and wedging a muffin out of the tin.
Mouth full, I pointed under my chair.
"Oh, poor kitty," she said, sitting in her spot and dropping her hand to the floor.
Disgust puckered my brow when the stupid cat padded to her, head up and tail smoothed. My annoyance deepened when Rex jumped into her lap, settling down to stare at me. The cat suddenly turned to the hallway, and a sharp rapping of heels grew loud. Eyes wide, I looked at Ivy, but my question was answered when Skimmer breezed in, brushed, tidied, and looking as perfect as an uncut wedding cake in her stark white shirt and black slacks.
When did she get here? I thought, then flushed. She never left last night. I glanced at Ivy, deciding I was right when my roommate dumped Rex out of her lap and found great interest in her e-mails, opening them up and throwing out the spam - avoiding me. Hell, I didn't care what they did together. But apparently Ivy did.
"Hi, Rachel," the slight vampire said. Then, before I could answer, she bent to give Ivy a kiss. Ivy stiffened in surprise, and I blinked when Ivy pulled away before it could turn passionate - which was clearly where Skimmer had intended it to go. Recovering smoothly, Skimmer headed for the muffins. "I'll be done with work about ten tonight," she said, putting one on a plate and sitting carefully between us. "Do you want to meet for an early dinner? "
Ivy's face was creased in annoyance at the attempted kiss. Skimmer was doing it to bother me, maybe scare me off, and Ivy knew it. "No," she said, not looking from her monitor. "I've got something planned. "
Like what? I thought, deciding that Skimmer's and my relationship was probably going to nosedive like a brick with wings. This was really, really not anything I was prepared for.
Skimmer carefully broke her muffin in two, then got to her feet to find a knife and the butter. Leaving them by her plate, she moseyed to the coffeemaker, her steps carrying the presence and power of the courtroom. Damn. I'm in trouble.
"Coffee, Ivy?" she asked, the sun blinding on her shirt, crisp and pressed for the office.
"Sure. Thanks. "
Feeling the tension, Rex slunk out. Wish I could.
"Here you go, sweets," the vamp said, bringing Ivy a cup. It wasn't the oversize mug with our Vampiric Charms logo on it that Ivy liked, but maybe she used them because I did.
Ivy jerked back when Skimmer tried to steal another kiss. Instead of being upset, the woman confidently sat down again to meticulously butter her muffin. She was pulling both Ivy's and my strings, fully in charge though Ivy was the more dominant of the two.
I wasn't going to leave because she was trying to make me uncomfortable. Feeling my blood pressure rise, I settled myself firmly in my chair. It was my kitchen, damn it.
"You're up early," the blond, blue-eyed vamp said to me as if it meant something.
I fought to keep my eyes from narrowing. "Did you make these?" I asked, raising what was left of my muffin.
Skimmer smiled to show her sharp canine teeth. "Yes, I did. "
"They're good. "
"You're welcome. "
"I didn't say thank you," I shot back, and Ivy's hand on her mouse paused.
Skimmer ate her muffin, watching me with unblinking eyes and slowly widening pupils. My scar started tingling, and I stood. "I'm going to shower," I said, irate that she was giving me the creeps, but I did need to get cleaned up.
"I'll alert the media," Skimmer said, licking the butter suggestively from her finger.
I went to tell her to shove it up her ass and lay an egg with it, but the front doorbell rang, and my manners stayed intact. "That's Kisten," I said, then grabbed my shoulder bag. I was clean enough, and the last thing I wanted was three vampires in my kitchen and me naked in the shower. "I'm outta here. "
Ivy broke from her computer, clearly surprised. "Where are you going?"
I glanced at Skimmer, feeling a blush rise. "Driver's ed. Kisten's taking me. "
"Oh, how sweet!" Skimmer said, and I gritted my teeth. Refusing to respond, I headed for the hallway and the door, dirty knees or not. A sharp snap jerked me to a stop, and I turned, catching a blur of motion. Skimmer was red, clearly shocked and chagrined, but Ivy was smug. Something had happened, and Ivy arched an eyebrow at me in a dry amusement.
The front doorbell
clanked again, but I wasn't a good enough person to walk out of here now without saying something. "You going to be around tonight for dinner, Ivy?" I asked, cocking my hip. Maybe it was mean, but I was mean.
Ivy took a bite of her muffin, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "I'll be in and out," she said, wiping the corner of her mouth with a pinkie. "But I'll be here about midnight. "
"Okay," I said lightly. "I'll see you later. " I beamed at Skimmer, now sitting primly but obviously torn between seething and sulking. " 'Bye, Skimmer. Thanks for breakfast. "
"You're welcome. "
Translation: Choke on it, bitch.
The doorbell rang a third time, and I hustled down the hallway, my good mood restored. "Coming!" I shouted, fussing with my hair. I looked okay. It was only a bunch of teenagers.
I plucked Jenks's aviator jacket from the post in the foyer and shrugged into it just for looks. The coat was a remnant from his stint at being people-size. I'd gotten his jacket, Ivy had gotten his silk robe, and we'd thrown out his two dozen toothbrushes. Shoving the door open, I found Kisten waiting, his Corvette at the curb. He didn't work much until after sunset, and his usual trendy suit had been replaced with jeans and a black T-shirt, tucked in to show off his waist. Smiling with his mouth closed to hide his sharp canines, he rocked from heel to toe in his boots with his fingers jammed in his front pockets, tossing his dyed-blond hair out of his blue eyes with a practiced motion that said he was most assuredly "all that. " What made it work was that he was.
"You look good," I said, my free hand slipping between his trim waist and his arm, using him for balance as I leaned up and in for an early-afternoon kiss hello right there at the threshold.
Eyes closing, I breathed deeply as his lips met mine, intentionally bringing in the scent of leather and the incense that clung to vampires as if it were a second skin. He was like a drug, throwing off pheromones to relax and soothe potential blood sources. We weren't sharing blood, but who was I to not take advantage of a thousand years of evolution?
"You look dirty," he said when our lips parted. I fell back to my heels, my smile growing to meet his when he added, "I like dirty. You've been in the garden. " Eyebrows rising, he tugged me back into him, angling us into the darker foyer. "Am I early?" he said, the richness of his voice under my ear sending a shiver through me.
"Yes, thank God," I replied, enjoying the mild rush. I liked kissing vampires in the dark. The only thing better was being in an elevator descending to certain death.
I was blocking his way into the sanctuary, and when he realized I wasn't going to invite him in, his grip on my upper arms hesitated. "Your class isn't until one-thirty. You have time to take a shower," he said, clearly wanting to know why I was rushing out the door.
Maybe if you help me, I thought wickedly, unable to stop my grin. He caught my look, and as a spark of titillation zinged through me, his nostrils widened to take in my mood. He couldn't hear my thought, but he could read my pulse, my temperature, and considering the randy look I knew I had, it wasn't hard to figure out what was on my mind.
His fingers tightened, and from the hallway came Ivy's voice, "Hi, Kist. "
Not dropping his gaze, Kisten answered, "Morning, love," not bothering to take out the heat rebounding between us.
She snorted, the soft sound of her bathroom door closing a clear indication that she was all right with the relationship Kisten and I had, despite their old boyfriend/girlfriend status. If he touched my blood, things would get nasty, which was why Kisten wore caps on his teeth when we slept together. But if I was going to be sharing my body with someone other than Ivy, she'd rather it be with Kisten. And that's. . . where we were.
Ivy and Kisten's relationship was more platonic these days, with a little blood thrown in to keep things close. Our situation had become a balancing act since she had tasted my blood and swore never to touch it again, but she didn't want Kisten touching it either, unable to give up the hope we could find a way to make it work, even as she denied it was possible. Defying his usual submissive role, Kisten had told Ivy he'd risk it I succumbed to temptation and let him break my skin. But until then we could all pretend that everything was normal. Or whatever passed for normal these days.
"Let's just go?" I said, my ardor cooling at the reminder that this screwed-up situation would hold steady as long as the status quo didn't change.
Chuckling, he let me push him to the door, but Skimmer's obvious throat clearing turned him from pliable vampire to immovable rock, and I slumped in defeat when her sultry voice echoed in the sanctuary. "Good morning, Kisten. "
Kisten's smile widened as his gaze flicked between the two of us, clearly sensing my exasperation. "Can we go?" I whispered.
Eyebrows high, he turned me to the door. "Hi, Dorothy. You look nice today. "
"Don't call me that, you S. O. B. ," she said, her voice scathing across my back as I slipped out before Kisten. Apparently Skimmer felt about Kisten the same way she did about me. I wasn't surprised. We were both threats to her subordinate claim on Ivy. Neither of us was a true obstacle - me stymied by Ivy, and Kist because of their past - but try telling her that. Multiple blood and bed partners were the norm for vampires, but so was jealousy.
I took a deep breath as the door shut behind us, squinting in the sun and feeling my shoulders ease. It lasted all of three seconds until Kisten asked, "Skimmer sleep over?"
"I don't want to talk about it," I grumbled.
"That bad, eh?" he added, taking the steps lightly beside me.
I glanced longingly at my convertible, then back to his Corvette. "She's not being nice anymore," I complained, and Kisten picked up his pace to gallantly open the door before I could reach for the handle. Giving him a smile of thanks, I slipped in, settling myself in the familiar confines of his leather-scented, incense-rich car. God, it smelled good in here, and I closed my eyes and leaned back while Kisten went around to his side. I kept them shut even as he buckled himself in and started his car, willing myself to relax.
"Talk to me," he said when he started into motion and I was still silent.
A hundred thoughts sifted through me, but what came out was, "Skimmer. . . " I hesitated. "She found out that Ivy's the one not allowing a blood balance between us, not me. "
His soft sigh drew my attention. The sun glinted on his stubble, and I stifled an urge to touch it. I watched his gaze flick behind us to the church through the rearview mirror. Depressed, I rolled my window down and let the morning breeze shift my hair.
"And?" he prompted as he gunned it, pulling out ahead of a blue Buick trailing smoke.
Holding my hair away from my eyes, I frowned. "She's gotten nasty. Trying to drive me away. I told her Ivy's just scared and that I'm waiting until she isn't, so Skimmer's gone from 'I want to be your friend because Ivy's your friend' to 'suck my toes and die. ' "
Kisten's grip on the wheel tightened, and he hit the brakes a little too hard at the stoplight. Realizing what I'd said, I flushed. I knew he'd rather have me lusting after a bite from him. But if I let him bite me, Ivy would snap. "I'm sorry, Kisten," I whispered.
He was silent, staring at the red light.
Reaching out, I touched his hand. "I love you," I whispered. "But letting you bite me would tear everything apart. Ivy couldn't take it. " Jenks would say that my saying no to Kisten had more to do with the threat of his biting me being a bigger turn-on than the actual bite might be. Whatever. But if Kisten found a closer relationship with me when Ivy couldn't, it would hurt her, and he loved her, too, with the fanatical loyalty shared abuse often engenders; Piscary had warped them both.
From my bag came the trill of my phone, but I let it ring. This was more important. The light changed, and Kisten pulled into traffic, his grip more relaxed. Ivy had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but he was willing to fight for me if I was ever tempted enough to give him my blood. Trouble was, saying no had never been my strong
suit. I courted disaster every time I slept with him, but it made for great sex. And I never said I was smart. Actually, it was pretty stupid. But we'd been over that before.
Depressed, I let my arm hang out the window and watched the Hollows turn from homes to businesses. The sun glinted dully on my bracelet and its distinctive pattern of links. Ivy had an anklet in the same pattern. I'd seen a few others around Cincy here and there, earning shrugs and smiles when I tried to hide mine. I knew they were probably Kisten's way to show the world his conquests, but I wore it nevertheless. So did Ivy.
"Skimmer won't hurt you," Kisten said softly, and I turned to him.
"Not physically," I agreed, relieved he was handling this as well as he was. "But you can be sure she's going to put extra love in her petition to get Piscary out. "
He sobered at that, and quiet filled the car at the thought of what might happen if she succeeded. We'd both be up shit creek. Kisten had been Piscary's scion, betraying the master vampire the night I'd beaten Piscary into submission. Piscary was ignoring that right now, but if he got out, I was sure he'd have a thing or two to say to his ex-scion, even if Kisten had been the one keeping Piscary's business ventures intact, since Ivy wouldn't, her scion status aside.
My phone rang again. Digging it out, I looked to see that it was an unfamiliar number before I set it to vibrate. I was with Kisten, and taking the call would be rude. "You aren't mad?" I offered hesitantly, watching the emotion on his face shift from worry about his physical being to that of worry for his emotional state.
"Mad that you're attracted to Ivy?" he said, the sun flashing over him as we crossed the bridge. My face warmed, and he pulled his hand from mine to manage the thicker traffic. "No," he said, his eyes slightly dilating. "I love you, but Ivy. . . Since leaving the I. S. and you moving in with her, she's never been happier, more stable. Besides," he said, settling himself suggestively, "if this keeps up, I might have a chance at one hell of a threesome. "
My mouth dropped open, and I swatted him. "No way!"
"Hey," he said, laughing, though his eyes were firmly on the traffic. "Don't knock it until you've tried it. "
I crossed my arms before me and looked straight out the window. "Not going to happen, Kisten. " But when I met his eyes, I could tell he had only been teasing me. I think.
"Don't make plans this Friday," he said as we stopped at yet another light.
I stifled a huge smile, but inside I was singing. He remembered! "Why?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
He smiled, and I lost my battle to remain unmoved. "I'm taking you out for your birthday," he said. "I've got reservations for the Carew Tower restaurant. "
"Get out!" I exclaimed, my eyes darting to the top of the building in question. "I've never been up there to eat. " I squirmed, gaze going distant as I started to plan. "I don't know what to wear. "
"Something that comes off easy?" he suggested.
A horn blew behind us, and, not looking, Kisten accelerated.
"All I've got is stuff with lots of snaps and buckles," I teased.
He went to say something, but his phone rang. I frowned when he reached to take it. I never took calls when we were together. Not that I got that many to begin with. But I wasn't trying to run Cincy's underworld for my boss either.
"Snaps and buckles?" he said as he flipped open the top. "That might work, too. " Smile fading, he said into his phone. "This is Felps. "
I settled back, feeling good just thinking about it.
"Hey, Ivy. What's up?" Kisten said, and I straightened. Then, remembering my phone, I pulled it out and looked. Crap, I'd missed four calls. But I didn't recognize the number.
"Right beside me," Kisten said, glancing at me, and a flicker of concern rose. "Sure," he added, then handed the phone to me.
Oh, God, now what? Feeling like I'd heard a shoe fall, I said, "Is it Jenks?"
"No," Ivy's irate voice said, and I relaxed. "It's your Were. "
"David?" I stammered, and Kisten pulled into the driving school's parking lot.
"He's been trying to reach you," Ivy said, her tone both bothered and concerned. "He says - are you ready for this? - he says he's killing women and he doesn't remember. Look, will you call him? He's called here twice in the last three minutes. "
I wanted to laugh but couldn't. The Were murder the I. S. was covering up. The demon tearing my living room apart for the focus. Shit.
"Okay," I said softly. "Thanks. 'Bye. "
"Rachel?"
Her voice had changed. I was upset, and she knew it. I took a breath, trying to find a glimmer of calm. "Yes?"
I could tell by her hesitation that she wasn't fooled, but she knew that whatever it was, I wasn't running scared. Yet. "Watch yourself," she said tightly. "Call me if you need me. "
My tension eased. It was good to have friends. "Thanks. I will. "
I hung up, glanced at Kisten's expressive eyes waiting for an explanation, then jumped when my phone, sitting in my lap, vibrated. Taking a breath, I picked it up and looked at the number. It was David's. I recognized it now.
"You going to take that?" Kisten asked, his hands on the wheel though we were parked.
In the next spot over, I watched a girl slam the door to her mother's minivan. Ponytail bobbing and mouth going nonstop, she chatted as she headed to class with a friend. They disappeared past the glass doors, and the woman behind the wheel wiped at her eye and watched through her rearview mirror. Kisten leaned forward to get into my line of sight. The phone vibrated again, and a sour smile lifted the corners of my mouth as I flipped the phone open.
Somehow I didn't think I was going to make my class.