For A Few Demons More

With an abrupt motion, Skimmer turned on a heel and started back the way we came, blond hair swinging and steps sharp.

Actually, that I was sleeping with Kisten while wanting Ivy to bite me was a twinge on my conscience. But I figured between Ivy’s fear and the vampiric mentality that multiple blood and bed partners were the norm, I could deal with the issue when it became an issue. I loved Kisten. I wanted Ivy to bite me. It made sense, if I didn’t think about it too hard.

Depressed, I scooped up my shoulder bag and Ivy’s canvas sack. “If you jump me again, I’ll freaking break your damn arm,” I muttered as I trailed behind her, knowing she could hear me. I didn’t know where we stood, but ice cream now sounded as appealing as eating a hot dog in the snow. Perhaps the encounter had been inevitable. It could have been worse. Ivy could have heard us.

“You okay?” I asked when I caught up to Skimmer on the church steps, the lights in the sanctuary making yellow swaths on the wet concrete.

Giving me a sideways glance, she felt her middle, her expression a mix of sullen mistrust and anger. “I love Ivy, and I’ll do anything to protect her. You understand me?”

My eyes narrowed at the implication that I was a threat to Ivy. “I’m not endangering her.”

“Yes you are.” The woman’s narrow chin lifted as she stood a step above me. “If she kills you by mistake because you goad her into something, she will never forgive herself. I know her. She’ll end it all to escape the pain. I love Ivy, and I’m not going to let her kill herself.”

“Neither am I,” I said hotly.

Skimmer’s face emptied of emotion, chilling me. A quiet vampire was a plotting vampire. Yanking the door open, she slipped in ahead of me. Great. I think I had just put myself on Skimmer’s hit list.

While I leaned against the wall and wedged off my sandals, Skimmer muttered something about the bathroom. Wiping her boots, she clattered into Ivy’s bathroom making an obvious amount of noise, and slammed the door. I followed the scent of warm bread into the kitchen, my steps silent from being barefoot. I found Ivy at her computer buying music. “What flavor did you get?” she asked.

“Ah, it started to rain,” I ad-libbed, “and we decided it wasn’t worth the effort.” It wasn’t really a lie, just looking at it from an expanded point of view.

Ivy nodded, eyes on the screen. I had expected some sort of reaction, but then I noticed that her boots were wet, and I slumped. Crap, she’d seen the entire thing.

I took a breath to explain, but her brown eyes flicked to mine, halting me. Skimmer came in, her cell phone in hand. “Hey, the office called,” she said, the lie coming from her as easily as breathing. “They want me back early, so I’m going to cut out on you. You two go ahead and have lunch. I’ll take a rain check.”

Ivy sat straighter. “You’re headed into Cincy?” Skimmer nodded, and Ivy rose, stretching. “Mind if I get a ride from you?” she asked. “That’s where my run is.” Ivy glanced at me. “You don’t mind, do you, Rachel?”

Like I could really say anything? “Go on,” I told her, moving to the stove and stirring the cooling pasta. My eyes drifted to the opened bottle of white wine. “I’ll give Ceri a call. Maybe she’ll come over early.”

Ten to one they were both going to see Piscary. Why didn’t they just come out with it?

“See you later, Rachel,” Skimmer said tightly, then headed to the front, her boots loud.

Ivy pulled her purse across the table. My gaze dropped to her boots, and when I brought them back up, I saw a wisp of guilt. “I won’t do it,” she said. “If I bite you, it’ll blow everything we have into the ever-after.”

I shrugged, thinking she was right, but only if we were stupid about it. If she had been listening, then she also knew I was willing to wait. Besides, to think that I could satisfy all of her blood lust was insane. I didn’t even want to try. I only wanted to prove that I accepted her the way she was. I’d just have to wait until she was ready to believe that.

“You’d better get going,” I said, not wanting her to be here when Minias showed up.

Ivy hesitated in the threshold. “Lunch was a good idea.”

I shrugged without looking up, and after a moment’s hesitation she walked out. My eyes followed her wet prints, and I frowned when I heard Ivy say defensively, “I told you she did. You’re lucky she didn’t hit you with anything other than her foot.”

Tired, I slipped into my chair, the scent of cooked pasta, vinegar dressing, and grilled bread heavy in the air. I knew that Ivy wasn’t going to move out of the church. Which meant the only way Skimmer was going to get Ivy all to herself was if I was dead.

How nice was that?

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 remembering 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 para-phernalia. I didn’t understand ley line magic and therefore distrusted it.

Ceri 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 unaging 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 a line 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 chalk lines, 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.