The Outlaw Demon Wails (The Hollows 6) - Page 36

She nodded. "There is no smut for this one," she offered. "You're not changing reality, you're just pulling on a line. It's similar to how you almost threw raw energy at Ivy. If you can do that, and pull it back into you without hurting yourself as you did, then you should be able to do this...."

Her sentence trailed off at the end, and I flexed my fingers, remembering the pain had lasted only a moment before vanishing in the chaos that had followed. Demon magic. Damn it back to the Turn.

"You might not be able to do it," she said, sounding as if she hoped I couldn't. "I simply want to know, and if you can, then you have something that might save your life someday."

My lips pressed together as I thought about it. "No smut?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. You're just modifying energy, not changing reality."

I was tempted, but there was still something she wasn't telling me. I could see it in her subtle motions, my runner training screaming at me. I thought of Quen on his deathbed, and why Ceri was sitting here in my damp belfry instead of with him. It made no sense. Unless..."You want to know if I can do this so you can tell Quen. That's it, isn't it?"

Ceri actually flushed, and a pulse of fear slid through me, pulling me straight. "I shouldn't be able to, should I," I demanded, and when she shook her head my gut twisted. "What in hell did Trent's dad do to me?" I said, panicked, and her eyes flashed.

"Rachel, stop," she said, rising and coming to me with the scent of damp silk. "Trent's father didn't do anything but keep you alive. You are you."

Her hands hesitated a bare second before taking mine, but I saw it and the fear slid deeper. "You are the same person you were when your mother birthed you," Ceri said firmly. "And if you can do a magic that no other witch can do, then you should become skilled in it so you can go where others fail. Great power does not corrupt a person, it only brings their true self into the light, and Rachel, you are a good person."

I pulled away from her, and she took a guilty step back. Mistrust, ugly and unwelcome, trickled through me, and I vowed to purge it right now. I couldn't lose her as a friend. I couldn't. "Promise me you won't tell Quen," I said. She hesitated, and I added, "Please, Ceri. If I'm different, I don't want anyone to know. Let me tell who I want, if I want. Please. Otherwise, I'm just...a pawn in someone else's game."

Looking miserable, she clasped her hands before her, and then slowly she nodded. "I will tell no one," she whispered.

Immediately my tension dropped to my gut like lead. I looked at the dresser top where the charm's tools were assembled, and with a tired regret for the lost chance that I could ever live a normal life, I stood. My reflection in the age-spotted mirror above the dresser stared back at me. I took a slow breath. "Do you want to show me first?"

Ceri moved so I could see her reflection behind me. "I can't do it, Rachel."

Swell.

It was as if a door had closed behind me. Before me was a great blackness, but it was wide and sweeping, and I had to believe that somewhere in my future was a happy ending. This is who I am, I thought with an overpowering sensation of finality. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I resolutely went to the dresser. Time to find out what I can do.

The candle on the dresser was reflected in the mirror, making two. Set to the side was the chalk, the metal disk, a spool of twine, a finger stick, and a vial of grapeseed oil. I had my ley line textbook there, as well, open to the dozen blank pages at the back for notes. At the top of one was a messy LIGHT CHARM BY CERI and the pictorial representations of the hand movements and phonetically spelled Latin that went along with them. I knew Ceri was disgusted that I didn't know enough Latin to read it normally, but I'd been focusing my attention on other things for the last few years - and I didn't expect that to change. But a class in hand gestures might have been in order.

"Well, then," Ceri said as she nervously eased up behind me. I eyed her candlelit reflection in the mirror, wondering how she was going to teach me a charm she couldn't do herself. The scent of cinnamon and silk mixed with the bayberry candle and the scent of iron from the bell above us. That reminded me of the gargoyle, but he was still sleeping when I glanced up.

"We should tie your base ring up so we get a nice sphere instead of one half inside the dresser," she added with a forced brightness that made my head hurt. "Once it's set, you can't touch it, or you'll break the spell."

"Like any circle?" I guessed.

She nodded, blinking in surprise when she looked up and saw the gargoyle. "Is that...," she stammered, her expression showing wonder.

"It's a gargoyle," I finished for her. "He showed up yesterday. Jenks is ticked, but all he does is sleep." I hesitated. "Should we do this somewhere else?"

Smiling a secret smile now, Ceri shook her head. "No. They're good luck, according to my grandmother. He's fine up there. She had a saying that pixies are to elves as gargoyles are to witches."

I smirked as I recalled how Jenks's kids took to Ceri, and how Ellasbeth's mother, another pure-blood elf, adored Jenks. I didn't have any such "charmed" feelings for the lump of somnolent rock in the belfry rafters, and as far as I knew, neither did any other witch. But then, I was the only witch I knew who lived in a church, which was the only place a gargoyle would stay. Something about the big bells ionizing the air or some such.

"Are you sure this isn't a problem?" I said, pointing up to him.

"No. I'd ask to make his acquaintance and for him to tie up your string if he was awake."

I stared hopefully up at the gray winged shape, but he didn't move. Not even his big fringed ears. "I'll do it," I said, then levered myself up onto the dresser top, and from there to standing. My head was in the bell, and the faint echoes hitting my ear made me shiver. I quickly tied the string to the clapper and got down.

Ceri bit the string to cut it long, then expertly shifted her pale fingers to make a three-cornered sling to set the palm-sized ring of metal into. She let it go, and it swung gently at chest height above the dresser. "There," she said, backing away. "That will make a pretty light."

I nodded, conscious of the gargoyle and wondering if his or her tail curling around the pair of craggy feet had twitched. I didn't like spelling in front of people I didn't know, especially one who had taken up residence without paying rent.

"So the first step is...," Ceri prompted, and I pulled my attention back to her.

"Sorry," I said, gathering myself. "Let me set my outer circle."

Ceri nodded, and I sent my will to the ley line out back. Energy flowed, bright and pure, and I exhaled as the forces balanced in me. I kicked off my slipper and touched my toe to the metallic chalk ring. My trigger word, rhombus, echoed forcefully in my thoughts, and a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after swarmed up to arch to a close over our heads. The trigger word condensed a five-minute prep with candles and chalk to a half-second. It had taken me six months to learn to do it.

I winced at the ugly black that crawled over the half-sphere a second later, doing its best to smother the bright gold my aura had colored the typically red sheet of ever-after. The smut was a visual representation of what was on my soul. I felt ugly as I silently scuffed my slipper back on. It didn't seem to bother Ceri, but her smut level was a thousand times thicker than mine. Minus one year, I thought, hoping she had really forgiven me for yelling at her.

The gargoyle wasn't in the circle, which made me feel tons better. My hair was starting to float from the currents of energy running through me, and I ran a hand over my curls. "I hate it when it does that," I muttered as I found a loose strand and pulled it free for the charm.

Ceri chuckled a rueful agreement, and seeing her confident nod, I took the strand and turned to the candlelit dresser. I exhaled a puff of air. Calmer, I reached for the oil.

"In fidem recipare," I said, dabbing it on my fingers and running the strand through it to coat it thoroughly. The hair was a conduit to keep the energy flowing into the circle and maintain the light, and the oil with its high smoldering point would keep the strand from igniting.

Ceri's brow was furrowed, but she nodded in agreement, so I carefully coiled the strand so it lay across the ring. A drop of my blood was next, and I hardly felt the prick of the finger stick. The metal ring seemed to be warmer than it should have been when I smeared the blood onto it. "Um, iungo," I said, rubbing my palms nervously against each other to wipe off the oil and blood, then, after checking my notations, performed the gesture that cramped my right hand.

"Good," she prompted, easing closer, attention fixed on the dull gray metal.

"Rhombus," I said strongly, holding back a surge of power that wanted to slip my control, allowing only the barest amount to spill forth as I touched the ring.


A second bubble of force sprang up, and the ring of metal shifted to exist both here and in the ever-after, looking unreal and translucent. Like a ghost. I smiled at the black-and-gold sphere hanging there like one of Ivy's glass Christmas balls, the cord bisecting the sheet of unreality as it suspended the metal the charm was in. It wasn't often that I saw the bottom half of a protection circle, and though I knew it was wrong to think the black demon smut marring the glittering golden sphere of my will was pretty, I did. It looked like an aged patina.

"See if you can make it glow," Ceri prompted, but she still seemed worried.

My life is going to change with the creation of light, I thought. Gut clenched, I said, "Lenio cinis," while watching my fingers awkwardly make the invocation movement. The two had to be simultaneous, otherwise the air would burn up and snuff the spell before the connection spell to bring in more energy to burn was in place. At least, that was the theory.

Anxious, I held my breath and watched the sphere flash before settling to a steady burn. "Oh, my God!" I squeaked when a dropping sensation plinked through me and settled to a steady flow. The power keeping the globe burning rushed through me, and I reached to steady myself against the dresser. I couldn't take my eyes off the burning sphere.

"Breathe!" Ceri said with forced gaiety, and I took a breath and held it. Feeling the energy flow into the ball and become an ephemeral light was just too weird. It was akin to a mental vacuum, or what being in free fall could feel like. It was the oddest thing I'd ever felt, but Ceri was smiling at me through the mirror, her expression pinched and her eyes bright with moisture.

"Do you know what it feels like?" I said, tense, edgy, and excited all at the same time.

Blinking fast, she shook her head. "I can't do this. Rachel...be careful."

I swallowed hard. I could do something that no other witch or elf could do, save Lee. Demon magic. And it was easy.

And that fast, my life shifted again. I didn't change, but suddenly I was different. A small globe of light had been my signpost. I hoped it was a good portent.

Tags: Kim Harrison The Hollows Fantasy
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