Becoming used to the odd feeling of energy pulling through me quickly, I looked at my light. The glow was not the clear glow of fluorescents, but that of amber. It lit the six-sided room with a black-and-gold haze that seemed darker than the candlelight, but infinitely more far-reaching. Laying heavily upon the empty walls, it brought to mind the late sun close to the horizon that shows from under storm clouds still hanging over you, making everything look like it had a razor-thin shadow, the air full of hidden pressure and the scent of ozone. Demon magic aside, I had created it, and that made it the most everlastingly cool thing I had ever seen.
Eyeing it, I licked my lips, wondering. "What happens if I let more energy into it?"
"Rachel, no!" Ceri shouted.
Something dropped from the ceiling, thumping onto the marble top of the dresser with a sharp crack. It was the gargoyle, his red eyes wide and the tuft of lion fur on his tail bristled. I stumbled back, my elbow knocking into my protection circle to make it fall.
"Don't," he said, his voice both high and resonant.
My mouth gaping, I stared at the foot-high person before me as he shook his leathery wings and settled them against himself. Flushing a deep black, he looked at his feet and the new cracks spreading out from them. "Dragon fewmets," he muttered. "I cracked your table. I'm sorry. God in all his grace help me. I am a clay brain."
I bumped Ceri when I took another step back, and she made a small, questioning noise.
His color turned back to a comfortable gray splotch, and he shifted his wings. "Do you want me to fix it? I can."
That shook me, and I remembered to breathe. "Jenks?" I called loudly. "Someone here to talk to you about rent!"
The gargoyle flushed again, everything but the white tuft of fur on the tip of his whiplike tail going black. "Rent?" he squeaked, somehow suddenly looking like an awkward teenager as he hunched his muscular shoulders and shifted from foot to foot. "I don't have anything to pay you rent with. Patron saints berserk us. I didn't know I'd have to pay rent. I never should have...No one told me..."
He was almost frantic, and Ceri scooted closer with sly amusement. "Be easy, young goyle. I think the landlord would agree to a few months' lodging for what you just did."
"Break the witch's table?" he said quizzically, his big clawed feet shifting with sharp taps. He had really big ears that moved to show his emotion, up and down, almost like a dog's. And the white tufts were adorable.
Smiling wider, Ceri pointed with her eyes to my light, still glowing despite the distractions. "For keeping said witch from frying her synapses," she said. It was my turn to flush, and seeing it, Ceri added, "It's not that big of a circle for the power you're channeling. If you added to it, it might implode and then backlash into you."
My mouth twisted up as an uneasy feeling took me. "Really?"
"Why don't you let it go?" she asked, and when the gargoyle awkwardly cleared his throat, I nodded, separating my will from the line.
I stiffened when the pulling sensation seemed to fall in on itself, blinking when every last erg of power in me was sucked into the ball and the light hanging over the dresser extinguished itself. That fast, the golden shadow-light was gone, and everything looked dull and gray in the glow of the flickering candle on the dresser. Poised, I listened to the rain as the silver metal ring swayed slightly. It seemed colder, and I shivered. Demon magic without cost. This was going to bitch-slap me somewhere. I knew it.
"This is high magic, Rachel," Ceri said, bringing me back to the present. "Beyond what I can do. The chance you will misstep is high, and you can seriously hurt yourself if you jump into experimentation. So don't."
I had a flash of irritation that she would tell me not to do something, but it died fast.
The gargoyle shifted his wings with the pleasant sound of sliding sand. "I just thought it was a bad idea," he said. "The power resonating in that bell is maxed as it is."
"Just so." Ceri turned to the window as Jenks buzzed in through the pixy hole in the topmost window.
"Hey!" he shouted, his wings clattering aggressively, hovering with his hands on his hips as he looked at the awkwardly shifting gargoyle. "It's about time you woke up. What do you think you're doing here? Rachel, make him leave. No one invited him."
"Jenks, he wants to talk rent," I said, but Jenks was having none of it.
"Rent?" he yelped, buzzing his wings to shake the water from them, leaving spots on the granite. "Did you eat fairy dust this morning for breakfast? We can't have a gargoyle here!"
My head was starting to hurt. It didn't help when Jenks landed on my shoulder with the scent of wet garden. I felt a damp spot through my shirt, and I didn't like that he had bared the sword he had taken to carrying around with him since yesterday. Ceri had moved to sit on the fainting couch, her hands resting to either side of her and her ankles crossed as if she were holding court. Clearly it was up to me. "Why not?" I said when I saw the gargoyle had flushed again, shifting from foot to foot.
"Because they're bad luck!" Jenks shouted.
Tired of him yelling in my ear, I flicked him away. "They are not," I said. "And I like him. He just saved me from frying my little witchy brain. At least have him fill out a rental questionnaire or something. You want the city to come down on you for not being an equal opportunity renter? You just don't like him because he slipped your sentry lines. God, Jenks, you should be begging him to stay. You're starting to sound like Trent."
Jenks's wings stopped and he almost fell. Ceri hid a smile, and I felt a moment of amusement. The pixy's features bunched up, then smoothed out. Clearly flustered, he warily dropped to the edge of the dresser top, his wings a blur of motion. Making a show of it, he sheathed his sword. I doubted very much it would have pierced the gargoyle's skin, but everyone in the room probably appreciated it.
"I don't have a form," Jenks admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "We can do it verbally."
The gargoyle nodded, and I backed up a step, sitting beside Ceri when she shifted to make room. It was darker now without my globe, and thunder rolled in a comfortable sound.
"Name?" Jenks shot out. "And your reason for vacating previous residence?"
"Jenks, that's rude," I said, and the gargoyle twitched his tail in a show of acceptance.
"My name is Bis," he said, "and I was kicked off the basilica because I was spitting on the people coming in. Suck-up little Glissando thinks she knows angel dust from dirt and tattled on me."
"Tink's titties, really?" Jenks said in admiration. "How far can you spit?"
My eyebrows rose. His name was Bis? What kind of a name was that?
Bis puffed up in pride. "If we've had a recent rain, I can hit a stop sign from a block away."
"Holy crap!" Jenks's wings lifted him, and he landed closer. "Think you can hit that creepy angel statue from the steeple?"
Bis's color went silver-white to match the fur on his ears and tail, and gold flecks grew in his red eyes. "Faster than you can throw toad shit at a hummingbird poaching your nectar."
"No fairy-ass way!"
"Yes way." Bis settled his wings against himself. The sound was soothing, and my shoulders eased. I think Jenks had found a friend. It was so sweet I could just barf. Except that he really needed one.
"Bis, it's good to meet you," I said as I extended my hand, then hesitated. He was only a foot tall, about half the size of most gargoyles I'd seen from the distant vantage of the road. His hand was too small to comfortably shake even if I wanted to chance those raptorlike claws, but I was willing to bet he was too heavy to land on my wrist in a proper pixylike greeting.
With a surprisingly small whoosh of sound, Bis was in a hopping flight. Jenks jerked back into the air in surprise, and I froze when the gargoyle landed on my wrist. He had gone black again, and his huge ears were bent submissively, like a puppy's. And when his smooth skin touched me, I suddenly felt every single ley line in the entire city.
Shocked, I did nothing as my gaze went vacant. I could sense them, softly glowing in my awareness, like potential unmasked. I could see which were healthy and which weren't. And they sang, like the deep thrum of the earth.
"Holy shit!" I gasped, then covered my mouth, embarrassed. "Ceri," I stammered, turning to her. "The lines..."
She was smiling. Damn it, she had known.
The gold flecks in Bis's eyes were whirling slowly, mesmerizing me. "May I stay, mistress witch?" he said. "If Jenks allows me to pay rent?"
He was lighter than I ever would have expected, almost not there. "You can tap a ley line," I said, still in a pleasant shock. My God, the lines were humming with different vibrations, like different bells have different sounds. The university's was heady and deep, and the one out back was a clear ting. From Eden Park was a discordant twang that had to be that ley line some idiot had built a reflecting pond over, turning it weak and almost dead.
Bis shook his head. "No, but I can feel them. They flow through the world like blood and leak from the surface like an unhealed wound."
I took a breath, only now realizing I had been holding mine. "Jenks, he's got my vote to stay. We can work rent out later, but maybe he can do night sentry duty so you can spend more time with Matalina."
Jenks was standing on the dresser, his reflection making two pixies frowning suspiciously at me. "Yeah," he said absently, his thoughts on something else. "That'd be great."
Ceri came forward and made a short, courtly curtsy. "I'm glad you got kicked off your parapet," she said, smiling. "My name is Ceri. I live across the street. And if you spit on me or my friends, I will turn your wings to feathers."
Bis flashed black and his gaze dropped submissively. "Yes, ma'am."
I looked at Jenks, seeing him asking my opinion with just his expression. I couldn't imagine Ivy would protest. I nodded, enthralled.
"Welcome to the garden, Bis," Jenks said cheerfully. "Rent is due on the first."
It wasn't until half an hour later when I was trooping downstairs to call my mom that I realized I'd taken my protection circle down after the gargoyle had dropped through it without a whisper of resistance.
Not before.